I first came across Simon Reid through Two Wheels ’N’ Pub Meals, a video project released in 2009 showcasing Hobart crew (with many crossovers to the Melbourne scene). Subsequently, having spent time together while in Tasmania riding bikes and sporadic check in’s online, I was curious to get to know the dude better. 

Forever motivated to bring nuance to lazy stereotypes, it’s then somewhat paradoxical the central themes that bely the following feature. A true Tasmanian, Simon represents the more benevolent cultural traits pre-disposed of our southern brethren; a deep attachment to place, a gentle and modest spirit, a guarded and thoughtful approach to life and a nod to the ‘artisanal’ vein of the state through creating things in connection to the land.

Having been a biker for close to 30 years, Simon’s story is BMX through and through. As is tradition, starting off ripping skids with neighbourhood groms and moving into racing, the connections to other dudes are formed and the journey to lifer status flourishes. For Simon, it was being introduced to one of his best mates, Nick Hills, of which together, the boys became further connected to the Hobart scene (Clown Bikes, PHATT Bikes) and developed their own crew, SOUTH BMX. The motivation and love for BMX grows rapidly after meeting the Orchard brothers (Sam & Toby) and agreeing to make a full-length video - of which 3 were made over the years. 

While BMXing might not be as prevalent as it used to be, Simon is still deeply embedded in biking culture, frequenting the bigger, squishier more expensive version (i.e. MTB), overseeing his own trails and continuing to build trails/dirt parks (amongst other broader excavation projects) as an employee and now under his own banner, Blacksnake Trails. 

At first glance, the project seems like a dream crossover between BMX, mountain biking and working outdoors; shaping dirt for private clients, councils and riders alike, all against the backdrop of Tasmania’s rugged landscape. The more we spoke over a long and winding email exchange stretching across almost 2 years, the more it became clear that Blacksnake Trails is really just one branch of a much larger tale — one shaped by BMX, creativity, mental health struggles, environmental contemplation, DIY ethics and the slow process of building a meaningful life.

Read on as we explore Simon Reid and his role in being part of that uniquely Australian lineage of riders who grew up immersed in local BMX scenes before carrying those values into adulthood in unexpected ways. His story weaves through trail building, handmade huts, excavators, Tasmanian wilderness, long-term friendships and the balancing act between freedom and responsibility.

A long time biker with a particular interest in trail building, Simon has worked with some of the heaviest of hitters from the MTB/trail building scene (Baxter Maiwald, Tom Mallet, Dan Booker to name but a few), refining his love for the craft and building on the skills he already developed through his BMX past. Thirsty to take advantage of the opportunity to build trails for a living alongside some of the best to do it, there was never a long-term vision to start his own company, rather a gratefulness for toiling as a labourer; manning the chainsaw, guiding a rake or slapping away with a shovel as the crew skilfully weaved through the untamed bush in a 1.7 tonne excavator. 

While the experience of working as a full-time trail builder was of course incredible, including having worked on such world-class facilities as Maydena Bike Park (90 minutes drive north-west of Hobart), a location of which has supported events like Redbull ‘Hardline’, external circumstances eventually brought about an end to this phase as priorities were rearranged. Simon had met his now long-term partner, Kerrie, meaning the demands of travel for work (requiring him to be in NSW for long periods of time) were becoming quite a challenge. This was in addition to absorbing a suite of forced changes and perspective shifts through the pandemic era. A retreat from the world was on the cards, a time to contemplate what was to come next, helpfully guided by Simon’s own unique slice of paradise on the hilly, vegetated fringes of Mt Wellington/Kunanyi.

With some money in the bank, Simon pulled out of the Dirt Art gig and leaned into working on his own trail spot while developing a relationship with his partner Kerrie and stepson in suburban Hobart. As life tends to facilitate, once a door is shut and the invitation to opportunity extended (consciously or otherwise), new possibilities arrive. 

For Simon, this took the form of a trip to the east coast over Christmas 2021/2022. An unlikely introduction between friends brought Simon in contact with a pair who were coincidentally seeking assistance in building trails for a privately run mini-bike park. After generating an ABN and a stratum of confidence post gig numero uno, the not so developed muscle of entrepreneurship flexed itself to the point of no-return. Blacksnake Trails was born and continues to grow to this day. 

While the Blacksnake experience largely rests in building trails, including a 2 year long relationship with a vineyard in Derwent Valley (who own and operate a set of MTB trails), Simon has recently advanced his skillset to include broader excavation projects such as backyard terracing, vegetation clearing, rock retaining walls, drainage and driveway resurfacing. It’s not a surprise to understand that trail building projects are a particularly niche market.

“For the last few months I’ve been working for a client in more of a landscape construction type role and have barely touched a digger other than to work on my own trails. It has been nice to have a break from the digger and use some of my other skills. These last few months have shifted my perspective and paved the way for the next phase of the business, from excavation specific jobs into more project based work where I can use a more broad variety of my skills.

I feel very lucky to enjoy the freedom that comes with working for myself and even more lucky to enjoy doing the work itself. I can’t say that without mentioning Kerrie and her part in it, she has helped me in every aspect other than the actual excavation work and without her support there’s no way I would’ve made it this far.”

While Simon has spent the last 6 years operating around 30 different machines over thousands of hours, the last stint has seen less time in the machine - other than where working on his own trails. Recently demolishing the existing line and finalising a new one, Simon and a small crew of diggers are chipping away at some fine dirt sculptures in the northern foothills of Mt Wellington/Kunanyi. No doubt a catalyst for his longevity in BMX, there’s more than just the attraction of trails to this spot, it’s also where Simon has built a hut within which he used to live. 

Despite the hut residency lessening in recent times (what with it slowly evolving into a tool shed and spot for trail hangs), it is nonetheless a unique part of Simon’s life and symbolic of the Tasmanian experience. Set into the hillside on a circular shaped pad, the structure is made entirely out of natural materials - costing no more than $120. Supported by a timber frame with mud brick (and glass bottle) walls and reciprocal style roof (i.e. interlocking), it’s a real testament to ingenuity, sustainability and resourcefulness. 

“...a project inspired by an interest in huts and cabins generally, the practice of building with natural materials, and making myself somewhere to live while not having much money or work going on at the time. I had some pretty strict rules for the build, no power tools, no new materials and to spend as little money as possible.”

Nestled on private property just metres from his trails, there is a deep sense of connection between man and hut. Well camouflaged despite the unconventional protrusion, it represents a place of retreat, of warmth, of security and comfort, somewhere to ponder and play whilst the bleakness of life is shielded by the rugged crest and open alpine heaths of ancient Kunanyi. It’s also something to be proud of, both from a sustainability point of view as well as in built form. 

“The hut is very non-conventional in the way it’s designed and built. Probably out of some sort of rebellion to the norm and experimenting to see what was possible. The materials I wanted to use are labour intensive but free if you have access to them. The hut is also very small and has no running water or power, hence the extremely low cost. That’s not to mention I had very little money at the time haha.

I think I was just drawn to the idea and inspired by some more creative owner-built homes I’d had the opportunity to experience, and I just leaned into that and wondered how far I could push it.”

Fascinatingly, Simon points to the rich Tasmanian history of huts. Primarily a phenomenon of the late 19th century, it’s understood that there are close to 30 huts that were built around the base of Mt Wellington. Men would work their full time jobs and then on the weekend, would scout a flat spot by a water source and go to town constructing these gloriously beautiful huts as a place of recreation. Unfortunately most of them were destroyed by fire, however there are still to this day, remnants that can be found by keen eyed hikers and hut aficionados. 

“There are also quite a few huts in the highland lakes region. My friend Mikey, who used to ride and was in the SOUTH BMX videos, is a keen fly fisherman and has taken me on many wild adventures to those less habitable parts of Tasmania. In our travels between lakes we have visited many and stayed a night in some of those huts. They vary in age and intended use but are now somewhat protected to my understanding; maintained and restored by the Mountain Huts Preservation Society.”

Moving from one quintessentially Tasmanian theme to another. 

Having noticed Simon sporting a Bob Brown shirt (stalwart of the conservation movement in Tasmania and founding member of the Australian Greens), I wanted to explore his views on environmentalism. Acknowledged as being ingrained in the Tasmanian culture, what with the state essentially being one great big national park (in fact it’s approximately ⅕ of the overall landmass), there is then an increased chance of the community forming a meaningful relationship with the natural environment. Simon has matured his views to a point of balanced wisdom; originating with the weight of anxiety and more recently, moderated and resigned to the effect of pragmatism. 

“It’s a fine line because we all rely on certain things like energy production, mining, big industry etc. and we don’t necessarily know or even want to know the reality of the environmental cost of those things but the effect will be felt by people in the future, i.e. our kids and theirs. There doesn’t seem to be a perfect way to live and it’s a lot of pressure to put on ourselves to even attempt that. I think we just have to accept that we all have an impact and do what we feel is right according to our values; balancing our mental, physical health and quality of life.”

Not falling into the emotionally taxing depths of advocacy, protest or radicalism, Simon prefers to harness the sincerity of his social conscience and apply it to personal endeavours such as individual consumption and lessening one’s own footprint. Finding it to be a positive impact in his life having helped reach the aforementioned balance, softening the edges of virtue indecision. This approach extends to trail building, which is somewhat contradictory in terms of environmental protection where related to larger scale projects. 

“You can’t build trails in the bush without causing some disturbance but there are ways of limiting it. Being conscious of your actions is the main response. I am probably biased but I do think getting people into the bush on their bikes, feet or any other way does encourage them to respect the natural world which I hope has a positive effect long term.”

Positivity abound, not only from perspective shifts and a connection to the natural world, but of course from our lord and savior, bikes. With a shout to Dave Camilleri and the important work he does in promoting the wider social benefits of BMX to the community at large, Simon mentions a kinship between the two. A line of thought that Dave is remarkable at communicating and one which resonates with Simon; why and how does BMX improve our lives? From mental health to physical exercise, experiencing accomplishment, bonding with peers, exploring the world in a highly unique way. Incredibly, most of these forces are secondary to the primary motivation of simply riding a bike. They aren’t initially sought out, they’re a by-product, which enhances the meaning and depth of how they’re felt. 

As Simon muses, BMX has been a source of strength for working through various mental health battles, not only in the sense of freedom and escapism, but also in the act of building things. Unsurprisingly, there is then a tone of gratefulness in discovering BMX as a kid and then having the opportunity to be a part of the community over a number of decades. Simon now leads an existence oriented to welcoming all that life has to offer, including an appreciation for not only the trivial but one’s anchors; his partner Kerrie and stepson Logan. 

"Theres been a lot of talk in recent times about people feeling BMX owes them something, be it free parts, overseas trips, or even a paycheck. Of course, those talking that way are on the extreme end and are usually the top riders with mad skills and who have put a lot on the line to progress the ‘sport’ in some way.

Then there’s riders like me, who I think of as the 'average' rider. Not particularly extreme, not dropping NBD’s, not chasing anything really, other than having a good time with friends on bikes.

Riders like me know what we are owed and it's bugger all, but regardless we get a lot. Friends for life, memories, experiences, resilience and the mindset, the child-like perspective that BMX gives us, and a true DIY spirit. You can’t ask for much more."