‘It’s a tough industry’: What First Journey Trails’ founder sees inside Canada’s trail-building boom

Trail building is having a moment. Municipalities are suddenly talking about climbing trails, berms and pump tracks the same way they talk about sidewalks and rec centres. Riders see new networks opening every year. And people across the country are launching small trail companies hoping to ride the wave.

From Williams Lake, B.C., First Journey Trails founder Thomas Schoen has been watching that momentum build for nearly two decades.

“Yeah, absolutely, there’s definitely a boom,” he says. “There’s just so much happening within our industry for sure.”

But the reasons behind the growth go deeper than adventure tourism. Municipalities and regional districts are now tying trail infrastructure to economic stability and quality of life.

“Municipal governments in smaller to mid-size communities are now realizing that trail infrastructure really attracts professionals and it keeps them,” Schoen says. “You have to have something to offer in your community if you want to grow the labor market or if you want to keep people.”

Twenty years ago, trail projects had to justify themselves strictly through visitor spending: hotel rooms, gas stations, bike shops. That shift in thinking has pushed trails into the realm of essential infrastructure: something communities use to retain workers, attract families and improve health outcomes.

An industry splintering into specialties

Schoen was early. “I started in 2008,” he says. “I definitely was one of the first three major companies in B.C. Joyride, Gravity Logic and then First Journey Trails.”

In the early days, professional trail building was an emerging idea. Now the industry is splitting into specialized branches.

“You’ve got companies that mainly concentrate on big bike park development,” he says. Others focus exclusively on pump tracks or skills parks. Some are hand-built specialists, shaping steep tech lines and rugged climbing trails.

And e-mountain bikes are reshaping design entirely.

“We now see e-bike specific trail design companies slowly emerging,” Schoen says. “Where you would build a climbing trail completely different. Uphill berms. Nobody knew what an uphill berm was six years ago.”

Schoen’s company has carved out another niche; deep partnerships with Indigenous communities. “There aren’t many of those companies out there yet, but it’s slowly happening,” he says.

The hard truth: most small companies don’t survive

For all the visible expansion, Schoen sees a growing problem underneath. The boom is drawing passionate riders into business, but not necessarily setting them up for success.

“Because of the amount of work that’s out there, we have all these new companies starting up, often they are owner-operated with one extremely good trail builder who comes from the mountain bike world,” he says.

Those builders know how to make a trail flow. They understand features, grades, jumps and berms. But running a trail company requires far more than shaping dirt.

“Being able to build a good mountain bike trail is maybe 25 per cent of the skill set that you need running a trail building company,” Schoen says.
He has hired hundreds of builders over the years. About 25 to 30 eventually tried to start their own companies.

“And one of them succeeded,” he says.

Seasonality, cash-flow gaps, lack of business experience, and administrative work, particularly grant writing, take a toll.

“That alone is a big cost,” Schoen says. “Imagine if you’re an owner-operator, you’re out there digging trail all day, but you’re trying to help your local club get funding. Now you’re sitting at home for weeks just to get through that grant application.”

He’s blunt: the failure rate hurts everyone.

“If you’re so short-lived, you really are disturbing the industry by simply giving it a try,” he says.

Insurance: the quiet killer of new trail companies

Nothing deflates newcomers faster than the reality of insurance.

“If you’re not going from one contract to the next, insurance can be a real killer,” Schoen says.

There’s no buying coverage project-by-project. It’s a full-year bill. Often around $12,000 annually.

Some companies take shortcuts.

“A lot of these companies operate with the wrong insurance classification,” Schoen says. “Somebody would run a trail building business as a general contractor or landscaper. Your insurance premiums are very affordable, but if something happens you’re in trouble.”

When he started, no insurance company even knew how to categorize the work.

“It was extremely difficult because nobody knew, am I a forestry contractor? Should I be insured as a logger?” he says.

Why trail building now requires studies, permits and patience

The biggest cultural shift is the move from rogue volunteer digging to fully regulated construction.

“We want to build legal trails. We follow guidelines,” he says. “The guidelines are still not standardized but many ministries are developing standards.”

Schoen recalls building a project in Hope, B.C., where “we had to do a study on a very unique owl species, a spotted owl.” Grant money went straight into hiring a biologist.

It’s necessary, he says, but it frustrates longtime volunteers.

“I feel for those guys,” he says. “It used to be that way. All volunteer constructed back in the day. Now we’re telling them it just doesn’t work this way anymore.”

The money behind the boom

Where does the funding come from? There’s no single answer.

“Oh, it’s just a huge mix,” Schoen says. “There are economic development funds but it shifts from year to year.”

About 90 per cent of trail work is still publicly funded.

But one major change stands out: Indigenous communities choosing to invest their own money with no grants attached.

“They realize the value trails have on a social level, on a health level,” he says. “I find that quite significant.”
Schoen predicts the boom continues until at least 2030. After that, the focus will shift.

“We will reach a point where the market is satisfied,” he says. “We have to start concentrating more and more on trail maintenance.”

Why every town needs a trail specialist

One piece of advice Schoen repeats: hire someone who actually understands trails.

“What I’d like to see is to have a trail specialist on staff,” he says.

He points to Quesnel, B.C., which created a part-time trail specialist role and saw immediate benefits; better grant applications, stronger oversight and more credibility with funders.

“You can’t underestimate the importance of having somebody who knows at least a little bit about trails,” he says. “That position 100 per cent can pay for itself.”

Growing a young industry, without breaking it

Even with the challenges, Schoen remains optimistic.

“It is just so interesting to be part of the beginning stages of a new industry,” he says. “To see the growing pains, but also to see progress.”
He just hopes the growth is sustainable.