Bigger Than Trails
Last Saturday, more than 85 people gathered on Canfield Mountain to celebrate National Trails Day.
That’s the headline.
The story is what happened next.
Hunters worked alongside hikers. Dirt bikers stood shoulder-to-shoulder with mountain bikers.
ATV riders, equestrians, anglers, conservation groups, agency staff, and community members all spread across the mountain with a shared goal: leave this place better than we found it.
By the end of the day, five stewardship projects were completed. Twelve miles of trail had been brushed back. A new 1.5-mile trail corridor had been swamped and prepared for construction. A pickup bed full of roadside litter had been removed from the forest. More importantly, dozens of people who might normally pass each other at a trailhead spent the day working together.
In a world that seems increasingly interested in telling us what separates us, public lands have a unique way of reminding us what we share.
The trail doesn’t care how you vote.
The forest doesn’t care what kind of machine you ride, what logo is on your shirt, or what organization you belong to.
The work simply needs doing.
One of the highlights of the day was welcoming U.S. Forest Service Chief Tom Schultz to North Idaho. Rather than simply attending, Chief Schultz grabbed tools, worked alongside volunteers, and spent time listening to the people who care deeply about these lands. It sent a powerful message: stewardship isn’t something that happens from behind a desk. It happens on the ground, together.
For me, the day was a reminder of why Northern Rockies Trail Project exists.
We didn’t start this organization because there aren’t enough trail groups. We started it because we believe the future of public lands depends on bringing people together around solutions instead of divisions.
Trails happen to be our common ground.
When people spend a day sweating alongside one another, moving logs, digging dirt, and sharing a barbecue afterward, it’s hard to see each other as adversaries. You start seeing people for what they are: neighbors who care about the same places you do.
As agency staffing and budgets continue to shrink, that kind of community stewardship isn’t just nice to have. It’s essential.
The reality is that trails don’t take care of themselves.
Someone has to show up.
Someone has to clear the downfall, fix the drainage, maintain the trailheads, build the infrastructure, and advocate for the places we all enjoy.
Fortunately, people continue to answer that call.
Last Saturday wasn’t really about National Trails Day.
It was about proving what’s possible when we stop arguing about who belongs on public lands and start focusing on how we care for them together.
The work we accomplished was impressive.
The community we built was even better.
And if there’s one thing I took away from the day, it’s this:
What we’re building is bigger than trails.
It’s a culture of stewardship.
And that’s worth showing up for.
