Professional Builder Profile Interview: Eddie Kessler of Ptarmigan Ptrails in Oregon
While we’re only a few days from the official first day of Fall, signs already indicate the changing of seasons. I noticed this yesterday on the drive back to Portland from Mt Hood. Leaves are changing colors, and the temps are cooling off. In our corner of Oregon, the trail-building season is at our doorstep. Like many, we weathered a hot and dry summer. It’s easier to think, talk, and write about trail building when the conditions are prime for moving dirt.
Last week, while doing lunch laps at our local bike park in the city, I listened to another episode of the Trail EAffect podcast. The content centered on trail building in Alaska. During the interview, Ptarmigan Ptrails was brought up. Here was a trail-building company that started in Alaska and has since relocated along the south coast of Oregon. It was a good nudge for me to roll out our next interview in the Professional Builder Profile Interview series. Today’s interview features Eddie Kessler of Ptarmigan Ptrails. The interview occurred several months ago, but it is perfect timing to share it with you this week. Let’s jump into this!
Sean: What are you currently doing?
Eddie: At this exact moment, I’m on a flight back from Elko, Nevada. My company is working with the BLM to help the community design and create a destination and regionally important trail system right outside town.
Sean: What prompted you to take the plunge in launching out and starting your own trail-building company?
Eddie: The company I own was started by Brian Vaughan, my “brother in trail,” in 2009. He currently owns Titus Trails LLC out of Hailey, ID. We still work closely. I joined Ptarmigan Ptrails as a partner in 2011, and together, Brian and I grew Ptarmigan Ptrails organically within the Alaska market.
Brian was a lot of things back then; number one, he was a role model for work ethic and motivation and the influence to do this as a job. I didn’t know such a world existed. Without him, I wouldn’t have the life and company success I have today. It was fortuitous that we met at a friend’s bike shop in Palmer, Alaska, and became friends over the next few months. After riding bikes together for about a year, skiing together, and sharing our frustrations with the slow evolution of Alaska trail experiences, we wanted to begin pushing the boundaries of building trails in Alaska.
Back in 2010/11, Brian wasn’t excelling at selling himself or the business, and, as an East Coaster from South Florida, I had that skill set. I’d been working for the Division of Forestry in Alaska for four years, and I felt that opportunity had run its course. In talking with Brian, a potential partnership seemed like a risk worth taking and an adventure I wanted to be a part of. I quit the state job, cashed out my retirement (which wasn’t much), and went to work figuring out how I could supplement Brian’s skillset with my own. We both went in, ready for anything. It was thin for a bit.
In Alaska, the terrain was there. The advocates were there. The funding was mostly there, but the trail visions needed to be brought to reality. By today’s standards, I mean the trails we built don’t seem progressive at all, but back in 2011-2013, “Flow” was still the big buzzword, and berms and jumps were just starting to go big in municipal trail systems, but it was game-changing at the time. We wanted to be those guys and bring that to our friends and community in Alaska. It was a really cool time to be involved in the Alaska trail scene. It took two years even to get a decent MTB gig.
We got so much support from Valley Mountain Bikers and Hikers, Singletrack Advocates, Tony and Julie at Backcountry Bike and Ski, Greg at Speedway Cycles, the Anchorage Park Foundation, and definitely the entire Burris family! Holy shit, they took care of us on long project days at the Kincaid projects! We were full dirt-bagging at times.
Sean: What’s been the craziest story or a-ha moment so far?
Eddie: I’ve been in this business for 12 years now. It’s difficult to pick a single story without context for the question. I’ve worked for some unique and powerful private clients, almost died in the woods a few times (You only get a few of those), and unfortunately, I’ve even had a client have fatal injuries on trails we were still building. That was a bit of a wake-up call.
Honestly, I don’t have a great answer. The a-ha may be that this is a profession. You can make a life from it. Surprise! When you hire a trail contractor, you are getting a pro, and that’s a big deal. It means a lot to me, and it’s why being a member of the PTBA (Professional Trail Builders Association) has been so important in generating a level of consistency, quality, and professionalism in our industry. Becoming a member in 2012 was a proud moment for Brian and me.
A lot of volunteers come out of the woods and want to be pro trail builders, and hell yeah, they should give it a go, but pro trail contracting is not volunteering. And vice versa. It doesn’t mean I disrespect the hours of labor, local knowledge, or building expertise. Definitely not the case. I don’t know everything. There’s a place for both and for them to be complimentary. I’ve been and still am on both sides of that coin, but part of that a-ha moment was that things are so different in the contracting world. The build is just one quick moment in the life of a trail or project.
When I realized this was a career and not a short stint, I began to accept that trails can be the real deal with big money, a lot of real financial risk, a lot of liability, and the potential for a decent reward if you can figure it out. So I guess a big a-ha is that a trail career affords me a wonderful life, but it’s not without drawbacks. I think a lot of industry marketing and social media do absolutely zero justice to the reality of trail building, consulting, and planning work. Frankly, it’s mentally and physically demanding. It’s hard f*cking work, and while I find lots of opportunities to play, you have got to put in the hours. I just worked seven days straight in breakup winter conditions in Elko and flagged 27 miles of trail so my client can get a NEPA and archaeological review going. Winter doesn’t care about my family’s desires or my own desire to ride my bike. The A-ha! … trail building is a job. A badass one, but still a job.
Sean: What was the biggest obstacle you faced when starting?
Eddie: This one is another question where I could go in many directions. My own ego. Clearly. The lack of opportunity for professional growth and the chance for real constructive feedback was tough. People get trapped in bubbles, and you need to work with other professionals to see where you’re excelling and where you need to tweak your game. Everyone needs solid feedback. Everyone also needs to be taken down a peg at some point. Me especially. I was hungry!
Ego was my big obstacle. I had to leave Alaska to get that checked and see I wasn’t shit. By 2014, I was on my own at Ptarmigan. My spouse and I had a one-year-old, and we decided it was time to begin planning our exit from Alaska for family reasons and to seize opportunities in trail construction outside the region. PTBA membership and the connections the organization provided to Brian and me were priceless at this point.
In the winter of 2015, we left for the Lower 48 and settled on the Southern Oregon Coast. In the previous two years, I’d worked off and on with Scott Linneburger and Greg Mazu from Singletrack Trails, subbing with IMBA Trail Solutions and working with other builders nationwide.
Alaska didn’t have a long enough trail construction season or enough dollars to make it a viable place for multiple trail builders. We all either worked together or fought for not enough dollars. It was a bit weird. I didn’t have a personal issue with these builders, but I didn’t think they were doing what they said they would on certain projects. I was maybe a little too upfront about this, but I felt it was important for all of us. I’m not a backcountry expert, stone mason, or rigging expert, so I won’t tell people I am. That same notion should be reflected in mountain biking. If you don’t know how to build a booter, lip, or a proper radius berm, don’t bid on a mountain bike project requiring dynamic and progressive features. Learn the skills.
I could never comfortably tell you something like this without working with other builders. I’m just not that good at big progressive DJ or slopestyle trail. I’ll use an Oregon example. Look at the stuff Josh Venti and the team builds. Hats off. Wow. That’s not my scope but damned if I can’t give respect where it’s due. Same with whoever builds in Bellingham at Galbraith. Again, hats the hell off. And that respect goes for all trail styles and experiences outside of mountain biking.
Creating those teachable moments and teaching our staff new varied skills has been huge. We’ve sent staff all over the country and work with other builders. It’s a beautiful thing to be humbled and to do the humbling occasionally!
Sean: What is one thing you wish you knew when you started?
Eddie: One thing? Perspective. Just like anything in life, we need perspective. You have to work hard for everything. There are no shortcuts. There are no easy answers. Learn to love the process and enjoy the highs because you will have lows as a business owner, especially in a dynamic field like trail contracting.
Owning a business is stressful, no matter what it is. There are a lot of personalities, emotions, and social constructs based around trails. But it’s mostly bullshit. Trails are important, sure, but they aren’t more important than biological diversity and ecosystem health. They aren’t more important than kids getting a good education. And they certainly are not more important than spending money or resources to ensure people in our communities have a moderately safe and comfortable life.
Perspective. Trails are just for fun! I feel so honored and humbled that I get to do this for work. Whenever I start getting a bad attitude about something or a project, I usually just take a step back and think of how lucky I am to get paid to play in the woods and make something for others to enjoy. It feels so good to see people smile on the trails you built—especially youth and new riders.
I guess, to sum up the answer for this one, just ride the wave. Nothing lasts forever, good or bad. That’s a great perspective to have. If you want to be a pro trail builder, learn to roll with the punches. You’re going to case more than a few lips, so to speak, and damn it, thats ok. Get up and hit it again!
Sean: What advice would you give to someone thinking of venturing out to start their own trail-building company?
Eddie: Don’t half-ass it. Respect yourself and the business, be a professional, and cultivate a support network of working relationships. If you’re going to go for it, go all in.
Firstly, though, see if you like the actual trail life, not the Instagram-curated version. Come work with a company like ours or any of the hundreds of builders nationwide! There are endless opportunities, especially if you’re open to traveling and a little hardship from time to time (not poverty, just learning to deal with real-world situations like weather, soils, bugs, fungus, bad clients, canceled plans, etc.) The likelihood of staying in your town and becoming a pro or part-time builder is pretty much zero. You’ve got to put in the time and earn it. There’s A LOT of good builders out there.
Pick something that you really love and learn to specialize in it. Like I said before, everyone has their own little niche. Learn to hone that. I know what I’m good at. My team has different assets, like a trail “A-Team.” If you can make yourself necessary and desirable, you’ll always be working. Get out there. Check out your competition. Build with them. Spend time with them. Share a drink. Shut up and listen to their ideas and expertise. You may learn a thing or two. You may learn A LOT. Find opportunities to make yourself uncomfortable. Get paid for it. That’s the goal!
Interview by: Sean Benesh Photos: Supplied by Eddie Kessler
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sean Benesh
Sean is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Trail Builder Mag. He is also the Communications Director for the Northwest Trail Alliance in Portland, Oregon. While in grad school, he worked as a mountain biking guide in Southern Arizona. Sean also spends time in the classroom as a digital media instructor at Warner Pacific University.
