Nothing good in life comes without tension and conflict. Look at mountain biking. To become a better rider, it means a lot of pain. That pain ranges from time in the gym and lifting. It also implies pain from building up our cardio and lung-busting workouts. There’s also pain from skill progression, which usually comes from wrecking. I get it and embrace it.
Coming from academia, there’s an inherent conflict in everything we talk about and do as we grapple with the implications of the different topics we’re researching or teaching. In particular, if you broach the subject of urban renewal, which I’ve taught for years, it’s imperative to talk about all of the pros and cons. What that means is we end up talking about such things are gentrification, racism, exclusion, greed, and more.
Therefore, it should be no surprise when we talk about building new trails as a potential catalyst for economic development in rural communities. It is met with opposing views. Some embrace it, particularly those who’ve been impacted positively by it. Then others decry it arguing it could very well lead to rural gentrification. Look no further than the Whistlers or Vails to validate this.
The question we wrestle with is, is it worth it? Does the creation of new trails, particularly in rural communities, lead to the economic boost and turnaround we all hope for? Or, if it does, it creates an avalanche of collateral damage like rapidly escalating housing prices and living costs.
Perspective is everything. I grew up in a rural community in the Midwest. Growing up, I had no idea whether we had a robust local economy or a faltering one. However, many years later, after a recent trip back, I was amazed at how depressing it looked. The vibrant community I had once known looked degraded—a lot more empty lots and boarded-up buildings. And so I dug around, only to find that 60% of the workforce has to leave the county (not just the town) to find employment. Sure, we have a meatpacking plant, but that comparatively employs a minimal number.
Then my mind begins drifting as I grapple with questions like, what could turn this community around? What would it take? Would I be for it? Then the mountain biker side of me begins dreaming … well, it’s a beautiful area with amazing hills. Could we build trails and turn the town into a bona fide destination to ride and hold races? If so, would it have any impact on the community? How so? Would it be positive? Would locals embrace it or be angered by these new mountain biking tourists flocking to their restaurants, cafes, motels, and grocery stores? Would it incubate or generate any new businesses? Maybe some plucky entrepreneur would take the land he owns nearby and build a whole new campground with cabins? Could it be the catalyst needed for the young man who works for the local seed company to pursue his dream and start a brewery? Now that there’s a stream of visitors mixed in with locals, he has enough traffic to warrant going for it?
I know; I am dreaming. Is it wrong to dream? When I talk about trail building in rural communities, I rarely envision another Whistler or Vail, but instead my small town. True, no one could’ve ever forecast Vail turning into what it is. I get that. I don’t wish that upon my hometown, but how about something in between? Cool, but not too cool? Economically vibrant, but not exclusive?
Yes, I believe in new trails. And maybe that’s because though I live in Portland, I am just a kid from a depressed small town. I dream it would turn around. Could trails help? Heck yeah.
If you’ve been following along, you know this article comes a week after writing Coffee and Mountain Bike Racing, where I talk about a race I attended in a small town in eastern Oregon. According to the locals I spoke to, they were excited about the yearly race and trail system and what it means for the community. One gentleman shared how they were able to purchase a whole fleet of bikes from the sales of food to start a mountain bike club at one of the schools.
Yes, developing trails in rural communities comes at a cost, but I’d argue that, for the most part, the costs are more beneficial than the negative. Let’s keep building trails.
