My holiday in the MAGA heartlands, where few foreign tourists ever venture

Branson, Missouri, blossomed into the Ozark region’s entertainment capital in the 1980s - Moment RF

Netflix likes to boast about its knack for inspiring holidays. From starry-eyed Americans heading to historic Bath in pursuit of some Bridgerton magic to camper-van tours of various Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul locations in New Mexico, there’s even a trendy neologism to describe these box set-inspired breaks: set-jetting.

For all the set-jetting in recent years, though, there is one Netflix smash hit that seems to have missed the invite. The Jason Bateman-fronted crime caper Ozark has spent almost a decade as one of Netflix’s most popular shows, showcasing its eerie rural American setting to millions of viewers, yet doesn’t seem to have inspired a holiday craze – at least not yet.

Netflix’s Ozark stars Jason Bateman and Laura Linney - Netflix

“They’re basically the Norfolk Broads for Trump voters,” explained an American friend when I asked about the real Ozarks – i.e. the outdoorsy region that spans four of America’s most conservative states (Missouri, Arkansas, Kansas and Oklahoma), taking up more space than Iceland and boasting a namesake mountain range, an eponymous lake, and a sprawling network of limestone caves.

Like much of flyover America, the Ozark region gets its fill of domestic guests. Not just the scores of Midwesterners who like to let their hair down by the Lake of the Ozark, but also the generations of American families who have vacationed in Branson: a wholesome entertainment resort parodied in The Simpsons as “Las Vegas if it were run by Ned Flanders”. International visitors, though, have been a different story.

According to US government data, this part of the world is among the least popular territories across the United States’ landmass for overseas tourists, with Missouri receiving an estimated 165,000 non-US guests in 2024. Even added together, the four states account for just over 1 per cent of all international visitors.

Could that be about to change? Later this month, our own flagship carrier, British Airways, will open a new direct route between Heathrow and St Louis – the second-biggest city in Missouri (after Kansas City, confusingly). For the first time, it will put the Ozark region within easy reach of those British travellers, provided they’re happy to embark on a three-hour car journey.

Lakeside delights

If you’re comfortable getting behind the wheel, it’s a rather gorgeous drive. Within an hour or so of leaving the plush Four Seasons in St Louis, I had shaken off any last semblance of city life. Gone were the rusted bridges and high-rises of one of America’s great industrial darlings, replaced instead by lush green plains, dotted with picturesque chapels seemingly pinched from a kitsch wedding cake and flag-waving cattle ranches.

As stunning as they were, the sights of the Missouri countryside were nothing compared to the lake itself. If anything, it feels almost disingenuous to even call it a lake. But what is the correct terminology for a 90-mile-long Chinese dragon-shaped body of water that juts in and out of the landscape, creating pockets of beauty as it goes. Believe it or not, the whole thing is artificial too: the result of a Depression-era mega-project to build a gigantic dam on the nearby Osage River.

Lake Ouachita in Arkansas, the state’s largest man-made lake, spans over 40,000 acres - Cavan Images RF

Where beauty exists, tourists will follow. And these days, the shores of the lake are dotted with resorts, lakeside condos, jet-ski rentals and golf courses. This is the cash cow that Ozark’s main character, a crooked accountant called Marty Byrde, refers to in the first episode when he tries to persuade his cartel bosses to launder their cash in the lake’s tourism economy.

In early March, things are much quieter – even if the lake is enjoying some unexpected sunshine when I visit. On the Bagnall Dam strip, the tiki bars and dining patios have been kept afloat by a flock of thirsty bikers who are driving through Missouri for the weekend. If they’d been here a few years earlier, they’d have probably been offered roles as extras by a budding Netflix executive.

Still, the lack of crowds makes for some advantages when it comes to the outdoorsy stuff. On a morning trip to Ha Ha Tonka, the biggest state park in Missouri, the hiking trails are so quiet that I make a point of brushing up on “bear aware” safety tips on my phone before venturing deep into the woods. When I get back to my resort hotel, the Alhonna, I take a solo stroll around the lake, watching the sun embark on its nightly rendezvous with the shimmering surface.

As someone who travels regularly in the States, I can’t shake the thought that the Ozarks region feels much deeper into America than I have been in the past. Sure enough, I check my phone for directions to the nearest international airport with UK flights: from Osage Beach, it would take seven hours to get to Nashville (though that will change when BA begins flights to St Louis on April 19).

Trump merch and a Titanic replica

After a few days by the lake, I headed further south to Branson. A former mountain outpost founded by a Christian settler in the late 19th century, it blossomed into the region’s entertainment capital in the 1980s, hosting twilight residencies for ageing musicians like Andy Williams and Glen Campbell. Homer Simpson compared it to Las Vegas, but it was perhaps better described as the better-behaved sibling of hard-drinking Nashville.

These days, the old town still sparkles, with glistening billboards and glitzy displays of Americana all along the three-mile strip (now named Andy Williams Boulevard). With the days of the nationally famous crooners now firmly in the rear window, the town’s theatres now play host to wholesome family acts in sequinned jackets and patriotic jukebox musicals.

Our writer likens Branson to a better-behaved sibling of hard-drinking Nashville - Moment RF

There are daytime attractions too, from an aquarium to a giant replica of the Titanic that doubles up as a museum (“Americans are obsessed with the Titanic”, confirms one Missouri local). Though my favourite discovery is what is known in these parts as an “alpine coaster”: a self-piloted roller-coaster in which you sit in a bobsleigh-like vehicle and ride down a steel track through the mountains, controlling your speed with the brake lever.

“Ordinarily, I’d warn you about using the brake to avoid hitting other riders, but since you’re the only one, I don’t really need to,” says the operator, favouring classic American self-reliance over European-style health-and-safety culture. When I later use the brake just to reduce my speed on one of the more fearsome bends, I feel like I’ve betrayed his can-do spirit.

And what of the Trumpiness of it all? Going by hard numbers, this should be one of the most Maga-mad parts of the country: both Branson and the various counties around Lake of the Ozark opted for Donald by more than three to one at the last election, well above the state average for Missouri (which was itself much redder than the overall US electorate). In other words, it’s about as red as an embarrassed lobster.

There are certainly some signs of the Trump-worship on the ground: like the gigantic inflatable model of the President that stands at the end of the Branson Strip, shooting a triumphant thumbs up at passers-by. But even in the strip’s Trump merchandise store, the folksy politeness of punters – “Oh my, we visited London two years ago and we loved it!” – clashes with the in-your-face slogans on the caps and T-shirts.

Our writer Robert Jackman is amused by the Donald Trump inflatable at the end of the Branson Strip - Robert Jackman

It isn’t the first time I’ve had that kind of easy-going experience in the Maga heartlands. My own theory is that the punchier stuff – the “Trump won; get over it!” flags and the rest of it – is a sort of spiky defence mechanism that gets activated when the snooty city liberals are around. In the heart of rural Missouri, the small-town Republicans tend to revert to their welcoming, well-mannered ways.

So if you’re looking for a full serving of the American outdoors with a little sprinkling of stardust, you know where to find it. You’ll be among the minority of international visitors who ever make it to the Ozarks – the literal 1 per cent in this case – but, based on my own experience, I have no doubt that you’ll be very glad to have joined the club.

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