A Blast Up The Pass

I was born in Ogden, Utah and lived there for the first eight years of my life. When I was six years old my dad and older brothers decided to climb the enormous mountain behind our home. Not wanting to be left out I asked if I could join the mountaineers. I do not remember if it took any coaxing on my part to get my dad to let me go but I was allowed to do it. I have vivid memories of the climb which went right up the face of Ben Lomond (the mountain pictured above). It is a 9700 foot peak with views all the way into to Salt Lake and beyond on clear days. I remember that on the way down the mountain my dad suggested that we go down Ogden Pass rather than going back down the way we had come up. We consented and began a very long and nasty hike down. Several "shortcuts" took us through mountainsides filled with stinging nettle. These were the days before camelbacks and hydration packs so I think we had one canteen of water between the 5 of us. I distinctly remember being so thirsty I couldn't even conjure up any spit to swallow.  So now, 29 years later my brothers and I decided to ride up the skyline trail, which follows much of the path we had come off the mountain on all those years ago. As in childbirth, time had diminished the memory of the pain and anguish we experienced on the previous journey and we all agreed that it would be great fun.

We visited several sites of our childhood frolicking including this King's store in which Mike (the brother I am standing with) nearly severed his finger with a butcher knife he was playing with. Most of the money we ever earned as lads was spent on candy and worthless toys. We must have kept the store alive because as you can see it is now closed. As an aside, behind this King's store was a small field that seemed enormous when I was 5. One rainy day we walked to King's to buy some things for our aunt who we were going to visit. On our way home we cut across the field and sunk into deep mud. Some hilarious guy in a truck driving buy yelled out his window, "What are you guys doing, don't you know that's quicksand?" Having watched our fair share of Gilligan's Island Mike and I were well acquainted with quicksand and frantically began to trudge through it to the safety of the sidewalk. We arrived home covered in mud, barefoot and tear-stained but safe. Mike and I also took all of my mom's jewelry ripped up her pearl necklaces and buried it all in a makeshift treasure chest. Our map making skills however were not good enough to help us find the box again and it was lost forever. 

Here is our group before beginning the ill-fated ride; much like Gilligan's aforementioned three hour tour. Everyone was all smiles because we had no idea what we were in for. The fall colors were pretty though.

The smiles are waning as we are half way through a 1500 foot climb up a rocky switchback trail.

Shortly after the climb from HELL Greg's chain came off and wedged itself under his frame and we could not get it out. After about an hour he got it back together. Notice the sweat stains on the clothes. It was not a hot day but we were working hard.

I do have to say the ride was beautiful. Looking into Eden and Pineview Reservoir.

Just before the trail became impassible with our bikes we saw a heard of mountain goats. They are surprisingly large beasties. Right after we stopped and saw the herd of mountain goats I noticed that my shock on the frame of my bike had come loose and the screw that held it in place was missing. I had to McGyver it with an allen wrench and tape.

A view from the trail looking into Ogden.

The final ascent to the top. There were multiple times where we asked ourselves if we should turn around. I must admit that if I had not done the hike at the tender age of 6 I probably would have turned around.

The intrepid explorers on the summit.

It took us 5.5 hours to ride and walk to the summit and 41 minutes to get back to our car. The decent while much faster was not particularly fun because of the roughness of the trail and being worried that my shock was going to break. All of us with the exception of my oldest brother Jeff took at least one spill on the way off the mountain. My body is covered with spectacular bruises in places I do not recall hitting.

Exhausted we made our way to an old drive in restaurant that was in the old neighborhood. My older brothers used to walk here from our house and ask what they could do to earn a milkshake. The would do menial jobs and the owners would give them a big ol' shake. Genius!
Needless to say that while this trail is a "must ride classic" on utahmountainbiking.com I would put it on the "ride at your own risk" list. Not one of my favorites but it was good to spend a day with my hommies.