Hello America! | Part #9 Roanoke – A Diamond in the Rough, Part 1
On two continents, 6,600 kilometers away from their home countries – we found two guys who literally swapped their lives: one in America, the other in Germany. How does biking feel in each of their new worlds? Who finds the best trails? Who drinks the best beer? Hear their stories and follow their adventures as they hit the trails in their new worlds.
The world is unfair, with some living a life of excess whilst others lack the bare necessities. While it’s likely that neither of these extremes really apply, to us riders, and if we’re honest, we’re probably verging more towards the excessive luxury side, it can still seem like blatant injustice when we’re struggling to find decent local trails to ride, forced to pay out for expensive riding holidays, while others claim to have too many trails starting directly from their own backyard.
The USA is so often held up as the textbook example of western decadence and a case study of living in absolute extravagance. Around the globe, the stereotypical phrases associated with the States are the oft hyped ‘the bigger the better,’ and ‘super-size me,’ which shouldn’t come as any surprise – the USA boasts the highest number of millionaires, petrol-guzzling cars, and people suffering with obesity. It seems like the primary pursuits of such an unfettered capitalist industrial nation revolve only around generating the maximum profit and amassing yet more consumer goods.
But there are other less political sides to living stateside, ones that are often willingly overlooked and neglected. The mass of land in North America is huge, dotted with endless areas of untouched nature, national parks and nature reserves. The sheer scale of its coastlines, mountains and forests is somewhat incomprehensible for a European like me; America’s wilderness is the real deal, and Germany’s manicured forests and recreational parks have very little in common with the sights I see here. For many Americans, the act of being ‘outdoors’ in nature is treasured, celebrated and practiced as often as possible. In the US, there’s a significance of living in and alongside nature that I’d never come close to experiencing before in Europe.
Camping, hiking, climbing, kayaking and mountain biking are hot right now, and whole cities and communities have jumped onto this outdoor bandwagon. As fully fledged converts to this way of life, they’re creating new work spaces, coming up with novel sources of income and trying to entice more like-minded contemporaries to reinvigorate America’s dying communities in the wilderness. The results of their efforts are visible: more bike paths, campsites, wider trail networks and countless new spaces for outdoor activities. And despite the skeptics, it’s working – more and more people are hunting out places to live and work where their passion can roam free, bidding farewell to the concrete jungle and heading to new outdoor boomtowns like Asheville, NC, Portland, OR, and Chattanooga, TE.
Get your ass into gear, Germany!
Presumably I belong to the majority of riders who – when it comes to choosing where to live – seem to constantly skirt around the areas that have the most sensational riding. Neither in Washington D.C nor in Germany have I ever enjoyed the perfect conditions to push my bike and myself to the limits. To be able to do this, your home trails need to be top-notch, the sickest around. Only by riding them so often can you grow to meet their challenge. Life is short; don’t put off your dreams.
I was continually dissatisfied in Berlin and Stuttgart: the trails were too short, too boring, and frequently made for hikers over riders. When I first started riding in the Black Forest as a 16-year-old, there were hard trails – but these were unfortunately illegal due to archaic laws. Naturally that didn’t stop us, although Germany does still seem to have some sort of vendetta against mountain bike riders. Unwelcome, we’re treated like the hoodlums of the outdoors, frequently discriminated against. Rather than seeing us as peers of other outdoor lovers and creating legitimate open spaces for mountain bikers to play out their way of life without conflict. It seems that the German state seemingly tries to keep suppressing us, as politicians ignore us, and the lobbyists systematically block us.
Germany is still managing to do a disservice to the ever-growing band of outdoor lovers. A trend it appears keen to overlook, it hasn’t realised just how environmentally friendly and well-off mountain bikers are – in fact, I’d go as far as to say that we’re an asset to tourism. Once I’d decided to move to the USA, I knew that this was an attitude that I wouldn’t miss. I’d had enough of the muck-spreading, hypocrisy and endless discussions with forest rangers, hunters and hiking groups. I was excited about the prospect of riding trails created solely for mountain bikers by expert trail builders. To me, America has always seemed like a true El Dorado for mountain bike junkies, an aspirational place that I’d been searching for.
Wild life at its best
But, as I was soon to find out, not everything that glistens is made of gold. If you’ve been following my story, you’ll be familiar with the teething troubles, finding my feet and riding those first few joyous trail kilometres. Living in big city with very few climbs, I didn’t know anyone or anywhere in D.C. Fortunately, scouting new trails is one of my favourite pastimes – although in hindsight, I was rather searching for a new place to live, where my youthful dreams could be realized. I wanted to grab my bike from the garage, the forest in sight, dropping into a sick trail just a couple of minutes later. Was I asking too much? While difficult in Germany, I hoped it was still a potential in America.
This spring we headed into Virginia’s southwest corner, an area on the East Coast that I knew even less about, and the name Roanoke meant nothing to me. Despite rarely, let alone racing enduros, I signed up for a grassroots enduro race that the local Blue Ridge Gravity Crew were staging. What had sparked this change in me since coming to the USA? I reasoned that racing here is brilliantly uncomplicated, treating to the best trails and providing an unrivalled opportunity to meet new riders who’ll hopefully reveal more places to ride. Nice and simple, I signed up on Facebook without the need for a license or entry fee. With some makeshift timing setup, the field consisted of every single ripper from the surrounding region.
The fourth run of the D-Cup race on the Gauntlet Trail couldn’t have gone better for me, playing out exactly how a ‘fun race’ should. Shredding with other trail buddies, there was little to no pressure of competition, and I finished nice and relaxed to enjoy a chilled beer at the Parkway Brewery. My strategy was in full flow, succeeded in getting to know local riders, who I’d now count as friends. My wife and I stayed a full 10 days, spending every day on the trails. It turned into one of those unforgettable riding trips, forever etched in your memory with its river huts, zero phone signal, and zero stress. The daily grind replaced with the best singletrack and people that you could imagine.
Swept back each night
Once back in Washington D.C, I couldn’t shake off the thought of Roanoke. Home to around 100,000 residents, the locals had regaled me with tales of the vast trail networks and limitless backcountry trails in the region. I knew I’d barely seen the tip of the iceberg and it was already more than I could have hoped for. Roanoke was clearly one of those bike spots, where you suffer from the above-mentioned luxurious problem: just which trail should I begin with today? Given the experiences I’d had as a youngster and now living in the relative trail emptiness of D.C, this still managed to strike me as damn unfair.
But at the same time, this huge respect for Roanoke instilled in me the desire to write about its escalating trail network and the many volunteers who exert so much effort to get them just right. For me, Roanoke’s ambition to become a mountain biking hotspot on the East Coast is exemplary, and riders over in Germany could learn something from it. Its existence unknown to many Americans too, there’s a screaming bike paradise nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Old friends, new chances
The problem I now faced was that I didn’t know where or how I should spread the word about Roanoke; I’d never worked for magazines before and I didn’t have much contact to the cycling media. My trip to southern Virginia had left me inspired, perhaps at the same time cementing my negative experiences of Germany. In my opinion, such a stark contrast couldn’t be ignored. Roanoke showed me that things could be different – something I’d never quite considered back in Germany.
Sometimes you have to grab the bull by its horns and just roll with it. So I dove in headfirst and emailed Robin from ENDURO Mountainbike Magazine. A short while later my inbox made a satisfying noise with his response: “Yeah, Roanoke and East Coast riding sounds interesting!” We knew each other vaguely, both hailing from Stuttgart, Germany, and we bonded over our joint love for riding – and riding downhill at that. I’d long been a fan of their forward-thinking E-magazine, having loved my sick enduro bike and riding trails at my limits for as long as I can remember.
Having pitched an article on Roanoke’s trail scene, it was unfortunately no-go without photos, so I duly turned to Max, my friend, photographer and fellow Stuttgart native, in Chicago for help. Over the years we’ve churned up the trails in the Alps and the Palatinate mountains, but this time it was different. Perhaps Max had enjoyed one too many craft beers or had just been longing for the chance to escape Chicago’s trail wasteland, booking his flight without hesitation or even discussing with me or the guys in Roanoke. In four weeks he’d be landing at Dulles Airport, VA, meaning that I had to get my shit together to organize the article of all articles.
With pressure on my shoulders to organize epic shit, I contacted Jameson, one of the guys behind the D-Cup race. He’d hammered home the idea of spreading the word about Roanoke’s untapped potential, and now we were on the verge of unleashing it. Over the next few weeks, whilst I was still stuck in D.C, Jameson became my right-hand man, but he wasn’t alone as the ENDURO project got heaps of support from others too. Local bike shops, the city and the area’s riders in particular all wanted to help promote their home spot. I was flooded with e-mails, gobsmacked by the level of local engagement. The best trails were hotly discussed, a Rider-Event was organized and riders for the various shootings were scouted. Exemplary community work from the get-go, even before it had begun we were having a blast.
Make sure you read the second part to find out what Roanoke has up its sleeve for riders and why us mountain bikers in Germany should finally get our asses in gear, putting our thoughts towards unifying trail users rather than pitting them against each other.
For further information on Roanoke and the BRG Crew please check: Roanoke Outside | Blue Ridge Gravity
Enjoyed this story? Take a trip to the rest of the series: Introduction | Freiburg | Goodbye Germany | Stromberg | What a Small World it is | My First European Bike Trip | Let the Games Begin! | Getting to Know the Shapers of Châtel
Words: Steffen Gronegger Photos: Max Leitner Photography, Steffen Gronegger, AM Photographs (Andrew McElvery)