The Oregon Outback is a place most people outside of Oregon don’t even know exists.

When most people think of Oregon, they picture the rain-drenched coast, the volcanic spine of the Cascade Mountains, ubiquitous waterfalls, the Columbia River Gorge, and … did I mention rain?

The Oregon Outback is different.

Many of us have a love-hate relationship with knee pads. Over the years, I’ve tried all kinds. I’m sure you have too.

Some offer amazing protection but lack comfort and flexibility. Others are super comfortable, but you question whether they will hold up if you actually need them in a crash. Then there’s nothing worse than when your knee pads keep sliding down your leg during your ride. Eventually you just give up, and they become great shin protectors.

As Trail Builder Magazine, we add another wrinkle to the conversation about how well a set of knee pads holds up when you’re doing tasks like rock work on your knees.

We are all attracted to the trails industry for different reasons, working in nature, creating something from nothing, helping others connect to nature through trails, whatever it is, the underlying drivers that motivate us all to create awesome trail experiences are based on creating more great experiences in the world.

You built the trails (yay!).

Maybe it took years of tedious planning, meetings with skeptical land managers, countless grant applications, endless fundraising campaigns, technical environmental reviews, fun-filled volunteer work parties, professional construction, and more volunteer hours than anyone cares to count.

Eventually, after all that work, the trail system finally opens.

Ok ... then what?

A trail project often begins with a person.

Someone sees an opportunity for a new trail system. Or maybe they recognize that existing trails need more attention. Or they start asking why their community doesn’t have better trail access.

They begin talking to other people. A few riders get interested, and they chat about it over beers at a local brewery after a ride. Someone knows a land manager. Another person has experience with grants. A local bike shop wants to help.

Eventually, someone asks the bigger question: "Hey, should we start our own trail organization?"

A blue trail in one mountain bike destination can feel suspiciously like a black trail somewhere else.

For experienced riders, figuring out those differences may simply be part of visiting somewhere new. But inconsistent trail ratings create a larger challenge for riders, trail builders, land managers, and destinations trying to communicate what someone should expect before dropping into a trail.

What if there were a common language?

That is the problem Mischa Crumbach and Edoardo Melchiori are attempting to address through the International Trail Rating System, or ITRS.

It’s rare, but on occasion you come across a trail that has surpassed itself.

It has become its own entity, a living thing that isn’t just dirt, rocks, and elevation. Alive in the friendships it creates and in the sense of belonging it invokes.

To the people who know it, the trail has its arms open wide, ready to become whatever you need it to be. A weekend vent for some, a place for memories for others, and for one rider, the weight that tipped the scale.

"Hey, you and your friends built JZ’s, right? Yeah man, that trail is so cool that it was a big reason that I wanted to move here."

One of the biggest misconceptions about social media is that creating better content requires a bigger budget.

We always think we need more cameras, more expensive software, more staff, and more equipment. I know I do too ...

Yet, for small nonprofit trail orgs, that can make communications feel out of reach before it even begins. But there's another reality at work.

For many trail orgs, there isn’t a communications person.

Trail building can take people in unexpected directions. For Zelzin Aketzalli, the path to working on trails stretches from the streets of Mexico City to mountain bike racing, thousands of miles of long-distance hiking, the jungles of Mexico, and trail projects across the United States.

Growing up in Iztapalapa, Mexico City, Aketzalli learned early how determination, sport, and time outdoors could shape a life. She went on to study engineering, race cross-country mountain bikes, complete the Pacific Crest Trail, and eventually become the first person from Mexico to complete the Triple Crown of Hiking.

Along the way, trail building became another part of that journey.

In the world of trail building, having the right tools directly translates to a better trail experience. But what if you could have a high-quality, multi-use tool that also fits in your backpack?

Enter the Trailtool Pocket, a versatile French-made tool including a collapsible shaft with a variety of heads. I’ve been using the saw, shovel, and their custom McLeod-like attachments.

Let’s dive in.