I remember the first time I rode a trail with a name that made me cringe. It was clever, yes. It probably got a few laughs when it was first carved into the signpost by a small crew of riders who had no idea how far their work would travel, how many wheels would pass over their creation. But as I stood there with a group of youth from a nearby First Nation, the name felt out of place. Maybe even disrespectful. One of the young women raised an eyebrow. Another looked away. We rode it anyway, but the name lingered long after the trail had ended.
Mountain biking culture, especially in its early volunteer-built era, has always had a rebellious edge. Trails were often built under the radar, their names coded with inside jokes, double meanings, or nods to pop culture. It was a form of expression, a way to claim space, sometimes to push boundaries. But many of those names don’t land the same way today as they did in the 1990s. They were often coined by groups of white male riders, largely unaware of the impact their words might have on women, Indigenous people, or other marginalized trail users.
In recent years, this conversation has come to a head. Some trails with provocative or sexualized names have sparked public criticism. In a few cases, the names have been altered quietly, dropping a word or abbreviating the title to soften its tone. But the issue isn't just about a few controversial signs in the forest or on a trail map. It's about what kind of culture we're cultivating and who gets to feel at home in it. Women riders, for example, have spoken openly about feeling unwelcome in spaces where objectifying or aggressive language is normalized. Indigenous riders may encounter names that feel dismissive or disrespectful to their cultures and histories. These aren’t isolated reactions. They reflect a growing awareness that language matters.
The words we choose matter, especially in the outdoors, where inclusion isn’t always a given. Trail names carry more than just direction; they reflect the values of the communities that build and use them. When those names ridicule, objectify, or rely on outdated stereotypes, they send a subtle message about who belongs and who doesn’t. Updating trail names isn’t about erasing creativity or humour, it’s about making space for everyone to feel welcome and respected. It signals that the trails, and the culture around them, are evolving with the people who ride them.
Trail names also raise important questions about cultural awareness, inclusion, and respect. These are issues that often overlap with the broader movement toward reconciliation in Canada. For many of us working alongside Indigenous communities, we've come to understand that trails aren't just paths through the woods. They are layered with meaning, history, and cultural significance.
Recognizing Indigenous land rights includes recognizing the right to name trails. Across the province, some trail systems are now using Indigenous place names, bringing traditional language back onto the land. In some communities names are decided through youth engagement or language revitalization projects. These acts are powerful as they re-center Indigenous presence and ways of knowing. For example, the Pemberton Off Road Cycling Association has collaborated with the Líl̓wat Nation to name and rename trails using the Ucwalmícwts language. Trail signs often include QR codes linking to pronunciation guides and cultural information, fostering a deeper connection to the land.
Changing a trail name isn’t always easy. It can stir up defensiveness, especially among those who built the trail or rode it in its early days. But it can also open doors to richer conversations and deeper understanding. Communities that have tackled renaming processes successfully have done so by listening. They engage local riders, Indigenous partners, elders, youth, and long-time trailbuilders. They create space for education. And they do it with humility, understanding that the trail experience is not just about terrain, but also about story, identity, and belonging.
We don’t have to erase history to build a better future. The spirit of mountain biking has always been about freedom, exploration, and pushing past limits. Perhaps now, the next frontier is cultural. Let’s take the same boldness we use to build features and dig into language. Let’s name trails in ways that honour the land, reflect our values, and invite everyone to ride. Because in the end, trails are for all of us.
Thomas Schoen writes a monthly column on trails for the Carpenter Media's Cariboo papers.
