30 hours in transit. 6 hours sleep. 500 miles ride through
the most alien place on the planet. 4 Hours sleep. Barbara is still radiating
heat like a hot potato from the sun stroke as I scrape myself out of bed and stumble
over energy drink cans on the way for a cold shower. I brought along a mini
South African flag which I attached to the Harleys antennae and we set off
again on Day 4.
Vegas strip to Hoover Dam
The road leading out of Vegas to Hoover dam is hardly
entertaining. However after the beating we took yesterday we were both quite
happy to click the Harley on speedocruise, lean back into the saddle and just
glide along the motorway. The closer you get to Hoover the more bikers you see and
the more you notice one obvious fact: Harley’s are THE bike in the U S. Nine
out of ten bikes are Harley’s and each one of those guys give you the “Howdy”
on their way past.
In South Africa I have noticed that Harley riders normally
do a headlight flick to say Howdy to each other. Superbikes either give you a
left hand hello or, depending on the speed, a little head nod. BMW riders give
you nothing because they are knobs. In the U S the Harley guys extend their left
hand out and downwards with a piece sign. So if you are looking at the bike
coming towards you the riders left hand down, around the five o clock mark,
with the piece sign as you travel past each other. I felt a bit too fake to do
this right off the bat so I would just give the left palm hello in response.
Later on, in a very specific moment, I felt welcome to use the Harley group
sign. Tell you about that later.
The comradeship amongst bikers there, Harley riders in
particular, is massive. Riders and non-riders a like. Everyone loves Harley’s
and you feel that love as you ride along. You feel like you are a part of
something much bigger. I will write a little article just on the Harley herself
at the end of these blogs. A very, very special bike in a very special membership
base.
Anyways, we are taking a few twisty bits as we start to see
the dam appear on our left hand side. We take the side road, the Scenic Bypass
as they are called, which splits away from that massively tall bridge and takes
you directly over the dam wall. Similar to the Hartbeesport bridge road – just
exceptionally larger. We pulled over at the view point and snapped a few
pictures. While we were there this tour group of three wheeled bikes pulled in.
Now, at first, it is hard not to be insulting as you climb
off a burley Vtwin Harley and see this group roll in with their bubblegum
coloured, lawnmower powered, shiny plastic coated three wheeled insults to the
motorcycles. But, as I stood there and watched them all climb off, I realised
something: Biking is not just about the hairy chested manly stuff.
That group of tourists got to head out on the open Nevada
roads with two fists in the wind just like any one of us. They experienced
nature, the sun, the wind, the smell of grass and warm tarmac just like Barbara
and I. They all climbed off with massive smiles on their faces, giggling away
about one chap that got scared and another nervous pillion on her first ride.
You do not require a motorcycle licence to ride those little trikes because it
has the three wheels. The spirit of being a biker was still there just without
the admin. So yes, I am getting a little soft in my old age. If you don’t have
a bike licence look these guys up and do it. I guarantee you will have a good time.
Hoover Dam is massive. It’s not that long, it’s not that
bulky but it is just massive in a way that is hard to explain. Snuggled tightly
between two ravine walls with a beautiful curved face. We parked in the parkade
nearby and walked towards the wall. Okay, yes, it is a tourist trap. Every kind
of tourist possible. I suppose that is because of the day trips out of Las
Vegas. But try ignore that. Try soak in the magnitude of it all. Read the
little plaques set up along the walkway. The awards she has received in 1955
and historical pieces about the construction process in 1931. Hoover Dam is
where you start to see the immense pride the American people have in their
country. The pride is instilled in so many parts of their daily lives.
The head piece reads: “It is fitting that the flag of our
country should fly here in honor of those men who, inspired by a vision of lonely
lands made fruitful, conceived this great work and of those others whose genius
and labor made that vision a reality” It
really hits you in the feels.
Into Arizona and onto Route 66
Route 66 has always been a dream of mine. Doing it on a phat
Harley with a sexy piece of work as pillion was top drawer. Our plans is to
ride the first few hundred miles of the Rt66 and then tie back in with her for
the last few hundred miles just after Kansas. We couldn’t ride the entire length
as we had plans to see Phoenix and also head up to Denver.
The starting point, as it should be, is Mr D’z Route 66
diner in Kingman. Fill up with a home-made root beer (seriously caramel’ly) and
a cheese burger. We popped across the road into a motorcycle apparel store,
purchased Barbara a hat (it’s flippen sunny in Arizona) and we headed off to
the Visitors centre to get some information regarding places to stay the night.
This is when we first used Airbnb.
Colin McRae Rally Harley
We found this lovely place on Airbnb just outside of
Kingman. Had descriptions of pastel red sunsets and crystal clear night skies.
Sounds just what we need to take it a little easier after the past three nights
of red lining.
We headed out of Kingman and took the off-ramp. Filled up with
fuel and drove out into the mountains there towards this AirBnB home. The tar
road meandered for a while and we took a left onto a well maintained dirt road.
Now, I am not scared of dirt by any means, but I do not believe the Road Glide design
team had lose gravel roads in mind when they made the suspension set up. It is
scary stuff. The front wheel digs into ruts while the back wheel flings about
as you bobble over the smallest stones. We are traveling along nice and slowly
just trying to make sure we don’t drop the bike.
The relatively well maintained dirt road turned into farm
roads. Things are starting to get hairy. About 5 miles in we arrived at this river crossing with
a long pebbled downhill that hits a dry river bed and then climbs out the other
side. Probably around a 30 degree incline with scattered stones and boulders. I
parked off at the top of the hill for a moment, plotted my course, screwed by
balls on tight and we headed down the hill.
Never again. That half a ton does not enjoy being treated
like a 2 stroke scrambler. Everything is just not made for it. However, by the
grace of our Guardian Trinket and some kind of divine intervention we made it out of there in one piece. Okay, our
GPS rates that the house it just around the next corner. We traveled along the
farm road, which is now a two single tracks type of road and we get to
1000 yards from the home. Another river crossing. This time it is steeper and
shorter with a much worse departure angle from the river bed. Barbara hops off
to help me with the balance, I scout out my route, and set off.
I wish I could tell you how it went but I can’t remember. I
just remember heavy jolting, massive shocks through my arms the bike popping up
the front wheel on the exit. Somehow, we got up and out on the other side
unharmed. The muscle in my neck is glowing from the stress. “Phew, well we
should be here” I said to Barbara as we got to the 300 yards mark. Another
river crossing. Short, steep and really aggressive surface. “Nope, we are not
doing that. Eff this” as we decided it was best to just give up on our first Airbnb
experience.
Barbara had to jog the couple of miles back, down the hills,
up the hills and through both river crossings. I just had to focus on getting
this Harley back onto the tar road. We made it, I never dropped her, but it was
the most stressful and unenjoyable biking experience of my life. When I got out
back onto the main dirt road I parked her over, hopped off and just sat on the
ground to compose myself. So kak. Barbara eventually caught up, I left my
sunglasses behind on the road somehow and we headed off to the next small town
to stay there.
I look back now and think that some old farmer must have
been canning himself laughing with these two stupid tourists banging a Harley
down a ravine with some lady jogging in the midday heat. I can picture him now with my Ray-Bans in one hand at the pub telling this story. You would never think
we were street smart Africans.
However, this was to be the start of our weird good luck.
Because we couldn’t stay there we ended up going to the town of Seligman and
staying in a Route 66 themed motel. It was fantastic. The family owned motel
with the friendly front desk local and the little local restaurant across the
road. It was just great. It seemed that every time we got a little lost the journey
got a little better. We popped across the road for a bevvie and some pie during sunset to cap off what has been a seriously stressful afternoon.
There was a group of guys there on rented Harleys as well,
one with a Swiss flag and another with a Norwegian flag. I was very proud of my
South Africa flag (and my Road Glide) so I parked her in reverse to show off. Then
I spotted it.
If you live in Nevada and you picked up a South African flag
on the side of the road – that was mine. Didn’t last long on the antennae it
seems.
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