Circle to Circle

by Shirley Hardy-Rix

  We cross into New Mexico and ride through Loving. What a great name — Loving, New Mexico.

  In Roswell it’s hard to miss the UFO museum in an old movie theatre on the main road. Just about every shop has an alien in the window or on the roof. Roswell is famous for an incident in 1947 when a UFO supposedly crashed into a ranch and the alien beings onboard were taken away by the army. Everyone who witnessed the crash and the aliens were warned off, encouraged to say they saw nothing untoward by the authorities.

  The museum is, in part, a serious analysis of what happened in 1947, including reports of deathbed depositions by witnesses who originally denied what they saw but, close to death, admitted that it was all true.

  But there’s a little Disneyland in the museum as well. There’s a display of life-sized aliens and their spacecraft. Their eyes follow you around the room and, periodically, their spaceship whirs and lights flash.

  •

  Brook and Lieschen arrive in Roswell and we have dinner together. We’re on our way to an Overland Expo for motorcycle travellers and four-wheel drivers and they decide to come with us. They’re a terrific young couple. Brook captains luxury yachts for the rich and famous and Lieschen works on board the yachts. They’re thriving being landlubbers rather than cruising areas like the Caribbean. The people we meet on the road are one of the great highlights of this trip.

  Brian: Before we hit the road to Taos, New Mexico Shirl and Lieschen head to Walgreens, the pharmacy. Shirl comes back to the bike a broken woman. The lady at the checkout told her how marvellous it was for mother and daughter to be on a motorcycle trip together. She just keeps mumbling, ‘Now I am officially old’. I try really hard not to laugh because I don’t think that would be very helpful.

  •

  Taos is a truly beautiful town. The town square is filled with shade trees and surrounded by adobe brick buildings. On the outskirts of the town is Taos Pueblo, the Native American town that’s been continuously inhabited for more than 1,000 years.

  Only a few families live here now but the Native Americans do the tours and come into the town to sell their jewellery, pottery and other handicrafts. We buy the local favourite — frybread with cinnamon sugar. It’s delicious.

  The community still has a tribal council that decides how the pueblo will run and organises the distribution of the meat from the community bison herd. They try and keep the pueblo as it was so there’s no power or running water. The one concession is propane lighting and cooking. It’s a hard life, so little wonder many of them live outside the pueblo now.

  Shirley: On the way out we stop at the bridge over the Rio Grande gorge. It’s 180 metres above the river and that seems a bloody long way down when we stand on the top.

  We take the back roads through the Carson State Forest. It’s much cooler up here and there’s even snow on the ground under some of the big trees. Lieschen’s never seen snow before so we stop for a photo op and a small snowball fight! She just loves it.

  From here we cross into colourful Colorado and the San Juan National Forest — all pine trees and winding roads, all beautiful.

  Brook is enjoying sharing his country with us. He takes us to Mesa Verde, where Native Americans once lived in homes dug into the canyon walls, high above the canyon floor. Time is against us to get to the Overland Expo tonight so we take the top loop and just look down on the ruins rather than hiking into the canyons. (It’s a pretty good excuse to get out of some serious hiking, really.)

  We leave Mesa Verde for Four Corners where Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona meet — a lot like corner country in outback Australia. Riding along the desert road the wind picks up and up and up. It’s like riding Ruta 40 in Argentina only there’s more sand blowing across the road making the ride hard and uncomfortable. When we get to the monument that marks the four corners the bikes are threatening to blow over. The sand is whipping around our legs and faces and we need to wear our neck socks over our faces to keep the sand out of our mouths.

  We take the obligatory photo of a piece of our bodies in each of the states but the wind is making a stroll through the Native American craft market really unpleasant. We get back on the bikes and hunker down for the ride in to Flagstaff, Arizona and the Overland Expo.

  The ride takes us through Monument Valley where wind erosion (now that’s a surprise) has created the most incredible rock formations. The sand pounding us makes it difficult to stop and even taking the camera out as we ride along is too dangerous. The sand wouldn’t be any good for the lens. Pity.

  •

  Brian: There are 5,000 people at the Overland Expo and somehow we need to track down our Aussie mates, Ken and Carol Duval. They’re on their second ride around the world. Ken’s in his early 60s and still rides despite having two hip replacements. Carol thrives on life on the road and is the master packer. She’s so good at fitting every little item onto their bike she holds packing classes. I’m wandering through a group when an Aussie voice says, ‘Aren’t you Brian Rix?’ I don’t expect to hear that, this far from home. It’s an older bloke, who tells me it’s my fault he’s here. He met us after our last trip and that encouraged him to get off his arse and travel. Now he’s riding a bike around the US. Good on him.

  We met Ken and Carol a few years ago after they’d already ridden around the world once on their bike. About three years ago they sold up everything including their house and are on the road again. They’re camped with Al and Julie Jesse of Jesse motorcycle luggage fame. Aussies Bevan and Clare have done their years riding around the world but now prefer an ambulance converted into a camper. They’ve pitched a tent for us to use and there’s space for Brook and Lieschen’s tent. Food’s no problem. Clare and Julie have cooked up a storm and welcome us all to join them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That’s the camaraderie of overland travellers.

  Al Jesse used to ride his motorcycle to expos, using his own panniers to show his luggage systems. Today he has a trailer, towed behind his RV, and a couple of huge panniers on display. Panniers this size would solve all of our luggage problems.

  The idea of camping seems to be growing on Shirl. There are plenty of small tents and compact gear on display at the Expo — perfect for packing on the bike. It’s time to go shopping. I’m taken by Brook’s tent with an opening on both sides. It makes getting in and out easier and creates a cross ventilation. There’s room at the bottom for helmet, jacket and pants and the boots go outside with the panniers in the vestibules, one on each side.

  By the end of the day we’ve bought a Big Agnes tent and a jet boil cooker. We’re on our way to camping now.

  One of the special guests at the Expo is Ted Simon, the doyen of overland motorcycle travellers. Now in his early 80s, Ted first rode around the world in the 70s and his book, Jupiter’s Travels, is compulsory reading. We met him in Australia before our 2003 trip and it’s an honour to share a wine or two with him here in the US.

  You make friends in the strangest places. In the shower this morning I meet Paul Stewart, a very cheerful pom, now living in the US. He’s planning on riding around Australia at some stage. And we spend time with the older, quieter Les and his vivacious partner Cathy from Ontario. It’s such a small world. They run a motorcycle shop near Toronto and are always willing to help travellers. Jens, Kati, Nicole and Christian, who we met in Ushuaia at Christmas, all stayed with Cathy and Les when they shipped their bikes and the Land Rover to Canada a couple of months ago.

  •

  It’s time to say goodbye and I know Shirl is sad. Brook and Lieschen are heading north to Bryce Canyon. Carol is making a quick trip home to Australia to see her family. The others are all heading home to various points in the US and Canada. Our paths are sure to cross again — somewhere in the world.

  For us it’s time to move on. It’s mid May and we still have a long way to go to get to Alaska during their summer. There’s so much to explore in this part of the States that we’ll have to miss — maybe another time.

  One
thing I’m not going to put off is riding Route 66. Much of this iconic road has disappeared over the years, but not the piece that runs through Williams, Arizona. The town makes much of its Route 66 heritage. At night the neon lights take us back to the 60s, the American culture of rock’n roll and gas guzzling cars. They even throw in an eclipse for us. The locals are happy to share their welding goggles so we can get a glimpse of this phenomenon.

  We ride Route 66 through Ash Fork, Seligman, Peach Springs and Kingman. We get our kicks on Route 66, a good road with no trucks. They’re all on the highway and we don’t miss them for a minute. It’s bloody hot though. The temperature gauge on the bike shows us it’s 45.5°C — that’s hot in anyone’s language.

  Shirley: Next stop Las Vegas for cheap accommodation, a couple of shows and a trip to Hoover Dam. We visit plenty of the casinos on the strip, not to gamble, but enjoying cocktails in Venice at one and overlooking the New York skyline at another.

  The real highlight is the Chuck Jones Experience, an exhibition about the man who created Bugs Bunny, Wylie E Coyote and the Road Runner, Elmer Fudd, Pepe le Pew and Penelope, and my favourite, Michigan J. Frog — the singing frog. There are original drawings, life sized statues of the major characters, Chuck’s office, oil paintings he did over his life and some cartoons to watch — including Michigan J. Frog. We love it and buy a kitsch set of Pepe and Penelope salt and pepper shakers.

  We only hit a gaming room once and I manage to win enough to pay for our hotel room with some change left over. All in all a good break from the road.

  •

  When we said goodbye to our good friend Phil in Texas she thought that was the last time we’d see her until we get home, but we’ve been conspiring with Ian to surprise her in Oceanside, near San Diego.

  The ride there takes us through Palm Springs and over the mountains on some great back roads. We stop at the Stagecoach Inn in Aguanga. It’s an old-fashioned diner and bar with dim lighting and men sitting at the bar wearing cowboy hats. All conversation stops when we walk in, until one bloke says, ‘the bikies are here’. Ron’s his name and he’s bothered by the fact Brian isn’t carrying a gun. In another random act of kindness, Ron insists on paying for our lunch and gives us his phone number, just in case we need any help.

  At Oceanside we knock on the apartment door and Phil opens it. It’s a surprise, alright. She can’t believe we’re standing here. There’re a few tears and lots of hugs. She keeps thanking Ian and Sylvia for organising the whole thing. We’re delighted she’s so pleased.

  It’s great to be with our old friends, but it does make me homesick again. Part of me wants to go home, but I really want to get to Alaska. It’s going to be quite an achievement if we get to the top of the world.

  I can’t bear to say goodbye to Phil again. I’m crying before it’s even time to leave. But leave we must.

  We load up the bike and head to Pasadena to meet up with our friend Harli and his wife, Kate. I met Harli when I was working on the film The Cup. He’s come here to try and make it as an actor in the US. Kate is a forensic psychologist and has a job here. It’s a joy to be with them, wining, dining and checking out the LA coastline with a trip to Venice beach.

  We also check out the camping stores. Now we’ve a tent, sleeping bags, mats, and cooking gear. There’ll be no getting out of camping now.

  Brian: We can’t visit this part of the world without a day at Disneyland and Universal Studios. The grandchildren will be green with envy.

  LA is fine for some, but the coast is more our speed. It’s time to get back on the bike and continue heading north.

  North to Canada

  3 June – 7 July 2012

  Brian: The bike’s really loaded down now we have all the camping gear. I’ve strapped the sleeping bags, tent and cooker onto the panniers. It’s a bit cumbersome and the pillion seat is now a tight fit for Shirl. Packing the camping gear is a work in progress.

  Shirley: It is a tight fit, but I can rest on the tent and nod off for a while. Unfortunately Brian can see me in the mirrors and knows I’m asleep. He can’t resist waking me up. It’s simple — he just yells, ‘Are you asleep?’ Instantly I’m awake.

  Brian: The journey north continues, sticking to the coast. The sun is shining and the bike’s ticking along nicely. It doesn’t get much better for me.

  The coastal weather is pretty variable. We head off in sunshine but by the time we get to Morro Bay the sea mist has rolled in and the iconic rock in the middle of the bay is nowhere to be seen.

  Further up the coast the mist burns off and it’s glorious again. The local sea lions are lolling about on the beach, flicking sand onto themselves and burrowing down. It’s moulting season and the teenage and older seals aren’t looking their best with their peeling skins. Making the most of the interest in the sea lions are the squirrels, schmoozing up to the visitors, hoping to get some food. A girl with sunflower seeds wins plenty of hearts and has the squirrels eating out of her hand, literally.

  From here we ride the magnificent Big Sur, very like our own Great Ocean Road but on steroids. It’s sunny and cool, perfect riding weather. The breeze coming off the Pacific Ocean wafts through the pine trees that line the road. The sun glistens on the ocean. We’ve driven this road in a car, but it’s made for motorcycles. Perfect.

  We ride into Monterey and find a small hotel with a Japanese restaurant right next door. It serves the best sushi and sashimi we’ve had since Panama City. Excellent.

  •

  I’ve always wanted to see Laguna Seca Raceway and luck into a car track day so we can get right inside and not have to look at an empty track from outside the fence. The cars are racing around the track. It’s not bikes, but it gives me a close look at the corkscrew, one of the most difficult corners in the Moto GP circuits around the world. We can walk right alongside the track and get a good look at the cars coming down. I could watch for hours, but I can feel Shirl’s boredom. I’d love to get the opportunity to come here for motorcycle racing. It’s another reason to come back.

  We can’t ride Laguna Seca but we can ride the 17-Mile Drive. We’ve driven this road too and know it’ll be brilliant on the bike. It’s a private road that hugs the coast and passes mansions where money is clearly no object.

  We pick up a map at the tourist office on Cannery Row. We’re carrying our helmets so it’s pretty obvious we’re on a motorcycle. The ride to the start of the 17-Mile Drive gives us a sneak preview of the amazing coastline that lies beyond the security gates.

  The sign at the gate says it’ll cost us $9.50 to enter. That’s not a problem. I feel Shirl shifting around on the back of the bike getting her purse at the ready. Then the security guard comes out.

  He’s an officious little man in a nice blue uniform with a star on the breast pocket. I get the feeling he’d like to be a policeman, but this uniform will have to do.

  He steps out of his little guard box and puts up his hand. His message is simple — no motorcycles. What? He’s abrupt, to put it mildly. There’s no way he will change his mind. We’re not allowed in and that’s that. He finally says that it’s because someone rode a bike over some grass and that bikes are too noisy. What a crock. I’m furious to say the least. It’s bloody discrimination. Nearby a man is using a leaf blower. It’s making much more noise than our bike does, but we’re not allowed the pleasure of riding 17-Mile Drive.

  Back at the tourist office the boss tells us that Pebble Beach Resort owns the road and can prevent anyone from coming in. They apologise.

  They didn’t know there was a blanket ban on motorcycles.

  The journalist in Shirl comes out. She’s so incensed she takes to the computer and writes a scathing review on Trip Advisor. She also pens a missive to Pebble Beach. Not surprisingly, they don’t respond.

  Shirley: San Francisco — what a city. Our hotel’s in the Cow Hollow area. We love the houses, the bars, the restaurants. We ride the trolley cars, wander along Fisherman’s wharf, eat fabulous seaf
ood and even take in a movie.

  We love San Francisco and what better way to farewell the city than to ride down Lombard Street, the world’s most crooked street. It’s great fun riding down the steep street with its eight hairpin turns. I get the feeling the driver of the car in front of us is scared we’re going to end up in his boot. Poor Brian is being squashed against the tank bag because I can’t help but crawl all over his back and push him forward, the road’s so steep. It’s a little discomfort for massive fun.

  •

  Our guardian angels must be looking after us. The Golden Gate Bridge is bathed in sunshine rather than shrouded in fog. Riding over we get great views of the San Francisco Bay as we head to Muir Woods. This is another national park and the pass we bought in Texas has already paid for itself. The majestic redwoods tower over us, making a serene place to walk for a while.

  We ride through the Napa Valley heading to Point Arena on the coast. Again we’re blessed with great weather and wonderful roads. We stop for lunch and meet Herb and his wife, Mary. They’re in their 70s and rode their motorcycle until a few years ago when a car didn’t give way to them at an intersection. Herb wasn’t too badly injured, but Mary’s leg was badly shattered. While Herb tells Brian he wishes he could get another bike, Mary warns me to be careful. I understand what she’s getting at. We both know the risks of motorcycle riding but are prepared to take those risks for the joy we get from life on the road.

  Back on the coast we find a hidden part of Highway 1. It’s cold and windy but nothing can take away from the beauty of the rugged coastline. Waves crash on the rocks and the wind whips up the white caps. It’s even more beautiful than the Big Sur up here.

  We need a break from the road. Our cabin has a kitchen and I’m dumbfounded that I haven’t forgotten how to cook. Wonders will never cease.

  The area is known as the lost coast. Many towns here were destroyed by the 1906 earthquake that devastated San Francisco, about 200 kilometres south of here — that’s one hell of an earthquake. Reading, resting and the odd ride along the coast recharges our batteries for the road ahead.