Circle to Circle

by Shirley Hardy-Rix

  Along the highway we pass a sign for Wall Drug Store every couple of kilometres. They’re plugging 5 cent coffee and free cold water. The main street of Wall is very touristy and the famous Drug Store is a little disappointing. I thought we could sit at the counter in the soda fountain and have a float, but there’s not even a stool at the counter, just plenty of tourist junk. Even the donuts are the size of car tyres and don’t look the least bit appetising. At least we can say we’ve been here.

  There’s a loop road that takes us off the highway and through the Badlands National Park. The road twists and turns through unique land formations. Some areas are like a moonscape, others more like Turkey’s Goreme Valley with pillars of rock. Here they call them buttes and the plains are prairies. The colours change from beige and grey to deep reds and yellows.

  •

  There’s one more place we need to see before we leave South Dakota — the Minuteman Missile National Historic Site. During the cold war this area was littered with hundreds of missiles buried deep in the farmlands, all trained on America’s perceived enemies. If the order was given the buttons would be pushed and World War III would be only minutes away. The display is fascinating, especially the red chair where the person who had their fingers on the button sat. In case the Russians attacked first they were strapped in so no blast would knock them out of their chair.

  It’s scary to think that there are still missiles out there, but not so many. Lots were decommissioned at the end of the cold war.

  One of the decommissioned missiles has been retained as part of the historical site, about 24 kilometres further down the highway. At the end of a dirt track, behind a cyclone wire fence there’s a perspex roof over the missile silo. It’s spooky in the extreme, even though there’s no warhead fitted.

  Brian: Milwaukee is all about bikes: a tyre for ours, and a visit to the Harley Davidson Museum. It’s back to form for the BMW people. They fit the tyre as soon as we arrive and are keen to hear about our trip.

  The Harley Museum, near the banks of Lake Michigan, is a history of these bikes through the years, in wartime and peace and in Hollywood. I’m surprised that Shirl even seems to be enjoying it. The company nearly went to the wall and was taken over by the staff. They obviously love the bikes they produce. The bikes from the movie Easy Rider are on display. I had the iconic poster for the film on my wall when I was a kid so this is a blast. There’s even a Harley covered in rhinestones.

  The Harley Restaurant serves good food and gives out good tourist advice. We want to see the statue of Fonz from Happy Days. They have Google Maps printed up so there’s no way we can get lost. The statue certainly is a good resemblance of the Fonz, but it’s been vandalised. Apparently some of the arty crowd in town think it lowers the tone.

  Now we head north to Canada for the Horizons Unlimited meeting in Ontario. We’ve been asked to do a presentation on our 2003/2004 trip from London to Melbourne. Cath and Les, who we met at the Overland Expo are organising it, and Ken and Carol will be there. So will Paul, the bloke I met in the shower at the Expo. It’ll be a bit like old home week.

  To save time we opt to take the ferry across Lake Michigan rather than driving around the bottom through Chicago. We get to the ferry terminal with plenty of time and are wandering in when they announce that because of the wind the ferry has been cancelled. There’ll be 20 feet waves on the lake and that isn’t good for the ferry. I’m glad — it wouldn’t have been good for Shirl either!

  •

  At the border Shirl asks what stamps they have for our passports. The border official hasn’t seen the gold-panner and bear stamps from other borders. She’s impressed but sorry she only has a plain date stamp. Leaving the border the rain starts and sticks with us pretty much the whole way to Barrie, Ontario. A good place to stop is at Tim Horton’s. We dry off and Shirl gets another one of her donuts.

  It’s preliminary final night in Australia so rather than camping at the Horizons meeting we take a room, just for tonight, just so I can watch my Collingwood Magpies play on the iPad. It’s great catching up with everyone at the campground, but even better wandering over the road to our room with its warm, comfy bed and lovely hot shower.

  Shirley: The Pies don’t win. Brian’s philosophical but I’m bitterly disappointed. He did promise to shave off his beard if they won the Grand Final. Well, that’s not going to happen now. And his beard just gets longer and takes on a life of its own.

  At the HU meeting Brian, Ken and Carol do a presentation on riding around Australia, which goes down well. So does ours on the last trip. The crowd’s a mix of those who’ve travelled and those who’d like to. Patrick Trehan has ridden the Dakar, probably the world’s most gruelling motorcycle rally. His lanky frame has been battered on the Dakar and other desert rides. He’s pretty healthy considering he’s broken most of the bones in his body. Despite the pain he laughs at diversity and his talk is hilarious.

  Susan Johnson, who began Horizons Unlimited with her husband, Grant, when they rode around the world in the 80s, organises a ‘women only’ discussion group. I’m staggered by the number of women who are cancer survivors or are still battling this killer disease. A common theme from these women is to enjoy life while they still can. I think about my sister, Fran, who lost her battle with cancer. Her death was one of the driving forces behind our first motorcycle trip. We just never know what life will throw up at us. We don’t want to end life with a list of ‘if only we’d …’

  It absolutely pours overnight. There are plenty of muddy holes between the tent and the toilet. Add to this my bed going flat again — I’m just about over camping!

  We’ve spent a bit of time with Ken and Carol over the past few months. They plan to spend another summer in the US and winter in Central America. Goodness knows when they’ll be home.

  We’re glad we have an end point to our journey. It’s a long road ahead, but at the end of it will be good old Melbourne, Australia.

  The last of the Americas

  23 September – 11 October 2012

  Shirley: We’re on the road to Buffalo, New York State for the final leg of our tour of the Americas before the massive ride home through Europe and Africa.

  The Rainbow Bridge offers us great views of Niagara Falls. They’re very nice but they’re not Iguazu!

  Back in the US we take the back roads, heading to Virginia to visit a very good old friend, Ian McDougal. Ian’s lived here for more than 20 years and we haven’t seen each other for a decade or more.

  On his advice, we ride through Gettysburg in Pennsylvania on the way. This area must look incredible in the fall, still a few weeks away. Many towns are promoting Flaming Foliage festivals when the trees will be a riot of colour. We pass a turn off to the town of Rixford. We have to check this out. It’s a tiny town, but the ride in is lovely with a canopy of leaves over the road. It will be even more beautiful in a few weeks.

  Gettysburg was the scene of a major battle during the American Civil War. Historians say it was a major turning point. It was here that Abraham Lincoln delivered his famous Gettysburg Address. ‘Four score and seven years ago …’

  It’s well signposted with storyboards explaining the battle and there are some wonderful monuments in memory of those who lost their lives.

  •

  When we arrive in Washington DC, Ian doesn’t look a day older than when we worked together at a Melbourne television station nearly 30 years ago, yet he’s about to turn 60. He’s still the Aussie boy from Shepparton, yearning the simple life rather than the hurly burley of the US national capital. The accent is still Australian, despite working as a television news cameraman in the heart of US politics. He doesn’t have a bike any more, but he’s still a biker at heart. His wife, Jill, and the boys, Jacob and Matthew, make us feel very welcome. His daughter, Erin, is away at college

  If the bottom ever falls out of the television news business Ian would make a terrific tour guide. He dusts off his 1966 Mustang convertible with its very
Australian number plate — BRUMBY — and gives us a special tour of DC. Before it even starts a Rastafarian at the petrol station gives Ian advice on the best fuel for the performance motor in his Mustang and bids me farewell with a ‘Peace, sister’.

  First stop is Arlington Cemetery to witness the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the burial place of the Kennedys. There are 30 or 40 funerals held here every day; some are for the famous, some are not. We pass one funeral procession, the flag draped coffin being born on a gun carriage led by nine horses. Soldiers in redcoat dress uniforms and a band follow. No matter who you are, your funeral is marked by a 21-gun salute so we can hear gunfire most of the time.

  In DC we cram in as much as we can, beginning with the Franklin D. Roosevelt Memorial. He wanted to be remembered with a simple white box but someone didn’t listen. His monument is built in several stages with water features and life-sized statues, including an impressive one of hungry men queued outside a food charity.

  We see the Lincoln Memorial, the Martin Luther King Memorial, the moving memorials to the Korean and Vietnam Wars and a memorial commemorating the marines.

  While we’re at the evocative black marble Vietnam War Memorial we watch as young people shake the hands of World War II veterans in wheelchairs. One thing about the Americans — they certainly respect their veterans.

  Probably my favourite is the Einstein statue. It’s so big we look like little children sitting on grandpa’s knee!

  Brian: On the way back to Virginia Ian takes us to the police memorial. There are more than 19,000 names of police killed on duty engraved on the walls that are guarded by lions, lionesses and cubs. It’s a very sobering experience.

  Ian tells us about the September 11 attacks. Jill was working in a city law firm and the three kids were at day care. Trying to flee the city after the plane crashed into the Pentagon the roads were so clogged Jill was forced to abandon her car and took the kids home on the train. During this time Ian was in the Mall with his camera, watching and waiting.

  We only get to see one of the Smithsonian museums — the Air and Space museum. We spend more than three hours looking at all manner of aircraft from planes held together with string to spacecraft. It’s a bit of a buzz putting my finger on a piece of moon rock.

  Ian gives us an extra special tour the Capitol building, using his press accreditation to take us into the inner sanctum. We walk the corridors of power and take the little train that politicians and their staff take between their offices and the Capitol. There’re plenty of staffers giving private tours. At one point we get talking to one of the police who patrol the corridors. He seems quite a good fellow at first, talking bikes and then things turn a little odd. He starts talking about taking a bullet for visiting dignitaries. We move away when he espouses that his solution to most problems only costs 23 cents — the price of a round of ammunition. Hmmm.

  By the end of the day we’re all footsore, but not debilitated enough to miss out on dinner with the family at their favourite Ethiopian restaurant. It’s good practice for our ride through Africa. Shirl will have to lift her game, though. I think she’s using the wrong hand, being a left-hander, to eat her food. I’m pretty sure the left hand is used for the ‘other end’ not for touching the food.

  It’s time to move on and I know this farewell is going to be a sad one for Shirl. She and Ian were good friends when they worked together all those years ago and she’s become close to the boys and Jill. Ian seems to have enjoyed his Aussie fix and Jill’s been very patient with all the old times. We’ll both miss them.

  Shirley: We take the New Jersey turnpike and head to Hoboken. Filmmaker John Sayles and his partner, Maggie Renzi, good friends of my brother, Alan and his wife Galia have offered us their city home come office for a few days.

  The paperwork for shipping the bike from Canada to the UK has arrived here minus the very important Green Card insurance. The company won’t fly the bike without it and they’ll charge us another $50.00 to post a duplicate to Toronto. After a couple of fairly tense phone calls Brian finally sorts it out. You just have to be firm.

  We settle into this charming Brownstone just a couple of streets from the Hudson River and its magnificent views of Manhattan. Hoboken, New Jersey is a very hip city with groovy bars and restaurants. There are markets and a good wine shop so I give cooking another bash. I haven’t lost it.

  •

  The one thing we want to visit in New York is Ground Zero. Brian was a policeman when the World Trade Centre was hit. We both watched in horror as people fled the scene, the ones going in to help were the emergency service workers. There‘ve been plenty of times over our years together that I’ve been deeply moved by the danger police, fire fighters and ambos face helping others.

  We walk around the monument, looking at the names of the first responders killed here — name after name of fire fighters, police and emergency service workers. Even a man from the Police Academy Video Unit died here.

  While we’re walking around we see two young men in wheelchairs with two young women. One man has no legs and is wearing a T shirt with the credo about when in doubt empty the cartridge. The other has no legs and has a prosthetic on one. He has only one arm — and a prosthetic where the other arm was. He has a cartoon type bomb outline on his arm with 9/11 tattooed on it. We presume they’re veterans. They hoist themselves out of their wheelchairs and embrace — oblivious to the interest others are taking in them.

  •

  It feels odd when Maggie and John visit us in their house. They even bring dinner. A highly respected filmmaker, at six-feet-four John towers over his life and business partner, Maggie. She’s a true earth mother, but it’s John who’s made the chocolate cupcakes we have for dessert.

  We talk about their film projects and they’re keen to know about where we’ve been and where we’re going. The musician Mason Daring, who writes the scores for John’s films, is a keen biker and they insist on contacting him so we can visit on our way north.

  Ian McDougal’s young son, Jacob, told us all about Carlo’s Bake House in Hoboken. Apparently it features in a popular reality TV show and Jacob assures us the cakes are the best in the world. The cupcakes are nowhere near as good as John’s.

  Brian: The Green Card insurance arrives just as we’re about to hit the road to visit Mason in Marblehead, Massachusetts just north of Boston.

  The weather is closing in so we stop to put on our wets. A white van with blacked out windows stops and the driver checks out the bike. He’s wearing a jacket with ‘Office of Chief Medical Examiner’ embroidered on the pocket. He only chats for a couple of minutes, explaining he’s got ‘one in the back’. He has to take the body to the mortuary rather than chatting to us.

  Mason’s an energetic man in his 60s and warm in his welcome. So is Millie, the black Labrador. Mason’s home is at the end of a private laneway, perched on the cliff edge overlooking Salem Sound. It’s a great spot. Dinner is pretty special too, with Shirl getting a Maine lobster. There isn’t a peep out of her as she demolishes it, legs and all.

  For breakfast Mason takes us to a local cafe and brings along his own special maple syrup. Shirl just about drowns her French toast in it. We’re both going be like the sides of houses at this rate.

  •

  Back in Washington State we had met Bostonian photographer Michael Warren on the ferry from Seattle to the Olympic Peninsula. He invited us to take part in a special photographic series he’s doing of people and their favourite things. Why not, seeing we’re so close?

  Michael has booked a special studio that we can ride into and then onto centre stage. It’s a long, slow process. It takes about 40 minutes to get the lights right for a photo of the two of us in our bike gear. Then it’s time for the bike to take centre stage. It takes more than two hours to get the lighting just right. Then we do a short video interview about why the bike is so important to us. That’s easy. Without the bike we can’t do this trip. ‘The bike’s
our home, our transport, it carries our worldly possessions, and it carries trinkets from home, things that are important to us. We’re like little turtles.’

  Shirley: It’s fall, the season when the leaves turn. To experience more of it we head into the Green Mountains in Vermont on our way to Canada and our flight to the UK. It’s grey, cold and wet so we don’t see the colours at their best but it’s still a wonderful sight — the reds, oranges, silver.

  Rather than putting my reading glasses in my bike pant pocket I put them in my wet weather over jacket. At some stage they’ve speared out and are gone. Luckily I brought a second pair from home or I’d be just about blind.

  After a night at Saratoga Springs we head to Buffalo and Niagara Falls again and then Toronto. It’s time to hand over our USA visitor cards. This is the last time we’ll be here on this trip. Riding around the US we’ve loved the sights, the people and their eccentricities, even most of the food. It’s been pretty easy to ride around, in comparison to South and Central America. We’ll be back.

  •

  Tall, thin and effusive Cathy and the more reserved Les are going to look after us until we fly out to Manchester. They’re planning their own overland adventure, probably next year. In the meantime they’re running a motorcycle business near their home in Hamilton, about 45 kilometres from Toronto.

  They’re always keen to open up their home to travellers. Nicole, Christian, Jens and Kati all stayed here after leaving South America. Now we’re here.

  Brian: The bike is booked out on a flight to Manchester on October 11, my birthday. We’ll be on the same flight. Öhlins have organised for a local suspension expert in Manchester to fit our replacement shocker. Now all I need do is book the ferry to Egypt for the next major leg of our journey.

  It’s late, we’ve had a couple of drinks so maybe I’m looking at the wrong website, but I can’t find any ferry from Italy to Egypt. I’ll check again tomorrow.