First Real Dual Sport Ride, Off-Roading in Wasatch State Park

By the 4th failed attempt at the same rocky, steep section of trail, I realized I was in way over my head. Up until this point, I had enough skill and cross-over mountain biking talent to get myself, and my Yamaha WR250r, in this position. But it was quickly apparent that I did not have enough talent to successfully climb this 50yd section, and definitely not enough skill to navigate back downhill the technical terrain that I had already climbed. Fortunate for me, I was not alone. My experienced riding buddy, Nate, was also with me on his, comparatively massive, Kawasaki KLR650, and we were both stuck. Having never been in this position before, I honestly started to panic. Normally, I’m used to just hike-a-bike up the hill when I can’t clear a section on my mountain bike. But with a nearly 300lb dual-sport, hike-a-bike is not really an option, especially when I can barely push this bike up a ramp to get it onto the trailer.

Backing up a few miles in the day, this all took place on a Tuesday after work in July, when sun doesn’t dip below the Wasatch mountains until after nearly 9PM. I hopped on the bike where I had it stored in Tollgate and headed back into town to pick-up Nate as his place before heading south on HWY40 down towards Heber. Heading out onto the road, we navigated through Trailside neighborhood before turning onto the ramp and climbing through the gears to get up to speed with the traffic. Compared to Nate’s 650cc, my measly 250cc engine makes a decent amount of power, plus a 6th gear to help, but I lack the weight and aerodynamics for any real sustained highway riding. Quickly, above 60mph, I am fighting a wind storm and don’t even get me started with some of the headwinds out of the canyons and passes.

Luckily, the ride alongside the Jordanelle Reservoir towards the East was uneventful, and we turned onto River Road to head into the once quaint farming town of Midway. From this side, the Wasatch back is magical. The ridgeline that follows Mount Timpanogos to the south and the rocky peaks of Big Cottonwood Canyon to the North are hard to beat. And we were headed somewhere in the middle of the two, towards a the Wasatch Mountain State Park. Obviously, I had never been here before, so I was tagging along on a “normal” ride of Nate’s where he told me he liked to cruise the dirt roads around the mountain before dropping up and over Empire Pass back into Park City. Thinking nothing of it, and hoping the roads and trails would be similar to the roads of Tollgate, I figured I’d have no problem at all. Turns out, dirt biking is very hard.

Our tires hit dirt near the Soldier Hollow Golf Course after heading up Cascade Scenic Drive. After a couple of dead ends, we found a rhythm switch backing up the hillside. Not realizing it til way later in the ride, being in the front really had its perks. After a tremendously dry June, the dirt on the trail was inches thick, barely holding in all the rocks. Which means, every turn I climbed up, after hammering the throttle, the knobs on my rear tire were kicking up a cloud of fine dust making a near impossible smokescreen to ride through. Nate, the ever-supporting friend, said nothing for miles as we climbed further and further up the wide, double track road. In my head, I wasn’t focused on anything besides navigating this bike up the trail, trying my best to stay in control, avoid the large rocks, and definitely not stall the bike. But then came a right-hand turn that didn’t look like all the other dozen turns so far. This one turned 90 degrees, and kept climbing. So I slammed on the brakes, hopped off, and walked up the trail to see what we were going to get into.

Luckily, when Nate walked up behind me, he also was apprehensive about just giving it the beans and riding up the hill. Since he was the more experienced one, he went first. And so began our near, 1-hour trail of getting up a 50yds section of trail. This section had 2 cruxes in it. First, being the turn, which had an obvious line on the outside, along a berm, but at the exit, the trail washes away, and forces you to crossover the chunky median, onto the right-side tire track. The second crux, was halfway up, where the loose rocky section transitions to a hard slab section that is off camber towards the right, as the trail bends slightly steeper uphill towards the left. On both sides of the trail were knee-to-waist size scrub brush and even looser rock to stay away from. With the trail beta in our heads, Nate was the first to head up… and get stuck.

Even through it took a long time, we eventually got Nate up each section, 10yds at a time, where I would push the tail so he could start on the hill, climb a little bit further, then get stuck again. At this point, I was exhausted from sprinting up and down the trail, pushing as hard as I could to keep Nate’s forward progress, and also try to catch up before he stalled or got stuck to keep pushing. Mind you, I’m in boots, thick pants, a riding jacket, and a full-face helmet in the middle of the Utah Summer heat. Sweat is pouring out of me, and I still had to get my bike up this hill. But with some false confidence of seeing someone else do something well, it was finally my turn.

It was here, that I learned the difference between being in control of the bike on a trail, and the trail controlling you riding your bike. If I wasn’t immediately stalling the bike or getting stuck at the slightest bit of loose rock, I was pin-balling from left to right side, looking like I was riding a bucking bronco. Luckily, I had enough presence of mind to keep my right wrist forward to prevent the bike from whiskey-throttling into a full wheelie and throwing me off the back, but that was about all I had. Of course I would perpetually stall the bike, every 5yds of the trail. Then I would struggle to find that sweet spot between holding the rear brake to not slide downhill, and letting off just in time for the clutch to engage and power me uphill. Nate was doing his best to push my back since my bike doesn’t have a frame to hold onto or push from. Even though the bike fell a few times, I had pride in knowing I never actually “dumped” the bike over or damaged anything, though, the exhaustion from straining to hold the bike upright was probably not worth it.

After nearly an hour from when we walked up the trail to see how hard it would be, we both crested the hill, and climbed up. to the peak. Of course, that was a false peak, and also a dead-end on the trail. So all of it was for nothing, and we actually needed to take a fork in the road just at the bottom of the climb, which avoided all of that section, and all that struggle. But, then I wouldn’t have learned anything, and it wasn’t the last time on the trail that we were pushing the bikes.

For a few more miles, the trail switchbacked up, sometimes even steeper. We got stuck in some sections, others we flew through. I was able to clear some tricky turns that duped Nate, and he was able to use his high-torque, first-gear to tractor up the sections that I had to pin the throttle to keep power in the rear wheel. But eventually, we were able to reach a section of trail that traversed the mountain and were actually able to get out 1st and 2nd gear, and just enjoy riding the narrow, dusty trail in the twilight. And that trail linked back up with the Cummings Parkway Road that climbs and follows a ridge of the mountain for 10+ miles within the State Park.

Sure, the “hard part” was behind us, but this was still all new to me. Climbing up the road in 3rd and 4th gears felt like flying. The road surface changed from hard pack, to loose rocks the size of softballs, into full on sand pits that had our bikes wiggling for control. The sun was directly in our eyes until it finally dropped below the mountains and immediately cooled off 10degrees. Call it ignorance, or naiveté, but it was turning into an epic. I had already drank all my water, which was only a 1/2L, and the couple snacks I brought. Of course I had no idea this would be a 70+ mile, 5hr ride after work on a Tuesday. And then came the descent. Or as I like to call it, somehow the worst part of a ride, and also the sketchiest. Trying to keep my distance from Nate’s dust cloud in front of me, but at the same time, trying to stay close enough to know where to go and in case I dumped the bike and needed help.

Exhausted by this point in the ride, I was balancing between standing on the pegs to let the bike dance over the loose rocky road and sitting down on the saddle to relieve my drained legs. Sweeping down Snake Creek canyon, the sun had long set behind us and the dark woods started closing in. The lower we dropped in elevation, the better the road conditions became, just in time to hit the tarmac by the golf course. The original plan was to climb back up Pine Canyon and over Empire Pass back into Park City, but by this point, the ride had already taken way too long and I was definitely too tired to navigate that twisty road in the dark, let alone another steep decent down Marsac Ave. Taking the long way around on HWY40 again, I cruised behind Nate in 6th gear back home. All said, I realized one thing, I am quite a long way from being proficient on a dirt bike. This was reaffirmed by my buddy who I told this story to, who responded with a soul crushing, “Oh hell yeah! That section is cool, but all of the fun stuff is right after that section!” Indicating, that we had not even really rode the hard stuff yet, so I can’t imagine what the singletrack, technical trails are really like.