Improving my Skills on the Curve

We bought the tickets to Malaga for a motorcyle vacation on a lark. There was a planned to my husband’s family in Norway for the holidays. We thought “Hell as long as we are crossing the pond for a holiday, we might as well tag on a motorcycling trip.” A sheet of ice was draped over Norway in December and a few days above 0°C added a thin layer of water on top. It was nowhere to enjoy a motorcycling vacation. Looking at a map, we aimed for locales south. Looking at airfares, we knew the locale had to be still in Europe. So, Malaga it was.

I knew nothing about Southern Spain and had no idea exactly where to base ourselves. The small print on the motorcycle contract said “Do not park rental motorcycles on the street overnight.” I squinted at AirBnB photos for locations with “Off-Street Parking” available then settled for a Finca near a less crowded town slightly up the mountains away from the beach tourist. Although Finca loosely translated to “country estate or ranch” the house looked cozy, the pool looked sparkling and the driveway looked big, flat and gated. So, country estate it was.

The Finca

With the flights, motorcycle and lodging booked, I didn’t spend a bunch of time thinking about where we would motorcycle. I bought a Michelin Map and Top 10 Eyewitness Travel Guide and decided we’d figure out the minutia on the fly.

Leading up to our flight to Malaga, I could feel my nerves building. I was going to another country with different rules of the road, riding in traffic patterns I don’t understand on roads that I have no idea what the condition is like and I am doing it all on a rented motorcycle – a motorcycle model I’ve never ridden before that is bigger, taller and faster than my own motorcycle. What the fuck am I thinking!?

The Rides

Let me remind you, I rode across the entire US just three months after I learned to ride a motorcycle, so it’s not exactly like I’ve never ridden in unfamiliar locations. However, let me remind you, I only just started riding in 2017, and I’ve only ridden one model of motorcycle.

On one hand, I could do this. On the other, I am still a (sorta?) a newbie.

Visiting Ronda and seeing the marvelous Puente Nuevo stone bridge was high on my list of things to see. So, we decided it would be the destination for our first day of riding. That day was December 30th, the Sunday before New Year’s Eve. Spaniards, tourists and just tons of people were out enjoying the waning days of 2018.

The Bridge

I probably should have looked at the route to visualize what I was getting myself into. However, because we took a lazy morning sleeping in and working off a bit of wine and jetlag, we hastily hit the road.

The Tractor

Within a few miles, we came to a section of dirt road. We spied it and thought it seemed like it would be just a short span. It ended up being 15 kilometers. Not much, but I’ve rarely ridding on unpaved roads. This bike was much better equipped to do it, but it was all new to me.

The Dirt

Next up was a climb into the mountains of small winding roads with tight little curves and more than a few hairpins. Oh yeah, I should mention there was no a centerline painted on these roads. Vehicles took staying on their side with a grain of salt which is hair raising when a great many of those winding roads are blind.

We closed in on Ronda and switched a larger-ish highway – meaning it was two lanes with an actual centerline and shoulder. While the road eased up, the wind compensated for it. Crosswind gusts made speeding along the straights a bit of a wrestling match.

The Wind

We finally reached Ronda about 2pm, just in time for a Spanish lunch (late lunch and late dinner here). But Ronda was a crush of humanity. Apparently, everyone wanted to visit this little tourist mountain town on a holiday weekend. Pedestrians were everywhere and parking was sparse. I found that hairy edge where the ABS engages on my motorcycle. Duly noted.

Ronda

Although people seemed to park motorcycles on random spots of the sidewalk, we decided not to try this out on day one. So, there were a few more precarious attempts to find parking including my rejecting one perfectly good spot because it was a steep hilly spot on a narrow road with cars all around and I didn’t trust I could get out of it after lunch. We lucked into a perfect spot. I felt a little shaky (physically, like my muscled were protesting) and I figured I needed a good meal.

We settled in for lunch and my growling stomach guided me into a large, meaty meal including a large sausage-y appetizer. It was delicious, but with the short day indicating the sun would be down before we got home, I was about to lose my mind waiting for the check.

Back at the motorcycles, the heavy meal combined with the mental and physical fatigue combined to cause me to have problems just lifting my bike off the kickstand. I still don’t know why I couldn’t do it because over the next several days, I never once had another problem. But, in this moment, it mental capacity was taxed because I still had to navigate through the pedestrians again and get back down off the mountain.

Heading down, we took a slower, windier route. Probably should have reconsidered, but I think I was too occupied with the newness of everything to really take that idea in. More of those blind, one lane zigs and zags were on order.

Sun Going Down

At this point, I began to appreciate the power of this motorcycle and the availability of low-end torque because a few hairpins with a steep climbing exit surprised me. If it had been my smaller, less torque-y motorcycle, I might have stalled than falled.

We intended to do two of these little winding loops, but the sun was quickly sinking toward the horizon, so we cut one out. That was probably for the best, I was feeling fried.

But wait, it’s not over yet. The not-so-windy route was also a fast sweeping mountain road. It was also the main artery to Ronda, so it was much busier. I think it was actually fortunate the cars were tempering my riding to keep me slower and more alert. There was no opportunity for laziness.

Finally back at the coast, we crossed through Marbella too another highway and head back into the foothills where our Finca was. So, our day wasn’t done yet.

The “Avoid Highways” setting was active on our GPS. Rather than avoiding a jaunt through town, we went right through the heart of Marbella, a crowded beach town. The sun was setting. There were people, cars, traffic lights, stores and a series of no less than about 1000 rotaries to navigate.

Heading out of Marbella, the highway-ish road steeply climbed in to the mountain. My brain was finally protesting. The road was climbing and sweeping and the darkness was pressing against me.

“Oh fuck, I don’t wanna cross that bridge,” I crackled into our communcation headsets. I followed that message with a list of each of the next features I didn’t want to cross.

I crossed them all as well as another handful or rotaries before we pulled onto the driveway of our Finca. By the way, the driveway was not as flat as the photos indicated. But it was the moment my brain and body finally relaxed.

Racap & Reflect

Including lunch, it was a long eight hour day.

When we re-rode a few of sections on our last day in Spain, I had little recollection of a few spots. Riding the sections seems easier than my memory of them. Even the hairpin I was sure I was going to stall in didn’t seem all that steep.

I am of two thoughts on that day. On one hand, I was in over my head. It was too much technical riding for my first day out. I did too many new things all at once and I was dangerously fried before we hit Marbella. On the other hand, I did it. I did all of it. I crossed every one of those things that I whispered into the speaker that I didn’t want to cross. The steep, twistie, one-laned learning curve quickly raised my skills and comfort with this new motorcycle. I hardly tested the limits of the motorcycle itself, but I did test my limits with it.