The Trail That Built Me: Lessons From Rose Valley and the People Who Shaped My Riding

Every rider has that one trail system — the place where everything clicked, where the sport stopped being just a hobby and became something deeper. For me, that place is Rose Valley Regional Park.

I’ve ridden those trails more times than I could ever count. Before I left Strava, I remember seeing that I’d climbed Daze of Roses up to City on the Edge of Forever 278 times. Maybe that’s a lot, maybe it isn’t, but considering my first ride there was back in 2015 — when I was brand‑new to the Okanagan and even newer to mountain biking — it means something to me.

Rose Valley has always been a source of joy. Even after the fire, once my brain adjusted to the changed landscape, I found a different kind of beauty in it. But the real magic of that place isn’t just the terrain — it’s the people who shaped my early riding years.

Learning to Ride With Zero Ego Mentors

When I first started riding in the Okanagan, I was surrounded by incredibly skilled, incredibly fit riders… and not a shred of ego among them. They showed me lines, taught me trails, and never made me feel out of place — even when I was completely out of my depth.

One of the most influential people during that time was Todd Moore — my former boss and now a dear friend. Todd essentially taught me how to mountain bike. We’d ride Rose Valley and the 3BMICE trails before work, and he had one rule:

“Before 1pm, we don’t talk shop — we ride.”

I remember struggling on a feature one day, and Todd patiently sessioned it with me until I could ride it clean. That kind of mentorship stays with you.

The Hatch Ride: A Humbling Introduction

Another early memory was being invited to the Tuesday night Hatch ride by Ryan Pannell and Trevor Odlum — two more insanely strong riders with, again, zero ego. I was eager to learn, eager to ride with people better than me.

My first night? I flatted. Lost the group. Never saw them again.

That’s when I learned the Hatch ride is, in fact, a drop ride.

I was intimidated, sure, but Ryan and Trevor encouraged me to come back. A few weeks later, they mentioned another woman — a “fast girl” — would be joining. I was stoked.

Meeting Kath: The Power of Being Towed Into Confidence

That night we stayed on the east side of the dam and planned to ride Bare Bones. I had never ridden it. It was dark. I’d be riding it blind. But I didn’t care — I was just excited to ride with another woman.

That’s when I met Kathryn McInerney — an absolute legend. Stupid fast. Highly skilled. Zero ego.

I told her I’d never ridden Red Rock or Bare Bones Bob. She smiled and said:

“Follow my line. I’ll tow you in on the features.”

So I did. All I focused on was the beam of my light and her rear wheel. By the time we rolled back into the parking lot, I was buzzing — adrenaline, joy, pride. I’d ridden proper technical terrain and made a new friend.

A few days later, I went back in daylight and realized just how much exposure there was. I nearly scared myself silly. But that night ride taught me something powerful:

Focused attention, an open attitude, and someone believing in you can change everything.

Why Mentorship Matters

Every time I ride Bare Bones, I think of Kath — and Todd, and Ryan, and Trevor. They’re the people who made me fall in love with mountain biking. They’re the reason I became a coach.

Because if I could learn — awkward, intimidated, out of my depth — then someone else can too. Sometimes all a rider needs is someone in their corner:

• nudging

• encouraging

• believing

• showing them what’s possible

until they learn to believe in themselves.

If you have someone like that in your life, recognize how lucky you are. If you don’t, I hope you become that person for someone else.

Be a Todd. Be a Kath. Be a Ryan. Be a Trevor.

Mentorship builds more than skill — it builds self‑belief, community, and a lifelong passion for the sport.