The mining community of Austin, tucked into the Toiyabe Mountains of central Nevada, once bustled with banks, theaters and grocery and department stores. In the late 1860s, it had more than 10,000 people, a hefty amount for the region at that time.

With the silver boom long over, today many of Austin’s 325 residents make their livings from novelty shops, bars and restaurants. But beyond folks on U.S. 50 stopping in for gas or a Coke, there is little to keep this central Nevada town alive. That’s why mountain biking is so important to Austin.

This weekend, as many as 500 people are expected to visit Austin for the Claim Jumpers Mountain Bike Race.

“I never even heard of Austin until I moved here,” said race organizer Rick Crawford. “But this place has something, and the mountains are perfect for mountain biking.”

Dirt roads already penetrate the brush-covered mountains of the Toiyabe Range. The tacky, gravely soil trails are not too rocky, like those around Reno, and not too sandy, like those around Lake Tahoe. Manageable climbs reward bikers with views of the sage-green Toiyabe, Desatoya and Toquima mountain ranges and the broad, dusty and hazy Reese River and Big Smokey valleys.

Mountain streams running even in August and breezes at the 7,000-foot-plus elevations cool riders. Dispersed across the landscape, gray piles of mine tailings and abandoned mining equipment made of dark wood and rusted iron remind visitors of the area’s economic history.

Nobody believes mountain biking will save Austin, but a lot of folks think it sure will help.

Crawford followed his mother, Patsy Waits, to Austin. Waits, who is serving a second term as president of the Austin Chamber of Commerce, was searching for ways to prop up Austin’s sliding economy. The chamber looked to the mountains. The move was in step with a statewide effort spearheaded by the Nevada Commission on Tourism to get rural communities to diversify their economies with outdoor recreation.

“Our outdoor adventure campaign is driving right at that goal,” said Chris Chrystal, spokeswoman for the commission. “We have to look differently at developing our natural resources into something moneymaking.”

The commission’s outdoor adventure campaign promotes Nevada’s open spaces as uncrowded, rugged places to have fun. Waits turned to her son to see how Austin could capitalize on the same concept.

“My son’s an outdoors guy,” she said. “He loves it out here. So we told him, ‘We need your help.’”

Crawford, 39, saw the potential. But where could a mountain biker buy an extra inner tube, chat with people about trails in the area or get route maps? So in 1996, he moved to Austin and started Tyrannosaurus Rix Mountain Bikes and Specialties.

Then he and other local mountain biking enthusiasts who form the Central Nevada Mountain Biking Association scouted out loops along the dirt roads and built a few singletrack trails to connect them. They applied for grants to post signs along the loops and publish a free pocket trail guide to seven trails. In 1997, they organized the first Claim Jumpers race, which attracted about 75 racers.

This year, they expect about 200 contestants and hundreds more family, friends and spectators to fill the town. Austin has three motels and racers have booked all 46 rooms, but the town will allow camping in its local park this weekend to accommodate the unusual influx of visitors.

“It’s grown into the biggest event in town,” he said.

Change is coming

Although this is a big weekend for Austin, mountain bikers usually don’t fill the town the other 51 weekends of the year. And they don’t always spend big money at one of the rock and bottle or antique shops.

The main source of revenue for shops and restaurants in Austin are tourists passing through on U.S. 50. In fact, passers-by stopping for a frozen yogurt or a coffee drink make up most of T-Rix’s customers. The Austin store, and its Fallon counterpart, are propped up by Crawford’s Elko store.

Nonetheless, local merchants value the mountain bikers’ business, said Audrey Casey, a bartender and waitress at the International House, a restaurant and bar that has been in Austin since 1863.

“They eat and drink plenty, so we welcome them,” said Casey, 48, who has lived in Austin on and off her whole life. “In the summertime, Austin does really good. You have to save real good, ’cause in the winter you don’t get nothin’.”

Although merchants and restaurateurs appreciate anyone’s business, the idea of attracting mountain bikers to Austin didn’t sit well with everyone at first. When Crawford first came to town, trail signs were removed, and some ranchers refused to speak with him, he said.

“They thought I was going to bring a bunch of bunny huggers up here that would drive their cattle off the grazing lands,” he said.

The mountain bikers never complained about the cattle grazing near the trails.

“(The ranchers) saw people coming up here and using the town, visiting the restaurants,” Crawford said. “They (the mountain bikers) added to the community.”

By 1998, townspeople voted Crawford Austin Citizen of the Year. Still, some naysayers remain. “Old Man” Jimmy Williams, a 72-year-old bearded Austin native with dreadlocked facial hair reaching down to his belly, compared local efforts to save the town to Virginia City’s healthy historical tourism economy. But he believes Austin is too far from Reno and Carson City to thrive the way Virginia City has.

“It don’t seem like a lot of them are stoppin’ in town,” Williams said of the mountain bikers. “It looks to me like (Austin) don’t have a real future. Everything’s going down.”

Newcomer Jan Morrison, who bought a former dry goods store six months ago and converted it to a souvenir shop, scoffed at Williams’ suggestion though.

“It’s not on its way down,” she said. “It’s very hard when you live here to see what’s going on in front of you. If you’re from the outside coming in, you see it.”

Morrison, a friend of Waits who worked in economic development in Las Vegas, believes Austin is poised to take advantage of the fast-growing popularity of historical tourism. A wave of empty nesters and retirees will hit the highways of the United States in the next decade, she said, searching out quaint, off-the-beaten-path spots like Austin.

“I did a lot of market studies on my own,” said Morrison. “The money on (U.S.) 50 is unbelievable. If you want to explore and see the Old West, you take 50.”

Singletrack future

Mountain bikers who visit Austin will notice the routes Crawford set up don’t have much wear and tear or much singletrack.

Singletrack trails, smaller paths fit only for foot, equestrian or bike travel, mean a lot to mountain bikers, who often take to the woods to escape roads big enough for motorized vehicles.

“It’s a stunning landscape, but the trails are young,” said Richard Leavitt, a Durango, Colo., software programmer who stumbled upon Austin’s mountain biking while driving home from a business trip in Seattle.

Leavitt rides world-class trails in southwest Colorado and southeast Utah, and said he was generally impressed by the potential the Toiyabe had.

Crawford knows mountain bikers crave singletrack and is working on more of them. He plans on building a signature singletrack trail that will skirt the sides of the Toiyabe Range, providing more technical challenges and grand views.

First, he has to receive a U.S. Forest Service grant and obtain the service’s permission, which is dependent on a routine environmental study to make sure the trail doesn’t adversely impact the mountain ecology.

Since he regularly travels between his Elko, Austin and Fallon stores, Crawford hasn’t had much time for riding on the trails he built. He organizes trail maintenance twice each year and works on getting grants and donations to establish and promote the trail system and mountain bike race.

Still, he doesn’t seem to mind dedicating so much time to promoting mountain biking.

“It’s not about getting rich,” he said. “It’s about a way of life.”