Are Multi-Use Paths the “Stroads” of Active Transportation Infrastructure?

I love it when I come across the word “stroad” in the wild.

I saw it on Twitter the other day, in an unexpected context. It accompanied video footage of a busy multi-use path (MUP), capturing a number of near misses between folks on bikes and those walking. The user who shared the video commented that ”multi-use paths suck… They are the ‘stroad’ of active transportation infrastructure.”

Multi-Use Pathways suck*

Segregate modes & build wide paths so everyone can pass safely and people of all ages and abilities feel comfortable. That is how you build a city's AT modal share!😊

*I will not comment on human behaviour. It is always about design, design, design. pic.twitter.com/8V3ZLvJFEx

— Dave Robertson (@DaveBikeSki) June 20, 2023

As I hit the “like” button, I grinned and nodded in recognition.

Multi-use paths or trails, aka shared-use paths/trails, are a type of path where people can move in different ways (walking, biking, scooting, etc.) in a setting that’s completely separate from motor vehicle traffic. When I first began riding a bike for transportation, discovering MUPs felt like paradise to me. Free from fast-moving, heavy vehicles, I could relax and enjoy the ride. But on certain paths, it wasn’t long before the bloom was off the rose. Blind corners. Insufficient width for riding beside my wobbly kids. Feeling guilty about taking up too much room, and stressed about being able to react quickly. People going a lot faster or a lot slower than me, and no room to pass those walking comfortably. 

I quickly came to the conclusion that while multi-use paths are better than nothing, those that are useful for transportation tend to be busy, and often leave a lot to be desired.

Digging into this stroad/MUP comparison, there are a lot of parallels. The frustration of all that stopping and starting. The dangerous mixing of speeds and modes. Some people walking and biking are trying to experience a place; others want to get somewhere quickly. 

MUPs often try to serve both people enjoying a place (like with streets) and people trying to get somewhere else (like with roads). If the path gets crowded, has poor visibility around corners, and people moving at significantly different speeds, then it fails as both a recreational amenity and a transportation route.

Here’s an example of a well-used MUP where I live, within a wonderful riverside park system. It’s a popular place for strolling with a coffee or a co-worker. But it’s also the primary active transportation connector between downtown and the neighborhoods to the north. And it connects to the Forks, which I’ve mentioned in a previous article and is one of my favorite places—and was my destination the day I took these photos to try to show what the place is and what the struggles are for those enjoying the space and trying to move through it quickly.

Here’s the first sign that I’m in a place. Someone has cared enough to plant this gorgeous native wildflower garden! 

This next spot also gets points for “place”: picnic table and cute old-timey lighting. This looks and feels nice, but the path has started to significantly narrow, and this is where I start to feel stressed if I’m riding my bike with kids (or even beside another adult). Folks might be coming toward us from around the curve ahead, and we might not have time to tighten up our formation before a potential conflict.

More place points: these picturesque flower gardens alongside a footbridge. Ahhh…. So lovely.

But what’s this? Another (very) blind corner. This path has sweeping curves, lots of trees and bushes, and side paths that join up to it. If you’re moving at a walking pace, blind corners are not a big problem. The environment makes for an interesting and pleasant stroll, but it’s a bit of a nuisance for people just trying to get through, and creates a lot of potential conflict points with other bikes and people walking or rolling.

Here’s another nice spot. Even better than a garden: a named garden! 

Next, the MUP spits out onto a sidewalk where people regularly ride their bikes, even though it’s technically illegal. This section always makes me nervous as it’s not very wide, it’s right against the roadway, and it’s interrupted by assorted signage poles and light standards. Crossing paths with others feels too close.

Finally, the last stretch. We’re back on an MUP and it is gloriously wide and comfortable. (But it’s also predictably under a foot or two of mud and therefore closed for a good chunk of the spring every year.)

My journey today left me with little doubt. On balance, most of this MUP is clearly located within a place, one that’s meant to be moved within slowly. It’s supposed to feel uncomfortable to bike through it quickly because it wasn’t designed with that in mind. And yet, people on bikes are traveling through it quickly, and that’s because it’s really the ONLY route for connecting to other places.

We need to question whether these two things can co-exist. On a busy day, it becomes a frustrating experience for everyone, regardless of whether they’re walking or biking. Can this be both a place and a route for passing through it? Not really. We need to pick one.

Rather than live with a stroad-y MUP, it’s time to give the folks who are just passing through the area their own dedicated space. Right now, all that’s happening is we’re creating resentment and conflict in the space we’ve already directed a lot of time and resources into making a place. 

The tweet I mentioned earlier suggests what I think is probably the most realistic solution: “Segregate modes and build wide paths so everyone can pass safely and people of all ages and abilities feel comfortable. That is how you build a city's [active transportation] modal share!”

There is plenty of actual road space nearby to reallocate to safer biking, whether that’s protected bike lanes, true woonerf-style shared streets, or otherwise.

In this specific instance, there is a street, Waterfront Drive, that runs along this entire park system that should be better for biking than the MUP is: it’s flatter, more direct, and about as traffic-calmed as you can hope for at present in North America (roundabouts, raised crosswalks, interesting paving materials, etc.). And yet, most cyclists prefer the park where it’s hillier, takes longer and has more conflicts. What’s the missing ingredient that would make Waterfront the preferable choice? That’s interesting and worth exploring.

I will confess, it does make me feel sort of sheepish to be complaining about this MUP. Shouldn’t I be grateful that it exists at all? Another way to frame this is to say it’s a good problem to have. It means there is both an otherwise successful place and strong demand for active transportation infrastructure: two big wins for any town or city. Time to lean in and build on these successes by taking the next step!

The point is, the more a place is “a place,” the more pedestrian oriented it has to be. If this particular MUP is so much of a place that fast-moving bikes erode its value, then the real problem is that we don’t have enough active transportation routes to get places. The problem is not that this MUP exists, it’s that it exists as the ONLY option.

There are many successful places we can look to for practical and time-tested advice, if we are humble enough to admit we have a problem and are not sure how to solve it, and if we are fearless enough to (pardon the pun) take a new and different path.

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