by Jude Gerace

When I joined the OTTA board, I had a very romantic view of what supporting the development of this state-wide trail meant.  I thought it came with muddy moments on the trail, flagging a future trail, and making new friends with a similar vision.  There are plenty of those moments, to be sure, fortified around a campfire but there are also 2-hour Zoom meetings once per month and additional committee Zoom meetings that are far from touching a trail but are important nonetheless.  Sometimes it doesn't feel impactful, it feels like a second job.  There are heated moments that reveal opportunities for personal and organizational growth and truly joyful moments that can't be met with an in-person hug.  All part of living in the time of pandemic and all part of working closely with people across the state.   

Everyone I talked to said that getting out to do the trail work would be that fulfilling piece and, there's a reason why trail work weekends fill quickly; it's just so much fun!  It really is, despite the cold mornings and any fear I might have about whether or not I'm skilled enough to earn respect as a "swamper" (the entry-level trail builder).  Though I come with a "can-do" spirit, I was still worried that I would be outed as a novice. Though the crew was focused, alright, downright grumpy in the morning before their dose of coffee and Laird's,  they were also excited to show me the things they had learned about building trails.  In my case, drains. 

The type of folks that come to build trails varies and I was surprised to find that over a long weekend our reasons for showing up were similar--that there's a sense of duty to do our part and have a little fun doing it.  We started out a rag-tag group of trail nerds and left bonded over a section of trail and a shared experience--the campfire and whisky helped a little too. To spend time in moody Oregon weather learning about the health of a trail or cutting a new line (and then testing it!) with like-minded folks is incredibly rewarding.  It fills my M-F with a different sense of purpose and connection.

It's unlikely you'll notice those new drains that I helped build along the Cascade Crest portion of the trail in the Willamette Tier.  It's not sexy work and the rewards of that work aren't immediate. Yet, as you're whizzing by, the fact that you don't notice the washed away trail is a testament to the small but impactful ways we can ensure that future generations can experience the magic of the outdoors too. It's also helped me to appreciate the work that others have done before me and give a nod to those that will come after me.  That the work we're doing is just a small part of a longer story.  

When I wasn't awkwardly using a trail rake or hoe, I was marching behind the sawyers with the gas can and rags, watching them strategize where and how to cut a downed tree helped me gain a new appreciation for the experience and knowledge it takes to keep our trails open especially as we recover from years of devastating fires. The glorious blooming of the Rhododendrons, seriously hundreds of them in June, and my first sighting of a Yew tree in the wild reminded me of the special magic of Oregon.  

Our trails meander through land that isn't ours; a history we are still reconciling and learning to honor and preserve especially as stewards of this trail. The Old Cascade Crest, as we know it, is on the land of the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs and the Confederated land of the Grand Ronde.  Each morning, the land acknowledgement offered us a moment to reflect, to begin to understand the history that brought us to this moment.  The trees are old enough to have lived through each of these moments of human history, a sobering thought, a feeling of insignificance, as I headed into the dark, damp woods.

Scouting a new trail ranks as one of my favorite aspects of a trail weekend.  Seeing the vision, bushwacking, walking the ridge of what could be a new connector trail, touching trees that we'll accommodate by twisting the trail. I feel like as much of an explorer as I'll ever be in this lifetime.  And, of course, getting to ride sections of trail with folks I had been working shoulder-to-shoulder with throughout the weekend was simply a blast!    

We're a rare breed, us mountain bikers, and we come in many forms, sizes, and backgrounds and yet, the gift of the great outdoors belongs to all of us.  There's a sweet satisfaction and sense of humility that comes in doing trail work and in serving on a board; watching myself grow as a person while stewarding a trail alongside my new friends.