back in the uc

May 26, 2011

I’m about six weeks into my new life working in the UC, where I work roughly 100 yards, give or take, from the shooting range trailhead.

In a bit of odd karma, I think my cube might be the same cube I had for my first job out of college, long long ago. Same building, even most of the furniture seems the same.

And, I’m back on trails I first rode almost 20 years ago. In fact, maybe this is a good time to relate the origin of the name Frank.

When I worked at WordPerfect, back in 91, Bob and I used to head up the dirt roads, past the water tank area, in the Orem foothills. This is before Ricky got back on dirt, and before Elden abandoned his rollerblades.

Sometimes Bob couldn’t go, and I would just wander the hills, following old deer tracks. After a while, I started leaving little pieces of duct tape on scrub oak branches so I could retrace routes.

And finally, I got the whole gang out for a ride, including Stuart, Jeremy, Scott, Bob, Brent, Ryan, Greg, Rick, and probably some others. We started at the Chevron at the mouth of Provo canyon, headed up the paved trail, turned left at the park, up the shale, into Johnson’s Bowl, up what they now call Dragon’s Back, through the dirt gate, along the upper road a bit, and then up the Great Western to what we called the Pile of Rocks (now called the Altar).

While we layed around the altar, trying to recover from the climb, basking in our own badassery, Ryan said “Hey dug, great route. What are  you going to call it?”

I was still trying to catch my breath, and had blood pouring out of my ears from the climb, so I couldn’t answer.

But Brent didn’t miss a beat, and chirped “How about Frank?”

And bien Voila! Frank was born. [NOT Frank’s. Just Frank.]

After a couple years of refining the routes, regulation frank, lower frank, upper frank, hard frank, francisco, and all that, I moved north, and spent the next decade or so not riding Frank and surrounding environs.

The natives have been restless. They built (using the time-honored method of just marking and riding until a trail appears) dozens of miles of fantastic trail in the intervening years. I am pleased. They have not buried their talents in the ground. If Frank was Stonehenge, the new trail network down here is the London Tube. Or if Frank was a Yugo, the new network is a Hummer. So to speak. Anyway, it’s better.

I can’t remember the last time me n ricky n elden got out for a dirt ride. That may have more to do with my age than anything. But we rode together, and it was good.


17 Responses to “back in the uc”

  1. bikemike Says:

    not for nothing but “shooting range trailhead” just doesn’t sound too inviting if you’re on a bike. maybe if you’re the one with the gun or is this some kind of sexual reference?

  2. stevebpt Says:

    Welcome back to UC and Frank. I would imagine the commute is much nicer.

  3. Rick S. Says:

    On Sunday, I taught a lesson to the kids on The Prodigal Son. I should have just shown this video. Welcome back.

  4. Grizzly Adam Says:

    Frank’s is one of my favorite trails. Right up there with Hog’s Hollow and Timpanookie.

  5. ricky Says:

    welcome home, duggy.

  6. Brandon Says:

    Nice to see you “Smoke the Pipe.”

  7. jruss Says:

    thank you for setting things straight. frank has always been frank. not plural. not possessive. just plain old frank. i still get a few butterflies in my stomach just thinking about the cliff section.

  8. mark Says:

    I’ll just take you’re word for it that you’ve been riding since you came back to the UC.

  9. Brent Says:

    I remember thinking that the trail was frank, as in not subtle. The trail was too steep for my ability.

  10. Ryan Says:

    I also seem to remember on that ride I asked how you got away ditching work and riding your new trail every day for lunch. Your response was something like “I just got the best performance review I’ve ever had which tells me I need to ride my bike more.”
    Then there was the part where you said “Through this next section of 3 foot tall grass just follow the faint beaten down line don’t hit your brakes, trust me there are no rocks down there.”
    Good times Dug thanks for sharing your trail.

  11. Bob B. Says:

    Wistful tears.

  12. Sara-no-h Says:

    Frank, or Frang?

  13. Anonymous Says:

    That’s funny, I always thought Frank was named for Franks Place now know as Timp Park. A Homeless guy named Frank used to live there.

  14. roan Says:

    Ya know, I enjoy reading about you guys, what a group. I’m not from the area but it is on the bucket list. To name a mtn bike trail Frank is well, fitting especially this one, steep, hard breathing, blood running out yer ears, cliffs, all very cutting to the bone in a word…Frank.
    Fatty on roller blades…really ?

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