What is your relationship with the trails you run? Are you someone who passes over them and enjoys the beautiful views along the way? Or, are you someone who actively maintains the trails, picks up litter when you see it, moves a fallen branch out of the way or participates in trail work days when you can? I don’t ask these questions to shame anyone, or to say that your relationship with the trails is right or wrong—it’s simply to get you thinking.
I am probably someone who falls into the first group described above, as a user who appreciates the trails, but I’d like to be more active when it comes to maintaining them. I participate in trail work from time to time, but this year has gotten me thinking more specifically about what I want my relationship with the trails to look like. On a Saturday night in late March, with a couple of races lined up in the weeks ahead, the area had some late winter weather. What I didn’t realize until the next morning was that the weather had turned to sleet and freezing rain, at just about 100 feet higher than the elevation of my house. Inches of ice coated the trees—the heavy weight ultimately breaking limb—and downed trees littered the trails. I’ve rarely seen that much carnage.
After an initial survey of the damage, I experienced the full extent of the destruction the next morning, as I was leading a group run on the trails for the Seven Sisters Trail Race, just six weeks away. The group was really excited to get some miles on the race course, experience the technical terrain, harden the quads and build more confidence. However, we encountered what we called the “zone of destruction” only about a quarter of a mile up the trail as we climbed over, under and around debris.
A quick discussion with the group was held to determine whether they were more interested in continuing the run or, instead, working to clear the trail. The group chose the second option, and our group run became a trail work day. Over the course of several hours, the group worked together to (mostly) clear the first 2 miles. It was very slow going and we were all sore after the effort. While we hadn’t gone far, we had accomplished a lot. However, the trail itself is 6 miles long and my group had only cleared the first third of the trail, with 10 people helping over the course of 3 hours. There was a lot of work to be done to clear the final 4 miles.
I returned home from the run extremely nervous—not only was two-thirds of the Seven Sisters course a mess, but I also had a race that was just two weeks away, at another local spot, on trails that had been equally impacted by the ice. My husband and I went for a hike at Mt. Toby the following day, and found the top of the mountain covered in a mess. There were full tops of trees laying on the ground and blocking the trails, chunks of ice hitting us as they melted off the 50-foot-tall trees and the sound of crashing limbs echoed around us. I took one look, and quickly told my husband that we needed to get out of there. There was a lot of work to be done over the coming weeks.
I put a call out to the local trail running community asking for help with assessing trail conditions, organizing small groups to remove debris, using hand tools to remove limbs and hauling in chainsaws to remove larger branches. The response was immense and immediate. The community came together, and local runners offered to help out. Over the course of the week, emails flew around within the group, where we shared an interactive map that marked trails that were cleared, or that needed clearing, and the location of trees that needed the attention of a chainsaw. At some point, I didn’t even have to drive the conversation or direct folks where and what to do—everyone worked together to clear over 20 miles of trails around Mt. Toby within the week. My anxiety finally subsided, and the Mt. Toby race went off with great success.
Over the course of the following month, runners also got out to clear the rest of the Seven Sisters Trail leading up to the race. I’ll admit, I went on at least one group run on the Seven Sisters Trail prior to the clearing efforts, and watched everyone in the group simply jump over, shimmy under or run around any downed limbs we encountered—no one (including myself) took a moment to remove any of the debris on the trails. I left that run with such shame that I had not contributed at all to trail maintenance that day, and that frankly, I had done the opposite by adding another set of footprints in the goat paths around the trail debris.
The Seven Sisters Trail is extremely popular for hikers and runners. When I’m out there during the spring, I often encounter dozens of other trail users. If each person who enjoyed the trails took time to remove just one branch, would that reduce the need for organized crews who put in hours of work clearing the trails? How can we change the mindsets of trail runners and hikers to include the idea of taking a little extra time to make the trail better?
The trail running community responded immediately to my call for action to help clear the trails at Mt. Toby and Seven Sisters. There had been a devastating weather event and assistance was needed—and the trail running community stepped up in a huge way by working together towards a quick solution. However, when I organize annual community trail work days for the purpose of general maintenance on these same trails, I get very little response. Why is that?
I have partnered with the local mountain bike community on trail work days, and it’s interesting to see how much of their sport’s culture involves trail work. I am curious how that became so engrained in the mountain biking culture, and how we can work towards that in the trail running community.
It’s my hope that I can continue to have these conversations with trail users, continue to offer trail work days and generally encourage my local trail running community to be more active in maintaining the trails we regularly enjoy. However, I take pride in knowing that this is a community that, when there’s a need, will answer the call. And that’s a great place to start.