CHAPTER ONE

We began our adventure that bright sunny morning by taking the ‘girls’ to Doggy Dude Ranch for safekeeping while we spent the weekend riding the highways and byways of Arizona.  Needless to say they were quite disappointed we hadn’t made any riding arrangements for THEM!

With the girls safely tucked away for the weekend, we packed the saddlebags, one side for Master, one for me, donned our leathers and hit the highway for a delightful weekend of merriment, sightseeing, and adventure with ultimate destination, Bisbee, Arizona.

Master had mapped out an intriguing route with very little freeway travel, mostly backroads that afforded us a more leisurely ride through small and large towns along the way.  With a renewed determination that I could refine my rather awkward approach to getting on and off the bike without destroying the seat with my boots, we began our journey with a quick stop for gas and sailed off down the road. 

In no time we were out of the crowded, crazy city traffic and flying down the less traveled highway towards Florence.   We encountered little traffic after getting off the freeway and heading down highway 79 until we came upon the Tom Mix Wash Monument, where the legendary cowboy actor lost his life on the highway.  After a quick stop we continued our journey through Oro Valley into Tucson.  The steady vibration of the engine, the sun on my face, and Master leaning back into my body with his feet on the highway pegs, it was as though time stood still and the blue skies would never end and perhaps we both felt a little like modern day cowboys discovering the landscape all over again.

The encroaching outline of the Catalina mountains was magical, as they began as almost a shadow in the distance, then grew larger and larger as we rolled closer to Tucson.  They were a looming, dark, but almost protective presence on our journey, and as we rolled down the long sweeping turns that led us ultimately to the foot of the Catalans and ultimately the beautiful town of Tucson.

We pulled into a gas station to fill the hungry Vixen.  I gathered my confidence to try and gracefully disembark myself from the back seat, but much to my chagrin, and Master’s patience, I realized too late that my knee refused to support my smooth and graceful maneuver to hop off the bike.  In one last ditch effort to get myself off the bike without causing permanent damage to Master’s legs trying to balance my girth during this seemingly impossible maneuver,  I put my right foot on the ground and attempted to deftly ‘hop’ off the back.  Before I knew what had happened,  my right foot went slipping on the slick concrete of the gas station and I kept hopping right down on my ass, with my last thought being ‘gee, I hope no one noticed that deft move’ and then my helmeted head smacking the concrete hard enough for me to see stars.  

Soon enough the Vixen’s hungry heart was filled to the brim with 91 octane and off we went down the road again, in search of a strong drink to quench our dusty throats.  Master knew a biker bar in the east part of town, the Bashful Bandit,  and we disembarked (much more gracefully for my part) and entered a very colorful, quiet little bar attended sparsely this time of day by a few locals.  We enjoyed a cool drink and some quiet conversation while Master outlined our next leg of the journey.  Just being away from the city, outdoors, really a part of the landscape was so exciting, and so relaxing at the same time. 

We donned our leathers after our short respite and hit the road, heading southeast of town and out into the grand expanse of cowboy country.  Actually I should say Indian country because it doesn’t take much imagination as you ride alone the highways here to see Apache warriors standing guard on the mountains guarding the highway on either side, or to see uniformed cavalry sending scout parties out to make reports back to Fort Huachuca.  The hills and mountains that seemed to welcome us into their domain  began to swallow us up as we ride, as the steel heart rumbles along the highway and we seemed to disappear into the landscape itself, becoming a as much a part of the land as the trees and boulders.

Every now and then Master would lean into my body, give a little wiggle to the Vixen and I would rub his shoulders in a sort of call and answer to our simultaneous joy at finding ourselves in the middle of this vagabond adventure.  I would find myself gazing at the protective mountains on either side for seconds, minutes, and  time just seemed to be suspended as the wind roared past our helmets and the ever present vibration of the machine between our legs carried us along the highway.

Our next rest stop was Sonoita, where we pulled off the road near a restaurant to have a stretch and a smoke.  We were surrounded by the Santa Rita mountains, purplish in their splendor, beckoning us to pick up the journey again before the setting sun began its relentless path towards the west.

Before taking up the journey again, we stopped to admire a beautiful pair of apparently new Road Kings in the parking lot, beautifully displayed with no faring (sp?) but a splendiferous amount of chrome and spectacular leather saddlebags.  After fielding some questions and admiration from some departing diners over The Vixen and our journey, we saddled up and off we flew down the road again.

Before long just as the sun was speeding toward the west, we pulled into the quaint town of Bisbee, Arizona. It was like a grand old lady holding court over the mountains and a very deep hole, where miners had excavated copper for nearly a century.  Narrow streets, Victorian homes, rustic store fronts and miles of staircases.

OUR TRIP TO BISBEE

After a quick ride around Bisbee we found our hotel, The Copper Queen.  It was located above the center of town, rising like a grand dame overlooking her domain.  At her feet was a beautiful little city park, filled with a tall weathered brick museum and a beautiful black wrought iron fence particular to the late 19^th and early 20^th century. Through the park and up the proverbial stairs there was a narrow street, like a ribbon around the bottom of the Queen’s skirts.  There was a large veranda bordering the entrance to the hotel, on one side the pub, the other side a generous outdoor dining area which overlooked the street and park below. 

We found a space in front of the Copper Queen to park the Vixen and went up the stairs and through two copper decorated swinging doors into the foyer.  It had been beautifully restored to her original style and décor, with a large check in area to the right, a spacious lounge area to the back and the large staircase to the upper floors off to the left.  We checked in and got our brass keys to the room, which was on the 2^nd floor, past the John Wayne Room, all the way at the end of the hall, right next to the pool area, which is just outside and behind the second floor rooms. 

We opened the door and it swung in revealing a tall room with a big ceiling fan, windows on two walls, and a wallpaper that I’m sure was reminiscent of many of the hotels during that era, vertical stripes alternated with roses in muted greens, white and pale pink.  The bathroom had a pocket door to separate it from the main room, and a large walk in closet to hang our leathers and riding clothes.  A large oak dresser was positioned on the north side of the room and the wooden floor was covered with a braided rug of differing shades of green.  It was a very warm, welcoming room, and we quickly put our things away and donned our city garb for a look around town.

We descended the great stairway down to the lobby and back out the swinging doors to the street.  We walked down through the city park and across the narrow street to the Bisbee Post Office, a square three story brick building that faced East, and was perched on the high side of the street.  We walked up the winding street past the post office, past the Bisbee Newspaper office and window shopped as the dusk faded into twilight.  There were shops filled with metal sculpture, pottery, turquoise jewelry, antiques, candles and oils, vintage clothing and tee shirt, souvenir shops. 

The air was getting chilly but not uncomfortable as twilight turned to evening.  Master found he had forgotten a do-rag for his long wild hair so we ducked into one of the few shops left open and bought a suitable one for his needs.  Master decided it was time to get cleaned up and find a place to have dinner before the new year’s celebrations began in earnest so off we went back to the hotel to get ready for the evening ahead.

We had a double sized brass bed on which we laid down for a short rest before getting ready.  We talked a little about the past year and all the amazing ‘firsts’ we had experienced.  I know I’ve had some wonderful experiences since we met and can’t imagine my life without Master.  We took turns getting showered and ready and soon enough we descended the stairs one more time to see what merriment lay in store for the New Year’s eve festivities in this quaint little town.

As we walked across the street, through the little city park and over to the main street of old town.  We walked past a window displaying a mannequin dressed in a particularly slutty red thong holding a bloody knife in one hand, having apparently just sliced her fellow mannequin in half on the table in front of her (I told you it was an eclectic town), then the next little shop would be displaying turn of the century cooking utensils and cook stoves.  Next to that was a turquoise jewelry shop,  then a shop with various sculptures and artwork.
 

We didn’t see many restaurants, but spotted a large awning across the street that advertised ‘The Bisbee Grill’.  Master took my hand and we walked across the street and into the brightly lit building to see what was on their menu.  We were greeted by a pretty young girl who advised us there would be approximately an hour and a half wait for dinner.  Being New Year’s Eve and all, we weren’t too surprised and thought we would spend some time in the quiet little bar while awaiting our table.  We walked through the archway to sit at the bar when we realized it was only a very small bar and was already packed to capacity (about 15 people). 

At this point Master decided to see what Whiskey Row had to offer while we waited for our reservation.  We crossed the street toward the Copper Queen again, and then down and around a little corner to find this huge brick building standing above us called The Stock Exchange.

We walked up the stairs to the glass doors of the bar and were welcomed by a very slender blond woman bartending.  We asked us what we would like and we each ordered a rum and coke.   We looked around the cavernous bar with awe, seeing the huge blackboard on the side wall with all the different commodities and shares titled on top, and boxes below to announce the selling and buying prices for everything.  At the far end was a section entitled ‘New York Stock Exchange’ and I guess they would have the prices posted for that day in the boxes below.  At the far end of the bar was a stage, where a D.J. was setting up for karaoke later in the evening.  On our side of the bar you could see down the entire length of the beautiful oak bar, probably 50 feet long, polished and gleaming.  Behind the bar was the back bar, which looked to have been made around the late 1800’s and probably brought over by covered wagon and/or train.  It had to be at least 15 feet high with a beautiful mirror in the middle, and two side pillars, all in either mahogany or cherrywood.  It was a beautiful centerpiece to the bar and gave the place a certain sense of royalty.  I’m sure in its heyday this place was full of movers and shakers  given the population of this little town in the 1920’s was around twenty thousand people, most of whom worked the mine during one of its three shifts. 

We laughed, drank, kissed, whispered, and generally laughed and enjoyed ourselves before it was time to head back to the Bisbee Grill for dinner.  We reluctantly left our stools and promised the bartender that we would be back to enjoy the festivities after we had eaten dinner.  We descended the stairs to the street and walked over to the restaurant, ravenous by this time and looking forward to a good meal.

We entered the lobby of the restaurant and Master announced our arrival and asked if the table was ready.  They said they had called our name a few minutes before, but no worries they could get us right in and seat us at the bar.  We were immediately seated and our drink order was taken. 

A very bright and bubbly lady introduced herself as our server and gave us the low down on specials, suggestions, appetizers, etc.  Master chose the brie and bruschetta for starters and we both studied the menu while waiting for the brie.  I spotted the Cowboy Steak and asked if Master wouldn’t really enjoy that item, as it was a rib-eye steak cooked over mesquite wood.   I was looking at the Cajun spiced ribeye, and thought we could savor a little of each other’s choices if I ordered something a little different.  They brought us a lovely warm loaf of bread, then the brie, and each bite we took was better than the last.  Everything was so flavorful and seasoned to perfection.

We were attended to beautifully, without overattending, and our dinner was a delight, both in flavor, in service and in company.  We toasted to our one year anniversary and to each other for being in this wonderful place, at this wonderful time in our lives.   We toasted to being lucky enough to have ridden down to this beautiful place on a Harley, to have found the wind in our faces and truly at a place in life where we can really appreciate what we have. 

After we rolled ourselves out of The Bisbee Grill, we walked back over to The Stock Exchange and found that a few more revelers had joined the party and were hard pressed to find two stools at the bar.  The place was beginning to rock, and the DJ was already getting people on stage to perform.  We found one bar stool and took turns sitting, until the doorman had left for a moment and we snagged his stool.  After staking out the entrance end of the bar and two stools we were committed for the duration. 

With only two bartenders trying to serve about 300 people in this bar it was difficult to get too ‘happy’ before you could get another drink ordered and served, but overall we had a wonderful time talking with the locals and out of towners celebrating the holiday, singing along with the karaoke singers and finally counting down the old year.  It was certainly a New Year’s eve I will never forget.  After a memorable kiss with Master to celebrate the old year and look eagerly to the new year’s adventures, we wandered down the front steps to the street to find our cozy hotel room. 

As we rounded the street and climbed up the incline towards the Copper Queen we encountered a large group of young people playing drums and odd and assorted other instruments, singing and revelry.  We sat on the front porch for one last smoke while we watched the people singing and dancing in the street.  They were celebrating perilously close to The Vixen, and Master was poised over the railing just in case someone carelessly bumped into her, or tried to sit on her during their festivities.  Thankfully they were all very respectful of her presence and we had no need to intervene, as the revelers moved eventually on down the street to serenade another street, another tavern, and we turned to the warm welcoming lobby to find our well deserved rest.

We climbed the stairs to our floor and found the brass key to open the door and made ready for bed.  We were still full from dinner and an evening of drinking and singing and it wasn’t long before we were both sound asleep.   I never did hear the ghost from the floor above us, but it may well be that the loud celebrations in the hotel and in town had scared the ghosts off for the night.  Or, it just might be that I was so dog tired from a day of riding, a wonderful diner, and an evening of drinking and singing that an atom bomb wouldn’t have awakened me. 

OUR TRIP TO BISBEE

THE FINAL CHAPTER

I woke up first, being the only morning person in this twosome, and dressed to go downstairs for some coffee in the lobby.  I let Master sleep a little longer and went out on the front porch to enjoy the beauty of the sun touching this now quiet little village.   The sun shone very bright on the little street in front of the hotel and there were one or two other early birds sitting out at various tables around the veranda with me.  You could see the top of the mountain in front of the hotel,  the sky was robins egg blue and I wished at that moment I could stay forever.  No sounds of traffic, or horns blaring, or people yelling and swearing, no sirens, no chaos.  It was very quiet and peaceful and seemed almost unreal. 

I took some coffee back up to the room and woke Master, we walked out behind the hotel to the pool area and had a smoke, listened to the quiet peace of the city.  We talked of the route ahead that day and where we would stop.  We went back to the room, packed up our few belongings and got them loaded in the Vixen so we could eat breakfast and hit the road soon after.  We decided to eat at the hotel for breakfast and we were not disappointed.  It was a hearty meal and just what we needed for the trip ahead.  Master took me around the corner for one look down at the mine pit.  It’s such a huge hole in the earth, its hard to imagine all that digging and all that copper that must have been removed from that hole.  The walls of the mine were discolored with different hues of orange and red and you could barely see the bottom.  It was amazing.

We gathered ourselves back on Vixen and off we went, past all the bed and breakfast establishments, the little Victorian houses, little bridges, tall staircases, and soon enough we were winding our way out of those mountains and on towards Tombstone.  We both promised to come back someday soon,  as this was such a wonderful experience to be in a place like Bisbee where everyone just ‘does their own thing’.  In our lifestyle, that's very rare to find, and certainly a place that we will always treasure.

As we left the picturesque little town of Bisbee behind, we climbed out of the mountains and down the road toward Tombstone.  The sun was high and bright in the sky and the temp was around 60, but would soon climb to almost 75 by 3pm.  The Chiricahua Mountains loomed in the distance as we sped down the deserted road, nothing but land on both sides of the road as far as you could see, uncluttered by wires, poles, or buildings.  It was very easy to imagine life here 150 years ago, and I daresay the land looked exactly the same then as it does now. 

After about 40 min we pulled into the old town section of Tombstone, complete with a dirt mainstreet and wooden sidewalks.  We started up the street on the south side, looking at colorful window-dressings advertising everything from authentic gun replicas, posters of wanted criminals, marauding Indian warriors and various jewelry and western wear stores.  We also passed several  preserved saloons and a diner, advertising the best deep dish apple cobbler in town.  There were a few older people in the diner having breakfast, but for the most part the town was very quiet. 

As we ambled down the wooden sidewalk we happened upon a gunslinger, taking his time leaning against the boardwalk railing, having a smoke.  He stopped us and advised the next gunfight show would be at 1130.  We stopped to talk to him and had a smoke ourselves.  Turns out he used to live in Phoenix years ago, but just got tired of waiting for the traffic lights to turn green, so he headed south to find a smaller town, a slower lifestyle, and consequently, fewer traffic lights!  He settled in a small town near Tombstone and had been there for about 15 years.  He said he was a retired actor, and loved the surroundings of Tombstone and his persona in that famous old town.  We thanked him for the info but declined the gunfight, as we had a number of miles ahead of us that day if we wanted to get home before dark. 

As we continued down the wooden sidewalk we came to the little city park, where we both took a much needed break and regrouped across the street for our final tour of main street and back to the Vixen.  We noticed an old stagecoach slowly moving up mainstreet, drawn by two big buckskin horses.  On top was a western dressed driver who wore a headset, despite his authentic looking western garb.  It made him look out of place, or just confused whether he wanted to be in the old west or the new west.   We decided it must be to enhance his voice while describing the colorful history to the tourists seated inside the coach, so it wasn’t so bizarre after all.

We saw a few shops and saloons on the way back, but still stuffed from the big breakfast at the Copper Queen, we had no desire to explore the general stores or dry goods shops.

Soon we came to the parking lot where Vixen sat basking in the sun, and we boarded her again to take our place under the sun riding down that small ribbon of highway ahead, bound for Oracle.

Oracle is just a wide spot in the road, at least the part we rode through, and so we pulled into a gas station, closed for the New Year’s holiday, and took a smoke break, soaking in the beautiful surroundings of mountains and hillsides.  I think what I loved move about these rest stops was the quiet you have out in these wide open spaces.  Its such a wonderful lack of sound, only the occasional birds, the wind, and the sound of your own heart beating.  I don’t think I could ever tire of spaces and places like this that remind you life is more than the alarm going off at 6am and the overcrowded freeways.

After a short rest we headed back on the highway bound for Winkelman, a small copper mining community where Master and I spent our first weekend together.  The road to Winkelman is as beautiful as anything here in the desert.  The hills,  the mountains always looming in the distance, the huge blue sky above you, and the occasional hawk soaring over the hills crying out with a sound that is like a proclamation of freedom.  ‘Free, free, free’, their cry echoes back to my ears and makes me glad to be in this beautiful place, in this particular time and space, with Master piloting our journey.

Before too long we pull into Winkelman, well into the gas station in Winkelman right across from the grounds where we camp in November.  We had some snacks and a cold drink and relaxed for a few minutes.  After a minute two Valkyries pulled into the station, not making a sound!  They looked like they had car engines mounted onto their frames, a very strange looking machine, but beautiful in its own way.  Not our cup ‘o tea, but different strokes for different folks I guess.  After 6-8 bikes pulled in and left while we were there.  Apparently the beauty of the day was calling riders everywhere to have an adventure.

Reluctantly, we mounted Vixen and took off towards home.  I don’t think either one of us was looking forward to heading back into the Phoenix Valley area and all the ensuing traffic that was waiting for us, but every story has to end sometime, and given the fact we couldn’t take a vacation day and add it to our weekend, we knew that our adventure had to end that evening.

The ride from Winkelman to Superior is one of the most beautiful we have ever ridden.  You are flanked on both sides with mountains rising up out of the ground, towering above you, huge outcroppings on both sides of the road with many different colors running through, twists and turns all the way up to Superior,  and we had the road to ourselves that afternoon.  I can still feel the way both Master and I felt as one leaning right, then left, then right again, winding our way through the mountains, up and up, until finally you see the sign for Superior, and we had to stop to catch our breath and share what we each saw and felt during that journey to Superior.  An unforgettable memory and in many ways neither of us had adequate words to describe the beauty. 

After filling up in Superior, we girded our loins for the final leg of the journey home.. We had to get through the last of the mountains, then hills, through Apache Junction, in all of its trailer park glory, all the way through Mesa (about 15 exits), then through downtown Phoenix and north to our home.  We had to make one more rest/smoke stop in Scottsdale, just feeling beaten by the wind, the setting sun, and the frantic pace of traffic on the freeway.   

It was about one more hour before we were pulling up to our house, and the twilight was just fading into evening.  We had made it home, safe and sound.  It was an amazing journey, one that neither of us wanted to end,  but end it must.  Planning a new journey  was the way to fend off the understandable sadness at having such a wonderful weekend end, so we spent the evening talking about all the possibilities of new adventures, and new twisties to explore, and of course there is always the dream of Sturgis someday……..