Getting to Colorado from Las Vegas in less than 48 hours is no mean feat - particularly when you consider the navigation equipment at our disposal.

We left the UK on March 12 hoping to be on the slopes at Beaver Creek less than four days later and it is a minor miracle that objective was reached.

But it was more by luck than judgement.

All we had was a map - that proved to be little better than a drawing of the USA - and a 100-year-old compass (I kid you not).

So to be bolting downhill an hour before the ski lifts close at the Creek is a minor miracle.

An abortive attempt to see the Grand Canyon almost cost us - no-one told us you wouldn't be able to visit the north rim between October and May.

So, even a wasted 100-mile detour didn't throw us off track.

Admittedly it took an overnight stop a Green River on Interstate 70, where the breakfast lived up to the waterside location in terms of a thing of beauty.

Canyons, peaks, plains, desert, tumbleweed and the odd smattering of caravans pass by as does the vastness of middle America.

Ever seen snow on sand before? No? You will in Arizona and Utah - right along the trail taken by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance KId.

And what is more surreal?

On reaching Beever Creek - having spent the previous two days in the desert - I find myself strolling through deep snow to the ski lifts in flip-flops and shorts.

Nice.

Riverside Terrace Inn, Green RIver: £56.

Snowshoe Motel, Frisco: £68-per-night-and-counting.