Cyclists of all sorts can share trail

I had an experience last Wednesday night that gave me hope for world peace.

I was mountain biking on Canfield Mountain in Coeur d’Alene when a motorcyclist coming up the trail yielded the path to me. I was cruising down a single-track straightaway when I saw him down the trail. I started to brake, preparing to dismount and pull over when I saw him haul his bike to the side. He even cut his engine as he let me pass.

I was so thrilled and surprised I thanked him twice. I rejoined my husband with a huge smile and told him what had happened. He said the man had treated him the same way when their paths crossed.

So wherever you are out there, thanks, mister. Despite a wonderful ride, that was the highlight of my evening because it was the first time it’s happened in nine years of riding those trails.

Motorcyclists and mountain bikers grudgingly share the popular trails on the east side of town. Like most encounters between motorized and nonmotorized vehicles, the burden is unfortunately on the nonmotorized population, because we’re more likely to get hurt. A kayak wouldn’t make a dent in a motorboat if they crashed on the lake. But the kayaker, well, I wouldn’t want to imagine. Likewise for snowmobilers and cross country skiers, cars and pedestrians.

Like it or not, understanding multiple use is necessary for survival when recreating on public lands.

The Canfield Mountain trail system is Forest Service land, open to anyone, though full-size vehicles are not supposed to drive beyond a designated parking area. Hikers, bikers, motorcyclists and horseback riders all use the trails.

And the rules do call for mountain bikers to yield to motorcyclists, largely because we can hear them coming. Also, their bikes are heavier and harder to muscle around.

But the trail system is so vast you never know when one’s coming your way. It’s kind of like driving through town and hearing a siren. You know you have to clear the road and you want to cooperate, but you don’t know if they’re coming toward you.

Most motorcyclists know that and are respectful of mountain bikers. And we do owe motorcyclists a fair amount for handling most of the trail clearing in the spring. Their clubs go out with chainsaws to make the trails passable for everyone.

Still, countering my recent best experience was a worst experience that happened last summer.

A friend and I were sweating up a steep trail when a young dirt biker came from behind and almost ran me off the trail. I hardly had time to stop, catch my balance and click out of my clipless pedals when he roared past.

I was upset, but my riding partner pointed out something important. Yeah, the young man was rude, but hey, he was the only person we encountered during a two-hour ride through a beautiful forest with lake and mountain views. We essentially had the place to ourselves.

That’s bound to change.

With our region growing as fast as it is, demand on the trails will increase. Most of the formerly vacant lots in my neighborhood are sprouting duplexes and triplexes.

The Coeur d’Alene City Council just shot down a proposal to build a subdivision on one side of Canfield.

The other day, after finishing a ride, I gave directions to some Swiss tourists who were pulling some high-end mountain bikes out of the van they’d rented to tour the region.

The attention our region is attracting is good and bad. It seems to me that we in this area have had spectacular lands to ourselves for so long that sometimes we forget how to share. We’re like only children whose toys have never been taken away by a sibling.

Though they’ll crowd the area, people moving here from more populated areas like California are undoubtedly more accustomed to encountering throngs of people while playing in the woods.

That’s why a friend’s comments when I told her about my recent encounter gave me some hope for the future.

Huh, she said. He must be new to the area.