Julie Cornelius has been helping women around the world discover the power of mountain biking for decades, but her first visit to the Kingdom of Bhutan was a unique lesson in the power of friendship. This remote, mountainous country has just a handful of riders, but the potential to be an example of how to develop a bike culture that’s equal, empowering and inspirational.

Now back home in Moab, Utah, Julie shared her Bhutanese odyssey with us.

Bhutan has plenty of mountains, but not many mountain bikers. Of the 30 or so serious riders in this remote, landlocked and deeply mysterious country, almost none are women. There’s a lot of different reasons for that - bikes and parts are hard to get, many people don’t have much free time for outdoor activities - but the biggest reason is probably cultural. There’s no barrier or prejudice against women doing extreme sports here, it’s more that Bhutan is an outlier. It’s a place that was closed to the outside world for hundreds of years, and hasn’t been flooded with images and examples about how the rest of the world behaves. The notion of women riding mountain bikes isn’t being censored or repressed, it’s more that it just doesn’t even exist in most people’s minds.

My organization World Ride wants to change that. We have helped women all over the world have opportunities through the sport of mountain biking- through training as guides and also participating in community rides. I’m deeply passionate about the transformational power of women on mountain bikes. Not just for themselves, or for the social and economic benefits those jobs can bring, but to be an example that challenges and inspires riders from all over the world. If you arrive for the MTB trip of a lifetime in a remote country and you’re guided by a skilled, knowledgeable, local female rider, then I think your experience of that country is much richer as a result. I’ve seen it happen in Nepal, Guatemala, Peru, Lesotho… and hopefully soon in Bhutan.

But nothing quite prepared me for the breathtaking beauty of Bhutan. The flight into Paro is an adventure in itself, as the small plane steeply banks and swoops perilously close to the Himalayan hillsides before turning a full 180 degrees just feet above the runway to make the landing. It’s a flight that apparently only 50 pilots in the world are considered skillful enough to do.

Those mountains are what defines Bhutan. The forested slopes of the Himalayas spread in all directions, taking up over 70% of the entire country. They have a deep spiritual resonance for the Bhutanese, who don’t allow anyone to climb above 14,000 ft for fear they will disturb the gods. It’s frustrating news for mountain climbers, but it leaves hundreds of miles of old footpaths, animal trails and wild, untamed singletrack free for adventurous mountain bikers. (It also helps that the King of Bhutan is a keen MTB rider himself). You can ride trails that descend 11,000 ft over 25km, with a banner of fluttering prayer flags or a curious dog being your only reminders there’s anyone else living here at all. It’s why more and more adventurous riders are making the journey to ride in Bhutan.

And it’s how I got inspired to come. On a World Ride trip to Nepal a few years ago, I was encouraged to meet Pelden Dorji, owner of Bhutan Rides and the driving force behind Bhutan’s small but mighty MTB scene. He was excited to bring the World Ride story here and we started to work together.. He’s as passionate as I am about making Bhutan’s riding culture one that’s free from tired old patriarchal ideas, and where female riders can play an equal part.

So I arrived in the capital Thimphu early last December with jetlag, anticipation and a big job to do. My crew included US filmmaker Colleen Maes, adventure photographer Leslie Kehemeir and MTB journalist Tim Wild, all intent on capturing the first shots of female mountain bikers in Bhutan on film and in print. We were armed with two new Marin full-suspension bikes, a ton of Shimano clothing and Lazer helmets, and no idea what was going to happen next. Months of planning and discussion are one thing, but being there in person is something else. Would the women we recruited actually show up? Would they actually be interested in putting in the time to become mountain bikers? Nothing as scary as a blank page…

But right there, in the little concrete square outside the hotel, I had one of the best mountain bike experiences I’ve ever had, and I barely even got on a bike. The four local women who’d been intrigued enough to come out and meet us were Dawa, Khusala, Tshering Dolkar and Tshering Zam. They’d all taken time off from work and family obligations to come out and meet us, and they seemed as nervous as I was in those first few minutes.

As soon as we produced two giant cardboard boxes with the new Marin mountain bikes inside and invited the women to unpack them, it was like throwing a switch. They fell on the bikes like an F1 pit crew, and with a little help from me and a few allen wrenches, our fledgling MTB team was off - attaching pedals, adjusting headsets, fitting rotors and saddles, laughing at every slipped bolt and skinned knuckle. No nerves, no cultural barriers, just a group  of friends with a job to do. A couple of hours later, we had two brand new bikes gleaming in the sun, just begging to be ridden.

Our four friends were right at the very start of their cycling journeys. Khusala was the only one who had ridden a bike as a child, and Tshering Zam had only tried riding a bike for the first time around a week before we arrived. But it gave me a chance to do something I love, which is helping people take those very first steps. I’ve been guiding and coaching for a long time, and ridden with hundreds of different people, but I still get a massive kick out of those first moments of discovery when new riders get their first taste of the freedom bikes can bring. Watching these four fledgling riders gently roll around the square, surviving the early wobbles and false starts, running alongside one another with yells of encouragement…it’s a reminder that this work is always, will always, be worth doing.

After our initial session in the square, we all piled into vans and took our novices up to some gentle dirt trails above the city, under the watchful eye of a giant golden buddha. I was able to get into teaching some more technical skills - body position over the bike, how to brake smoothly and shifting weight in the turns. Their energy was infectious, the screams of joy and laughter rang out across the hills, and we rolled into the sunset exhausted, dusty and totally inspired.

For most of us, time on our bikes is an escape - a release from the pressures of everyday life. I want it to be that for all these women, but it needs to be something more too. Bhutan is a poor country, with many of its young people leaving for better economic opportunities in Australia or elsewhere. As more and more international riders make their way here, the trail network grows and the industry develops, I think it’s vital that women play a significant and visible role. But asking our four volunteers to find the time to learn how to ride to a high level, learn hundreds of miles of trail and develop the people skills, mechanical knowledge to be a professional guide is a big undertaking. I was lucky enough to spend some time with each of them at home and meet their families. Their determination and positivity was humbling. Each of them is 100% committed to carving out the time they need to progress, even with the pressures of work or raising a family.

We didn’t get to see them again for another eight days, as Pelden and I were leading a group of US riders on a epic tour of enduro trails around Bhutan.This trip helped to raise money for World Ride, and future ones will hopefully be work for these ladies. When we reunited with our four friends in Paro later that week, I was amazed. They’d all been riding together for two hours each day, taking turns on the bikes. Their cellphone video clips showed them in the alleys behind their houses, out on patches of dirt, making more progress in a handful of days than I ever thought possible. Tshering Zam, who was struggling to stay upright for more than a couple of seconds just days ago, was now confidently standing up on her pedals, turning in wide loops with a grin on her face.

We reconvened outside a coffee shop, saddled up and began to ride. All four of them were able to follow me precisely, keeping the right distance from one another, and roll off a high curb at speed, using good form to soak up the impact with their forearms. They could all brake and stop with confidence and stand up on their pedals too. The idea that one day they might lead a tour group of riders on a fast steep trail through the forests above us seemed totally achievable. Even now, months later, they’re still sending me clips of their progress.

We’ve only taken a few small steps together, but I can’t help but hope that one day those steps will lead to something spectacular. Not because of anything I’ve done, but because once you show women what they’re capable of, there’s no stopping them.