Way out west

A DRUNKEN caped crusader, Hooters girls and Elvis marrying an Aussie... it can only be a Contiki tour of the US, writes Scott Walsh.

THEY call him Captain Beer. Well, the Aussies in the group did, anyway.

Resembling Batman, this brilliantly-padded superhero glowed in the seedy San Diego karaoke bar.

When the masked avenger leapt on a packed table with a single bound it was obvious this was no crime fighter – if anything, he was encouraging evil everywhere.

A funnel emerged from just above his cape, connected to a hidden pipe that protruded from his open fly.

A big bloke, Bruce, from outback Western Australia, was the first to answer his call.

Unfazed by the brazen man-on-man imagery the traveller poured the contents of his Budweiser pint into the funnel and guzzled his drink through the spout.

The pub erupted. Both men were instant champions.

And the reality we were on night two of a Contiki tour of the US West Coast hit quicker than the beer that slapped the Sandgroper's tonsils.

The American Dream is alive and well

We were tracking a course from San Diego to Tijuana, Mexico, then to the deserts of Phoenix, the Grand Canyon and historic Route 66 towards Las Vegas.

We got our first taste of Americana at a Hooters restaurant near the Hollywood Walk of Fame. A waitress with tight-red curls and even tighter white T-shirt looked familiar, and we discovered she was a contestant on Mark Philippoussis's Age of Love dating show. Here she was serving burgers and fries at Hooters. The American Dream is alive and well.

The tour really started the following morning with our drive to San Diego. A sightseeing tour of the city uncovered the small diner used in the Tom Cruise film Top Gun, where pilot Maverick and wingman Goose sang Great Balls of Fire.

The major highlight was crossing the border into Mexico. It was a steamy day, in the mid 30s, and we had to swap our coach for a beaten-up bus that was hotter than a shot of cheap tequila.

Somehow the step down in luxury to embrace Tijuana seemed fitting.

Half zebra, half donkey

The first thing they tell you about it is "this isn't really Mexico". That's good news for the rest of Mexico. Tijuana is built on the tourist market – and on raking in US dollars from visitors, including wide-eyed Contiki kids.

Still, it's fantastic and a must-do. The markets are an amazing experience in themselves, if for nothing else than the chance to see a zonkey – half zebra, half donkey – but really a black donkey splashed with strips of white paint.

Back in the US, for the sand-and-surf types a swim at San Diego's Mission Beach is a must. The soft, white sand and Baywatch towers dotted along the shore gave the impression Pamela Anderson would come running at the smallest sign of distress.

By day three we were leaving the California coast and heading for Arizona, home of the Sonoran Desert and the saguaro cactus.

An optional activity not to miss is a hot-air balloon ride at dawn over the desert near resort city Scottsdale. For the stunning sunrise, serenity and champagne breakfast, it was worth sacrificing a late night.

For me, Scottsdale also meant golf. Though timing prevented a round, the chance to snap a photo and grab a golf ball from the Tournament Players Club was a dream. How they can build such a lush, manicured golf course in a desert defies belief.

Some crazy hippies

On day four the "wow" factor kicked in as the scenery turned from sand to red rock and we began our climb to the Grand Canyon.

We stopped at Sedona, where a new-age theory says the town possesses spiritual vortices emanating from the unique landscape. Our jeep driver, Randy, has lived there for 20 years and quickly debunked the rumours. "Some crazy hippies climbed up on Bell Rock there several years back; they had some idea a space ship was coming to get 'em," he drawled.

"Nope, no space ship. They had to be rescued."

Sedona, as majestic as it is, was just a teaser to what awaited us a few hours up the road. It is easy to be swept up by the first signs of water and wind-carved rock formations, which bring to mind the backdrops of those Road Runner cartoons.

But the Grand Canyon must be seen to be believed. We arrived just on dusk and were blown away by the sheer scale of its 1.6km depth, its 29km (maximum) width and the brilliant colours. We had an entire day there, including a 45-minute helicopter ride below the rim.

Then in one short drive we went from tranquillity to the decadence of Las Vegas. Our hotel was just off the famed Strip, only a two-minute walk from the palatial MGM Grand resort and a stroll from the less-lavish Hooters Casino.

We had a quick punt on the blackjack tables before a cruise of the Strip. But it wouldn't be a trip to Vegas without a wedding – an Elvis-impersonator wedding.

Our group of 53 filed into a tiny chapel where John Cougar Mellencamp once tied the knot and suddenly an Elvis in a very 1970s jumpsuit burst through the doors, belting out Viva Las Vegas.

He "married" an Aussie girl, Erin, and a Japanese lad – a crowd favourite who nicknamed himself Contiki Bansai during a karaoke session.

Like The King in front of us, the ceremony was a fake – but there was no better way of wrapping up our unforgettable eight-day tour.

The writer travelled as a guest of Contiki.