" So with the land we covered. Now, as we accelerated above it, touching it but lightly, it was soft as angora. But if my motion was disturbed, then this delicious frothy blanket would erupt into a thousand shards of rock and scalding sand, and all would resolve at once into the harsh reality of this lifeless lake. That's what falling was all about. Riding was transcendental; it was rolling the karmic wheel in order to ascend with angels out of the temporal hell of the flesh. Falling was to reenter the world as it was, the low world. Falling, we were all fallen angels. Hence, the treachery of our expedition was in essence the same as Satan's. Early bikers understood this concept and had named themselves accordingly. "

― Laurence Gonzales , Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why