Riding for My Soul
I’m not sure where our personal character traits evolve from but over the course of my life I’ve grown to learn that somehow I got wired with a very focused and often times exclusionary field of vision. For the past nineteen days my life has revolved around work. It’s felt like one long unremitting moment where the calendar continues to change but the day never ceases. I’ve simply been ‘there’ and somehow all the other pieces of my life have been pushed to the margins. Groceries, laundry, phone calls, emails, you name it, they’ve all been put on hold. Especially riding.
So this morning when I turned the bike over for the first time in three weeks it almost felt shocking. As if it weren’t real. Then I was hit by this odd sensation of guilt. Should I even be on the bike? Do I have the time? Is there something else that needs to get done? Can I get a ride in and still hit my deadline? It was a wave of ‘responsible questions’ rolling over me and yet the none-pragmatic side of my brain said, ‘screw it, you need a break’. So once the bike warmed up, I hit the road and headed up the coast and finally found myself breathing.
A few miles later I headed up into the canyons and suddenly felt oddly peaceful even though I felt incredibly vulnerable. Rust doesn’t even begin to describe how awkward I felt on the bike at times. I simply did not have that suspension of disbelief that one needs in the middle of the corner while leaning over. And even though I kept trying corner after corner to will myself into having faith I just couldn’t get there. It was almost as if the bike and I were speaking to very different languages and I desperately needed a google translator.
Yet standing back my inability to lock into the bike didn’t really matter to me today. Three weeks from now perhaps it would, but not today. One of the great joys of the California canyon experience is that even when you’re having a bad day you’re still having a good one. Somewhere between the curves and the vistas and the magnificent sensation of life it’s hard not to lose yourself. It’s an amazingly peaceful and secluded environment that feels so contrary to the state of permanent exhaustion that I’ve been working with over the past several weeks. There’s a glory up there that is just simply magical. A feeling that’s easy for me to dismiss or forget when I’m focused on work, but one that somehow intrinsically linked to my soul. When I’m up there everything is worthwhile and when I’m down here it’s just ordinary.
Rhyme & Reason vs. Squids & Cages
I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that every so often you leave the house with your mind filled with the real world and at some point you think to yourself, ‘geez today is a really bad day to ride because I’m way to worked up about work to ride’… But then you get on the bike and the world some how normalizes itself. You quickly forget about what worried you and instead take on the challenge of riding and soon the focus that’s required takes over your life. You simply can’t think about anything else but riding and before you know it you’re no longer worried about life but rather your survival in the very canyons and roads you adore.
I’ve commented quite a bit about the release that I feel riding provides and today was no exception. It’s a rather magical moment when you can let loose of everything that binds you and simply find yourself in the moment of riding. I’d like to say that there are other parts of my life that echo that same basic sentiment, but in reality there aren’t. It’s unique, it’s unqualified and it’s special.
That being said there are general rules on the road that ought to be obeyed and yet somehow today they weren’t. I came through several corners and found riders in my lane. Really for no apparent reason and while I’d like to say that was an exception, the reality is that chaos ruled the day. Just around noon I came through a corner on Mullhulland and found an SUV in my lane that was making a haphazard pass around a few bicycles. For a brief moment I was fairly convinced that my life was flashing before my eyes and for what? Passing two wantabe Lance Armstrongs?
To be fair I’ve always imagined that if I was to have a ‘get off’ in the canyons it’d be my fault and my doing, not a head on with an SUV that had no business passing a bunch of bicycle riders in my lane… Yet obviously you can’t trust logic or common sense or even fate. The reality is that if it’s possible, it can and will happen. In this case that meant an SUV in my lane when it clear shouldn’t have been there. For a brief moment I was sure this was it and time had coming to a stop, yet oddly I didn’t freak out. I didn’t panic. It was almost as if it simply happened to fast for me to realize. Almost to fast for me to even witness. Yet somehow that old adage, ‘ by the time you think about it, you’ve moved past it’ rang true. By the time I had an idea what I should do or more appropriately should have done, it was over and I was past the moment. Luckily the SUV swerved out of the way and I was safe. But god knows it didn’t have to end that way. Perhaps it shouldn’t have ended that way… And I suppose that’s the danger that we live with, the unknown. The chance that perhaps swinging our legs over our bikes means the end of our lives or at least a major change within them. Yesterday I felt fortunate to live in SoCal because of the winter weather. Today I feel fortunate simply to be alive.
I believe it’s time to get back to the track…
Some more picts from the ride…
Just Puck it…
So late last night I flipped on the ‘ol television and for the first time realize that half of LA seems to be on fire again. How this escaped my attention is an absolute mystery, but for some reason I simply had ignored the news it seems. I guess this highlights my lack of communication with the outside world lately. So there I am sitting on the couch when the text in the lower third of the screen rolls by and says, ‘The Topanga Fire is 5% contained’. Suddenly what was this vague and seemingly nebulous thing becomes of utter importance to me.
Is that my Topanga? Are they evacuating people up there? Are the canyon burning? Are the roads closed? Am I going to be able to ride?
With all these thoughts running through my mind, I flip through the local news channels. All the usual suspects have the same usual news. ABC7 reports same four basic pieces of information from twelve different people. I have no idea who the anchors are but they’re trying their best to tell the audience how special the firefighters are. How they never stop. How the drop buckets from the water planes & helicopters never miss their targets. For twenty minutes they’re throwing the show from the studio to different areas affected by the different fires. Not once do they put up a map. This is completely beyond me. I change stations.
If I thought ABC’s coverage was bad, the info coming from CBS is worse. If it wasn’t for the horrific pictures of flames burning through the night I’m not sure anyone in their studio would even know there’s a fire. All they seem to be able to do is repeat the LA Fire Department press release. I watch and wait for a map. Twenty minutes later I give up. Move on to the ‘net. Figure this can’t be this hard. All I want to know is what roads are closed.
I head over to the Sig Alert website. No luck. Only freeways. Head over to LA Fire. Again, nothing of substance. Finally hit the LA Times. Find an article on closures. None seem to be near the canyons. Why the hell is the fire called, ‘The Topanga Fire’ then? I’m confused. I figure the ride is doomed. My favorite canyons are toasted. Decide to take some time and surf the Times site. Ten minutes later I luck out…
The Topanga Fire as it turns out is on the other side of the 101. The backside route into Ojai is probably not a hot idea, but riding in the morning is still on… I feel bad for the folks who have to evacuate, but I’m realived that coast has been spared this round…
Fast forward to this morning, it’s like seven-ish when I get up. Look outside. Smoke is hanging in the air. The sky is a burnt orange haze. It’s pretty nasty outside. I decide to chance it and go for a ride since it’s been awhile and I really don’t want to get to the track having not gotten back in tune with the bike…. So I get into the new set of Alpinestar Leathers and instantly begin to wonder if I’m insane. The suit is tight! Not in that street lingo sensability best defined as ‘cool’, but rather physically tight. I feel squeezed and constricted. My balls feel like they’re being squished into my abs. Couple of steps out the door and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to have to worry about having kids anymore. Besides the ahem.. ‘pressing nature’… I’m hunched over like an eighty year old. This thing is not meant to stand in…. At this point I’m not feeling particularly comfortable, but I throw my leg over the bike anyway because… well, I don’t really know, but I do…
Minutes after the bike gets up to speed I know I made the right decision. It’s amazing how much I’ve missed the sensation of riding. Even though I’m only rolling down the Pacific Coast Highway, I feel so much more alive in the first five minutes on the bike than I have in days. Somehow and in some way my mind has been altered. Riding is living to the nth degree and three weeks off the bike feels like an eternity. As I’m riding up the coast I feel so horrible for the folks effected by the fire, but so fortunate to still be able to ride. It’s a very odd moral place to be while sitting on the bike.
I make a right on to Las Floras - more or less my usual starting point for weekend rides - and realize that brushfires suck, but they’re also simply part of living in LA. It’s always been this way around here. And at least it’s not as bad as when I lived in NorCal during the Oakland Hills Fire. That was a tragedy on a massive scale. At least right now these LA Fires are more contained…
Just past the small local private pre-school on Las Floras the first real curve comes my way. It’s a nice uphill right hander that’s roughly an 135º turn. If you set-up for it as if it’s a 90º you’ll go to wide and if you act like it’s 180º, it gets to tight. So you have to find a decent balance. Not the easiest thing to do at the top of the morning before you’ve really warmed up mentally or physically. I hit it, swing over and the bike just drops in. The kind of corner that feels like fate has smacked you upside the head.
At that moment I know it’s a good day.
From that point forward I stop thinking about fires and start thinking about riding. Flipping back and forth on the bike while wearing the new set of Alpinestar Leathers feels fantastic. All the pain from earlier has vanished, the cut of the suit while riding is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It feels less like an extension of my skin and not a set of leathers. There’s no bulk and no weight. I feel completely free - almost as if I’m wearing a wetsuit… By the time I hit the top of Las Floras it’s completely obvious to me that this is the right tool for the right job. They’re what I should have been wearing for awhile…
Originally I had hoped to head up The Rockstore and grab some eats, but as it turns out they weren’t open. Massive street construction is going on in front of the joint right now. Most of the construction crews looked like they were working on the sewers…I suspect it has something to do with the dozens of new subdivision homes going in all aroud the place. Look at all of this while I’m shooting by I’m reminded of the new Peter Egan article in CycleWorld where he described what he believes are the three kinds of towns left in the States - Small dead ones, Medium ones that are doing alright, but quite possible soon to be dead and ultimately Large mall driven mini-cities, I can’t help but wonder what will happen to The Rockstore ten years from now. Will the charm still be there? Will it vanish into thin air amid this crazy housing market? Or will it outlast everything else around it?
Shortly thereafter I get to the top of Mullhulland and pull off around the outlook area. For the first time all morning I finally catch a glimpse of the fire side of the valley. Or at least the smoke. Normally this is the blue as far as you can see pict. Today, it’s just a vally of smoke and ash. What a shame. (As total aside, historically LA has had its worst fires after large winter rainy seasons like the one we had last year…ain’t that fantastic 
…)
As the miles keep rolling by I come to realize that I’m all alone in the canyons. There are no other bikes out, no cars and no cops. I’m so alone it occurs to me that if I was to have a ‘get off’ right now no one would find me for weeks. Yet the more I ride, the more comfortable and comforting I find it. Not only because the bike and I are in-tune today, but also because the set of leathers feels so incredibly different. I’m no longer finding my mind drifting to the awful ‘oh my god do I have enough protection’ mindset. Instead the more I move around on the bike the clearer it becomes that this is the best of both worlds. I’m no longer fretting about my riding protection and yet I feel less encumbered at the same time. Previously when I had tried riding with back protectors and the like, they always feel big and bulky and as if they were getting in my way. Not today. Perhaps there’s been a jump in technology or maybe I’m just in a more receptive state, but as I’m working my way out to the coast on Encinal Canyon, then turning up the coast to Decker Canyon, and just repeating the loop over and over again I’m feeling more and more confident. It’s amazing. It’s relaxing. It’s… It’s just what you want to feel while riding. I can’t say it any better.
Finally I turn off Decker Canyon and head west on the last bit of The Mullhulland Highway… The tasty part… Hitting the first straight I just nail it. The bike fires up and flies. Like a rocket that’s taking off. There’s instant traction, instant acceleration, and an instant rush. By the I look down it’s triple digits and I’m grinning ear to ear. This just isn’t fair. To have such a personal, introspective hobby that gives you this my joy seems entirely to selfish. This is the kind of thing that should be shared… It’s that good. A drug really.
At the first corner I s0moothly apply the brakes and the bike starts standing up. As I slow down, I catch my first glimpse of the first curve. From this point forward the word ’straight’ is just a relative term. Each corner comes flying at rapid fire pace and quickly it becomes a parade of lefts and rights and lefts. The bike singing a song that I’m just happy to witness. And while I’m the one that’s in control, I can’t help but think that I’m just the passenger here. This is really the bike’s show. It’s living. It’s breathing. It’s just hitting everything as if this is a dream. The phrase ‘out of body experience’ simply doesn’t cut it. With each twist of the wrist I’m leaning and lifting, swinging and dancing, moving around in this fantastically focused ballet. Fluid motion is perhaps the best description and after each corner I can ‘t believe it can get better, but it does… I keep reaching further, swinging farther, accelerating just a little bit more, braking just a bit later… And that’s when it happened….
My first puck on the pavement.
Obviously it’s just a baby scratch - there’s absolutely no doubt about that - but it’s still a first… For me at least. And if ever there was a point that proved it was time to get new set of more race oriented leathers this has to be it. To touch down my knee on the first day in the new suit seems to clarify - in my mind at least - that I probably held out to long. If this happened this morning, I’ve probably either been extremely close on previous rides or in the same spot with the wrong gear.
Of course to be fair I suppose a few things have to be mentioned, first the pucks add a good couple of inches on your knee compared to my set of Bates Leathers. That has to count for something. Also I’m still fairly convinced that I need a certain set of circumstances to get close, namely a left hand corner that I can see through, a decent amount of crest in the asphalt and a fairly good entrance speed.
That being said, I’m glad this happened today and not next Friday at the CLASS course. My inital reaction to touching down was ‘oh fuck, what just happened’. Surprise doesn’t adequately describe the thoughts running through my head at the time. To be honest it’s not exactly the most natural feeling the first time… If anyone had been behind me I’m sure I must have looked very odd, I straightened the bike pretty quickly before I realized what had just happened. I guess we’ll have to wait and see if it’s any more ‘normal’ the second time…
Here are some other picts from the day…
Sunday Ride Picts
Once again I’m getting ready to head out of town for another motorcycle related shoot, but thankfully I was able to get a quick ride in Sunday morning. If I wasn’t running around trying pack right now - why do I always wait till the last minute to pack? - I’d write more… Here some picts from the ride.
