Opinions

Those multi-use trails Anchorage loves require courtesy from everyone

A couple of summers ago I was wheeling my mountain bike at a good clip down a hill on the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail near Earthquake Park, and didn't notice the sharp corner at the bottom. Having gained considerable speed, I came around the bend to find a woman with a baby carriage right in front of me. I quickly swerved to the right, which took me off the raised pavement and onto the gravel at the side. Having avoided her, I tried to get my bike back on the trail and I went down hard -- bike and body sprawled out across the trail.

The lady with the baby kept moving up the trail and didn't ask how I was. But a couple of folks soon came by and inquired about my situation. In anger I kicked my bike off the trail and replied curtly, "I have a first aid kit -- I'll be fine."

It took about two months for the cuts on my legs to heal and the bruises to go away. At first I harbored anger at the lady with the baby carriage. My accident wouldn't have happened had she been at far right on the trail, where hikers are supposed to be. But I thought about it more, and came to the conclusion that I was in the wrong as well. On a multi-use trail, with a lot of people of all ages and conveyances -- from bikes to rollerblades to scooters to baby strollers -- I should have been going down that hill at a slower rate and watchful as I approached the sharp corner.

All recreationists on multi-use trails need to exercise caution and extend others courtesy. That not only includes slow-moving people with children, but also the hunched over, spandex-clad "Biking Is My Life" folks who are fervently performing time trials to achieve their personal best.

After that weekend accident on the Coastal Trail, I now only go there in the middle of the week when fewer people are around. Even though I'm able to move along at a fairly good speed on my mountain bike, I slow down a lot when people are on the trail. I like to look around, enjoy the view and look for wildlife as I bike along, as opposed to the spandex-clad racers on highly focused point A to point B missions. And if I'm coming up behind people I warn them as I approach, saying, "on your left." One biker I know has a bell, which sounds like a great idea.

I don't have rearview mirrors on my bike, but I should probably get them. You never know when "Biking Is My Life" folks might be coming up from behind and it would be a travesty to slow them down by a few seconds.

In winter, we now have a bit of a conflict between cross-country skiers and fat-tire bikers. As a cross-country skier, I'm not inclined to ski over a fat-tire bike trail. But I've noticed on several occasions that fat-tire bikers seem to gravitate to my ski tracks. And when the snow hardens, such a ski trail is absolutely ruined. Returning from a Knik Glacier ski a couple of winters ago, fat-tire bikers had used my trail. In trying to follow the new frozen ruts, my skis couldn't decide where to go -- acting as if they had minds of their own.

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We also have hikers walking and post holing over snowshoe, ski and dogsled trails, and snow machines sometimes blotting out ski trails. It seems that with Alaska's 586,000 square miles, there would be room for everyone to make their own trails and stay on them.

I mostly hike in places where I don't see many people. But I'm glad to see more people out on the public trails, because the more folks we have enjoying our great outdoors, the more grass-roots advocacy we will have for building and maintaining more trails and other park amenities. A little courtesy, consideration and caution will go far to make everyone's outdoor experience a whole lot better.

Frank E. Baker is a freelance writer who lives in Eagle River. Email him at frankedwardbaker@gmail.com

The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com

Frank Baker

Frank E. Baker is a freelance writer who lives in Eagle River.

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