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By Root 827 0

waited, knitting in their car, Goulding approached the receptionist at United Artists, where Ford was preparing to shoot his new film. Of course, he was told he couldn’t see anybody without an appointment – because that’s the way they work in Hollywood – so he just said, ‘Well, I’ll make myself comfortable,’ and took out his bedroll. The staff at United Artists had never met anyone quite like Goulding, and eventually they realised they’d have to do something about this bloke who seemed to be setting up camp in the lobby. So they called the locations manager, who arrived with every intention of sending this lunatic packing. But as soon as he saw the photographs, he was convinced. Goulding was introduced to Ford, who thought the rancher was a great guy, and the rest is history.

Larry took me to an outlook called John Ford Point, which features in The Searchers – it’s where John Wayne, looking for a girl who has been captured by Indians, rides out on to a spit of rock and sees the Indian village beneath him. It was one of Ford’s favourite places, and I could almost smell the Duke as I looked at it. While I was standing there, soaking in the atmosphere, a red truck with a water tank on its back bounced past, a tiny speck in the distance. Larry explained that most of the Navajo people who lived in Monument Valley were elders who preferred to live in the old, traditional way. They didn’t want water piped in or electricity. I thought that was kind of appealing, but it meant their water had to be delivered by truck. In a funny way, I wanted them to live in the old way, too, because that meant the place would be kept intact.

Driving around with Larry, time and again I saw vistas which I’d ridden through in my imagination when I was a child. I’d come out of the cinema and ride home on my imaginary horse, smacking my backside as I harried up Highlands Street, which was transformed into Monument Valley in my little fantasy world.

I love Monument Valley, and I felt very privileged to be standing within it. But when we were filming, part of me wanted to tell the viewers not to visit it themselves – just take my word for its beauty. Selfish, I know, but I don’t want it spoiled. If anyone does come, I hope they don’t come on big tourist buses with loads of other people. The way to see it is to get up early and watch the sun rise, before all the buses arrive. Of course, this is a very snobbish, elitist way of looking at things, but for a wee while now I’ve been saying that if anyone wants to do the world a real favour, they shouldn’t come to any of the places I film for TV shows. They should just read about them or watch the programmes, and leave it at that.

After our day exploring Monument Valley, Larry helped me build a fire and prepare to sleep under the stars. He explained the problems that exist in modern Navajo families whose children get involved in drugs and alcohol. An outreach social worker, he organises Brat Camp-style four-day treks for Navajo teens to help them understand their sacred land, the sky and nature. An inspiring, knowledgeable and passionate character, Larry is a very gentle man whose real passion is to help the next generation. Listening to him in such a fascinating place, I hoped he succeeded in educating the young Navajo in their culture. He deals with problems that parents and social workers face around the world, but it was still strange to hear him talking about issues that are very familiar to anyone living in Govan. Crystal meth, heroin and all that other poison are being peddled everywhere, and Larry is trying to keep Navajo youngsters away from it by making them aware of their culture. He knows it’s a big step back from hard drugs to the indigenous culture, but I had to wish him the best. And I’m optimistic about what he might achieve, because he’s a very inspiring man.

That night, as the sky darkened and I strummed my banjo by the camp fire, my thoughts turned to what lay ahead. For weeks now, my daily existence had been determined by the need to keep moving west. But now the end of the journey was