Rough Roads and Incredible Vistas: Harley Gypsies

By Laurie Martin

This a memoir, telling of my adventures traveling throughout the United
States, Mexico, Central and South America on a Harley. My husband had
been a workaholic who turned it all in to travel the world on his bike. He
wrote of his first 5 years, 200,000 miles, 33 countries in his book, LIVE THE
GOOD LIFE. Now it's my turn to give a woman's view of life on the road.
At times, I thought I'd go crazy, not speaking the language, being out in the
hot, cold, wind and rain, but the openness, acceptance and appreciation of
other cultures and ways of life has been an education I value deeply.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483584935

Book preview

AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

Trial Run to Marriage

The Beginning of Our on the

Road Adventure

Ms. DILLON, THE FIFTH GRADE TEACHER, WAS READY FOR A VACATION. This wasn’t any ordinary vacation, but a trial run to see if she might want a life on the road with Ace, a World Traveling Harley Man.

No fool, we’re off! Good Friday, it makes for a nice beginning to my Easter Vacation. The first of April, April’s Fools, is not a good day to call in for a substitute, but I was more than ready to check out what life had in store for me. Let the kids pull their fun pranks on someone else this year.

We decided to take a ride out to Death Valley via Yosemite and Mono Lake. You can make plans but when it comes right down to it, when you travel on a Harley, it’s not so much where you’re getting to, it’s the getting that counts. What a great sense of freedom!

Reaching into the late afternoon, we begin to look for a place to camp. I feel a bit uneasy about just camping anywhere and not in a designated area. Tsk! Tsk! I realize we are moving out of my area of comfort and into Ace’s realm. With the sun setting low in the sky, we notice a small gravel road skirting off to the side. We pull over and I swing my leg up over Ace’s head, slightly brushing him, as I slide off behind him.

I’ll go scout it out. I saunter away, skip, hop and jog along the scenic little drive, stretching out my legs and feeling good. I finally come strolling back to see Ace, relaxing astride his bike.

You play poker? he asks.

Yeah? I respond, not knowing why he asked. I like poker. Did we bring cards? I notice the askew set of his lips and slight roll of his eyes and wonder what I’m not picking up on.

Well, poker face, what do you think of the place?

Oh, oh yeah! It’s perfect, that is if you don’t think there’s any ill effect from power lines.

I climb back on the bike and off we roll down our very own little country lane to build us a home for the night. It’s a gorgeous scene, with the sun setting in all its warm brilliant colors to our left and the cool moon rising full in the approaching night just to our right. We dine on apples, cheese, crackers and champagne. The champagne was a little decadent surprise for us, something I smuggled aboard in the bedroll.

Crawling into the sleeping bag to keep warm, we stay up and watch for shooting stars. We grow tired as we wait for that magical streak of light to wish upon and we soon fade into the night’s darkness with the hum of 27,000 volts, in each of the three overhead cables, lulling us to sleep.

Waking with the sun washing in on us, I notice a loud pulsing sound that I had thought was traffic last night. I wonder why there is so much traffic this morning and come to realize the sound is the crashing of water from an incredible cascade on the other side of the canyon.

Ace is pleased that our first day on the road together was blessed with such idyllic weather and our first home on the road such a perfect campsite. It wasn’t even so bad washing from a small pan of water. A smile, a kiss and hug as we pack up and move along, just ahead of the ubiquitous hordes of tourist that will descend into the valley.

Into the cool majestic beauty of Yosemite we ride. It is so tranquil, fresh and alive. Breathing in the clear crisp air, I stretch and look all about me. A smile spreads across my countenance a I gaze up to the heavens and thank God for this open, totally unobstructed view of the glorious sight. All those bold black and white photos of Ansel Adam’s come to life as I am blessed with this chance to see this spectacular piece of nature.

We stop at the first vista point where Half Dome can be seen clearly. I get off the bike and stretch, there’s a few wrinkles in my body that I’m not use to, from sleeping out on the ground. What a sight! A young couple comes walking up the hill, nods at us and walks on over to their truck. The guy calls out to us as he opens a cooler in the back of his pickup, Want a beer?

Sure, we’ll split one. I call back to him, even though Ace doesn’t care to drink much and it is early. It’s about 9am. We congregate around the bike.

Wow! I thought I’d been around. I’ve seen every state, but you, boy, you’ve got me beat.

Another car pulls off. A proper looking British gent and his wife get out. She turns to take in the view and he heads directly over to the bike. He begins reading off the country symbols listed on the front saddlebag. Definitely not an American.

GB, F, B, NL, D, DK, N, S, SF, CH, I, L, FL, MC, RSM, A, H, YU, GR, TR, ET, TN, DZ, E,...Not many Americans can figure out these abbreviations that the Europeans use for their countries, like we do for our states. It was insightful to talk with them and open up to another culture’s view of things. There was such a fun contrast in their appearance and ours, they dressed in fine clothes, traveling in style and us in jeans standing around the beat up old bike drinking a morning beer with some new found friends.

We meandered on down into the valley to look around and hopefully get a cup of morning energy. We stop at one of the lodges and go in for coffee. When we get back to the bike, there is a large Mexican family standing around the bike pointing to all the country names written on the saddlebags. The man of the family asks, You travel all? Ace smiles and nods yes. The man then talked to his family in Spanish. Ace told him we were heading down to South America next and that we planned on spending time in the Yucatan first.

Ah! Smiles and more talk in Spanish. He looked intently at Ace and with a fallen sound in his voice he sighed, I’m en-vi-ous! No, no envious, I’m happy for you. I wish you well. Someday, I will get to really travel. The man’s sincerity had a powerful affect on me. I felt lucky to have the freedom to travel, and also felt sad in knowing he probably never would.

Stopping with all the other tourists to take in the spectacular view, I felt somewhat embarrassed as a busload of Japanese turn their gazes and their cameras to us on the bike. Ace falls easily into his spiel, telling them all about his travels upon his bike and how he hopes to get to Japan someday soon. I stare off at the scenery as though I’m too impressed, lost in awe, to notice their attention. Yosemite National Park in California is an amazing wilderness area with gorgeous waterfalls, powerful granite mountains, deep valleys, grand meadows, and ancient giant sequoias.

Riding on, we find ourselves winding along the curvy road that follows the Kern River. As we pass orchards of grapefruit, Ace pulls over into a driveway and gets off the bike. I ask him if there’s anything wrong, but he doesn’t say a thing. He puts his index finger up to his mouth as he stealthily climbs through the fence and picks grapefruit up off the ground.

Well, come here and help me, he yelps out as he stands there on the other side of the fence with an armload of stolen fruit.

I don’t know if you should be doing this, I say with a judgmental shake of my head.

Oh, come on! All these grapefruits on the ground are just going to rot, what a waste!

He dumps his armload into my arms and climbs back through the fence. We tuck them away in the bike’s saddlebags and off we fly, not saying another word.

We see them and ride pass, a whole yard full of bikes, Harleys, and a big party going on. Ace and I look back, both wondering if we should stop and before I can say anything, he’s making a U-turn and pulling into an Easter party we weren’t invited to. Immediately, we were welcomed and laughed at.

What the hell? Never seen suitcases strapped onto a bike like that! They pointed to the large steel saddlebags, that Ace had made in Holland, and got a good laugh.

Ace had a beer in hand and a crowd around the bike and beamed a happy man. I asked one of the women if there was a bathroom I could use and found myself in the house with all the kids. The kids were curious and asked who I was and where I was from and soon they were sharing their bounty of Easter candy with me. Some women in the kitchen caught my attention and motioned for me to come join them. Here have some grown-up candy, they said as they passed me the bottle of whiskey.

We got to talking and laughing about all sorts of things. One of them finally got around to asking me how I got there. I told them I was checking out this world traveling Harley guy on my spring break from teaching and was wondering if I might want to travel on with him when he headed down to South America. They looked at me with such a strange questioning suspicion, then busted up laughing.

Of all things, they chuckled as they followed me out to the bike. Ace was no longer standing there with an audience; it was my turn to look at the ol’ beast and wonder.

Hard to believe, this could be my home!

Ace came walking up glad to see me and asking where I had been. I gave him some jellybeans out of my warm sweaty hand and let him know I was checking with the kids inside to see what the Easter Bunny had brought them. I also said that the bathroom was inside. The women escorted him into the house so he could get rid of some beer and I got ready to ride on.

Sunset found us curving along the narrow winding road, wondering where we could camp. To the right of us is a solid rock wall towering way up above us, to the left a steep scary plunge to the river. I noticed a sign stating- Do Not Swim in This River, 356 Deaths to date. I’m not sure of the exact number, but I sure did get the message that it was a dangerously wild river.

It’s beginning to get dark and Ace has let me know how much he does not like to ride in the dark. There are gravel pull over spots every now and then along the road, but only the size of a car, no place I want to put down a sleeping bag and try to sleep. We ride on, Ace’s head darting from side to side, anxious to find a place to pull off the road.

I’m getting irritable and doubtful of this ‘easy’ life, just camping out under the stars. Shouldn’t we have more definite plans, know where we’re going to spend the night.!? Now wouldn’t ‘easy’ be to just stay in one of the little roadside motels.!?

There! Ace yells out as he sees a place to pull over. It’s just a narrow strip for a car to pull off, but on closer inspection with our flashlights, we see that behind the large boulders is a nice grassy knoll and not just a drop off into the river. We’re just able to squeeze the bike through the boulders and are happily amazed at what a beautiful spot we found. We put up the tent in the dark and thank the luck of the road for a nice place to rest for the night.

Ace is up early, I can hear the roar of the little camp stove as water is heated for coffee. Crawling out of the tent, Ace comes over to me all excited. He leads me though wild flowers which grace the bright new green grass to a gray specked old rock where he sets me down and orders me to close my eyes and open my mouth. He puts a cool spoon up to my lips. I open my mouth and am struck with the incredible sour puckering yet deliciously sweet taste of the best damn grapefruit I’ve ever tasted.

On to Death Valley. We stop at Stovepipe for a rest and something cold to drink. As soon as we pull up, we watch as an old couple rise out of their chairs on the porch. Riding in, jeans and black Harley t-shirts, I almost expect to get the sideward glances and the disapproving looks from those who don’t like bikers.

Mildred, look at that! It’s been a long time since you and I rode our Harley-Davidson, hasn’t it? The old couple just stood there staring at us and not really seeing us, but looking off into the past when it was the two of them riding in. It touched my heart to see them jump up in excitement and share some precious memories. And to think, I had expected scorn from them. This life never ceases to amaze me. Someday we’ll be that old couple.

We roll on down into the valley on a straight flowing road. Ace pulls over and asks if I want to ride the bike; it’s the perfect opportunity, a straight road and not much traffic. I sit up front, bounce on the seat a little trying to get the feel of his bike and say, Ok, let’s roll. Ace sits behind me, checks to make sure there’s no car coming and I slowly wobble out onto the road afraid to pick up my feet. I turn the throttle some more and we’re off.

Riding Ruby Red, my Honda Rebel 250, for the last three years made me feel confident, but a Harley, 1350 Softail, is a whole new ball game. It felt GREAT! I love the feel of power, the keen alertness, the awareness that it’s me in control. I smile and like the idea of Ace sitting behind me. It’s not long though until that chauvinist biker finds an advantage to sitting on the back, something besides enjoying the view. A moment of indignity flashes through me and then I laugh as I try not to swerve because Ace is holding on tight, but a bit higher than my waist.

Hey, I can’t keep us on the road if you’re going to do that. Stop it! A car passes by going the other direction. I’m sure I must be beet red. Ace laughs and tells me I’m doing great.

Finally, we check into a campground and I’m aghast at how ugly it is. This is the designated camping that I thought we needed, thought was appropriate. Little designated spots, all cramped in close together, kids running around screaming, grown-ups grumbling at each other and no trees, only dust and rocks. Ace looks at me, gives me a wry smile and says, Now is this what you wanted when you thought we should stay in a ‘real’ campground?

We found a little slot to call our own, put up the tent, set things out on the picnic table and sat there awhile and I was struck by the fact that this is what most people think camping is! I hope not. Morning found us packed and out of there, one night was enough to cure me of my need for designated camping. We went across the way to the restaurant for our morning coffee. While we were waiting to be seated, we met another couple who also had on Harley shirts and visited with them until they called us to our seats.

Walking out in the parking lot to the bike, we’re stopped by a commotion going on. A crowd was gathered around a Frenchman trying to ask questions and no one understands him. Ace jumps right in, he doesn’t speak French either, but since he’s traveled so much he has an ability to talk without language being such a barrier.

Mapa, Ace blurts out and finally the Frenchman seems to relax. Finally, he has someone who is at least trying and not freaking out asking everyone, who speaks French? Ace walks him over to the bike with us and they begin to talk and talk. Ace told him he had been at the International Bike Run in France back in ‘85, and on and on they talked in their own languages but somehow understanding each other. Seems he also rides and just happened to be at the same bike run.

We spend the day riding through the desert, stopping at landmarks and also going off and doing some exploring of our own. In one hidden cave that we delved into for some shade, we found sitting up on a ledge one black glove. The mystery of one black glove! How did it get here? Who left it behind? Why just one? As we enjoyed some time out of the sun, off to ourselves, we concocted quite an elaborate mystery story of the one black glove.

Looking for a different place to camp, we stopped along the road when we saw the Harley couple, we’d meet that morning, walking along. Their arms were full and they had a small boy with them. We asked if there was anything we could do, after Ace teased the guy about where had he left his bike. They had flown in and had no ground transportation, but to walk. They gave us directions to a different and better campground, they said, and asked if we could carry some of their things over for them. We take their tent, sleeping bags and such for them and the boy decides to ride with us and help give us directions.

Definitely a much nicer campground, there is grass on the ground and trees all around. Our new friends, Tom and Sue catch up with us. We get our tents set up as the light begins to fade from the sky. I meet the family camping next to us and introduce myself and Ace. It’s a big family with mom and dad, a bunch of kids plus one set of grandparents. They’re in a big RV with all the amenities plus a lot of camping equipment so the kids can camp out.

The father comes over with a bright lantern as he sees our friends having problems getting their tent up in the dark. We thank them and get to talking some more. The mom looks at me after Ace has just finished telling them his story, she shakes her head and says, I don’t care for motorcycles or bikers at all, but you two, you’re okay, you’re so cultured! Made me smile and feel good to get this middle class mom from middle America somewhere to open up and drop her prejudice and accept us. She even invited us over for dinner. Ace joked with her and said he’d do breakfast.

Another day of riding and exploring the area of Death Valley, shows the desert as such a dry and barren place, yet delicate wild roses and other wild flowers are in bloom to grace the starkness.

Desert is land stripped to the essentials, freed of superficialities, and living in it can revitalize one’s perspective. Ruth Kirk

On to Scottie’s Castle, an interesting tourist stop to make. We roam the grounds and wander from room to room. Leaving from there, we once again found ourselves on the road wondering where we’d spend the night.

To the left of us is nothing but a great expanse of an old dried up lake bed stretching out as far as the eye can see through the hot shimmering heat waves. Ace seems to be peering out into the nothingness when all of the sudden we go bump, bumpity over the berm and head off in the direction of his gaze. The ground is hard, dried to the bone and cracked, cracks that had so much space between them it seemed as though a continuous scattering of puzzle pieces that had warped so much in the sun that they may never be put back together again.

A couple miles out on this dry lake bed, once the road became only a distant memory and cars passing by were merely dots that looked like ants off into the distance, did we finally stop. Nothing but dry cracked ground could be seen in any direction. This would be our home for the night. We set up camp, walked around in the nothingness and ate dinner in quiet solitude.

The stars came out piercingly bright through the dark black sky. Not a single light distracted the heaven’s show. We sat out and watched as shooting stars dashed across the sky here and there. Crawling into the tent, I felt safe and secure. We had created our own island home, one that would completely disappear with us when we left.

Morning found me groggy and dry. I reached outside for the water bottle, knocked it over and watched as the water disappeared down the cracks so fast that the ground didn’t have a chance to suck up the slightest bit of moisture. I glugged down what was left in the bottle and slowly crawled out of my nest. Ace was off in the distance, the sound of his harmonica barely touching my ears.

Heading back out to the road, we saw some orange spots on the horizon. As the sound of the Harley rumbled out across the desert floor, we saw the orange spots grow into a congregation of Caltrans vehicles parked along the side of the road. We came roaring out of nowhere and as we got closer, I could see every head turned in shocked wonderment at us, the loud chugging sound that began to take shape out of nothingness. They were all standing around the hood of one of the rigs, maps all spread out, coffee in hand and their mouths dropped open. Their heads turned to follow us as we bump, bumped back up onto the highway, mouths still agape, and we were off. We could just imagine them saying, What the....?

First road trip together- Death Valley

There’s been a lot of controversy over Mono Lake. I’ve seen documentaries and have read arguments in the newspapers, but seeing it for the first time as we rolled up to the hilltop made me stop. The salty body of water stretched out below us and I wondered how much longer it could survive. As we were stopped at the top of the steep hillside, Ace decided it would be wise to check the brakes. We pulled over to the berm and started the procedure of bleeding the brakes. A mobile home crested the hill and stopped alongside us, right in the road! A woman rolled her window down as a man leaned over her asking if we needed some help. Ace joked about not having any brakes and wondering what we might encounter at the bottom of the hill.

At that, the driver turned off the engine and was out inspecting the bike with Ace. I asked if he shouldn’t pull over and he said in his thick English accent, They have plenty of bloody room to get about. The four of us got to talking and before you know it, they open up their home and we’re all standing about drinking deliciously cold beer. They were from Great Britain and were having a jolly time touring the United States. They had to laugh at how many strange things we do though. For instance, he said, when a cop has someone pulled over, now that is a good time to go speeding on by, you know the bloody bloke is busy, but no, not here in this country, you all slow down and poke your nose in someone else’s misfortune. Doesn’t make sense, now does it?

A few cars slowly go by, probably wondering what’s going on, what is this mobile home doing parked in the road, (trouble with a biker?) but no one stopped to ask. We asked them if they knew if there was a town down below and they said not for some time. Ace said he’d like to camp off the road up here overlooking the lake and then go down and explore it tomorrow. The woman asked me if I had plenty of food, then answered herself by laughing and saying, yeah sure, like you have much room on that thing to carry very much of anything.

She was inside going through the refrigerator pulling out all sorts of fruit and vegetables and insisted we take them so we could have a fresh healthy meal. They left us some more cold beer and rolled on down the hill. What an incredible evening, fresh food, sleeping under the stars with a promise of adventure ahead.

After spending the morning soaking in the strange crystalline white beauty of Mono Lake, we head towards Lake Tahoe and go from the heat of the desert to the chill of the mountains. We got a hotel room, cleaned up and had an unexpectedly fun time out at the casinos. What a different pace from all our camping.

With Easter vacation over and returning to work, I had to give serious consideration to what my future might hold. By Christmas, I again decided to spend my holiday with Ace. We went up to his log cabin in Northern Idaho and had a delightful Christmas in a winter wonderland. For a Christmas present, he got me a delicate opal and diamond ring which all my students, when I got back, declared must be an engagement ring. Thus Ace and I became engaged.

Log Cabin Home in Northern Idaho- First Christmas Together

I toyed with the idea of quitting right then and there, but I couldn’t leave my kids before the year was up, they were a great group of kids and we had so many things planned for the rest of the year. So, I gave my principal notice that this would be my last year.

During the last week of school, I took my class and quite a few of the parents out for a camping trip at the beach. We stayed at Dillon Beach and had to get up real early to catch the low tide for clamming. I had been preparing them most of the year for this trip and had arranged for a lot of the dads to be there. They had no idea how much work they were in for to get those big ol’ goeyducks. I’d never seen some of those kids work so hard! They’d be lying down in the wet muddy sand with their whole arm down a hole trying to keep hold of the clams neck, its siphon, while others tried to dig it out. What an incredible clam chowder we had! It was great to have Ace along for the show and see me in my teacher mode. He’d seen me in the classroom, but the outdoor adventures are my favorite.

The last day of school, the class had a surprise party for me. As I opened the door, confetti dropped on my head and they all yelled out, SURPRISE! They had made me a cake, the shape of a heart and decorated it with a black licorice road with a beautiful model Harley on it. Perfect! It was a wonderful end to a good school year, a special class and the beginning of a new life.

Looking back, I guess it all happened rather suddenly. I had been in a relationship with an older man, Dean, who I loved deeply, but it wasn’t what I needed. I started dating other men and met Randy, who came to visit some close friends of mine, Pat and Lindsey. I really thought it was finally happening, here was a man I could imagine having a family with. It was a long distance romance, but definitely a romance.

Then Ace walked into my life as though he were home. Our only connection so far was that we both liked motorcycles. I had seen something in a paper about this World Traveling Harley Man and was intrigued. There was an address to write him, so I did. And now here he was at my house.

My friend, Dean, and I were having a cup of coffee at the kitchen table when I heard him at the door. Ace walked to the kitchen with me and shook hands with Dean as I introduced them. There was a world map on the wall above the table which gave Ace a spring board into discussion about his world travels. The three of us sat about the table most of the morning and talked about the places we’ve been.

Ace asked if I’d like to go on a ride sometime, so we made plans to meet again tomorrow morning and go for a ride. I could hear the bike blocks away as it honed in on my driveway. I walked out to meet him. My little 250 Honda Rebel, looked like a miniature next to his big black beast.

Excited about my new direction in life, Ace and I spent our week-ends together, where I put aside the teacher, Ms. Dillon, and became