Rebuilding Bike Mag

There’s this trail. It used to be the trail. It’s been around for a while – since the 90s, actually. One of the best things about bike trails is that they don’t stay static. Every lap is a little bit new, a little bit different. Roots grow, dirt erodes, rocks move, the experience changes, but the soul remains. So of course, this trail evolved over the years, and it changed as builders came and went.

Those builders shaped the personality of the trail, putting pieces of themselves into everything they touched. They tweaked features to get them just right, worked with the land managers to find compromises, and listened to riders.

As it goes, those diggers cycled in and out, the land managers changed over periodically, and of course, the trail adjusted with those inputs. But the core of the trail, its identity, stayed the same.

I found this trail, Bike Mag, nearly two decades ago, right around the time I bought my first mountain bike. While I wasn’t in a position to contribute, I read it consistently, signed up to have it delivered to my mailbox. It evolved as bikes did, as riders did, to reflect the soul of mountain biking. I started to find my legs as a writer and illustrator, and I aspired to be a builder on this trail.

And then, in 2020, catastrophe struck. I initially compared it to logging, a clear cut slashed across the valley. Dave Smith called it a forest fire, sweeping through, decimating the landscape. The trailbuilders were left in disarray and were forced to move on to other projects. But that trail, the trail, was still there, buried in ash, overhung with teetering specters of burnt trees. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t rideable, but it remained, stuck in hibernation.

The land changed hands. New managers hiked the property, found the bones of the old trail. An ashy berm here, the skeleton of a ladder bridge there. They weren’t builders, or even riders, but they saw the potential, heard the stories of what the trail used to be and what it meant to so many people.

Their first efforts at reopening the trail stuttered. There were flashes of excellence, but it was disconcerted, sometimes disingenuous. It often missed the mark.

Now though, we’re putting together a new trail crew. They’re all riders, experienced builders, hungry to make their impact. We’ve been hiking the old corridor, figuring out which features worked and why. Over the last month we’ve dismantled some of the newer additions that were thrown up hastily, that didn’t mesh with the character and history of the trail.

We’ve got our tools staged, our plan drawn up, and it’s time to rebuild. We have our vision. It isn’t too grand to start out. Instead we’re focused on building a good trail, one that’s fun to ride, that will age sustainably and honor the intentions of the original builders. It won’t be the Bike Mag of the “good old days” but it will be Bike Mag, and in the future these current days might be both good and old.

It’s not going to be easy work. Trail building never is. And we’re not going to get everything right the first time. There will be jumps that need tweaking, and berms that need to be torn down and rebuilt. That’s where we’ll lean on you, our riders and readers. My inbox is always open. Let me know what’s working, what’s not, and what you miss. I want to hear from you, learn from you.

Showing is always better than telling, so if you want a glimpse of what this trail is going to look like, keep an eye on our home page. We’re publishing the stories that we want to read, that we think mountain biking needs. We’re focusing on the people that make riding great, the stories that make it larger than life, and the perspectives that make it unique. Nothing bland, nothing generic, nothing mass-market.

Maybe you remember this trail from its glory days, or maybe you experienced it in the last year and went home with a weird taste in your mouth, missing the old version. Or maybe you’re new, you just picked up your first bike and are ready to dive into this subculture. Regardless, welcome. It’s a work in progress, but we’re proud of it. Come ride a lap.