Imagine a teenager’s passion for building bike jumps turning into a lesson in leadership—sounds inspiring, right? But here’s where it gets controversial: what if that passion leads to illegal construction on public land, only to be bulldozed by authorities? This is the story of Zeke Woolcock, a 16-year-old Tasmanian whose determination to create biking playgrounds has sparked a debate about how society should handle young people’s creativity and energy.
In a secluded patch of private bushland near Launceston, Zeke meticulously shapes piles of dirt into jumps and berms. Armed with nothing but handheld tools, he and his friends have moved tonnes of soil over the past few months, channeling the boundless energy that teenagers are known for. But this isn’t Zeke’s first rodeo. He’s done this before—on public land, where development requires safety, conservation, and heritage assessments. One morning, he woke up to a text from a friend: their hard work had been destroyed. And this is the part most people miss: research suggests authorities should collaborate with young people like Zeke, not just tear down their creations.
Zeke’s journey began years ago when he fell in love with biking and quickly advanced to performing technical tricks over large jumps at high speeds. He started building jumps near his home in a Launceston suburb, then moved to bushland near the city’s stadium. ‘We found a really good spot with perfect dirt, right next to the Silverdome,’ he recalls. For four to five months, Zeke and his mates worked tirelessly, often late into the night after school and TAFE, even during winter. ‘It was just building and building and building,’ he says. But the ‘perfect dirt’ was located in the Kate Reed Nature Recreation Area, public land managed by the Parks and Wildlife Service (PWS). Unaware of the regulations, Zeke’s ‘pride and joy’ was eventually demolished by authorities.
‘I saw my pride and joy being taken down,’ Zeke admits. While the reserve has officially sanctioned mountain bike tracks that meet safety and conservation standards, Zeke’s jumps didn’t. ‘I should have been more responsible,’ he reflects. The PWS stated the jumps were unsafe and lacked the necessary assessments, which could impact threatened species, Aboriginal heritage, and cause erosion. But is destruction the only solution? Here’s the controversial question: Could authorities instead guide young people like Zeke to build sanctioned trails, fostering their skills and community spirit?
Robert Potter, a professional trail builder based in Launceston, thinks so. He remembers doing the same thing as a teenager, only to have his jumps flattened repeatedly. ‘This happens all over the world,’ he says. Potter believes involving young people in building and maintaining official trails is the key. ‘We need to harness their enthusiasm and skills,’ he argues. ‘Replicating what they build isn’t enough—they need to be part of the process.’
University of Melbourne researcher David Camilleri agrees. He’s studied how building jumps fosters leadership, problem-solving, and a sense of community among young people. ‘It’s about creating a space for themselves,’ he explains. ‘They use shovels, dig jumps, ride together, and build social connections.’ Zeke echoes this, saying, ‘It’s really helped me become a leader.’ Potter adds that such experiences can even shape careers, like his own.
But when jumps are destroyed, trust in authorities can erode. ‘Demolition disrupts positive outcomes,’ Dr. Camilleri warns. He suggests authorities engage with young people, explain safety concerns, and collaborate on approved tracks. The PWS claims they tried to consult with Zeke last year but received no response. They emphasize working with the Launceston Mountain Bike Club to ensure safe, approved tracks and encourage young people to partner with them on future projects.
Despite setbacks, Zeke continues building on private land near Kate Reed, receiving positive feedback. ‘Even if I had nowhere to build, I’d still find a way,’ he says. While Tasmania boasts well-built trails in places like Derby and Maydena, travel isn’t always an option for Zeke. ‘So I decided to bring the bike parks to me,’ he explains.
Now, here’s the thought-provoking question: Should authorities view young people’s unauthorized trail-building as a problem to be solved or an opportunity to nurture leadership and community engagement? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation!
