Touring Aruba on a hog

Brian Day

Nestled 16 miles off the coast of Venezuela, Aruba -- which is part

of the Netherlands Antilles chain of ABC islands of Aruba, Bon Aire

and Curacao -- is sheltered from hurricanes and boasts fabulous

weather. At Palm Beach, a resort enclave on the lee side, it’s always

sunny and warm with a mild breeze. Glorious white sand beaches

stretch out for miles. Besides beaches, great scenery, excellent

restaurants and friendly locals, this little island is also a great

place to ride a big touring motorcycle.

Aruba’s official Harley-Davidson dealership is called Big Twin.

It’s owned by Humphrey Hardeveld, a successful hotel executive who

created Aruba’s upscale Harley market in eight years. Hardeveld told

me that Arubans love their cars and motorcycles.

“We have good weather all year, so you can ride any time,” he

said. “And Arubans are proud: proud to be who they are, proud of

their island, proud to take care of visitors so well, proud of their

machines. They’re genuine people.”

Hard to argue with that sentiment, since I already knew Arubans

were mostly a cheerful lot. Aruba’s official motto is “One Happy

Island.”

I rented a gleaming Harley-Davidson Road King complete with helmet

and gloves. The machine was comfortable and fully equipped, and I

couldn’t wait to explore my newly found vacation paradise. Since most

tourists use taxis or rental cars, riding a Harley on Aruba makes you

an instant celebrity. Everyone stares, smiles and waves, sometimes

jockeying their cars for a better look. As I got comfortable with the

bike, my picture was taken at stoplights and a couple of bikini-clad

young women flirted outrageously before asking for a ride. I smiled

back and graciously declined, wary of passengers wearing only the

tiniest of swimsuits.

Since the island has less than 150 miles of paved road, it didn’t

take long to see the main highways and beaches. Then Aruba’s outlands

beckoned, and I turned the bike toward Arikok National Park. Arikok

sprawls across the north coast, and this windward stretch of Aruba is

a study in extreme contrasts quite unlike the serene Palm Beach

resorts. Here the churning ocean is angry blue-green, whipped into

frenzy by trade winds. The scenery is stark and beautiful: harsh

volcanic plains end abruptly at cliffs just above the boiling sea.

Huge waves smash into plumes of mist and spray in the distance. It’s

a spectacle that sent shivers down my spine despite the heat.

Wrestling the big cruiser through isolated Arikok Park was a

challenge I couldn’t turn down. The bike jounced and bumped along

dirt roads at a pace closer to walking than driving. The only other

vehicles I saw were four-wheel-drive Jeeps and one or two brave -- or

dumb? -- tourists in rental cars. If the Harley breaks down, it’s a

long thirsty hike out. I rumbled past forests of tall cactus and

twisted divi-divi trees, stunted scrub brush, lava flows and rock

formations. It was a windy, overcast day but still almost 90 degrees,

and my mouth went dry quickly. I was impressively unprepared for this

kind of adventure moto-travel. My survival rations were a dried-out

sandwich and one small bottle of warm water. In the distance, I

thought I saw a parking lot filled with cars.

Luckily, the bar at Boca Prins was real, a genuine oasis halfway

between nowhere and desolation on Arikok’s rocky coast. I stumbled

in, ordered a cold soda and sat to recuperate, rehydrating as fast as

I could. The “crowd” consisted of locals who drove out for beer and

conversation with other locals. As the resident nut case riding a

plush American cruiser through the wilderness, I was treated to soft

drinks while regaling my hosts with tales of motorcycling in the USA.

Refreshed, I saddled up and hit the road again. The terrain was

smoother on the outward segment but no less majestic as I chugged

past turnoffs for Fontein Caves and the Indian Drawings. Down the

road a bit, I saw flag-festooned signs for the Aruban Tunnel of Love.

Sweaty and dusty, I headed back across the island on paved roads to

Baby Beach near San Nicolas for a swim. Baby Beach is a calm, shallow

circlet of pure white sand and crystal-clear water. I parked the

Harley, stripped down to my trunks and spent an hour splashing in the

warm Caribbean.

Perfect beaches and swaying palms aside, riding a motorcycle on

Aruba means recalibrating your expectations and staying flexible.

Rumbling the Road King up to one European-style traffic circle, I

found it blocked by a house. A ramshackle mobile home had collapsed

on its rusty axles, stopping traffic. The efficient Aruban traffic

police turned cars back, but they waved me through, so I launched the

Harley over a couple of curbs past the stricken mobile home and up

the highway. Back at my beachfront hotel, having switched off the

Harley’s ignition, I felt like I’ve accomplished something special.

Seeing Aruba from the saddle of a motorcycle is a real treat. You

feel those soft breezes, smell the warm, salty air and enjoy stunning

scenery in a way that’s not possible looking through smudged car

windows. The roads are mostly straight and flat, and parts of the

island are virtually traffic-free. Meeting friendly locals and

curious tourists is guaranteed -- the bike is a natural starting

place for easy conversation, and you’ll probably end up as the star

of someone’s vacation video.

Big Twin’s rental fleet of Harleys is modern and well-maintained,

and the personnel at the dealership -- especially Hardeveld and head

technician Arjen Hof -- are super friendly and professional. They’re

dedicated to making sure your rental experience is a good one and the

miles you ride in Aruba will create memories that last a lifetime.

* BRIAN DAY is a resident of Corona del Mar.