However, Matias had to tap out of that adventure at the last minute and call in a substitute. A broken ankle just before he was supposed to set off with Gregor and the others to chase the illustrious ‘magic hour’, threw a spanner in the works.
Luckily, among his many talents, Gregor is also a skilled off-road riding teacher, taking on the challenge of reviving Matias’ confidence after he physically recovered from his injury. A perfect getaway, and another amazing adventure, out in the desert heat on the ragged and rugged border between California and Arizona.
Matias was nervous - he didn’t want to look me in the eye but I could feel his fear - the fear of sand. Sand is a succubus. It drains horsepower, energy, traction, and enthusiasm. What better way to face your fear than in the dry warmth of the Arizona desert for some one-on-one training?
Face your fears and they’re not scary anymore, but for Matias, who was recovering from a broken ankle earlier this summer, the fear was perhaps a bit more acute. So let’s back up to that broken ankle.
Matias broke his ankle the day before we were to leave on an epic adventure ride through Eastern Oregon. Not only did it shake his confidence but it kept him off the bike for months.
Not one to be deterred, he healed up and suggested we do a private lesson. I teach adventure riding technique and this was the perfect excuse to head someplace warm and build back that confidence he misplaced along the way.
We set off in the morning chill wearing mid layers and shed them as we pulled off the highway to the unmarked 4-wheel-drive road. Dry and dusty, the double track snaked through rocky cactus-covered hills and deep gravel filled arroyos. Our goal: find balance and saguaro cactus.
The two core skills to riding big bikes off-road are balance and traction, and we started with balance. Being active on the motorcycle; standing, moving, and using your weight to ride dynamically is best learned with stationary standing drills then a game of follow the leader. Through the dust, Matias watches as I stand on the foot pegs, pushing and pulling the bike to maintain balance. I see him in my mirror struggling, fighting, and then finding his center. Our pace is quick enough to keep his mind focused but not distracted by the speed.
I want Matias to struggle but feel progress. Then I see him relax his motions; they become smooth. We’re learning. We stop for water in the sparse shade of a desert willow and Matias is smiling. Secrets are being unlocked and his confidence is growing. We’re having fun and riding our air cooled BMWs like they were the Dakar race bikes that inspired them.
With balance and traction in the bag, it was time to bring it all together. We found a steep, loose, and rocky Jeep trail that added fear by winding precariously along the top of a narrow ridge. My goal wasn’t to scare Matias but to focus him on the principles that we’d been working on and I knew Matias could ride this track, but he didn’t know that yet. It looked dangerous and consequential. We arrived at the start, drank deeply from our water bladders, and set off.
The trail started easy enough but offered up a number of extremely steep climbs littered with small and large rocks, gravel, sand, steps, and gave absolutely no time to pause and think about any of it. Over the intercom I heard the doubt, “Gregor, no, I don’t think I can do this!” Two days earlier, he might have been right, but on this day Matias kept his eye on the prize, his balance neutral and his rear tire from spinning.
