As a mountain biker, I love trails. We all do. In fact, we often talk about our favorite ones. We will also talk about amazing trips and grand adventures that focus on riding some trail system … Whistler, Sedona, etc. We all love our trails. And we should.
While trails are smile-inducing ribbons of dirt across our favorite mountain ranges, they are actually much more than that. First of all, they most often were hand-dug and crafted by an army of volunteers. Those who’re giving up precious time on their weekends to trek into the woods toting a McLeod to dig, rake, and shape new or existing trails. And if you think that’s it, you’re gravely mistaken. It’s so much more than that.
Yes, trails matter. They matter for a lot of reasons. In particular, for rural communities a good distance away from our urban centers, trails can potentially symbolize hope. Now, I’m not naive to believe everyone sees it that way. Some view trails and the mountain bikers who ride them as nuisances. However, as rural communities are forced to move away from economies that once revolved around resource extraction, trails can indeed symbolize a spark of hope.
Over the years, I’ve read numerous articles and even academic papers about the economic impact of the outdoor industry, and in particular, mountain biking. From small communities in northern British Columbia to northern Minnesota to even here in Oregon, there are many examples of stories of slow turnaround from the growing presence of trails.
Trails matter.
They represent a wilderness playground for hikers and mountain bikers, but for some communities they represent a financial boost. Mountain bikers drive into these communities bringing their debit cards with them. They stop for beers and burritos after rides and in some case stay for the night. In some instances, this translates to a million-dollar-a-year-influx into a local economy.
Trails do matter and for a lot of reasons. We don’t have to choose one. We can have our trails and burritos too.
