How to Read a Getting Dirty with Glenn Trail Guide

     Every trail guide I create comes with a scorecard, and before you dive in I want to explain how it works. That way you’ll know why one trail gets a standing ovation and another gets a polite nod and a pat on the handlebars. Think of it as a report card for bike trails, except nobody gets grounded and the trail can’t blame the teacher.

     Each trail is graded in 22 categories, and each one is worth up to 10 points, so a perfect trail would score 220. I have yet to find that trail. If you know where it is, please tell me, because I’ll be packing the van before you finish typing. A score of 1 means the category needs serious help, and a 10 means the trail nailed it. Every so often you’ll see a zero. A zero doesn’t mean the trail failed. It means the thing doesn’t exist there yet. You can’t grade a shuttle service that never shows up, no matter how long you stand at the trailhead looking hopeful.

     The scorecard has three columns. The category name is on the left. The score is in the middle. My notes are on the right, and that’s where the good stuff lives. The number tells you what I think, and the notes tell you why. A 2 for bathroom cleanliness is useful information. Knowing that the cleanest restroom on the Interurban is hiding inside the county transit building outside Port Washington, without a single sign pointing to it, is the kind of information that can save your whole afternoon. Read the notes. That’s where I share everything I learned the hard way so you don’t have to.

     Some categories are pretty self explanatory. Bathroom cleanliness really needs no explanation, and anyone who has opened the door of a portable toilet in August knows exactly what I’m talking about. Others need a little translating. Riding difficulty works backward from what you might expect. A high score means an easy ride with gentle rolling terrain, like a Sunday cruise. A low score means the hills will test your legs, your gears, and your vocabulary. Ebikes help, but a 10 percent grade is still a bear, even with a battery cheering you on. Trail permit required also seems a little upside down. A trail with no permit earns a full 10, and a trail that requires a day or season pass earns a 5. Paying for a pass isn’t a bad thing, since that money often keeps the trail in great shape. I just give a small bonus to trails where you can show up and ride.

     The Destination category is my favorite because it comes down to one simple question. Would I drive two hours or more to ride this trail? A 10 means pack the bikes, book a room, and plan on staying for dinner. A 2 means it’s a fine trail if you live nearby, but I wouldn’t skip lunch to get there. Scenery and Unique features are where my own bias shows up, and I’m upfront about it. I’ll take woods, lakes, streams, trestles, and wildflower fields over a strip mall any day. Farmland has its charm, but if a trail makes me cross 13 trestles over winding streams in full fall color, like the Bearskin does, I start talking about it the way other people talk about their grandkids.

     You’ll also notice that a few trails become the standard for everything else. Heart of Vilas County is my gold standard for trail maintenance, because that crew clears debris after a windstorm faster than I can find my sunglasses. The Bearskin is my gold standard for unique features. When I score another trail in those categories, I’m comparing it to those two, so those are high bars to clear.

     The total score is a quick snapshot, and here’s a simple way to read it. A trail scoring around 180 or higher is the real deal and worth building a weekend around. Somewhere in the middle means a solid ride with a few rough spots that the notes will help you work around. Under 100 usually points to a good local trail for daily exercise or commuting, but not one that is worth the gas money. Just keep in mind that the total doesn’t tell the whole story. A trail can score low overall and still have the best restaurants I’ve found on two wheels, which is exactly the case on parts of the Interurban. If tacos matter more to you than trestles, and I won’t judge, the category scores will help you find your trail.

     Finally, these scores aren’t carved in granite. I’ll ride every trail again each year and update the ratings. Trails change. A section gets repaved, a repair station finally gets a new air gauge, or construction sends everyone onto busy roads for a few seasons. When a trail improves, I’ll be the first to cheer. When it slips, I’ll tell you that too, kindly but honestly. That’s the deal. I ride it, I rate it, and you get to enjoy the good parts without the guesswork.

Now grab your helmet. The scorecards are waiting, and so are the trails.