Wild Witness
South Slope, Western Uinta Mountains // cliffs, bears, stir fry, bikes, and watching the world pass by.
Nights out: 2 Miles driven: 215 Soundtrack: Buffalo Traffic Jam - Pictures Of You
Slowing down
Day 1
Right as I drove up to the edge of the cliff, the sky exploded. All hell broke loose. The second I opened the driver’s door, the wind damn near ripped it off and threw it over the edge. Wind, rain, and sleet stung my arms as lightning attacked the ridges all around me. It was intense enough that even the damn sheep hunkered down and shut up.
I set up my shelter in record time. I just needed a little bit of dry earth to call my own for the weekend. Then I shivered under my tarp, ice-cold beer in hand, waiting for the storm to break. As soon as it did, the sheep started yelling at the cows again. The cows yelled back.
Normality was restored.
I had been trying to get to this spot for a year now. It’s perched right next to the biggest cliff I’ve seen in the Uintas. A sheer 400-foot drop with crumbling rock and pines. I had heard horror stories about the road there. It’s not close to the highway, and some of the roads get a bit rough. The horror stories had oversold it. The Bronco was having a fantastic time. I tore through mountain meadow roads trying to empty every puddle I came across. Sheets of mud washed over the windshield. Trucks shouldn’t be clean. And then, just like everything I had read, the road narrowed and got rocky. Tires slipped on muddy rocks, trees scraped the sides of the truck, and sheep stared at the crazy man driving deeper into the storm to go spend a weekend in the wild.
Then the trees opened up, and there it was, the cliff. I pulled the Bronco up to the edge, killed the engine, and within thirty seconds I was fighting to get a tarp up in the storm. An hour later, the world was completely different. Clean, calm, and clear.
I finished setting up camp, broke out the kitchen and stove, and started my stir-fry. And I forgot the rice. So dinner was chicken and veggies with a healthy side of scenery and whiskey. I sat under my tarp, feet from the edge, watching the sun scrape across the valley and canyon below me. Once the shadows reached the tops of the peaks, I lit the fire and finished the whiskey.
Day 2
I woke to the cows and sheep going at it again. Those bastards wake up early. I made a cup of joe and sat on the edge of my cliff. I watched a hummingbird eat breakfast. It didn’t miss a single flower in the 30 minutes I sat there. What a diligent little thing. I fired up the stove and washed my coffee down with some peppery bacon. Then I grabbed my bike gear and headed out.
Halfway up the climb, I tried to get my foot out of my pedal, and the spring never released. I couldn't get my shoe off the bike, so I took my foot out of the shoe. Problem solved. Kind of. Then I was left with getting my shoe off the bike. I used my shoe as a wrench to unscrew the remaining cleat bolt. Mission success. Kind of. I now had just a cleat stuck in a pedal, but my shoe was no longer a permanent fixture on the bike. I pedaled back, used a stick to pry the cleat out of the pedal, replaced my old cleat bolts, threw a few in my pack just in case, and climbed back up the first miles of the trail.
I hadn’t ridden much in the Uintas. Kind of a unique experience, to be honest. These trails clearly weren’t meant for bikes, but they’re damn fun to ride. In the same way it’s fun to try to cram a square peg into a round hole. It takes skill, stupidity, and a certain level of bullheadedness. All of the horseback riders (the only other people I saw on the trail) said I was an idiot for trying to ride my bike there. Apparently they don’t know about bikes or my ability to swim upstream. But after seven miles of horseshit and rocks, I was beginning to suspect the horse people had a point.
After the ride, I obviously stopped for a river beer. There's nothing quite like sitting naked in ice-cold water with an ice-cold beer, waiting for your hands and feet to go numb so you can't feel the hot spots anymore. I dried off, cracked another cold one, and trundled my way back up the rocky road to the cliff.
Tonight, cafeteria-style tacos were on the menu. And this time I didn’t forget any crucial ingredients. I ate my weight in cheap and cheesy tacos while, of course, sitting on the edge of the cliff. Watching the scene I’d been watching for a day now. And just when I peeked over the edge, I saw a young black bear in the talus field below, rummaging under rocks for food, or maybe some bits of taco I spilled over the edge. We’ll never know. It never noticed me and just carried on with its own evening plans that seemed oddly similar to mine. There was something purer and wilder about witnessing it that way. I got to see a bear simply doing bear shit. And yes, I can confirm a bear shits in the woods.
Then it was off to bed while shooting stars lit up the night sky above my head. It’s August after all.
Day 3
Not much to report here. I nursed the hangover with bacon and coffee before packing up and taking the long road home. Just to see.
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Dispersed camping is available throughout large portions of the Uinta Mountains on National Forest land. The South Slope has an enormous network of dirt and Forest Service roads with established dispersed campsites ranging from easy roadside spots to much more remote camps. Regulations and seasonal restrictions can vary, so check current Forest Service rules before heading out.
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The South Slope of the western Uintas is a mix of high mountain meadows, aspen and pine forests, rocky ridges, small lakes, and sprawling networks of dirt roads. It’s one of my favorite parts of the Uintas for dispersed camping because you can get surprisingly remote without traveling terribly far from Salt Lake City.
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Not always. Plenty of Uinta campsites can be reached by normal passenger vehicles, but road conditions vary dramatically. Rain can turn otherwise easy dirt roads into mud, and some side roads become rocky, narrow, or deeply rutted. The farther I explore from the main roads, the happier I am to have four-wheel drive and decent ground clearance.
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Yes. Black bears live in the Uinta Mountains, although seeing one isn’t especially common. This trip produced my first Utah bear sighting: a young black bear quietly searching for food on the talus below camp. Store food securely, keep a clean campsite, and follow current bear-safety recommendations whenever you camp in bear country.
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There is mountain biking in the Uintas, but a lot of the backcountry trails weren’t built specifically for bikes. Expect rocky surfaces, horse traffic, rough trail conditions, and some wonderfully awkward riding. Shingle Creek was seven miles of rocks, horseshit, and stubbornness. I had a fantastic time.
Keep Wandering
Murdock Basin: High-country camping, waterfalls, fishing, and another good excuse to disappear into the Uintas for a couple of days.
Alexander Lake: A quick overnight with questionable weather, quiet roads, and a campsite that made staying put feel like the right call.
Soapstone Basin: Family camping, tarp living, and a softer side of wandering around the western Uintas.
