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This piece isn’t tagged as Cumberlandworx even though it would have originally been Day 7. It was our shortest day of pedaling, a handful of fun short-laps all ending on Space Nugget. Plenty of smiles before the inevitable until-next-times with friends we might not see until this time next year. One more morning of riding before we’d be packing up as well.
I wrote everything below on the evening of Day 7. Deleted it. Wrote it again and it turned out as essentially the identical piece. In publishing it, I offer it both as a cautionary tale and a prime example of what not to do. It seems to me that if someone is going to write about all the great stuff about riding with kids then it behooves them to share the scary moments as well.
With the benefit of hindsight, or, better yet, foresight, I’d have kept my mouth shut in the face of the inevitable. Okay, here goes:
”We Have A Karen Over Here”
Day 7: I screwed up today. Big time. And I’m still feeling ‘off’ about it. I ignored one of the cardinal rules I take into the forest with me and, in doing so, put my friends and family, kids and adults, into a hostile situation. As a prize for my effort I received an idled threat of future confrontation, a damper on a series of awesome days, and an awkward follow up conversation with my kid.
I’m struggling with how deep to go here, but if I’m going to wax on about all the great things about riding with kids I want to be clear about the stresses too. Riding with my grom this past demi-decade has resulted in many of my most cherished mountain bike memories. And, it has also contributed to most of the scariest moments of my almost thirty years on two-wheels in the woods.
And when it comes to the latter I’m not talking about crashes, line choices, near misses, or even any of the wild animals I’ve come across with Claire in tow – including a couple of very large bears. The most common trail terror I’ve experienced is aggressive dogs. And what I’ve learned, or apparently not learned, through multiple interactions, a cardinal rule, is that shitty dog owners know they’re shitty dog owners. There is absolutely nothing to be gained but their absolute ire from even the politest reminder or reproach.
I love dogs. And I especially love dogs in the forest. And almost all the furry frolics we see are either friendly or uninterested. But I also know that anyone who’s spent much time in nature has at least one canine-related rider beware story. I’ve been attacked, dogs I’m riding with have been attacked, and Claire and I have experienced very aggressive behaviour on more than one occasion.
The groms had gone ahead on Space Nugget. An end of ride and end of trip favourite. It was our second lap and everyone was feeling comfortable. I was the first adult in our batting order but well back. Cruising. Fully out of sight. Reflecting. And then I heard a dog going barking insane. Absolutely losing its mind.
I’m on it in a panic. Off the brakes, full go, there’s a man and a women on the side of the trail. She’s holding hard on a leash and the dog on the end of it is up on its hind legs pulling. A Duck Toller maybe. All teeth. All bark. Right at the side of the trail. I rolled through. Startling but thankfully no imminent danger.
It’s next that I made my stupendous error. General idiocy, yes. But especially stoopid when it comes to parenting on two wheels. When the potential consequences are shared. And that’s why I’m relating this story.
Catching up, we all regrouped at the bottom of the trail, and the couple walked out behind. I made the bold-faced f*ck-up of trying to politely let them know that Space Nugget is a very popular trail for the littlest of mountain bike groms, and that their dog’s behaviour was scary.
The Man: “Oh, Were You Scared?”
Drew-Bob: “Yes, when I heard your dog losing its mind and my kid wasn’t in sight I was scared.”
The Man: “Well. Looks like we have a Karen over here!”
Woman: “He Was On A Leash!”
Drew-Bob: “Look, I’m just trying to let you know this is a popular trail for kids and your dog’s barking is scary.”
The Man: “We’re not from here. A mountain biker told us to walk our dog on this trail. Our dog is a mountain bike dog. I’m a trail builder on <<popular mainland trail network>>.”
My heart sank. I knew exactly who it was, if only by reputation, and that there was zero chance to resolve our conflict rationally, never mind amicably. I attempted and maybe didn’t entirely fail at de-escalating a no win situation.
The Man: “I know who you are, we’ll sort this out some time when kids aren’t around.”
NJP: “Threats?”
The Man: “That’s Not A Threat!”
And they left, and we went up for another lap, and we saw a bunch more dogs, and some of them wanted attention, and some didn’t, and some were on leash, and some weren’t, and none of them loudly reproached us in a threatening way.
And yeah, I was scared, dogs and dog owners are usually lovely, occasionally annoying, and once in a while they’re fully frightening. I’d be a bit surprised if anyone disagrees with that assessment.
And it’s probably not fair, but Claire won’t be riding out of my sight on a trail for a long while. And, I’ll probably avoid <<popular mainland trail network>> for at least a bit out of an abundance of caution.