Opinion: I like dogs, but I don’t want to bike with your dog

I like dogs, but just not on the trail, and especially not on the group ride.
A group of three dogs exploring a lush green area near a body of water, with a mountain bike leaning against a tree in the background. The scene captures the essence of a sunny day outdoors, filled with nature.
Photo: Singletracks reader PAriderUSAshreder

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Here’s an uncomfortable situation I’ve been in more than once: I get invited on a group ride. Other than one or two friends, the rest of the group are acquaintances at best. I get to the trailhead, start getting ready, get introduced to those I don’t know, and then that one guy pulls up.

“Hey, I hope you guys don’t mind, but I brought my dog,” Sam or Dylan or whatever his name was says. Not really an ask, but more of an acknowledgment that the dog is coming, hopefully nobody minds.

Well, sir, actually, I do mind. Simply put, I don’t want to ride with your dog.

Dogs are everywhere here…

While this may not be directly related to mountain biking, I feel it’s important groundwork for my argument, so please bear with me.

I live in Bend, Oregon, and dogs are everywhere here. Now, before you tell me to live somewhere else, please understand that I don’t hate dogs. I like dogs. In fact, I used to have a dog.

Lenny was my guy. He is a Foxhound who now lives a very happy life in Boise, Idaho. Lenny came to live with us after wandering the open fields of eastern Oregon in 2016. My son was born a year later, and the two became fast friends. 

And then my daughter came along. We don’t know why, but she was terrified of all animals, especially “move-y” dogs. Since it was disheartening to watch a toddler have legitimate anxiety, we were able to re-home Lenny with some friends.

Rough estimates say that up to 60% of households in Bend own a dog. What that means is that I live in a place where dogs are often in my business. And that’s okay, again, I don’t hate dogs. But it also means they are up in my (now-age-six) daughter’s business.

A few weeks ago, we went to one of the popular local trailheads. My daughter has taken an interest in “dirt trail riding,” which I absolutely want to encourage. I got out, opened her door so she could climb out, and got to work getting the bikes and gear ready. Suddenly, she let out a blood-curdling scream and burst into tears. Someone’s off-leash dog came to greet my daughter, trapping her between the car and the bike rack.

Two dogs, one with a brown and black coat sitting, and the other with a black and white coat standing, are positioned on a rocky surface. They are surrounded by a landscape of vibrant autumn trees in shades of yellow and green, with distant mountains visible in the background. The scene captures a tranquil outdoor setting on a clear day. Chengeltei Mountain North mountain bike trail.
Welcomed trail friends for a day. Photo: Singletracks reader mongwolf.

“Don’t worry, he’s friendly!”

There are two responses we commonly get when someone’s off-leash dog runs up to my daughter, like what happened at the trailhead. The first, and correct response, is that the person recognizes the terror in my daughter’s voice and apologetically runs up to get their dog.

The other response, which we surprisingly get more often than you’d think, is for the person to remain where they are, making no attempt to get their dog. “It’s okay, he’s a friendly dog!” is typically what they shout. 

And, frankly, my daughter doesn’t care. She’s getting better and even petted her first dog two years ago. But having a dog, friendly or not, run up on her unexpectedly is a major setback. 

After this incident at the trailhead, our day was over. My daughter, suddenly realizing there were multiple dogs at the trailhead, was worried that another would “get her” on her bike. 

I mean, all dogs are friendly, right? At least, everyone thinks their dog is friendly. Let’s be honest, we’re very partial to our dogs. Lenny was absolutely the best dog and could do no wrong. In fact, you probably think your dog is the same; the “goodest boy,” as it were. And, surely, the “goodest boy” is going to listen to your every word and command, right? 

Wrong! I’ve been in enough situations, both on and off the bike, where someone’s dog does something unexpected. The person is, of course, absolutely puzzled, responding to their dog’s behavior, saying, “I swear they’ve never done that before.”

Or that they are usually really well behaved. Or that they usually always stay behind them. Or that they usually always listen to their commands.

Usually. “Usually” is a word I hear thrown around a lot when it comes to their dog’s behavior.

A close-up view of fresh snow covering the ground, featuring mountain bike tire tracks and dog paw prints imprinted on the surface. The contrast between the smooth, untouched snow and the patterned tracks creates a visual of movement in a winter landscape.
Photo: Travis Reill

Riding with your dog

I’m already anticipating the comments. “Well, my dog actually responds to voice recall.” I get it, you have a great dog. I’ll pet your dog at the trailhead post-ride while we chat and have a beer. You’ll leave thinking, “Wow, that guy really likes dogs.”

Regardless, I still don’t want to ride with your dog.

Simply put, I’ve been in too many of those “usually” experiences. I’ve been on a group ride with a dog that got into a fight with another dog. I’ve been on a group ride with a dog that ran off, and we spent 45 minutes calling for it. I’ve been on a group ride with a dog and had that dog cut directly in front of me on fast sections of trail. Fortunately, I didn’t crash. 

At least, not that time.

A couple of years ago, I was invited on a ride with a few of my buddies. When they picked me up from my house (nice friends, I know), one of them told me they had also invited their neighbor.

The neighbor, with dog in tow, met us at the trailhead. About a mile into the ride, the neighbor’s free-range dog ran up beside me, causing me to swerve and have a fairly significant pedal strike. The pedal strike lobbed me forward over the bars, with dirt, rocks, and sagebrush to break my fall.

Strangely enough, that particular dog usually didn’t run up alongside people like that…

Listen, I’m not advocating for keeping your dog chained up at home. I’m not even saying that they should be on a leash, despite the high probability of leash laws in the area you’re riding. I do know that there are well-trained dogs that do well on rides, and I’ve even ridden with one. 

But that is sort of the point, isn’t it? One of them. It seems that most other dogs fall into the “usually” category. Do you want to bring your dog with you on your ride? Great; do so solo. A dog at home is much different than a dog in the woods. Freedom to run and explore. Squirrels and deer. I mean, how do you expect them to respond to your commands?

Then add in five or six extra people, and it is a recipe for disaster. Plus, it isn’t only the riders who could potentially be hurt, but your dog as well. In my situation, where a dog caused me to crash, I fortunately didn’t land on the dog. It wouldn’t have gone so well for the dog if I had.

So, for group rides, let’s keep it humans and bikes.