“Multi-Use Trails” Sound Great—Until You Use Them
We’re all out here for the same reason: fresh air, moving our bodies, reconnecting with nature. Hikers, mountain bikers, equestrians—we all love the outdoors. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: while “multi-use trails” may sound inclusive, in practice they often end up being a compromise that works well for no one.
I’m not saying we don’t get along. We do. I’ve shared plenty of trail smiles and trailhead chats with all kinds of folks. But the way we each move through the trail is just too different. When you stack those differences together on the same narrow path, it leads to wear and tear, unexpected dangers, and a less enjoyable experience for everyone.
Mountain Biking: Built for Speed, Not Sharing
Let’s start with mountain bikers. Most are respectful and skilled, but they tend to build and prefer trails with fast curves, sweeping S-shapes, and banked turns—especially on descents. That’s fun for riding, but it’s frivolous distance for hikers and a nightmare for horses trying to maintain balance.
Worse, bikes carve out “bowled” trail surfaces that trap water and get slick fast. As a hiker, that uneven footing puts constant strain on your ankles. And when a biker whips around a corner without warning, it can spook a horse or surprise a hiker—neither of which is a good time.
Equestrians: Big Impact, Bigger Holes
Then we’ve got horses. Beautiful animals, wonderful people—but the physics don’t lie. You’re putting a 1,200-pound animal on four hooves into soft soil. Trails get torn up fast. After just one pass, what was a nice hiking route turns into a muddy mess with deep, uneven holes and—you guessed it—horse poop. Lots of it.
I’m not trying to be crass here, but let’s be honest: no one likes dodging landmines on the trail. It’s not great for tires or boots.
Hikers: Low Impact, but Not Invisible
Now, I’ll own this part—I’m a hiker. And yes, we move slower. We can pop up quietly around a bend and startle horses or bikers. But we’re also the lowest impact group out there. We’re not carving turns or post-holing soft earth. We’re just trying to walk through nature without having to constantly look down to avoid breaking an ankle or stepping in... surprises.
The Real-World Effect: A Local Example
On a recent hike through several trails at Great Seal State Park here in Ohio, we saw the worst-case scenario play out. A group of horses passed through shortly before us, and the trail turned into a soft, sloppy mess. Holes deep enough to roll an ankle. Mud thick enough to suck off your shoe. It stopped being a hike and started being a cautious tiptoe across a hazard zone.
And that’s a shame—because we love this park. Great hills, flexible routes, awesome for training. The Ohio DNR is clearly trying, with recent upgrades and visible efforts to improve the space. But when the trail gets churned up like that, we’re stuck skipping visits for weeks until it recovers.
Why It Matters (and Why It’s Not Just This Park)
This isn’t just a Great Seal problem. We’ve run into the same issues across the country. Any trail that tries to serve every kind of user without segmentation ends up worn out, under-maintained, and less enjoyable for all. It’s not about bad behavior—it’s about incompatible trail use.
But Here’s the Counterpoint…
To be fair, separating trail uses isn’t always practical. Land and funding are limited. Volunteer crews and park staff are often stretched thin. Some regions just don’t have the budget or terrain to dedicate trails to a single use.
And yes, trail sharing has its upsides. It fosters a broader community and helps parks remain accessible to more people. In areas with low traffic or excellent maintenance, multi-use can work okay.
But those situations are the exception, not the rule.
Our Take: It’s Time to Rethink “Multi-Use”
We think it’s time to stop pretending “multi-use” means equal use. It usually means “everyone gets a trail that doesn’t quite work for them.”
We’d rather have fewer trails that work well for their intended user than more trails that frustrate everyone. It may mean reducing access in some spots, but it also means the access we do have will be safer, more sustainable, and more enjoyable.
It’s not about division—it’s about design. We can still share the outdoors. We just don’t all need to be on the same narrow ribbon of dirt to do it.
