By Olivier de Vaulx

Family rides do not sound exciting at first, but unlike most board games, you won’t be stuck forever always doing the same uneventful loop. With the American OHV system allowing legal rides in deep forests, it’s easy to live the thrill of real exploration with your kids. Just keep in mind that enduro is somewhat like Jumanji: If you start the game, you’ll have to finish. With everyone…

Having ridden with Julie, 17 years old, and Thomas, 14 years old, in Utah and Idaho for 3 weeks (see Upshift  Issue 26), the whole family was ready to discover some Montana trails. Once the two CRF250x and a CRF230F were loaded on the trailer behind the pick-up truck, the camping gear packed in the trunk, we started the long drive from Boise, Idaho, to Kalispell, Montana. 

Maps and Network
Our first stop in Kalispell is the Ranger Station, where we are offered a stack of maps. The ranger doesn’t know anything about dirt bikes, except that we’re supposed to stay on the designated trails, shown with a distinct pattern on the official maps. Randomly picking our first destination among these legal trails, we route a loop on our GPS. The same day, we enjoy a beautiful ride in the hills surrounding Ashley Lake, on a technical but fun single track. Most of the forks have a pole displaying the trails numbers, matching those shown on our map. The navigation is really easy, the ride beautiful, and Montana seems to be a perfect place for this kind of sporty family ride. After such a good start, we just want more and in the evening, we have no difficulty convincing François, a friend of ours who recently moved to Kalispell, to come with us on our next ride. Maps in hand, we trace a new loop. There’s no indication of difficulty on the map and to be on the safe side, we plan to do only 20 miles.

Log Trap
After 15 miles, a huge log acts as a natural gate, preventing any access. As a dad not being ready to show any sign of renouncement in front of his kids, I pass all the bikes around the fallen tree, fighting my way up on a slippery slope. With the elevation and the heat, doing this four times is exhausting. Luckily there’s still some water left in our bags and it’s relatively easy to cool down. The trail keeps going for a couple of miles until we reach another log. This one is bigger, and there’s no way around. We work as a team, first building some sort of steps using stones and wood. With no hospital in the immediate vicinity, nobody wants to take chances and jump over the obstacle. We opt for a slower but safer method, the kids pushing and pulling the bikes after I wheelie the front wheel over the log. It works, but it’s tiring, and again, we have to do it four times. From here, everything starts to be a real challenge: from steep climbs in rocky sections to jumps over smaller logs, we fight for every step forward. The night is yet to come but our water supply is empty. Luckily, we found a snowfield. Before trying to pass through it with our dirt bikes, we kneel down on this natural white blanket and start filling up our empty bottles. The snow doesn’t melt, even when we put the thermal bottles against the exhausts, but having something cold in the mouth feels good. Refreshed but not yet hydrated, we cross the snow with difficulties, our knobbies doing a very poor job at keeping traction on this slippery surface. Reaching the highest summit, there are more logs waiting for us. Luckily, the kids become better at jumping over the small and medium ones, or to find a way around the biggest. At this point of the ride, the night is almost here but we have good reason to believe that the four remaining miles will be easier as the trail goes down in the valley. 

Leaving the Bikes
But our hopes are quickly crushed by two new impassable logs on a very narrow path. The night is advanced now, and we need to find a way out. It sounds like a dead-end at first, and it would be very easy to just sit and let despair take over. But again, being with kids you don’t allow yourself any weakness, and after scouting the trail by foot we discover that there’s a switchback a few hundred feet ahead. The side of the hill is very steep, but pushing the bikes through this steep slope to reach the trail further down seems to be a good idea. Especially since we don’t see how steep it is in the dark! By day, we wouldn’t even have tried it. While the youngest stays on the switchback with a small red lamp to give the overall direction, the three other riders start to go down the hill, in the hollow darkness, pushing each bike blindly through rocks, branches, and old logs. Often, the bike trips over a rock and bounces over our heads, bringing us with the motorcycle in a hazardous fall. Each time, more muscle and energy is needed to recover the heavy machine and put it back in the right way. An hour and a half later, the four bikes are finally back on the trail. It’s already midnight and it’s time to rest and eat. But our mouths are so dry that nothing can be chewed, let alone swallowed. We then start the bikes again and begin the slow exploration of the forthcoming trails. Fortunately, our CRFs have lights and we can see where to put our wheels. Not for long, though: another huge log is blocking our way. We’re too weak to move it away or to carry the bikes over. We decide that, with 3 miles left, it’s safer to leave our beloved motorcycles on the trail and to hike the remaining miles. But wait a minute! When everything goes wrong it’s always a good idea to ask mom for help or advice, right? We take the time to call mum, aka Caroline, the last member of the crew who was following our slow progress using the Spot satellite app. Once she understands that we’re all in good shape, we ask her to drive from Kalispell to the parking lot with François’s car and to wait for us with a supply of water, sodas, or whatever drinks she could find. It’s time to start the hike through the forest. My daughter Julie opens the way with her cell phone light, my son Thomas and I are following, and our friend François is closing the ranks with another smartphone light.

Walking in Bear Country

From here starts a long walk in the pitch dark forest, with the heavy motocross boots and no water. The climbs are steep and the logs are slowing down our progress. Each step requires mental strength, and since we didn’t drink for a few hours, cramps are never far away. We keep singing and talking very loudly, just in case some bear would be in the immediate surroundings. Of course, we don’t have any bear spray, but we are not natural born singers either and can’t imagine any wild animal being able to stay within earshot. The light of the moon can barely penetrate the thick canopy, but the phones LEDs are bright enough. Julie and Thomas are exhausted but they’re not complaining. They know it’s a serious situation and they switched to a kind of survival mode to keep walking, giving the adults a lesson on bravery. Each time a phone gets some service, we try to call Caroline, who went alone, at midnight, in the dark forest, hiking a very steep trail full of logs in an effort to meet us halfway. She knows there might be bears, but she can’t just wait at the parking lot while we try to find our way out. Her courage is a valuable incentive to keep moving when our bodies scream that they want to stop and lay down, which is obviously not an option, especially when you’re dehydrated. At 3:30am, we meet our savior: Caroline reaches us and we drink the best sodas and water bottles of our lives. Relieved to have the whole family finally reunited, we finish the hike all together, glad to share this experience. It’s 5:30 AM when we arrive at the pick-up truck.