Controlled Falling

Controlled Falling

Back in May when we were driving out of Death Valley I experienced the feeling of free falling as we descended out of the high desert to the valley floor. I wrote about it and likened it to parasailing down a mountainside. Today, I took a summer ride up up Palomar Mountain on South Grade Road (S6). It is a nine mile ride up from the Rt. 76, which runs along the base of the Cleveland National Forrest. There are twenty-nine hairpin turns up the mountain and it is a particular favorite of motorcyclists. Saturday mornings are dominated by knee-scraping bikers riding S6 as hard and as tight as they can. I once was stopped by a CHiP officer just beyond Lake Henshaw. He told me “it’s not a Saturday until a bike goes down.” Not a nice thought, but one born of experience on the mountain and the insatiable need for young riders to test their metal (literally).

After a short lunch break at Mother’s Kitchen at what’s called the Summit, but which is still a few miles shy of the Observatory, which sits on the highest ground, I headed down the fourteen mile ride down East Grade Road (S7) to Lake Henshaw, also on Rt. 76. The distance of fourteen miles down versus nine miles up tells you all you need to know about the difference in these two roads. Rather than 29 switchbacks on S6, there are about 55 sweeping gentle turns down S7. I always prefer to ride up S6 and down S7 rather than the other way around. It’s never occurred to me to think why, but on today’s ride I thought more about it.

First of all, it was a perfect Southern California summer day. It ranged from 80-85 degrees and there was hardly a cloud in the sky nor a drop of excess humidity in the air. The morning was crisp and misty and I expect the evening will be cool and pleasant. The roads were dry and well-maintained. There was no inherent reason to prefer one way up or down. There was also no particular traffic reason either. I encountered almost no cars or bikes up the hill or down the hill, which was certainly good luck for me. But here’s the thing, when you ride S6, the tight turns make you want to scrape a knee (or at least a shoe) so you ride more aggressively. I don’t like getting passed on S6, but if there are crotch-rockets around it will inevitably happen. But if a Harley comes up behind me I feel lazy and I don’t want to be a motorcycling lazy man. So I sit up on the front of my seat in a slight crouch and keep my weight heavy on my hands. This is a method of counter-steering which they teach at all the bike race schools. Push down on the hand grip that heads into the turn. It forces the front tire to turn out opposite the turn and thus on it outer curved edge while the downward pressure leans you into the turn. It makes for a very effective turn that can be taken with great precision and much higher speed than otherwise. Sounds goofy, but it works great and feels awesome. So for the nine miles up S6 I ride much harder and much more technically than I normally do, and it’s all to cover the 29 hairpins in less time and with less or no braking. Going uphill is much easier to use just the throttle and gearing to control the bike. It can be done downhill, but it’s harder since gravity is harder to gauge than pure mechanical thrust.

I do none of that on S7. I don’t need to. No one’s ever racing on S7 as best I can tell. S7 is just a smooth, fun sweeper trail that’s pure fun to ride. The scenery is much better on S7 than S6 since it’s all meadows and broad overlooks versus cliff walls and tight edges you dare not look out over. The way motorcycling works, you go where you look. If you look out on the scenery at a tight cliff turn, good luck with that. On S7 there is lots to look at all around without risking running off the road. I would far rather ride hard uphill and cruise downhill. This is all fine for a day of motorcycling, but what life lessons are there in all this?

I always tell my kids and young people that the harder they work at the start of their careers the better off they will be later on. I stand by that, but there’s more to it than that. Just working hard as you climb the mountain does not necessarily mean you enjoy the trip down. What I learned on S7 today was that riding down works best when you pick the right path. Pick the sweeper run and let gravity do most of the work. Do not sit forward, lean back and learn to enjoy the ride without a care about your time, your line and anyone who might pass you on the way. You need to stay in control of the bike and your surroundings, but only to make sure of your safe and fun descent. There is no racing on the way down. It makes no sense. You are less prepared, less fit and less attentive after lunch. You deserve a pleasant ride in the later part of your day and you owe it to yourself to manage it only as needed to keep control.

I found myself thinking that what I was doing on S7 was controlled falling. I mean that in the best possible way. The ride down is pure joy if you stay in control and not let the road get the best of you. Four months ago I put a stake in the ground about undertaking our move to California. I had to do it. I could not let circumstances make such an important life decision for me. By making the decision and committing to it, Kim and I find ourselves enjoying the smooth ride downhill.

Medical science declares that I am officially in old age now that I’m sixty-five. I take neither pleasure nor fear in that, but it’s simply true that age limits us in ways we sometimes realize and sometimes discover when it’s too late. I don’t mind whatever restrictions come with age for me, but I refuse to let them overtake me unaware and unprepared. There’s much less fun in that and as the downhill ride after lunch, it’s better to optimize the day by controlling your fall into aging.