It has been a whirlwind past few months. I am humbled by the growing response to the announcement of creating a new magazine dedicated to mountain bike trails and those who build, maintain, and advocate for them. Since our first social media post back in February, it has been a rush. We’re bombarded with DMs daily on Instagram as people share content with us, message us, tag us, and tell us how excited they are for this. Again, very humbling.

So what is the latest? When is the date for the release of the first issue?

Glen Gollrad, a self-described “middle-aged mountain biker, incessant tinkerer and trail fixer,” uses a modified B.O.B. trailer to bring his tools to the woods. He says getting to the best singletrack could add hours of walking to work time, so a trailer was “the clear choice.”

People DM the Trail Builder Mag Instagram on a daily basis. Lots of sharing of content, tagging us, and trail builders and companies continue to reach out to us. The engagement and conversations are what make this initiative already spectacular. Even better is when a trail builder in the region invites me to a mountain bike festival that features a new ride park he helped build. So when Brian Tustison, a full-time trail builder with the Evergreen Mountain Bike Alliance in Washington, dropped me a DM and told me to come up to the Evergreen Mountain Bike Festival in Port Gamble, I couldn’t say no.

One of the exciting things about mountain biking is you never know what you’ll find or see on the trail. From lost car keys to bike parts to spotting deer or a bear from afar, we can never anticipate the unanticipated. I feel as though I’m always prepared for the unexpected … or at least assume I could anticipate confronting a mountain lion on the trail (which I couldn’t). But a few weeks ago, I came across something … someone … I wasn’t anticipating. A rogue trail builder.

The vision for Fanny’s Yer Aunt began in September 2020, when Nancy Stone was the only woman seated at the table to plan future trails at Rocky Point. Staring at the underrepresentation in the room she thought, “What if we create a trail that’s designed and built by all women?”

LapQuest was a good reminder for me about how much people care about trails. Without an active and long-standing partnership with rangers at the state park, there would be no trails. So often, when we show up to ride, most of us are unaware that what we’re pedaling on is the result of years of advocacy, building partnerships with the land owners, policy work, and funding before the first trail is installed.

I’ve spent the last two Wednesday evenings at the Gateway Green bike park, sandwiched between a maze of freeways in the city of Portland. When one thinks of “bike park,” we often envision lift-assisted access to trails in places like Whistler, Les Gets, and other ski resorts. Gateway Green has no chairlifts, no valet parking, no condos, or anything like that. But what it does have is community.

Trail Builder Mag is a passion project. I have no investors, no donors, no supporters, and no sponsors. But I also don’t have any overhead. What that means is we are financially sustainable from Day One. This is huge in this time of volatility in the print magazine world. That also means I don’t have a budget to jet-set to different locations and hire an army of writers and photographers. But I’m good with that. It doesn’t mean we won’t get there soon.

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. Which is it?

I ventured away from Portland’s rainy climate a few weekends ago to attend a mountain bike race in Echo, Oregon. I had never been there before, let alone ridden there. I’ve known about the trails for years, but since XC riding days have long been in my rearview mirror, I never felt compelled to drive three hours just to pedal. But that all changed for me.