I remember the first time a young woman showed up at a muddy trail site. Work boots laced tight, eyes scanning the slope, unsure if she belonged, but dead set on trying. The chainsaw was heavier than she’d expected. The terrain was steep. But by day’s end, she’d outlasted most of the crew and carved a switchback so clean and elegant it looked like it belonged in an art gallery. That was year one of First Journey Trails, just outside Barkerville, deep in the Cariboo Mountains.
Since then, we’ve made it a point to do more than just “welcome” women. We expect them, we respect them, and often, they’re the ones leading the charge.
Trail building still carries this image: guys in steel toes, swinging rogue hoes, flannel shirts soaked in sweat. And sure, there’s grit and heavy lifting, but that’s never been the whole story. As mountain biking becomes more diverse, so must the people building the trails. Representation on the ground matters just as much as it does in the saddle.
Hiring women isn’t about checking boxes. It’s about building stronger crews, better trails, and better communities. We’re not looking for tokens, we’re building teams of equals: skilled builders, leaders, and mentors.
Trail Builder Magazine backed up what many of us already knew: the trail world still speaks mostly to men, especially white, able-bodied, middle-class men. And while some things are changing, 76 percent of women surveyed said they still feel underrepresented. Over half described the vibe as a “boys’ club.” These aren’t small issues, they’re structural, they’re real, and they’re fixable.
At First Journey, equality isn’t just a slogan. Everyone gets the same tools, the same expectations, the same pay. What we also try to offer is a space where people feel heard, supported, and part of something meaningful. Some of our most skilled builders have been women, detail-oriented, strong, patient, and often the first to notice something others missed. They lead with empathy and precision, shape trails with care, and bring a sense of community that lifts the whole crew.
I’ve seen women swing rock bars like they were made for it. I’ve seen them coach youth crews, turning awkward teens into confident workers, shaping backslope and shaping character at the same time. I’ve watched those moments spark a shift. Suddenly, the tone of the crew changes. There’s more respect, more listening, more laughter. One female on a crew in Hope put it best: “I came here to move dirt. I didn’t realize I’d also move hearts.”
And that’s just it. When you bring women into the crew, not just one, but many, you shift the culture. You make space for different body types, backgrounds, ways of communicating. You start seeing leadership differently. That same report said half of the women surveyed saw female leadership as the key to changing the system. I couldn’t agree more.
We actively mentor women into leadership roles: On-site, in training, at community meetings. We run women-led dig days where the vibe shifts completely: safer, supportive, and just plain fun. These days aren’t about separation. They’re about building confidence. I’ve watched total beginners turn into crew leads. You can see the switch flip. It’s incredible.
Here’s what I’ve learned: inclusivity isn’t a nice-to-have. It’s the key to doing better work. Diversity doesn’t water anything down, it sharpens the edge. It makes everything stronger.
So, if you’re a woman wondering if you’re tough enough or skilled enough to do this work, here’s the truth: you are. If you’ve never touched a trail tool or you’ve ridden for years, there’s a place for you here. A big one.
Because the land doesn’t care about gender. But the culture we build around trails? That matters. Trails are more than dirt paths through the woods. They’re stories. They’re chances to show who we are and what kind of future we want.
And right now? That future is being shaped by women, one rock wall, one berm, one perfectly cut switchback at a time.
