Temps in Salt Lake crept toward the ominous triple-digit threshold as I prepped for a mid-June mountain bike and camp trip to the Payson Lakes area in the southern Wasatch. The heat gathered and stood stagnant in my driveway. We needed out of the valley. Soon enough, the SLC outdoor-accessibility factor reared its beautiful head. Down I-15, past Provo, through the forgettable town of Payson, up a steady incline, and we were sipping a celebratory backcountry pale ale, only ninety minutes from home. Setting up camp at our free, 8,000-foot site, the air had cooled to the delectable mid-70’s range. Welcome to summer and creative heat-beating techniques, I thought.
The Payson Lakes area in the Southern Wasatch offers open meadows, expansive valley views, and a dose of cowboy country. Cows, horse trailers, poop, and the crack of guns abound. The meadows and fields were lush with greenery and blooming blue bonnets and larkspurs (and nope, I had no idea what these flowers were until Sheridan pointed them out) popped all around us. Above treeline, the landscape makes a stark transition to dusty greys and browns, with seams of snow clinging to the steep shady pockets of Mt. Nebo.
I came on a borrowed bike with five friends to gain a bit more insight into the alluring realm of mountain biking, a sport I have a casual relationship with, at best. Leading the group were Gregg and Sheridan, with cutting-edge knowledge of the trails, as well as Rusty, Ketner, and Heather, of the athletic and gung-ho sporting type.
The trails were a plethora of rugged singletrack; occupying a welcome niche in the Utah bike spectrum. While Park City boasts a spider web of groomed and manicured trails in a lux destination, the masses can crowd the splendor. And though Southern Utah has mind-bending rock sculptures and world-class rides, it necessitates a long drive and is a broiling landscape much of summer. Enter Payson, the great in-between. Cool, quiet, and close, with less-than-perfect trails, but an ideal venue for the all-around package.
We essentially biked five different trails, utilizing a mix of loops and car shuttles. Two standouts follow:
The Blackhawk Loop Trail:
On day two we pushed for the grind of the Blackhawk Loop Trail, an 18-mile mixed bag of a ride. It switched from uber-narrow, sometimes invisible trails to thick forests of aspen, maple and fir, to open views of wide valleys. Starting from camp and making a big, disorganized loop, we clawed our way up and down, the thin air charging the lungs afresh.
Common to the trails were a smattering of loose, softball-sized rocks but with pointy ends, embedded within a small trench. I took a charge at a root-clogged twenty foot section of such terrain and made it up a few feet before my tires spun and sputtered out. Impassable and impossible I declared. Nevertheless, with a full head of steam, Rusty came plowing through the middle, bopping and working through the intricacies of the section, before riding off in a cloud of smoke. Well played.
After a mid-ride view overlooking Utah Lake and a rejuvenating downhill, we entered a triple hill section followed by Done ridge, made painfully worse by the name, because we weren’t done after it (though if you start at the common trailhead at Loafer Mountain, you will be). A few miles later and we wheeled into camp for the afternoon siesta.
The Bennie Creek Cutoff Downhill:
For Bennie Creek, we organized a shuttle at the bottom, to avoid a long and boring ride up the paved road. From our campsite, it was five miles or so to the car, virtually all downhill, which was fine by me after our Blackhawk experience.
In the first few miles we opened up out of a tight section into a huge meadow of yellow flowers and shiny green leaves. Daisies of some sort I believe. The low angle and uniform trail told me to gain some speed, and I let off the brake. With the leaves on the side of the narrow trail smacking at my feet, and the afternoon light just beginning to soften, it all became more approachable. The flow and rhythm found in the curves brought to mind the bouncing play of a powder run through well-spaced trees, with the mind in a happy state of alert analysis on slight corrections.
Later came the intensity, as the finale of Bennie creek is steep. The pre-drop primer in technique by Gregg and Sheridan centered around leaning off the seat and not sliding, at all costs. Practical yes, but the tricky juggling act of how to not lock up the brakes yet not go absurd speeds is but one of the 74 things I have yet to master. Gaping down the descent, I couldn’t resist squeezing the brakes tightly and engaging in a bit of controlled sliding. Nearing another fierce slope, I had to hit a left off the trail to regain my composure.
I advocate learning from those who know more, and as I reflected, I watched Rusty and Sheridan pass. Rusty cruised by with a tentative grin, in control, if just. Sheridan came next, yipping with happiness at the challenge, in a caldron of sketchy surroundings and no easy and safe exit, should something go awry. I remembered she had almost no brakes on her back wheel and my mind was blown. How was she not either doing Mach speeds or flipping and cartwheeling from using the front brake?
We all popped out of the technical section alive, smiling and high-fiving, and rode a slight distance more to the road.
Where the Bennie trail dumps into the road, a ½ mile hike yields a crisp backcountry shower, by following the sign towards “Grotto Trail.” A nice dousing of icy, mountain runoff dumped straight onto the head knocks all dust, dirt, blood or whatever off the affected rider. We plunged in, lost our breath for a seconds and emerged fresh and ready.
great article–photos, too! looks like a must do.