WHO IS GOING TO TAKE CARE OF OUR TRAILS?
Mentorship, example-setting, and a Responsible Recreation Revival
There is a lot to this story...
I've spent much of my life watching volunteers build, repair, adopt, defend, and sometimes save trails. I've watched people give up weekends, burn their own fuel, wear out their own equipment, and put plenty of sweat into places they don't own.
Why? Because they care. But lately I've been thinking less about the next trail project and more about the next generation of people willing to do the work.
Who's going to take care of these places when we're gone?
We have better rigs today. Better tires. Better suspension. GPS. Satellite communications. Apps that can lead almost anyone to a trailhead and tell them which way to turn. But technology can't teach stewardship.
An app can't teach somebody why you stop and pick up someone else's trash. It can't explain why you don't widen a trail just because you can. It can't teach the importance of staying on the designated route, respecting a seasonal closure, fixing something you damaged, or taking a few minutes to help somebody who doesn't know any better.
People teach people.
And perhaps that's where the next chapter of responsible recreation needs to begin.
MENTORSHIP BECOMES LEADERSHIP
Years ago, when a newcomer joined a four-wheel-drive club or went wheeling with a group of experienced folks, there was usually somebody around to show them the ropes. Sometimes the lessons were formal. Most weren't.
You watched what the experienced people did. You learned where to put your tires. You learned when to air down. You learned how to use a winch safely. You learned trail etiquette. You learned to wait at the intersection until the rig behind you saw which way the group went.
And somewhere along the way, you also learned something bigger: We take care of the places that give us the opportunity to recreate.
Nobody needed to hand you a 40-page stewardship manual. The people you respected demonstrated it.
That's mentorship. And eventually, the person being mentored becomes the person somebody else is watching.
Mentorship becomes leadership.
PEOPLE ARE WATCHING WHAT WE DO
One of the most powerful tools we have for protecting access doesn't require a grant, a government program, or a new regulation. It's example-setting.
When somebody sees us stop our Jeep or side-by-side and pick up trash that isn't ours, that sends a message. When we pull a fallen branch out of the trail instead of driving around it and creating another route, that sends a message.
When we spend Saturday repairing erosion, cleaning up a campsite, installing signs, working with a land manager, or helping maintain a trail, that sends a message. And when we post pictures of those things instead of posting only pictures of horsepower, mud holes, hill climbs, and spectacular scenery, that sends a message too.
I'm not suggesting we stop showing the fun. Heck no. The fun is why we're there. But maybe we need to become better at showing the other half of the story:
We don't just USE public lands. We CARE for them.
MAKE STEWARDSHIP VISIBLE
This may be one of the most important parts of what I'm calling the Responsible Recreation Revival.
For decades, motorized recreationists have done an enormous amount of volunteer work on public lands. Trail maintenance. Cleanups. Restoration. Search and rescue. Fire prevention. Sign installation. Adopt-a-trail programs. Working with agencies. Raising money. Writing grants. Educating visitors.
Yet much of that work is practically invisible to the general public. We need to change that.
If your club spends six hours repairing a trail, tell people about it. If your group hauls a pickup load of garbage out of the woods, take a picture. If you're teaching newcomers why we stay on designated routes, share that story.
If your kids or grandkids are helping pick up a campsite, be proud of it. Not because we need a pat on the back. Because visible stewardship helps create a culture of stewardship.
People tend to repeat what their community celebrates. Let's make taking care of our trails something worth celebrating.
DON'T JUST CORRECT PEOPLE — TEACH THEM
This one matters. It's easy to get frustrated when somebody does something stupid on the trail. I've certainly seen enough stupid over the years. But not every bad decision comes from bad intentions.
Sometimes people simply don't know.
A newcomer may have bought a Jeep, UTV, dirt bike, or overland rig last month. They found a trail online and headed out. Nobody ever taught them trail etiquette. Nobody explained why driving around an obstacle can eventually turn a narrow trail into a 40-foot-wide mess. Nobody told them why that little meadow shouldn't become a parking lot.
That's an opportunity. We can embarrass them. We can yell at them. We can blast them on social media. Or we can teach them.
There are certainly times when intentional bad behavior deserves a stronger response. But whenever possible, I'd rather turn an uninformed recreationist into an informed steward. Because now we haven't just solved one problem.
We've potentially created another mentor.
THE NEXT TRAIL PROJECT IS PEOPLE
I've spent decades talking about keeping public lands open. That fight isn't going away.
Planning processes, regulations, closures, lawsuits, budgets, agency decisions, environmental concerns, and political battles will always affect recreation access. We absolutely need to stay engaged in those things. But perhaps there's another access issue we haven't talked about enough.
Who will inherit the responsibility?
The next generation of recreationists won't automatically understand the culture many of us grew up with. We have to pass it along. Take a newcomer wheeling. Invite the new family in camp to your cleanup. Explain why you're stopping to pick something up.
We should also teach somebody how to repair a trail instead of merely driving it, bring the kids. Show them that leaving a place better than we found it isn't some slogan printed on a sign.
It's simply what we do.
That's the Responsible Recreation Revival I'm talking about. And it's understanding that enjoying public lands and taking responsibility for them aren't two separate things.
They're part of the same privilege.
So the next time you're out there enjoying a trail, a campsite, a forest road, a desert, or a piece of public land you've loved for years, ask yourself one question:
Who's watching me? Then give them something worth learning.
Mentorship becomes leadership. Stewardship protects access. And example-setting may be one of the most powerful tools we have.
That's how we bring responsible recreation back to the trail.
