Unsanctioned: A Series About Rogue Trail Builders - Part 4: East Africa
In a forested region in East Africa, a small group of mountain bikers is quietly building trails. There are no press releases, no grants, no signage. Just machetes, shovels, and a deep respect for the land and the communities who live alongside it. In this installment of our Unsanctioned series, we spoke with one of the builders behind these efforts. What follows is a rare window into what it means to build trails when the rules are unclear, the forest is contested, and success isn’t measured in Strava segments but in schoolchildren crossing muddy paths and reforestation crews finding safe passage.
Sean: Where are you located (generically)?
Builder: A forested region in East Africa.
Sean: What prompted you to begin building unsanctioned trails? Have you tried to go through the due process of building legal trails?
Builder: I’d call our process “quasi-sanctioned.” There’s no clear pathway to fully sanctioned trails here. The forest is caught between a national forest service and a local management trust; both claim some level of authority, but neither fully owns it. We started by maintaining old trails and slowly expanded from there. Permission? Sort of. But we were told to keep it low-key and to avoid cutting trees since regenerating indigenous forests is a priority.
Sean: What is the legal process for building sanctioned trails in your area?
Builder: There really isn’t one. Outside of a few national recreation areas, most of East Africa’s trails are just footpaths; routes people have walked for generations. Designated or bike-specific trails? Almost nonexistent.
Sean: How are unsanctioned trails perceived by the outdoor and MTB community in your region?
Builder: There’s no real recognition of bike-specific spaces. When we started building, forest organizations were skeptical. We were allowed to maintain existing paths, but any new work had to be under the radar. Our approach was to add value: clear a few MTB-specific lines but also maintain multi-use trails for locals, farmers, school kids, and reforestation crews. When everyone benefits, it’s easier to keep building.
Sean: Whose land are you building on? Have you ever been caught?
Builder: It’s quasi-public land. At first, our paid trail workers were threatened for working too close to a railway. Now? They’re known in the area. We’ve built bridges for pedestrians and even a rock path to a school that used to be impassable during the rainy season. These days, people usually thank us and ask when we’re coming to fix their part of the trail.
Sean: Have you had any of your trails destroyed? If so, does this affect how you build in the future?
Builder: Yes. One trail took two months to scout and build, only to be dug up a month later by a group laying water pipes. We couldn’t rebuild it without risking damage to the pipes. Fortunately, a second set of pipes went in later, and they were encased in concrete, so now we can ride it again without doing harm. It’s a reminder that nothing is permanent. Forest work, railroad projects, road expansions, any of it can change a trail overnight.
Sean: Do you work with your local trail organization? Why or why not?
Builder: We have a loosely formed group, nothing fancy. Maybe 10 to 20 regular riders. Two local guys work full-time on the trails, and the rest of us volunteer when we can. The network helps us coordinate and share trail conditions.
Sean: Any crazy stories you want to tell?
Builder: One stands out. Our trail crew was working near a road junction when they heard screams. They ran up and found a woman being attacked. They intervened, pinned the attacker down, and waited for the police. A friend who passed by later on a motorcycle texted me: “They’re heroes.”
Also, animals use the trails, too, everything from pedestrians to hyenas. After a rain, you’ll see leopard tracks in the soft dirt. They’re nocturnal, so it’s usually safe during the day. But night rides? Not for me.
Sean: What message do you want to share with our readers?
Builder: Be kind. Look out for each other. Trails, especially in contested or public land, can disappear overnight. Nature, bureaucracy, or even a bulldozer can wipe out what took months to build. So, I try to be grateful for each day I spend in the forest and to be generous to the other people who share it. Trails should serve the community, not just the riders.
Sean: What’s one thing people should know about what you do and why?
Builder: It’s amazing to watch the sport grow, especially in places like this. We hope to eventually host enduro or downhill events that could attract global attention. But for now, we build quietly, ride what we can, and find joy in the work.
Not all trail building fits neatly into the framework of sanctioned vs. unsanctioned. In East Africa, it’s a balancing act of humility, trust, and community benefit. And sometimes, building a trail is less about riding the perfect line and more about building a bridge, literally, for someone to get to school. Stay tuned for more stories in the Unsanctioned series.
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That concludes our interview. If you have a story to tell, drop me an email.
Editor’s note: As you can already assume, these photos are not from the trail-building efforts detailed in this interview. Instead, they are merely representative. Maybe East Africa is more like the Pacific Northwest than we realize??? ;-)
Sean Benesh
Sean is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Trail Builder Mag. He is also the Communications Director for the Northwest Trail Alliance in Portland, Oregon. Sean also spends time in the classroom as a digital media instructor at Warner Pacific University.
Email: sean@trailbuildermag.com
Instagram: @seanbenesh
