Dirt bikes shatter solitude

How ironic.

Even as the feds prepare to crack down on noise pollution in the Grand Canyon from sightseeing helicopters, noise is increasing in one of the grandest Wood River Valley preserves of quiet and tranquility.

I believed Adams Gulch solitude was to be protected for hikers, mountain bikers and horseback riders in search of quiet.

All those early mornings and afternoons when hiking my Labs were idyllic – sounds were limited to the whisper of wind wafting through pines, the steady ripple of the Gulch’s stream, song birds, cheery greetings of hikers or bikers passing on the paths.

But then a new reality set in Sunday: Adams Gulch can also be the playground for gawdawful racing dirt bikes, ripping up the Gulch’s road with their tooth-tread tires and shattering the quiet with smoky, mufferless engines that sound like chain saws – vrrrizzzz-vrrrizzzz!

Oh, it’s all perfectly legal. I called from my cell phone to Sawtooth National Recreation Area, as three dudes mounted up and tore up the road to God knows where to do God knows what to the Gulch’s pastoral setting.

Just so they don’t go on the smaller trails, an SNRA person said. So who knows whether they’re on the road or trails. Trailhead pass violations can’t even be enforced, the rangers are spread so thin.

Mind you, these three weren’t in the Gulch to share what others were there to enjoy – quiet, pure air, special natural grandeur.

Nope. These dudes were suited up in skin tight racing gear spotted with grease and covered with dust, elbow and knee pads, colorful hard helmets, gloves, boots and astride dirt bikes designed for only two things – racing up steep hills at startling speeds with tires ripping and shredding the ground, and shrill engine noise that wakes the dead.

Goodbye Adams Gulch quiet.

Their SUV had a Utah plate. They probably ran out of places to tear up there. No trailhead pass in the car, either. And they left their little Yellow Lab pup, less than a year old, tethered to the SUV, hunting for shade from the heat.

No water bowl, of course, for the pup. They cared for the pup’s well-being about as much as the idyll they were shattering with their vrrrizzzz-vrrrizzzz!.

They sat for a minute in the trailhead, vrrrizzzzing-vrrrizzzing their machines to make certain anyone enjoying peace were properly disturbed and aware the trio from Hell had arrived.

Then they vrrrizzzed-vrrrizzzzed down the road, one lifting his front wheel in the air as he sped off, his rendition of the car driver’s obscene finger gesture of contempt.

Why must users of Adams Gulch endure this sort of invasion of ear-splitting dirt bikers?

If SNRA considers the Adams Gulch road open to dirt bikes, what next? Could a fun-loving trucker steer his 18-wheeler up the road for kicks?

No surprise if these three return to Utah dirt bike circles and share their secret of the virgin dirt biking territory in Adams Gulch.

There’s an ideal place for dirt bikers: forests where lumbermen with chain saws are tearing down large stands of trees, destroying habitat and solitude.

A perfect match.