Originally, this information was shared at a Carbondale Historical Society speaker series event at Carbondale’s Third Street Center in early March, 2025.
Written by RFMBA Vice Chair, Todd Fugate.
PROLOGUE
For the last 25 years during the summer months on Tuesday night, I’ve ridden with a group of mountain bikers who are mostly based out of Carbondale. The group, which was started by Randy Johnson and Tina Ochoa, calls themselves Tuesday Night Ride (TNR). Group members have come and gone through the years with only 3 of us original old-timers remaining.
As new folks join it’s been common for them to ask us remaining senior members about the history of the trails. Some of the gang have been encouraging us to write down what we know so it can be documented more permanently. My takeaway from that is they think us old geezers might not be around for much longer. Hope that’s not the case. Regardless, I decided to take up the task and share some memories.
IN THE BEGINNING
Fall colors had just peaked when I moved to Carbondale in 1995. Moving here from the front range made “Cdale” seem like a sleepy little town, yet it was obvious there was a funky & cool bike presence in place. There were some riding zones nearby, with Red Hill being the closest. It also had the most extensive network, but it wasn’t for the timid. Three Gulch was not in existence making Three Poles the only trail to climb to access all else. Anyone who made it up that trail without dabbing (putting a foot down) or stopping was an absolute beast, especially considering the common-sized bike tire back then was 26 x 2.1.
The other trails in place included Roller Coaster, Skeeters Ridge, a straight steep uphill going from the sage field to the top, Faerie, Bandit, Elk Traverse, which at the time had a different alignment, Outer & Northside Loops, and Elevator Shaft – a short straight line very steep free fall descent off of Three Poles.
Red Hill Council was in existence and at the time had the challenge of trying to keep the peace between bikers and a neighboring resident.
A couple of the guys who were early pioneers in social trail building on Red Hill were Steve Avery (The Dude) & Dan Jervis (Chief). Together they laid in several lines including Faerie Trail and Bandit Trail, with both of those appropriately named. Bandit was a favorite trail of most everyone. It went from the southern end of the sage field to where Bogus now meets Elk Traverse. It had a gradual gradient that made for a playful descent and an easy climb back out.
I believe there was only one person who didn’t like Bandit, an outspoken NIMBY property owner who said he could see bikers from his house. That was hardly the case, but he persisted and eventually forced BLM to close it. Bogus Trail was put in as a replacement and was named due to that circumstance.
Steve and Dan weren’t the only two who were itching for more trails. As going through the process to get trails approved was a bit tedious and not fully understood by everyone, other folks started putting trails on the ground.
One of Carbondale’s stronger and more technical riders, Chuck Percy, ventured out on the north side of Red Hill to start building Side Show and Big Top, named as it has 3 distinct humps in that zone. Chuck was a neighbor of mine and I was intrigued by his dedication to ride that far out and spend that much time building the trail. This passion was difficult for me to understand as all I wanted to do was ride. As the trail was hard to reach it stayed secret to only a few folks. The trail has stayed in place from the get-go, and not that long ago was legitimately brought into the fold. Chuck is no longer in the valley but is often thought of when riding Big Top, as although he didn’t intend to incorporate his name into the trails, those of us who know Chuck reference it as Chuckles the Clown Big Top and Sideshow.
LEARNING THE ROPES
Frustrated with the steep climbing pitch and lackluster flow of Elk Traverse (it has since been improved), I decided to try my hand at trail building to see what it was all about. As a first-time builder I started exploring the land, figuring out how best to connect point A to point B. With help from riding buddies, whose enthusiasm fueled the effort, we carved out a new route, Buffy Trail.
Buffy was fun, functional, and gave riders a fresh way to access the north side. It followed the Red Hill tradition of “stacked loops,” a trail-design concept that’s now a standard in riding zones across the country. I was proud of what we’d accomplished. However, Buffy’s popularity didn’t go unnoticed, including by members of the Red Hill Council. Frustrated with the proliferation of social trails, they decided it was time to address the issue head-on.
In a small, tight-knit community like ours, it didn’t take long for them to identify the culprits. They called a meeting, and as it turned out, most of us in attendance were part of TNR. The Council informed us that Buffy would be closed and asked us to stop building social trails on Red Hill. Reluctantly, we understood their concerns and agreed to comply.
Although Buffy was no longer, building that trail gave me a new appreciation for the passion and dedication that trailblazers like Chuck Percy put into their work. I began to feel it too, a spark that would soon grow into a fire.
MOVING ON
Another small riding zone close to home was Prince Creek. At the time, its network of singletrack trails was limited to Creekside, Jens, Skull Bucket, Top of the Bucket, and Porcupine. Aside from Porcupine, most of these trails were little more than cow paths, trimmed of scrub oak and serviceberry to make them rideable.
The existing trails were concentrated near the upper half of Prince Creek, so a group of us, Randy Johnson (Five-O), Steve Avery (Dude), Kelly Osborn (OZ), and myself, started connecting them with new singletrack to extend the ride to the bottom.
Our first effort was Skill Saw, essentially an extension of Creekside. Inspired by the growing trend of skinnies coming out of Vancouver, we decided to try our hand at building two narrow bridges that crossed over Prince Creek.
Our construction methods were rudimentary, to say the least. The lower bridge was a straight shot about three feet wide, not particularly technical, though it was bouncy as we used flimsy fallen aspen trees as bridge supports. The upper bridge was a different story. Narrower, at just 18 inches wide, it stood higher above the creek and featured a slight turn in the middle, making it more challenging and intimidating to ride. Riding it felt like a gamble. While I managed to avoid falling off, plenty of others weren’t as lucky.
MONTE CARLO AND THE PARTY PLACE
Next on the agenda was connecting Skill Saw to the bottom of Prince Creek. While walking the area recovering from back surgery in 1998, Randy Johnson stumbled upon an unexpected relic, an abandoned Monte Carlo. Naturally, this unique feature begged to be incorporated into the trail, and naming the trail after it was an easy decision.
The Monte Carlo sparked plenty of local nostalgia. Folks my age who grew up in the area have shared stories not only about the car, but also about Prince Creek’s colorful past. One tale dates back to their high school days, when the go-to party spot was a meadow near the bottom of Ginormous. Weekend parties there was a tradition, with the most infamous one reportedly taking place during a Mountain Fair weekend. It’s hard to imagine now, but Carbondale was such a small town back then that a gathering of over 500 people, complete with kegs aplenty, feels almost mythical. Yet that’s the story, and it paints a vivid picture of the community’s youthful energy.
Prince Creek also became a testing ground for local kids eager to push the limits of old beater cars. The idea was simple, drive the car as hard as possible until it broke down or got stuck, then abandon it. That’s how the Monte Carlo found its final resting place. Some of the other abandoned vehicles in the area have since been removed, but a couple remain. When I see them perched high on the hillside I can’t fathom how anyone managed to drive them to such remote and improbable spots.
OFF GOES FIVE O
After taking the lead on building Monte Carlo, Randy Johnson (Five-O), decided to shift his focus to an area a little more off the beaten path. Randy’s not too keen on feeling like he’s being crowded in on. His ideal ride involves not seeing another soul. This led him to explore the zone now known as the Lorax, a quiet, untouched expanse frequented only by the occasional turkey hunter.
The Lorax was perfect for Randy. With its serene atmosphere, old piñon pines, junipers, and sandstone terrain, it provided the solitude and natural beauty he craved. It became his blank canvas to create the trail of his dreams.
After putting significant time and energy into building the Lorax, with the help of a few friends, the trail was finally complete. Its name, inspired by the Dr. Seuss book of the same title, reflected its tribute to the environment and the titular Lorax, who “speaks for the trees.” True to this spirit, Randy is proud to say he never cut down a single tree during construction. This stood in stark contrast to the remnants of past logging in the area, where stumps marked where others had harvested.
Randy was determined to keep Lorax under wraps, sharing it only with a trusted few. He insisted that riders avoid parking near the trailhead, instead asking them to ride in from Dry Creek Road. These extra precautions worked well, until they didn’t.
One day, long after the trail had been completed and inevitably discovered by more riders, Randy encountered someone on Lorax he didn’t recognize. Against his usual preference for solitude, Randy stopped to say hello. The rider introduced himself, with an alias, and began asking questions about the trail. For reasons unknown, Randy let his guard down sharing everything including his role as the trail’s builder. That’s when the stranger came clean, revealing his true identity: Sloan Shoemaker, director of Wilderness Workshop.
Sloan is a physically imposing man, and maybe because of this, confronted Randy and told him that Lorax was an illegal trail and he planned to report it to the Bureau of Land Management. Randy grew up surfing the crowded waves of Southern California where one has to fight for territory. So even though he’s not a big guy, he’s not afraid of others and escalated the situation. You have to understand that Randy was gutted; he poured his heart and soul into the trail, and didn’t want anyone to take it away.
MEANWHILE BACK ON PRINCE CREEK
While Randy was working on the Lorax, I focused my efforts on Prince Creek. Early on, I discovered the Ginormous gully and immediately knew it had the potential to be something different and special, and indeed it was. With its natural berms, the gully inspired my quest to build a trail with flow. This was long before machine-built flow trails became the norm and even before Hans Rey in 2008 coined the term “Flow Country Trails.” Becoming one of the early pioneers of flow trails earned me a nickname from a fellow trail builder: The Todd Father of Flow. Nicknames are commonplace within the TNR crew, and while I’ve had my share over the years, this one seemed to fit.
Kelly Osborne (OZ), who played a big part in helping build and maintain trails on Prince Creek, helped me with the Ginormous build. OZ was one of the most generous friends you could have, and as well, had a unique ability to interject his dry sense of humor perfectly into conversations. These traits are why everyone loved OZ. Tragically, we lost Kelly to cancer in 2012, but his memory lives on. We honor him with small OZ stickers on signs, bikes, and helmets, as well as a larger memorial in a special place. Keep riding endless singletrack, my friend.
With Ginormous complete, the TNR crew built North Porcupine. By the time we finished, I had started scouting new zones, eventually bringing Innie and Outtie into existence. Those trails were big projects that took several summers to complete.
Around this time, a friend from El Jebel, George Trantow, joined the trail-building efforts. George cut in Buckhorn, which connected to Outtie, and later added Buckhorn Traverse, providing much-needed access to the Crown coming from Willits. He also built a short section of trail that eventually became part of Western Vasten Trail.
The excitement among the riding community over these new trails was contagious. Their enthusiasm fueled my own, driving me to dream even bigger and to take on the next project, Father of Ginormous.
When I first walked the Father gully I saw its potential, but I also understood the immense amount of work required to make it a reality. Recognizing this wasn’t a solo endeavor, I reached out to friends, ultimately gathering 21 people for a build day. A lot was accomplished, including some serious beer drinking, but there was still much to do. But as work continued to progress, the tide started shifting.
THE FORMATION OF RFMBA
In 2007, Wilderness Workshop launched its Hidden Gems campaign, proposing 350,000 acres of local land for designation as Wilderness. While many people, myself included, support wilderness conservation, the approach used for this campaign seemed ill-conceived. Virtually no effort was made to engage with other user groups to collaboratively determine which lands should be included in their proposal. Instead, it felt like a “more is better” strategy that catered solely to their interests.
The lack of inclusivity sparked significant opposition, with tempers flaring across the community. The most visible symbol of resistance was a simple round bumper sticker with the words “Hidden Gems” circled in red and crossed out with a red line, signaling no Hidden Gems. These stickers became ubiquitous, especially on trucks, reflecting the overwhelming opposition in the Valley.
Under the proposal, several prized mountain bike trails were at risk of closure, as mountain biking is prohibited in designated wilderness areas. This threat united local riders Al Beyer, Mike Pritchard, Len Zanni, Charlie Eckart & Kirk Hinderberger, leading to the formation of the Roaring Fork Mountain Bike Association (RFMBA).
The Hidden Gems campaign battle raged on for years, but in the end, suffered defeat.
THE MEETING
In the summer of 2008, the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) announced that a public meeting in Carbondale was going to be held to discuss future management plans for local lands, including Prince Creek. Recognizing the potential implications, we rallied the mountain biking community, ensuring a strong turnout.
Moderated by David Hamilton, then head of Roaring Fork Outdoor Volunteers, the meeting included BLM representatives, along with a few motorized and equestrian enthusiasts. The BLM explained the transition from an “open travel” system, where any mode of transportation could be used anywhere without altering the land, to a more regulated management approach. They solicited input from attendees about what mattered most to them.
Towards the end of the meeting, David pointed to a map of Prince Creek/Crown that outlined all roads and trails they were aware of. At that point, we were asked to draw on the map other trails we were aware of, but not identified on the map, so they could be inventoried for future decisions.
This request raised suspicions. Was it a genuine effort to understand the trail network, or a bait-and-switch tactic to discover and close trails? Despite my skepticism, I chose to trust the process and marked all the trails I had worked on, even including the full length of Father of Ginormous, which wasn’t even halfway completed yet.
The meeting left us hopeful for positive outcomes, but for me, it also sparked a sense of urgency. I felt the clock ticking to finish Father of Ginormous and push forward before the landscape of trail building changed forever.
THE END OF AN ERA
After Father of Ginormous was completed, I started to build crossover trails on the lower half of Father. However, as the use of the system grew, so did scrutiny. A complaint was filed with the BLM regarding unauthorized trail construction. Shortly after, I received a call from Greg Wolfgang, a friend at the BLM. Greg handled the situation professionally, asking me to walk the trails with him. That day we had deep conversations about trails, politics, and life in general. I gained a deeper respect for the trail-building process and the issues our public land agency partners face. Our friendship grew tremendously that day. It was a turning point where I realized that the future of trails wasn’t in rogue building, but in working collaboratively to create sustainable networks for everyone to enjoy.
In those early days of social trail building it wasn’t just the Carbondale few out on the ground, it was happening everywhere. From small towns like Paonia and Salida to riding meccas like Fruita and Sedona, it was the wild wild west days of building mountain bike trails. But like most things in life, times change, and it was for the good as land managers needed to regain control of public lands.
TRAIL BUILDING AS THERAPY
For me trail building was more than just digging dirt, it was therapy. My professional life as a desk jockey was full of high stress. My job required a lot of left-brain use, which left me emotionally exhausted. Building trails allowed me to tap into my creative side of the brain trying to figure out how a trail was going to flow. And those muscles that were idle while sitting at a desk became fully engaged swinging tools. After a build day, I’d come home physically exhausted, but emotionally recharged.
Most nights after building trail I couldn’t sleep well, replaying every detail in my mind, imagining how the trail would feel to ride. I lived and loved every moment of it. While the work was deeply satisfying, the greatest reward was hearing how others enjoyed the trails. Positive feedback from friends and fellow riders fueled my passion. Of course, there were critics as some had differing opinions about how they should be built, but I didn’t mind as I’m my own harshest critic, always striving to do better.
ON TO BIGGER AND BETTER
The BLM meeting in 2008 marked the beginning of their Resource Management Plan (RMP), which concluded in 2015. The RMP is the BLM’s process for updating the management of inventoried land, and the outcomes were a mix of victories and compromises for the Carbondale mountain biking community. It was a classic example of a politically balanced process, not perfect, but functional.
A partial loss came with the Lorax trail, which was classified as land with wilderness characteristics. This meant the existing trail could remain open, but no new trails could be developed. Given the adjacent private ranch lands were owned by wealthy, influential individuals pouring significant resources into opposing trail development, it was a fight we never really expected to win.
On the brighter side, we had a huge win with Prince Creek/Crown. This area was designated a Special Recreation Management Area (SRMA) with an emphasis on mountain biking. Not only were all existing trails officially adopted, but new trail development was allowed. Hell yes!
NO REST FOR THE WEARY
By this time I had joined the RFMBA board (2013) and was thrilled to help shape the next phase of the Prince Creek/Crown trail system. Nearly 20 years earlier I had hand-drawn my vision of the finished trail system on a piece of paper, a plan that had been simmering in my brain ever since. That map is still taped to my garage wall as a reminder of the dream coming to life.
Our plate was overflowing with projects, and we were eager to dig in. First up was the Buckhorn reroute, which connected the bike path to the Buckhorn Traverse. The original trail followed an old road with an uncomfortable 20% gradient, not ideal. So we got to work building a more sustainable path.
One of the many reasons for legitimate trail building is the opportunity to design purpose-built trails. You can take the time to do it right carefully planning gradients, adding water diversions, and ensuring long-term sustainability. In contrast, social trails often follow the path of least resistance, such as cow tracks or steep roads, and are built quickly and silently without proper tools or planning. These trails usually don’t stand up to the test of time.
Next, we extended the Buckhorn Traverse to connect with Glassier and added Vasten to extend the system further uphill. The Crown’s gentler topography and sparse vegetation made it ideal for mountain bike trails.
Reroutes were also necessary for parts of Creekside and Jens trails, which crossed private property. These changes included the addition of Dinkle Link, a new access point from The Crown’s saddle.
HONORING THE PAST, BUILDING THE FUTURE
One small but meaningful addition for me was extending Father of Ginormous from Porcupine down to Monte Carlo. Some riders had nicknamed sections of the trail based on entry points. The lowest was Father, the middle Uncle, and the top Grandfather. The new lower segment, while officially called Father of Ginormous, earned the nickname Hoosier Daddy, a tribute to my father, an Indiana Hoosier, who passed away around that time. It felt like a fitting way to honor him. As well, the nickname has a secondary meaning (more on that below).
From there, we developed new trails: Undie, Overie, Imperial Garden, and the ambitious Crown Royale, our first major machine-built flow trail, with a budget exceeding $300,000.
Although no longer in existence, Top of the Bucket was close to reaching the summit of The Crown. A personal victory for me was getting Undie, Overie, Crown Royale, and Imperial Garden to the very top of the hill. While not as massive as climbs and descents in other areas, these trails represent the biggest rides the terrain can offer, and the 360-degree views from the summit are simply breathtaking.
As RFMBA ramped up its efforts, Pitkin County Open Space and Trails joined the party securing key lands for trail development. This included the creation of Glassier, the Prince Creek climbing and descending trails, and the Bull Pen parking area.
One of Prince Creek’s biggest success stories is its directional trails. This setup has been a game-changer, enhancing both safety and enjoyment. Even when the Bull Pen parking lot is full, I rarely encounter other riders on the trails, a feature that Randy certainly appreciates too.
WHAT’S IN A NAME
For me, one of the greatest joys of building a trail is naming it. It’s an honor I’ve always taken seriously. Interestingly, the first trail I built on Prince Creek was Christmas Tree. I didn’t attach a name to it, and I’m not sure why. One year some Christmas ornaments showed up in a tree thus everyone started calling it Christmas Tree.
With my off-kilter sense of humor, I started naming trails that carried a secondary meaning. For instance, Innie and Outtie were named due to their proximity to Mount Sopris, with a playful reference to belly buttons. Then came Undie, originally thought of by George Trantow, which referred to the trail being “under” Sopris, with a cheeky nod to underwear. Other trail names came together more collaboratively. Dinkle Link, for instance, was a connection to Hay Park and Dinkle Lake. Al Beyer, a local trail-building legend, and I worked on it together. Initially, I wanted to call it the T&A Collaboration as a nod to our “Todd & Al” partnership, but that name was vetoed for its secondary connotation.
When OZ and I built Ginormous we considered other names, but that’s what stuck. I had not yet started using dual meanings for trail names, otherwise an appropriate name would have been Au Naturel. The berms were made by nature, and of course, there’s a secondary meaning.
One of the most ironic trail names, Overie, actually came from a member of a Youth Corps group we had hired to help build Undie. It was their first day on the job when I was on the trail with them pin-flagging the trail alignment. As I moved through the group I was chatting with everyone, sharing information about the area. I came across three young ladies who I started to talk to about our trail names. While explaining the names of Innie, Outtie, and Undie, they burst into laughter. They said the evening before while sitting around the campfire looking at the trail map they were wondering what the names meant, and based on their assumptions, said there should be a trail called Overie. I said “Wow, you probably just named a new trail for us!” Al Beyer and I had just flagged a trail leading off the top of The Crown down to Skull Bucket, and we’d been struggling to come up with a creative name. Overie was perfect, the trail goes “over” the Crown, and, of course, was a playful nod to the female reproductive organ.
When I got home that evening, I shared the story with my partner, Deb, who is British. Brits might have a reputation for being conservative, with the Monarchy and all, but Deb is far from it. She quipped, “Well, I guess you’ll have to name a trail Testie!” She was spot on, a tough trail that “tests” a rider’s skills would definitely fit the bill.
Deb herself has a trail named after her, English Trim. It’s a short but crucial connector that allows access to Trough and Father of Ginormous without needing a much longer detour. The name came naturally as she helped me trim back the brush to bring the trail into existence.
On The Crown side, the names are a bit more subdued. Vasten and Glassier honor local homesteading families. Imperial Garden reflects the lush vegetation in the area, while Crown Royale was chosen as Crown Jewel was already claimed for equestrian trails. I’d originally wanted to name it Crown Jewels (plural) for the humorous British slang, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be.
Some of the original trails on Prince Creek got their names from what we found while building them: Skull Bucket, Skillsaw, and Trough. Others were inspired by features or specific people: Creekside, Plunge, and Jen’s, named after a local woman who started cutting the trail before I moved to the area. Porcupine was named well before my time and references how the trail vegetation would scratch and poke at you while riding it.
CREATURES OF THE FOREST
Trail building often brings close encounters with wildlife. While flagging Innie, I wandered into a stand of mature oaks. Their twisted, hauntingly beautiful trunks always catch my eye. Suddenly, before realizing what was above me, a hawk’s sharp scream pierced the air. Next thing I knew the protective mama hawk dive-bombed me, letting me know I wasn’t welcome near her nest. Knowing how sharp her talons are, I quickly retreated. She persisted for what felt like an eternity, but I luckily escaped unscathed.
While working on Outtie, I crossed paths with a badger, one of nature’s most fearless and ferocious creatures. Needless to say, I kept my distance marveling at the encounter from afar.
Coyotes usually don’t concern me, but one evening while working on North Porcupine I heard a pack howling close by. They were south of me, near the only exit I had. At first, I shrugged it off as coyotes rarely pose a threat to humans. But as their calls grew louder and closer, I decided it was best not to test that theory and headed out.
Then there are cows, my love-hate relationship. Sure, they taste good and help keep vegetation in check, but they’re far from considerate trail companions. They stomp trails to pieces and leave cow pies in places that end up on your bike and legs. Still, they’ve been grazing these lands far longer than we’ve been riding trails so just grin and bear it, but try not to bear it on the grin.
IT TAKES A VILLAGE
Up next on the trail build list, and possibly the last project on the horizon (more on that in a minute), is reworking upper Innie and upper Outtie. When first built, the Innie/Outtie loop was the go-to ride. People loved it, but time and trail design haven’t been kind. Outtie was a thrilling rocket ship of a descent through a steep, narrow gully – fast and furious. But years of erosion and rocks tumbling into the gully have stolen much of the fun. We’re eager to tackle the challenge and bring the trail back to life, though it won’t be easy. One way or another, we’ll ensure that Innie & Outtie live on.
While I’m always dreaming of the next great slice of singletrack, my body isn’t keeping pace with my ambition. Regular chiropractor visits have become part of the routine. To put things in perspective, all of the trail builders mentioned in this story, including myself, are now eligible for Social Security. So as we old codgers age out of the trail building and maintenance game, who will step up next to rebuild jumps and water bars, improve sight lines, and fight the biggest maintenance issue on Prince Creek/Crown? That of course is vegetation growth. This area is covered in scrub oak and serviceberry, both of which grow 1–2 feet per year. Without regular trimming, Mother Nature quickly reclaims her ground. Back in the day she won back three social trails, Top of the Bucket, Beyond Bucket, and Rock Pile, which all disappeared rather quickly. This ongoing battle with vegetation makes me question whether we can keep up with all the work maintaining our existing trails, let alone push for new ones. We old-timers can’t carry the torch much longer, and need the next generation to step in.
TRAIL AGENT TO THE RESCUE
When it comes to maintaining trails, I often tell volunteers, it takes a village. The trail network has grown too large to be managed by just a few people. RFMBA hires a summer trail crew, but their focus is dictated by funding, which often comes from Forest Service grants. These grants typically specify which FS trails need attention, leaving Prince Creek/Crown BLM-managed lands on the back burner.
That’s where the Trail Agent program comes in. RFMBA trains volunteers on how to keep trails in great shape. Volunteers record their efforts, creating a clear picture of what’s been done and what still needs attention. This documentation helps with grant and donor applications, showing funders that the community is actively contributing to trail maintenance. It also builds credibility with land managers, making them more likely to approve additional trails.
Let’s be honest, the name Trail Agent alone is cool. Pair it with the honorable duties involved, and it’s hard to pass up the opportunity. Just imagine how pristine our trail system would be if every rider in the Valley dedicated just one day a year to giving back love to our trails. I’m holding onto hope that with the support of passionate volunteers and programs like Trail Agent, Carbondale will remain a funky and cool bike town.
Do you dig it?✌️😎✌️
Todd Fugate
RFMBA Vice Chair
