The first time I saw an adaptive mountain bike on a trail, it was humbling. Not because the rider was struggling, far from it, but because I realized just how much I take for granted: the trail width, the turning radius, and even access to the trailhead itself. What I saw that day was joy. Pure trail joy.

But I also saw limits. The trail narrowed, and just like that, the ride was over. Not because the rider wasn’t capable, but because the trail wasn’t.

It was a reminder that “everyone’s welcome” only means something if the trail itself is saying the same thing.

In Aztec lore, Axolotl is the god of fire and lightning. Legend has it that he turned himself into a salamander to avoid being sacrificed. If you Google the word “axolotl,” you’ll find all kinds of articles on the Aztec god and the namesake salamander, originally found in several lakes underlying what is now Mexico City. Someday, if you Google that name again, the search engine just might point you to a mountain bike trail outside of Portland, Oregon.