Mountain bikers are assholes. Seriously. I did a really unscientific study that proves it. I went for a ride and talked to other trail users. It was a busy Sunday on a very popular singletrack trail that has equal amounts of traffic in both directions. Notably, on the weekends there’s a lot of hikers—mainly tourists who don’t know that it’s predominantly used by mountain bikers.
My method was simple. Every time I met up with oncoming traffic, whether they were on feet or wheels, I’d smile, make eye contact, and say “Hi, how’s it going?” or something similarly friendly and cheery. Every hiker smiled and exchanged pleasantries with me. Every rider grunted or gave me a cold death stare. In two cases they shouted, “Ahhhhhh, sorry, sorry, sorry!” as they fishtailed around wildly, brakes locked-up and toes dragging in the dirt before finally not running me over.
No, I wasn’t ignoring local etiquette and riding up trails that are really meant for just descending. This trail has equal amounts of up and down, XCish fun. Yes, I followed the traditional etiquette of yielding to uphill traffic. No, this isn’t the only time, or place, I’ve experienced this. It’s not just me either. Just this past weekend on a similarly popular stretch of fire road, a group of hikers literally cheered my friend and I for being the only riders to say “Hi.”
So, what’s going on? That’s not a rhetorical question. Whenever I’m at a trailhead, race finish line, or bike festival, mountain bikers seem like the greatest people on earth. Friendly and outgoing and not in that douchey networking way. I’ve had complete strangers give me tubes, tools, shuttle rides, and vast quantities of beer. I’m a pretty introverted guy, but in a group of riders—even strangers—I always feel like I’m amongst my people. So, I’m genuinely confused by this behavior. More importantly, if I’m feeling it, then trust me, the hikers are definitely feeling it.
Who gives a fuck about hikers? Well, we all should. First off, we’re all hikers. When I take my three-year-old daughter or 68-year-old mother out on the trails, we’re hiking. I’m sure you do the same. Even more importantly, in 2013 there were 6.2 million hikers and only 1.8 million mountain bikers. They outnumber us and always will. When decisions are made about our public lands and trails, hikers vote, and land managers know it. Yes, purpose-built mountain bike trails are popping up everywhere, but even those typically allow hiking and the vast majority of us will spend our riding lives on trails we share with hikers. So how about we try to get them to like us? That way they won’t write shitty and hateful anti-bike comments on stories about trail access. They won’t show up at public meetings and advocate against opening more trails to riding. And they won’t be the dicks we so often apparently are to them.
Two things will help. First, ride in control. Notice, I did not say, “slow the fuck down.” If you can see a mile of clear trail ahead of you, then by all means, let ‘er rip. If you’re sliding into a blind corner, one foot out, and suddenly there’s granny in her white tennies two feet in front of you, well, get your shit together. Forget Strava. Eeking out every millisecond on every corner is called racing. Want to go really fast on trails that are guaranteed to be hiker-free? Enter a race. That’s the whole point.
Second, and most importantly, be nice. Let’s be honest, the little triangle trail user signs say we have to get off our bikes and yield to everybody. But really, 99.9% of hikers I see while riding willingly step off the trail and let me pass. Take the time to smile, say thanks, and let them know how many riders are in your group. Think of it as our own subliminal, charm offensive. Slowly, but surely, hikers will think of us as just happy, smiling, fellow trail users.