Know rules of the road


You know we have some challenges when mountain bikers ask me to write about trail manners.

Readers share stories of mountain bikers more than any other group — hikers, trail runners or equestrians. They talk of bikers ripping down trails, terrifying people and sometimes accidentally hitting someone.

Now, even the mountain bikers are worried about mountain bikers.

To be fair, the overwhelming majority of mountain bikers are as nice as deer. Still, the concern reflects reality.

A hiker or trail runner doesn't present as much of a threat as someone zooming around on a steel, aluminum, titanium or carbon fiber bicycle.


A few weeks ago, I ran Trabuco Arroyo Trail and came across two dozen hikers. Although the trail is as wide as a fire road, the group managed to spread across every inch. To pass, I had to swing off trail.

Fortunately, I wasn't on my mountain bike.


The laws of the trail exist for safety. But don't take my word for it.

Check out the yield signs or read what OC Parks states:

Hikers yield right-of-way to equestrians.

Bicyclists yield right-of-way to hikers and equestrians.

That's it. Pretty simple. You'd think.

Remember, we don't arrive in the wilderness without baggage. It might have been a tough week at work; it might be something more complicated.

And if you're like me, you're no innocent.


Here's a scenario for what not to do:

A few years ago, I was running single-track and, OK, I was listening to music.

Suddenly, a mountain biker was screaming and swearing for me to get out of his way. I pulled out my earbuds to talk, but talk wasn't on his agenda. It was move or else be moved by the guy's front wheel.

But the sides of the trail were covered with poison oak.

I made a quick two-step around the cyclist. But then I went werewolf on the dude, howling about my right of way.

That kind of act only works on TV and in the movies.

The cyclist went ballistic and for the rest of my run I ran with fear, hoping I didn't see him again.


Running through a shallow stream several months ago, I passed two mountain bikers walking their bicycles while slowly picking their way over a series of rocks.

I waved, shouted out a “howdy” and ran on. Within minutes, the pair ripped by. I waved again and one waved back.

At least I thought he was waving.

He did a quick U-turn and came roaring back toward me. Coincidently, I had a camera in my hand at the time and snapped a photo.

Stunned, the guy slammed on his brakes and started yelling that I'd splashed some water on his leg when I ran through the stream.

I was perplexed. Splashing water on a child is uncool, even by accident. It can be scary. But it hadn't occurred to me that accidently getting some water on an adult biker in a wilderness area would lead to salty language and threats.

Perhaps the guy was coming off a bad morning. Still, could I have chilled a bit more crossing the stream? Yes.

Remember, anger is the flipside to fear. And for some, even a shallow stream can be scary.


When it's the wise thing to do, rules are made to be broken.

Instead of insisting on the right of way, I try to run as far to the right as possible to ensure that there's room for mountain bikers to pass.

I do this even when it means that I run on rocks, make that especially when there are rocks. Understand, that many mountain bikers can't handle riding on rough stuff and that often there is a narrow, relatively smooth path through a trail otherwise strewn with debris.

Give it up for the mountain bikers.

You'll likely get a friendly wave and thank you.

But keep in mind that if you don't get acknowledgement, you do good deeds for the simple pleasure of doing the right thing. Heck, I've been forced off trail by a mountain biker who was angry only because he saw my earbuds.

I realize some might disagree, but when I run wildlands I reserve the right to listen to what I want – including Lady Gaga.


Just as some mountain bikers ride with fear, so do some equestrians.

Not only do horse people ride a beast twice as high as a bicycle, they ride an 800-pound animal with a mind of its own. And horses are like riders. Some are mellow. Others are skittish.

When I ride, it's usually on a horse that likes to compete. That means I'm barely in control and that my brain is usually somewhere between scared and terrified. When I see a trail runner, I'm worried. When I see a biker, I'm horrified.

Will the horse spook?

Some horse people call me silly. But most appreciate:

Slowing down and asking if you can walk, run or bike through.

Talking in a normal voice to assure the horse that you are a human, especially if you're on a bike or wearing a large backpack.

Putting as much room as possible between you and the horse.


When I mountain bike, I'll confess to a fault that many mountain bikers share: a need for speed. Still:

Keep in mind, county parks have a 10 mph speed limit in most areas.

Slow for hikers and shout a friendly heads-up while swinging as wide as the trail or fire road allows.

Keep in mind that you never know when a trail runner or hiker is going to make a lane change.


You never know when some columnist with a camera is going to show up.

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