Scenic Rail Riders: Can New Hampshire’s Most Scenic Ride Be Saved?

It starts with a sound — a rhythmic clack-clack-clack of metal meeting metal — but not from an old freight train or industrial ghost. Instead, it’s laughter and conversation floating through the trees as bright pedal-powered rail bikes glide along New Hampshire’s forgotten tracks. This is Scenic Rail Riders, a family-run business that transformed abandoned rail lines into one of the state’s most surprising and beloved attractions.

The concept is delightfully simple: custom-built bicycles designed to run on decommissioned railways, giving riders a front-row seat to the state’s rolling hills, winding rivers, and endless green. The experience is part fitness, part nostalgia, and entirely immersive. Since opening, Scenic Rail Riders has hosted over 73,000 guests, from adventurous couples to families seeking something truly different.

But the real story is the people behind the pedals. Founder Gary, with his wife and three children, didn’t just launch a business—they engineered it from scratch. Gary designed and welded the rail bikes himself, built from his own ideas, materials, and ingenuity. The family cleared brush, restored the rails, and handled tours, marketing, and maintenance with nothing but determination and community spirit. No investors, no PR firm—just vision, grit, and the occasional grease stain.

For years, Scenic Rail Riders has been more than a quirky tourist stop—it’s been a symbol of family craftsmanship and local pride. Riders from across the Northeast have come to experience this unique blend of exercise and exploration, powered by human energy and a deep respect for history. Many leave describing it as one of the most peaceful adventures they’ve ever had.

At its heart, this is an entrepreneurial success story born from a love of place. The rails once carried timber and trade; today, they carry joy, curiosity, and the gentle hum of sustainable recreation. The business grew organically, fueled by word of mouth and repeat visitors, until it became an essential part of New Hampshire’s outdoor tourism identity.

Yet, as often happens when passion meets progress, change is coming.

The dispute isn’t simply “the state versus a small business.” According to Gary, the City of Concord and the Merrimack River Greenway Trail group are pursuing a purchase of the rail corridor to convert it into a trail, effectively displacing Scenic Rail Riders. He says the solution runs through the State of New Hampshire, which holds a right of first refusal and could acquire the corridor, extend Scenic Rail Riders’ lease, and require the City to build a greenway alongside the existing tracks. 

To his credit, Gary hasn’t resisted change; he’s proposed collaborative alternatives—like building the public bike trail alongside his existing rail route or creating a shared-use corridor that preserves both visions.

The City, Gary adds, has cited deed language from CSX that would bar “trail with rail,” yet he says CSX told him the operation could continue if the City allowed it. He also disputes the City’s claim that federal funding prohibits a dual-use corridor, pointing to New Hampshire’s WOW Trail as precedent for a federally supported path constructed beside active rail. In Gary’s view, the impasse isn’t about feasibility—it’s about will. “The State is the only one who can save us,” he says, arguing that collaboration could preserve the family’s rail-bike experience while delivering the regional trail connection the City wants.

So far, the state has not embraced that compromise.

This story resonates deeply with me. Years ago, I led the largest bike rental operation in the United States—right in Central Park, New York City. Like Gary, I faced the complexities of working with government agencies, balancing regulation, recreation, and preservation. We won a competitive RFP process to operate under the city’s oversight, and instead of friction, the result was collaboration. The public benefited, the city gained revenue, and visitors got to experience one of the world’s greatest parks in a new, sustainable way.

Later, I brought that same philosophy to Condado, San Juan, Puerto Rico, where I owned and operated a bicycle and kayak rental business for nearly four years. There, I saw firsthand how partnerships between local government, private enterprise, and community stakeholders can revitalize public spaces and attract tourism while protecting the natural environment.

That same model of partnership could thrive here. Scenic Rail Riders doesn’t compete with New Hampshire’s trail system—it complements it. Visitors who ride the rails might also explore local bike trails, stay in local inns, and dine in small-town cafés. This isn’t a zero-sum game; it’s a rare opportunity for the state to model innovation and inclusion in public recreation.

Destroying the rails, however, would erase not only a beloved attraction but a living example of how imagination and enterprise can repurpose the past for the present.

Across the U.S., rail-to-trail conversions have become symbols of green progress—reclaiming neglected infrastructure for cyclists, runners, and nature lovers. Yet, a growing number of communities are proving that “rail and trail” models can coexist. In some regions, shared corridors allow both experiences: the charm of rail biking alongside the freedom of open trails.

There’s no reason New Hampshire, a state that prides itself on outdoor innovation, couldn’t become a leader in that hybrid approach. Beyond tourism, there’s educational value, too—demonstrating to future generations that sustainability doesn’t have to mean erasure.

Gary’s hand-built rail bikes and the state’s vision for long-distance trails are, at their core, aligned: both celebrate human-powered motion, the outdoors, and a connection to history. The difference is that one does so on steel and the other on soil.

If New Hampshire’s government truly values innovation and community, it should sit down with Scenic Rail Riders and design a model that allows both visions to thrive. Removing a beloved family business that has brought joy, jobs, and tourism to the region sends the wrong message about what progress should look like.

In an age where small, family-run ventures rarely survive against corporate-scale tourism, Scenic Rail Riders stands as a beacon of what’s still possible when ingenuity meets heart. It would be a shame to see that spirit derailed.

The question now is whether New Hampshire is willing to remember them.