feeling intrepid.

It took a day of driving through daunting yet beautiful desert landscapes. And when we arrived, it turned out the guide was right. Colorado City is a frankly bizarre place. It sits under soaring red cliffs, entirely surrounded by wilderness. And many of the vast and palisaded houses really do have far fewer windows than normal; some houses have hardly any windows at all. The streets feel oddly blind.

And the people are equally strange. Everywhere we saw women in long pioneer dresses, with dozens of children in tow. The women were big: like Stepford wives on steroids.

Our visit went smoothly - until we got the camera out. That got people staring and pointing. We backed away. Then one guy started running towards us, and not in a friendly

way. My brother jumped back in the car, and with the shouts of roiled polygamists ringing in our ears, we sped onto the freeway and got the hell out of town.

This tale has a curious coda. Some days later I was having lunch with a woman in nearby Colorado state. I told her of the windowless city. She said people had got the polygamists wrong. "Everyone assumes the women are oppressed. But I've got female friends who live in Colorado City. Intelligent women - doctors and lawyers. They choose that way of life. They like being in plural marriages.

"And Colorado City," she added, "has the best cheese shop west of the Rockies."

One day I aim to go back, and maybe buy some polygamous brie. But I might take a gun.