Hometown

After finishing ~200 miles on the so-called “Dixie Quasi Lite” Loop, I pointed the car north and went back to Salt Lake City. Convalescence was the name of the game, staying and sleeping (a lot!) at my parents house. That house also happens to be the one where I grew up. I ended up staying in Salt Lake City for quite a while, by far the longest visit since I moved to AZ ten years ago.

Ten years is a long time, and I feel like I finally have a little perspective on the place. No matter who you are or where you’re from, there’s always something strange about returning to the place where you were raised. Memories are static, and when you move away from home, it’s almost as if home only exists in your mind. Does life really go on? Do people walk down the same streets? Do people still ride bikes on the trails that you used to know so well?

I don’t know which is harder to understand — that so much is different, or that so much is still the same?

I’ve been back many times, but usually only for a few days. I always squeeze in rides on some of the classics, and see the usual spots, but it always feels like a trip, and everything is so foreign that I can’t get a sense of the place. Some of the best memories are buried deeply, and a few jam-packed days are not enough to unearth them.

With the extended visit I was able to settle in and ride (what felt like) all the classic trails, including ones that would never get the nod on a 3-4 day weekend trip.

Like the ‘Rollercoaster’, above shoreline. When there’s only time for one climb challenge, we always ride one we call “hero hill” (and I did clean “hero hill”, as I try to nearly every visit).

Most gaslines are not fun to ride. This one most definitely is, as it plummets towards downtown SLC. That same gasline also ruptured this summer, closer to Red Butte Gardens, spewing oil down the creek and all the way to the Jordan River.

Another classic, the Solitude race course! I did my first MTB race here in 1994, the year the race started. I placed 5th in the beginner junior category, and my friend Matt Lowe was 2nd. I learned quickly from my mistakes though, and my next Intermountain Cup race I took home the “W.”

Pain fades quickly, but some things are happily impossible to purge. I’ll never forget how the second lap felt, climbing up the ski resort’s service road. I think I paced myself for one lap, not two. My legs and back couldn’t pedal or control the bike, and I was just hanging on, praying for the finish.

I almost raced Solitude again, in 2010. It would have been too much fun! I’m almost sorry that I didn’t, but the Wasatch 100 had taken hold of my imagination, such that I woke up thinking about it every morning. So I did that instead, and it was an adventure of the best self-destructive kind.

The Bobsled is in fine shape! And there’s a new trail that drops down to it. It’s got dozens of banked turns and the junked cars at the bottom have been turned into jumps and gap moves! Someone is really working to keep it in riding smooth.

I remember doing downhill time trials with Ben Tyler when we were ~16. We really pushed things back then, and crashed a lot. It would get eroded out every year, so the first run of the season was guaranteed carnage.

I don’t keep up with many friends from Salt Lake. For the most part they all went one way, and I went another. I would still like to reconnect with the guys I used to ride with, but so far it hasn’t happened. I did get a chance to hang out with Phong. I spent the weekend with him and his daughters, playing Vietnamese card games and going for walks/runs on the bike path by his house.

He also wanted to ride! So he dusted off his $50 DI special (DI = Desert Industries = mormon thrift store) and we hit the Mid Mountain Trail. He thought the trail climbed too much (!), but man did he hang in there and ride hard. So hard that he puked in the trees! He wants to go bikepacking some time, and I offered to take him, but I think the family obligations are going to be tough to get away from any time soon.

This is a ride we hit often. The “Deppe Dog” Loop out of Millcreek. In the above pic, taken by my Dad, I’m climbing the White Spine on the Wasatch Crest trail. Took me (and my brother, below) two tries to get it right. Heart rate and elevated sense awareness at the top, given that the climb is at 9k.

More on the ‘crest’…

And dropping to Desolation Lake. I should have been climbing here, well into the Wasatch 100. But alas…

Lower Millcreek is full of classic trails, and even, as my dad always says, “some of the best downhill in the state.”

I was able to join my mom for her traditional Mill Creek birthday ride! We rode out to the stream/rock on the Great Western Trail. She was cruising, especially being a lowlander these days (coming up from St. George). She says, “Yay, I can still ride with the boys.” Awesome.

Killyon Canyon! Holy forgotten classic trail and holy green hills! This one brought up some old memories. This was the first time I encountered crippling mud, first time my bike went into 100 pound mode. I thought I had made some kind of mistake. Thought that I had done something stupid. I’d ridden in mud successfully before, why was this any different? Scott, time for a lesson in clay based soil…

Killyon is under threat of being developed. A fund raising effort has started to purchase the key parcel for open space preservation. Website with info on that is here.

Back on the Wasatch Crest, this trail really surprised me. I guess I’ve dismissed it as a shuttle monkey trail, full of brake bumps and totally blown out.

Sometimes I’m pretty dumb.

It’s smooth, flowy, beautiful. A pleasure cruise. There’s a new bit of singletrack coming down from Guardsman Pass that is brilliantly done.

This ride was my Dad’s idea. Start at Guardsmans, ride the Crest down into ‘the Canyons’ ski resort, then hook up with the Mid Mountain Trail and take it back around to Park City, climbing back through the resort to Scott’s Pass and then Guardsman. It’s a healthy ride, no doubt, but showcases some of the best trails in the area, and no shuttle!

All went well, as expected, as we ripped down the Crest, leap frogging with shuttlers. The views were big, the flowers on fire, and things were almost going by too quickly.

After some trail confusion, we found our way onto the Mid Mountain and the pleasure cruise continued. The trail is super mellow as it contours in and out of aspen groves, staying roughly at 8,200 feet. Some of it was built by Sweco (trail bulldozer) but it has now ridden in nicely.

Classic sign. If only it were true (everywhere… ha!).

Trail construction! We waited while these guys rebuilt the trail in front of us. They were working super fast and built an amazingly smooth/rideable trail in the wake of a bunch of torn up ground. The reason? A new house was going in just above the trail.

We would soon discover that new houses have had a much larger affect on the trail than just a little slowdown. A whole new reroute had just been put in place. We traded a quarter mile of sweet descending through aspens for a freshly bulldozed detour that was twenty miles long if it was a half a mile.

I’m not really a fan of riding in construction zones, and that’s what it felt like for most of it. Busted up trees and piles of dirt everywhere, chunky rocks, choppy tread, and… a whole bunch of unnecessary climbing. Was it that bad? Not really. It was only bad because we knew what it used to be like. Expectations, expectations! It was clear that everyone else riding that day was on the same page. Many negative comments and grumblings about it.

My dad was just starting to get tired before we got there. Bad timing for sure. He soldiered on through it, but was having second thoughts about the rest of the ride. We offered to pick him up in Park City, but he was determined to make the big climb.

We finally made it to Spiro Trail in Park City, after what seemed like an eternity. Even I was getting tired and frustrated with Mid Mountain!

My dad turned right to climb, skipping the bailout option. I offered to ride ahead and pick him up below Scotts Pass, saving just a few hundred feet of climbing. My brother stayed with him as they moved slowly up Thanyes canyon. I stayed with them a while, watching as my dad would run out of steam after a few minutes of climbing. He was deep in the pain cave, but still going.

Eventually I peeled off and found my climbing rhythm, digging into the pedals as I rounded Shadow Lake and Jupiter Lift, site of so many great days of skiing with both my dad and brother. I started running into people once I got back on the Crest, and it made me laugh at how running into people on trails used to bother me so much when I lived here.

I picked up the car and drove it down the road a ways to wait for them. Turns out my dad was afflicted by the same thing that hit me in the Wasatch 100 — bad stomach.

“Stick a fork in me, I’m done.” It’s been a while since he’s uttered that line after a ride. He thinks it may be the longest ride he’ll ever do again, but somehow I bet he’ll top it, maybe with a functional stomach.

It was awesome to get to ride so much with both my dad and my brother. It worked both ways, since having me around made it so they were getting out more and riding trails they normally wouldn’t. All throughout the rides we would reminisce on funny stories and epics that happened in all these cool places. All part of the rich tapestry of MTB life. Thanks for all the rides guys.

The Crest -> Mid Mountain Loop was a nice finale to many rides in the Wasatch. I left for Colorado the next day…