Boothroyd Indian Band Bike Park - Part Two

This is the second of a two part post: the Boothroyd Indian Band Bike Park (Part One) 

You know you’re on to something when you show up to a community early on a cold, wet, rainy Saturday morning and there’s a group of boys impatiently waiting for you.

We pull up and climb out of the car, stiff from three hours of driving up from Vancouver and through the Fraser Canyon to Boothroyd, a small Nlaka’pamux community just north of Hope, BC. 

The boys, ranging in ages from six to seventeen immediately crowd around our car. 

Where have you been?  We’ve been waiting forever!  Let’s get going!

Before we know what’s going on, the kids are grabbing all kinds of tools and materials out of our vehicle and running in all directions.  Chaos.  I’m thinking someone’s going to get killed or seriously maimed.

We’re in the community for the next two days to work with the boys and the community to build a bike skills park, the culmination of several months of meetings and planning.  The boys have been part of every step, patiently sitting through meetings and waiting as we worked to get the funding in place.  Finally, the day has arrived and they couldn’t be more excited, buzzing around our car like hyper animated locusts. 

In all the years I’ve worked in First Nation communities, desperately trying to connect with youth and engage them in the community planning and development process, I’ve never seen anything like the energy buzzing around us.  For the next two days, all of the kids, including both boys and girls, from the very youngest to the oldest, will work themselves to the point of exhaustion, ten hours each day, to complete their new bike park (not to mention holding a seemingly endless game of floor hockey in the evening). 

My favourite moment comes when some of the parents came down to see the bike park.  They stand watching their kids work with a look of astonishment on their faces, commenting that they had never seen their kids working so hard. 

Riding saves lives

For many people, myself included, mountain biking was a lifesaver when we were kids.  Riding gave us freedom, granting us the means to get outside and escape the concrete and manufactured landscapes of our suburban lives.  Riding our Canadian Tire specials we explored the urban parks and hidden forests and rediscovered the sense of wonder that comes from connecting with nature and find our own way in the world.  It was the one activity we had where we felt like we were in control, when we could come together in a group and, rather than compete against each other, we would support and cheer one another on as we took on increasingly difficult challenges.  It was liberating and it gave us the confidence we needed to navigate our lives.    Watching and working with the kids in Boothroyd, I could sense that same excitement and hunger.

Throughout all the planning projects I have worked on, the need to engage youth has been a consistent theme throughout all the community engagement and discussions.  I  have sat and listened to countless elders and leaders speak about the kids in their communities with a growing sense of desperation and fear.  Alcoholism.  Drug addiction.  Sedentary lifestyles.  Diabetes.  Obesity. Social isolation. Suicide.  Any indicator for community health and well being that you can think of, Aboriginal youth in Canada are facing more challenges than any other demographic. 

Many First Nation communities and organizations are addressing these challenges in highly creative and innovative ways with great success.  As Boothroyd explained to me during the Visioning and Strategic Planning project, there is always a need to develop new and engaging ways to connect with youth.  To provide them with the skills and self-confidence and sense of identity they need to navigate their world. 

This Bike Park is Ours!

The most important aspect of our weekend in Boothroyd is that the bike park project was initiated and directed by the kids themselves.  It was the kids who had been relentless in clearly articulating what they wanted to the Chief and Council, knocking at their office doors for the previous two years asking for assistance in building a park.  It was the kids who showed their determination by going out and building their own trails and features every chance they could. 

In preparing for the weekend, we had met with the kids and followed them around the community as they showed us what they had built and listened as they told us what they wanted: a ‘learning square’ they could use to practice their skills, a pump track, and one fairly large gap jump for the bigger kids. 

Their pride is evident as we watch one of the youngest boys stand atop the jump at the end of the weekend with his arms over his head shouting, THIS PARK IS OURS!

Definitely on to something

By the end of the weekend we’re exhausted and worn out as we stand back and watch the kids trying out their new features, pump track and gap jump. 

The Chief walks over and stands next to me.  A man of few words, we have only spoken on a few occasions.  We stand for a moment watching the kids play in the park, launching off the jump and hurling themselves around the pump truck laughing and yelling encouragement to one another.  


The Chief turns and looks at me and with one arm he makes a sweeping pointing gesture at the park, the kids, and everything we’ve accomplished, looks me in the eye and gives an almost imperceptible nod and then embraces me in an enthusiastic bear hug.  He lets me go and turns and walks away.  I could not have received a greater confirmation of what the project meant to the community. 

In that moment I realize I've tapped into something I must continue to explore.



A couple of years on 

It's been a couple of years since we completed the Boothroyd Bike Park and each time I've returned to the community I'm elated to see that the bike park is still in use and the kids pride and sense of ownership remain intact.  I learned that they've become ferociously protective of their park.  It was the kids that protected it when one boy tried to set the learning square on fire, rushing over to tamp out the flames.  When the Band needed a place to put firewood it was the kids who came together to insist the pump track remained intact.  And it's been the kids who have kept using the park and ensuring it didn't become overgrown with weeds.   The bike park is still theirs.   

The Boothroyd Indian Band Bike Park Project - Part One

What do you know about mountain biking?  

This is the question put to me by the Band Manager during a coffee break.  I was facilitating a strategic vision and strategic planning workshop for the Boothroyd Indian Band, a small Nlaka’pamux community located in the Fraser Canyon approximately 75km north of Hope, BC.  The Chief and Council and staff were spending the day shut up in a room to discuss their vision and plans for development for the coming year.  

Patrick Lucas

I hadn't been expecting the question. I've always considered myself a rider.  I've been mountain biking since I was thirteen when my father purchased a set of Canadian Tire specials for my brother and I.  We were living and Calgary and we used our bikes as a means for freedom, getting out and exploring the parks and woods around our suburban neighbourhood.   

It became a lifelong passion.  Everywhere I've ever lived, I've always used mountain biking to get out and explore, gain a sense of place and belonging, and build a sense of community. Beyond that, however, I have never engaged in the sport on any kind of professional or even athletic level.  I never worked in the industry.  I've been in exactly two races: the Gear Jammer in Squamish where I came in almost dead last, and the Burnt Bike Challenge in Burns Lake, where I came in absolutely dead last.  (Though I could have been second last, except I got lost and took a wrong turn.)  For me, mountain biking had always simply been about getting outside in the forest, exploring, and having fun with my brother and friends.  

I had to admit then, that I didn't know very much.  

I assumed that the reason the Band Manager was asking likely had to do with tourism.  Tourism planning for community and economic development was an area I had been involved in for quite sometime, and every once in a while someone would bring up the idea of mountain bike tourism.  

Whenever this occurred I was always somewhat skeptical.  Tourism, as a means for economic development, can be very tricky.  Especially when working with small Indigenous communities that are struggling with high unemployment. 

Generally speaking, unless you’re talking about cruise ships, or large bus touring companies, tourism is about small business development, entrepreneurs.  It’s a lifestyle decision.  People go into tourism because it allows them the opportunity to be their own boss and do something they love.  It rarely has to do with large programs, extensive employment and revenues that most communities are looking for.  This is particularly true for mountain biking.  For the most part, people get involved in mountain bike tourism because they love riding and they want to find a way to make a living doing it. 

In the few times I had been asked about mountain bike tourism I would simply ask, Does anybody in the community ride?

Having local champions and people who are passionately committed to the idea of creating a local mountain bike scene are essential for the development of any recreational or economic opportunities.  There are few successful mountain bike destinations that haven’t been built upon the tireless efforts of groups of volunteers who build the trails and infrastructure that eventually creates a destination that attracts riders and visitors.  They create the culture and the experience that people come for. 

Aboriginal tourism is a massive industry in BC and numerous communities are experiencing great success, including in adventure and eco-tourism.  Furthermore, there are many Indigenous people involved in the mountain bike sector as world-class riders, as well as trail builders and guides, tourism operators, shop owners among many other ventures. 

However, in the few conversation I’d had regarding mountain bike tourism, there hadn’t been anybody in the community that anyone could identify who were involved in the development of trails and mountain biking.  As a result, the idea would be included in a strategy report as a foot point and then usually forgotten. 

Boothroyd was going to change everything.

Boothroyd youth  & their 'sick' tricks

Our kids are doing it, the Band Manager explains to me.  They are riding all over the place.   We can’t leave a pile of dirt of dirt for five minutes without them building some crazy looking jump out of it.  They’re taking wood from people’s fences, yards and fire wood shacks to build their stunts.  They’ve been digging dirt away from all the fire hydrants because it’s the only soft, workable soil they can find in the community.   And then they’re building their jumps on the roads with cars speeding by.  We’re worried about somebody getting hurt. 

We don’t want them to stop riding.  We don’t want them to stop building their jumps and stunts. When they’re doing that they’re outside, they’re exercising. We hope that they’re keeping busy enough that they aren’t doing drugs or drinking alcohol. We just want to figure out a way so that it’s a least somewhat safe.  We were thinking we could build them a bike park. 

Boothroyd Youth Launching Off a Gap Jump

Can you help us?

I live for those words.  It had been a while since I’ve heard them. 

I went in to community planning because I wanted to make a difference.  As a child of the environmental age, I have committed to my life to being a catalyst: assisting, empowering and enabling communities across Canada and around the world to become healthier, resilient and sustainable.

For the previous five years I worked in what could be colloquially described as the ‘Indian Industry’: a multi-billion dollar industry that involves providing services to and making money from First Nation communities. 

I worked for a progressive firm that has operated successfully within that space for more than forty years.  An engineering, architecture and planning consultancy, they can count the number of Indigenous communities they haven’t worked with in the province on the fingers of one hand.  They have built dozens of schools, community halls, health centres, government buildings, roads, homes and the civil infrastructure that form the foundation for hundreds of communities.  The planning group, of which I was a member, is a group of passionate and committed people dedicated to assisting First Nations to realize their visions for development and prosperity.  It was a dream job and I threw myself into it.

Over the seven years that I held the position I gradually began to experience a growing sense of unease and discomfort with the role I was playing and the system that I had become a part of.  As a consultant, I quickly learned there is a very particular dance you must learn in order to create a space between the drive for corporate profits, the bureaucratic machinations and demands of the department of Indian Affairs – which changed to Aboriginal Affairs and is now Indigenous Affairs – and the actual needs of the communities.  It wasn’t long before I felt bogged down in a cycle of writing proposals, securing funding, writing reports that, more often than not, would end up sitting un-read on someone’s desk.   And I would be off writing more proposals.   The cycle would continue and it became harder and harder to pinpoint any difference it was actually making. 

I felt disconnected from my work, my clients, and most importantly, the communities I was supposed to be working for. 

I felt stuck, trapped, feeding a relentless, insatiable machine.  No matter how I long I worked with the communities, even those as friendly and welcoming as Boothroyd, I always felt like an outsider, the white consultant.  None of this had anything with why I had become a planner. 

Well? The band manager asked. Can you help us?

I knew that I had to try. 

Click here for Part Two

Trails, Mountain Biking & Reconciliation

I've started this blog as a means to document and explore the issues around trails, mountain biking and reconciliation between First Nations and Canadians.

Over the past several years I've been working as a community planner assisting First Nation communities to plan and build multi-use nature trails in and around their communities for recreation as well as for economic development and tourism.  The communities I have worked with view trails as an opportunity to encourage and support actively living and reconnecting with the land and nature, particularly among youth.  In addition, they see significant opportunities for fostering sustainable economic development that reflects their culture, heritage and values and for asserting their role as the caretakers and stewards of their territories.

As part of this work I've seen numerous kids and community members getting out enjoying trails.   I've seen the incredible impact it can have as elders, youth and families get outdoors walking, hiking and biking together.  It has provided a far greater understanding of how the Indigenous people of Turtle Island view their relationship and responsibilities towards the land.

I have also worked with numerous non-First Nation communities throughout British Columbia developing and implementing strategies and action plans to establish or enhance their trails and infrastructure for mountain bike recreation and tourism.  Mountain bike recreation and tourism is a rapidly growing sector within BC and many communities are making significant investments in trails and infrastructure as a means for attracting and retaining residents as well as tourists.  For many communities, trails and recreation, and mountain biking in particular represent an opportunity for diversifying their economies away from a reliance on the cycles of boom and bust within the natural resources sectors.

Mountain biking can be a humbling act and sharing a ride has the power to bridge divides and bring people together.

BC is the spiritual home for mountain biking with world-class trails and parks that attract riders from around the world.  The trails we build tell a story about who we are.  In order to ensure the sustainability of the sport, and the trails we love, the mountain bike community must engage in a process of reconciliation and build trails in partnership the first people's of Turtle Island.

It is my hope that this blog will become a resource for those within the trails and mountain bike sector interested in building and fostering relationships with First Nation communities, as well as a part of the critically important dialogue around decolonization and reconciliation.  The blog will review ongoing projects as well as highlight and profile successful trail and mountain bike projects that have been undertaken by Canadians and First Nations, their lessons learned and experiences.