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Women Riders Now - Motorcycling Lifestyle. Women. Men. Men Riding with Women.

Since 1999, the #1 Motorcycling Magazine for Women and the Men Who Ride with Them









Two Girls. Two Bikes. Two Weeks. Part 1

The magic surrounding two women on the road trip of a lifetime.

Story and photos Lesley Gering
3/1/2006

The Ents are watching. My good friend Robin Bacsfalvi wrote that in the beginning of my road journal. She used the quote from the second book of "Lord of the Rings" by J.R.R. Tolkien. She described Ents as ancient trees watching--Ents the earthborn, old as mountains. I had no idea at the time, but later I would think that the words held a certain poetic justice. Magic. Wasn't that what it was all about? Robin and I were going on our first big road trip together. For me, road trips are like oxygen, essential for my survival. I charge up my batteries and come back to the city a new person.
Lesley Gering and her friend Robin Bacsfalvi on a road trip of true adventure.
Lesley Gering and her friend Robin Bacsfalvi on a road trip of true adventure.

We started our journey in Vancouver, British Columbia, with no real agenda except we were heading south. Two girls. Two bikes. Two weeks. Too perfect. We crossed the U.S. border and burned south down the I-5. Our first gas stop lurched us into reality. We knew we were officially on the road when this good 'ol boy in a pickup truck asked us, 'where our old men were.' Robin and I just smiled. We couldn't be bothered. This was our trip and nothing was going to spoil the groove. He had no idea about magic.

Lesley on her 1997 Honda Valkyrie Tourer
Lesley on her 1997 Honda Valkyrie Tourer

We headed east towards Yakima, Washington, and stopped in the mountain town of Cle Elum. It was dinnertime and we devoured some great Mexican food plus a couple of lime margaritas. On a side note, Robin and I were on a very limited budget. We're talking between the both of us about $40 a day. Ha! Good luck. Our motorcycles alone with my big six cylinders and Robin's inverted four were gobbling more than half of that a day. Despite the restrictions, we both decided creative financing was the way to go. No problem. However, this delicious Mexican meal had already wreaked havoc on our daily budget. Sigh. We shrugged it off, promised to do better tomorrow and took off into the night heading towards the Yakima Valley.

Robin on her 2000 Honda Magna V45.
Robin on her 2000 Honda Magna V45.

The full moon had just started to rise and the valley was blowing a sweet warm wind that coated us in the moonlight. At one point, in the brilliant blue light, we had to stop smiling. Both of us were catching too many bugs in our teeth. What an incredible start to our journey. We pulled up into the sleepy little town of Sunnyside,Washington. Population: 1,500. Churches: 15. One of my good friends was the local surgeon in the valley and had told me to drop by whenever I was in the hood. Well, it was after midnight and we were officially dropping by.

This little town was very conservative and my friend's house was in a neighborhood that resembled a Christian suburban dream. So, here we are, two strange girls on motorcycles riding over to the Cleaver's house on a full moon. Hmmm--I could visualize the crosses coming out. Even worse, my doctor friend was not home. There was no way Robin and I were going to ride anymore. We had already ridden 500 miles and were exhausted. We pulled out our tent and started to pitch it right in the front yard. The backyard was overgrown with berry bushes and I knew my friend, in his wonderful bachelor ways, still hadn't hired a gardener since the last time I came to visit. Robin and I had no problem falling asleep. I didn't care if half the neighborhood was peeking at us through closed curtains; we had ridden hard today and deserved this sleep.

Lesley captures Robin in a picturesque pose among some sand dunes.
Lesley captures Robin in a picturesque pose among some sand dunes.

The morning came with those sweet, special sounds of a lawnmower engine starting up. Well! Obviously, my friend had hired a gardener! To the boy's surprise, two sleepy, rather cat-like creatures yawned and stretched their way from within a blue tent. Almost simultaneously, Robin and I realized we were on display for half the neighborhood. We continued to stumble out and gave ourselves a rinse with the gardening hose, brushed our teeth with our fingers and with a quick wave to the gardener and the nosey neighbors, we were off.

More sand dunes.
More sand dunes.

We headed southwest, climbing up into the Cascade Mountains, down towards the Columbia River Gorge and into Hood River, Oregon. Leaving the morning warmth of the fertile valley, we passed beautiful pyramids of hops plants growing into the sky, acres and acres of mint and berry bushes, hills sketched with vineyards and fields full of yellow mustard flowers. Riding side by side, we smiled at one another, laughed out loud and blasted towards the Cascades.

Read part two and find out they braved the wind over the Columbia Gorge bridge hanging on to their motorcycles for dear life.

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