In February of 2014, Sasha Yakovleff decided to mix things up and leave the comforts of his New Hampshire hometown to make a cross-country move for a job opportunity in Salt Lake City, Utah. The decision wasn’t too hard since he knew Utah was a world-class biking destination and the new surroundings would offer plenty of choices to fuel his two-wheel addiction.

“You’re only young once, might as well travel around a bit and explore,” says Sasha. “Utah has opened my eyes and put things into perspective. I miss New Hampshire dearly and I’ll be back home permanently at some point, but until then I’m not sure where life will take me. However, I know I’ll be aboard a bike wherever I go.”

Moving your life can be tough. Making new friends and getting familiar with a new neighborhood can be a daunting experience and humbling to some, but Sasha sought to make it a quick process. His love for bikes and an incredible motivation to challenge himself have helped him settle into his new home and explore the limitless riding options waiting out the backdoor.

“Riding a bike is the ultimate sense of freedom for me. It doesn’t really matter where I am or what mood I’m in, riding always makes me happy and I have to thank my sponsors for helping me with that – Scott Bikes, Deity Components, Kenda Tires, Mavic, G-Form, Bern Unlimited, TRP Brakes, Five Ten, Darn Tough Vermont. My motivation though is pretty simple – keep myself challenged physically and mentally. There is always something new to learn or ride, whether at the dirt jumps or way out in the woods on some remote mountainside.” – Sasha

The constant desire for something new is a driving force behind Sasha’s creativity. He’s a nine-to-fiver who doesn’t understand the term “weekend warrior.” Everyday provides if you’re motivated to take advantage, and the Wasatch is a big backyard with more to offer than most seek to realize. The abundance of pleasures is almost overwhelming, and even after a good soak, you can easily be satisfied with just the tip.

“When I moved to Utah, my first thought was damn this place is dry, I hope we get a ton of rain. New Hampshire has variable weather which you learn to love, but Utah is much more sunny and dry. When it rains here I get really stoked and head to the woods to build. The nice thing about the Wasatch is the variety. You can ride whatever you want. Dirt jumps down low, alpine riding up high, DH or all-mountain trails in between.” – Sasha

Over the past few seasons, I’ve had the opportunity to tag along with Sasha as he familiarized himself with his new backyard. Being on the bike or shoveling dirt seem to be the only two things he thinks about, and soon I started to expect a call or text from him every couple of days to go shoot a new feature he had been secretly building over the weekend or scout something he spotted from the road on his drive to work that looked fun to ride. We got together at the end of this season to recount a few of the fun adventures and build projects we had photographed together.

“This was shot early in the morning in March. I Street is a winter staple in Salt Lake City as it is usually rideable year-round. In fact, the dirt there is much better in the winter when it’s actually wet and malleable. The funny thing about I Street is that things are always changing. Lots of people build there, so the place has tons of personality. I don’t know who built this jump but it’s awesome; you can just pull for days.” – Sasha

There had been a couple wildfires this past summer just outside of Park City. Sasha and I scouted this area after he spotted the burn zone on a cross-country ride and thought the ashy dirt would make for some good turns. Besides being covered in soot when we got back to the car, it was a fun new experience for both of us.

“I had driven by this spot a million times, or taken the bus up past it with my DH bike to go ride other trails. I thought about riding it before but was too lazy and forgetful to check it out until it rained one time this past spring. The dirt was perfect and it was really fun to ride. There are a few sections of different pitches where you can alternate your speed and push out a brown pow turn or two. Plus, first descents are hard to beat.” – Sasha

“Evil Empire is a Park City classic DH freeride trail that never gets old. It starts at Jupiter Peak and descends over 2200’ vertical feet back into Old Town Park City via Daly Canyon. This jump is rad and on one of my favorite sections of the trail near the bottom in the Black Forest of Empire Canyon. The pines thin out a bit as you jump through aspens before dipping back into the darkness.” – Sasha

“Raspberry Lane is one of my favorite pirate trails and sits just above the top of Old Town in Park City. We were actually scouting out another shot on an overcast day and noticed the fall colors in this berm. Funny how things work out when you’re looking for something else – always keep your eyes open I guess.” – Sasha

I think Sasha’s least favorite time of the year is after Daylight Savings when it gets dark super quick in the afternoon. For someone who works all day but lives to shred, it’s frustrating to only have an hour or so to ride after work in the later part of the fall. Luckily the Park City Dirt Jumps are easy to get to and the street lamps at the fire station next door help illuminate the open field of jumps for a few laps before dinner.

The Oakley Skatepark is located right next to one of the biggest rodeo venues in Utah. The town population is about 1,000, but the new $3 million rodeo arena seats 6,000. It can be windy a lot of times, but if you wait it out, the Kamas Valley sunsets are usually incredible.

Eric Porter has one of the sickest backyard setups, stacked with stunt ramps, a pump track and a water slide snake run connected to another pump track in the neighbor’s yard. Fall BBQ sessions at Porter’s are some of the funnest days during late season.

“After moving to Utah, it took me about a year to scout out a few spots I wanted to build and learn my way around the place a bit. I knew I wanted to build a large wallride in the middle of the woods, and what better place to put it than in an Aspen grove? This thing is tucked up on a hillside in Park City. We built it, painted it and sessioned it a few times before the snow started to fall. The aspen leaves died early this year due to a fungus, so hopefully we can catch a golden frame next autumn when the grove goes off.” – Sasha

Adventures in any backyard can be endless if you use your creativity. Even when it seems like there’s nothing new left to discover, building and riding have endless possibilities. When you’re passionate about riding your bike and always looking for something new to shred, you’ll find a way to satisfy your cravings but also stay thirsty for more. He might be settled into his new home now, but Sasha’s quest for new fun outside his doorstep will never stop regardless of how long he stays anywhere.

Out of the seven days of the week, Monday probably takes the cake for least favorite day. The weekend is over, the hangover is rough and the average Joe goes back to a world full of people they spent the last three nights trying to forget about. Back to the stinky hallways and claustrophobic cubicles, forced conversations and the all-important meeting that for unknown reasons, requires your attendance. Mondays mark the return to the hell hole.

It was just another Monday morning as I scarfed a jelly donut while waiting for my carpool to pick me up from the parking lot at the Park City Dirt Jumps. Dustin Orem’s mini-van rolled up, so I downed the last of my coffee and took a seat next to Jonesy Fedderson and Riley Smith. We had one more stop in Coalville to pick up Matt Beringer before we’d be on our way to the Hell Hole. Not the same hell hole, however, that most people were commuting to that morning. None of us were agonizing over the thought of sitting at a desk for 8 hours, or correctly filing TPS reports. We only had thoughts of drinking full strength domestics and shredding some BMX bikes at the Hell Hole full pipe in Wyoming.

It might not be the secret spot it once was, but no one will tell you Hell Hole has lost its appeal. There’s something different, something special about venturing away from the perfectly sculpted concrete parks and over-sessioned street spots in urban neighborhoods. Sometimes we get trapped in our comfort bubble. Smooth transitions and effortless flow are hard to find in the middle of farmland, America. But, if you’re up for a little adventure and a challenge, spots like Hell Hole can not only humble you, but remind you of how rewarding it is to put in work for a few tube rides.

We arrived to find some newly installed gates blocking the service road that parks you right at the pipe. Perhaps a sign of the developed popularity of the spot. A little hike is always good for getting the blood flowin’ though, that, and some house cleaning. Lurkers find it amusing to toss rocks down the mouth of the elbow. Can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted myself if I wasn’t aware of the hellish nightmare I would create for anyone sessioning the pipe. Matt will tell you first hand, that nightmare sucks when it becomes a reality.

A quick sweep was all that was needed before the session was on. Everyone took turns charging up the tube, high marking the elbow before carving the 200 feet back out of the snake. It was all smiles, with every run feeling better than the last. Each new high mark was raising the stoke, and every fresh skid made a lasting impression. Jonesy threw down a couple flares and over-vert hand plants while Riley stacked some clips for an upcoming edit. Matt was typically creative in-between speed runs, rocket sliding the belly of the pipe from the elbow all the way out the spout, and Dustin couldn’t get enough flow rides, pumping the walls all afternoon. It was tiring just to watch him, but his energy never faded, nor did his big, bearded grin.

By afternoon, we had cranked enough pedals to clean any gunk out of the lungs. There were no more man-cans to crush and the graffiti lining the pipe was getting blurry, so we loaded the bikes back in Dustin’s van. High-fives for the good times were in order after some hard work on a Monday. No deadlines to meet today though, just the tough decision of what photo to gram on the drive home. There was only one thing left to do before we crossed back over Brigham’s border. A quick stop at the discount liquor store in Evanston was necessary to fill all the empty space in the van. Enough full strength to last until the next Monday!

After his death-defying tumble over a 30 ft. cliff at Red Bull Rampage last October, Dustin Schaad spent the next two months in Tahoe mending a dislocated ankle and a sprained wrist. Pretty minor injuries considering, some might argue, Dustin’s err “might be the most hideously spectacular crash in the history of mountain biking.” But, Dustin was broken more by his failure than the actual impact of the crash. His biggest injury was the living nightmare he experienced, replaying itself in the back of his head during those two months of rehab. See Dustin’s Wild Crash here.

A few weeks of physical therapy allowed Dustin to get back on pedals near the end of November, but there was still only one thing on his mind. Late autumn dirt was riding well, and with only a couple days back in the saddle, Dustin was quickly over the tease of the trails and oozing at the idea of some big mountain freeriding before winter. The replay continued to bother him though, and he knew the only way to rid himself of the bad memory was to replace it with a better one. He had ridden cleanly through his line in practice the day before qualifiers. He knew he could do it again. The hurdle was convincing himself once more.

Plans were made for redemption. The mini-van was packed to the brim, and Dustin and I headed south from Salt Lake City to meet up with videographer Adam Clark at the Rampage venue in Virgin. It was the first week of December and none of us had ridden in the Utah desert that late in the fall, so we weren’t sure how conditions would fare. The weather was calling for lows in the teens and a possibility of snow. Dustin seemed determined not to end his season with the bad memory lurking, so we decided to play down the forecast and take a chance on adventure.

The original plan was to scope some terrain near Green River to warm-up on, but as we got halfway through Spanish Fork Canyon, our concerns about the weather became a reality. Snow blanketed the mesas and a deceivingly thick mud by the roadside looked challenging enough for a four-wheeler, let alone a two-wheel drive mini-van. We pulled over and sat in silence for a bit contemplating the chances of similar, unrideable conditions farther south. Another 5 hours on the road to get skunked didn’t seem too enticing, and I could see the disappointment eating Dustin up inside. He finally broke the silence and asked if we should turn around and wait for spring. There was only one question I needed to ask to get an instant decision – Do you wanna ride bikes or not?

When we rolled into Virgin, chance turned to fortune. Blue skies and dry dirt welcomed our arrival, and the stoke meter was back to 10. We cracked a couple beers and setup camp as the sun sank behind the Red Cliffs Conservation. An early sunset made for a long cold night by the fire, but a little tequila and some local entertainment in the form of shooting stars and coyote calls helped pass the time as we made plans for morning.

A huge temperature gradient had turned the dirt to frosted concrete overnight and unfortunately, frosty dirt thaws to a thick, sticky peanut butter. A little maintenance was needed to scrape the mud off some of the in-runs and lips receiving direct light in the morning. It was a little concerning until we realized the sun was baking it back to tack as the temps rose out of the teens and into the sixties by midday. West of camp though, snow from a couple days prior was still visible on the taller mesas, and an updated forecast showed a huge winter storm from the north would be arriving soon.

We worked our way up the venue removing mud on a few lines for Dustin to warm-up on. A grimace here and there was evidence of the lingering pain in his joints, but it wasn’t going to keep him from accomplishing what he came back to Virgin to do. There was no contest pressure, but Dustin did have a few challenges to overcome. It was his first time back on a big bike after the crash, riding solo in one of the gnarliest freeride locations on the planet, and trying to grease the line that almost ended his season if not more.

Once Dustin felt comfortable enough to give it another go, he rode into the top section a couple times, stopping at the beginning of the technical cliff he had fallen down in qualifiers. Below him he could see the bomb hole his body had left in a small patch of dirt, surrounded by bone crushing rocks. Dustin laid his bike down and crouched at the edge of the cliff for a while to meditate before hiking back to the top.

Goggles on, helmet buckled. With a deep grunt and a big exhale, Dustin was ready to reconquer. Once more he dropped into his line with speed, slashing the berm above his fall zone to setup his approach. Creeping over the edge, he let it loose, gaining momentum through each of the three drops before railing the bottom turn with power.

A huge weight had been lifted, and after a couple celebratory fist pumps, Dustin was ready to have some fun sessioning the rest of the venue. By the next day, storm clouds were visible to the north and we new our time in the desert was coming to an end for a few months.

Dustin finished the trip by freeriding a line he had never done just outside the venue. By the time we got back to camp in the afternoon, the wind had picked up and a cold sprinkle began to fall. Winter was upon us, but too late to keep Dustin from redemption.

Witnessing his crash in qualifiers, I was blown away when Dustin walked out of the venue with merely a scratch on his body. Almost more impressive though was his immediate return to Virgin to reconvince himself of his ability. The goal of this conquest was to be able to move on. You have to confront and conquer, and Dustin did just that. He knew he needed to recover quickly and return to face a demon that would only get bigger with time. Now, the only thoughts on Dustin’s mind are about the next adventure, the next big thing.

View Dustin Schaad’s Desert Redemption video footage: DUSTIN SCHAAD’S DESERT REDEMPTION