Last week we built up a new hardtail from a bare frame, and promptly packed it up to
go somewhere.
If you’ve been following me on Instagram, you already know that somewhere was Park City
Utah.
I flew into Salt Lake City to meet with Eric Porter.
Eric had a career in competitive slopestyle before stepping back to focus on product testing,
video production, and family life here at his home.
He’s living in a mountain bikers paradise, riding for a living, and taking not one second
of it for granted.
Eric’s garage makes even mine look devoid of bikes.
Since Eric played a role in testing and developing the new Sync’r Carbon, it was only fitting
that I take my first real ride on it with him.
That night we rode a quick loop to dial in the suspension and make some final adjustments.
We kept reducing our tire pressure to get purchase on the flowy dusty trails, not really
paying any mind to what we’d be riding the following day.
After all, things were going perfectly, and nothing could go wrong.
The next day would mark the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and we planned
on spending every second of it riding high alpine singletrack on our new hardtails.
The following morning we woke up at the crack of dawn, and by the time the sun rose over
the mountains, we were dropping in on breathtaking singletrack.
Eric had forgotten to pump his tire back up after the previous night’s ride, and paid
for it with a nasty pinch flat.
But we got back on track in just a few minutes.
From there, nothing could go wrong.
As I hastily built up my bike for this trip, I unknowingly installed the lightest and thinnest
2.8s that Kenda made.
As some of you know, thin rubber feels good.
But it also offers a minimum of protection.
The fact that my pressure was really low from the previous night’s ride only made things
worse.
The Wasatch Crest trail has long smooth sections that get really fast, only to launch you into
jagged rock gardens.
The rest of the morning was like a comedy routine, fueled by stupid mistakes, bad luck,
and full suspension complacency.
If you forget you’re riding a hardtail, it’s easy to smash the rear into square
edged rocks and dismiss the fact that nothing gives back there.
I had made the mistake of throwing a brand new bike into an epic back country descent
without testing the waters with it first.
But you know what?
It didn’t matter.
When you’re 9500 feet above the rest of the world, surrounded by wildflowers—on
a Thursday, you’re way ahead of the game.
So we laughed it off, and got back on track.
Even better, Eric had a surprise planned around lunch time—for which he told me to bring
an action camera roll bar mount.
But the surprise would have to wait, until after we traversed the spine.
The spine is a rocky ridge that slopes dramatically on either side.
You’re best off hiking it first to choose a line, or following someone who knows it.
Falling off either side would be
a bummer.
And we got back on track.
From there, nothing could go wrong.
That would be impossible.
If you really want to know a trail, ride it on a hardtail.
On a hardtail, you don’t call the shots, the trail does.
While full suspension certainly gives you more options on a descent, a hardtail forces
you to be alert, ride with tact, and pay close attention to the terrain.
But while I was focusing on holding Eric’s wheel, I couldn’t help but wonder what surprise
he had planned.
I know what you’re thinking.
We wouldn’t be riding the bobsled track on our bikes, but apparently someone tried
to when the track was being renovated.
At probably 50 miles per hour, the rider found himself hurling into a section of scaffolding.
The staff arrived the next day to find random bike parts, shards of carbon, and a blood
trail.
Only in Utah would you find a bobsled course right at the end of a singletrack descent.
I’m telling you, all you need in Utah is a credit card if you want to do dangerous
shit.
Just swipe it and jump out of a plane, drive a Jeep off a cliff, or jump in a bobsled with
a driver you just met, tasked with safely getting you to the bottom at 70 miles per
hour.
From the bobsled course there was singletrack descending into Park City.
Of course there was.
There we fueled up at Deer Valley resort, rode through town, and loaded our bikes on
to a lift.
The great thing about Deer Valley is that it’s not just about riding downhill, it’s
about riding high alpine singletrack.
The lifts will take you above the tree line, and from there you can go in any direction
you want.
Eric knew a route from Deer Valley resort that would lead right back to his house.
We’d need to get back there by 7 before the babysitter left.
After a quick safety meeting about fire road bombs, we headed down into the valley.
For doubletrack, it wasn’t half bad.
And we soon found ourselves back on an actual trail.
Eric’s respect for fire road bombs ends when there’s pavement involved.
I kept a safe distance, as I was basically floating 6 inches above a belt sander.
This is why I don’t do much road biking anymore, it’s just too damn scary.
Our day of riding trails was over, but there was still plenty of daylight left.
Spending the longest day of the year riding hardtails with Eric, was even better than
I thought it would be.
I’ll need to make some changes to really dial in this bike, but one thing’s for sure—I’m
gonna be riding it.
If you want to know more about this bike, check out my last video, and if you want to
know more about Eric and his backyard trail, stay tuned next week.
Thanks for riding with me today, and I’ll see you next time.