Like a gymnast on a balance beam you scream down the narrow single-track. Thick brush and small trees line the sides of your pathway of fate. You struggle to maintain your balance as you reach a near uncontrollable speed. Your emotions twitching from pure exhilaration to complete panic and fear.
If you’ve ever experienced mountainboarding a single-track you know that there is only so much to do to control your ride. As soon as you drop in you are at the mercy of the track. If it drops steep, so do you. If it curves hard to the left, then you better do the same. If a boulder or a log covers a portion of the track then you better figure something out quick.
There is little that can be offered in terms of advise to those mountainboarding single-tracks. Brakes are obviously helpful, but if you are looking to actually “ride” the track, then they’re out of the question. This lack of options is what attracts many of the riders of the forbidden single-track.
Speed management is one of the biggest obstacles you’ll face. The option to carve is out the window on most single-tracks, but depending on your surrounding terrain you might be able to use it. If the track is carved into the ground, you might be able to rub the edges to slow your descent. Brush or tall grass can be used to slow yourself by simply running your arms through it to provide drag. Watch out for stationary objects if you try this; you don’t want to wrap your arm around a tree.
If after looking at the severe lack of options you still decide to mountainboard a single-track, then buckle your helmet and get ready for a rush. Stay focused or you’ll lose your balance and tweak out. Mountainboarding is always full of split-second decisions, single-tracks just make it a smaller split-second. Keep your eye on that track, it’s the key to your fate- good or bad.


damaged. These limits can be crossed even without a direct blow to the head. If the body comes to a sudden and forceful stop, the brain might still get shook up regardless of where the impact occurred.
I stood atop a windy, Alaskan ridge with my gear strapped on and my mountainboard under my arm. I looked down into the valley below attempting to spot a nice line of decent. The moss-covered terrain was steep and lumpy. Large boulders, once carried by glaciers, now lay scattered about on the mountain side. The view was such a contrast from the coastal firebreak roads of Southern California where I had been mountainboarding for the past three years.






