Ammi Midstokke: What makes a mountain biking community

Emily Strizich wouldn’t identify herself as a mountain biker. In her outfit consisting of denim pairings, Blundstone boots far beyond spec use, a brown ball cap, and what may be a breast milk stain, one might expect the mother of three (ages 1, 4 and 6) to identify as “getting by” or “getting groceries.” In fact, she’s doing all of that and more.

“If you want to get something done,” Strizich said, “hire a working mom. They know how to make it happen.”

That might have well been her introduction when she was hired as the executive director of North Idaho’s nonprofit biking organization, Pend Oreille Pedalers (POP). Established in 2004 as the area trail stewards for a small but dedicated crowd of Rockhopper riders, the club just celebrated its 20th year, and more than 1,000 active members.

What was once a few locals cutting trail is now a collaborative collection of trail users and advocates. In its past 20 years, POP has built more than 40 miles of new trail in and around Sandpoint, 10 of those being last year alone. And the plans for more are staggering. Their mission is to build an interconnected trail system in the area, accessible to riders of varying abilities.

Julie Meyer, a past board president of POP and private land owner of miles of trails open to the public, describes the earlier years of the organization as its adolescent phase. There was a lot of ambition, but not always the resources to implement the ideas. A tight-knit volunteer group worked hard to carve trails and establish POP as the local organization for mountain biking and road cycling, but community growth in recent years was demanding more of POP, more than just trails and group rides.

The thing about mountain bike trails is that they extend beyond a back yard, and other people might also want to use them (see: horse riders, dirt bikers). Expanding a trail system means communicating with stakeholders, land owners, state and national forest land management, diverse users, conservation trusts and trail strategists (talk about a dream job).

What Strizich brings to the table is an incredible ability to communicate and form coalitions, and yes, she can also ride a bike.

“I’ve got the spirit of a down-hiller, but the skills of a cross country rider,” Strizich said.

She broke her wrist on the first ride of the season this year, then declared her newly braced limb invincible and rode on. And built more trails.

Thrust into a role that was somewhat undefined, she set about discovering the broader trail community and how to involve them in projects. At a trail building day this spring, she invited the local dirt bikers and upward of 40 new bodies appeared to help. Having a vast volunteer network is essential to trail building because a few miles of trail can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to build, and a significant percentage of that is additionally needed to maintain it.

The maturation process of POP has included a shift in values. One might wonder if part of that shift has been the increasing inclusion and presence of women in biking and in nonprofit leadership. Conversations around what the bike club should be doing include effective signage, safety, programming for children, women’s rides and trainings, and reaching out to other user groups.

“Emily is thoughtful about everyone we work with,” Meyer said of Strizich, noting how many different parts of the broader community must coordinate to strategize and implement trail systems.

The shift has expanded the community perception of POP from “bike club” to something more expansive and inclusive – an organization that represents the interests of many who use the trails and those who manage or own the land upon which said trails undulate.

“We can’t steward all these lands alone,” Strizich said, recognizing that it isn’t just about trails and places to rally, but responsible use of our natural resources.

When Strizich talks about her work, it isn’t the bomber jumps or banked corners that light her up. It’s the stats about how many new volunteers showed up (90 this year) and how many hours they worked (350) and how many miles they plan to get built this year (7). She talks about the summer mountain bike camps, the coach-the-coach trainings and – because crashes happen – the wilderness first aid classes.

She gives her colleagues titles like “Trail Maintenance Overlord” and “OG” with the reverence of someone who recognizes it takes a village and appreciates all the members of it.

That’s the difference between a mountain biking town and a mountain biking community.

Ammi Midstokke can be contacted at ammim@spokesman.com