The lever releases early. At the lip of a steep bend, a tire's contact patch has only so much friction to spend, and a rider who keeps pulling the lever asks it to decelerate and corner at once. That request fails. On loose soil, where the coefficient of friction is lower and changes from stone to root, failure can arrive without warning.
Grip is a budget. Steepness changes the arithmetic, not the rule: gravity accelerates the bike downhill, yet the corner is governed by the traction circle, in which longitudinal braking force and lateral cornering force draw from the same finite reserve. The reserve is finite. Brake hard while leaned over, and the combined demand can exceed available friction before a rider senses the tire's drift.
Good technique is unspectacular. Before entry, riders shed speed with tires relatively upright, where braking consumes little lateral capacity; as lean angle grows, they ease off and let the contact patch serve the turn. The front wheel matters. Under braking, load transfer raises normal force at the front while unloading the rear, so a rear wheel on loose ground may lock or wander just when stability seems most needed.
The payoff is freedom. By separating deceleration from cornering, the rider keeps a margin for roots, changing camber, and a line that tightens late. No drama required. The lever rests as the wheel draws its arc, a small refusal to demand everything from rubber at once.
