For years, dirt jumps everywhere have been under the watchful eye of the powers that be. This is the story of a zone that has endured the worst, to bring you the best.
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Dirt Jumps, Pump tracks, and the Fight for Legitimacy
Words and Photos by David Peacock
Many years ago, more years in fact than the mountain biker in me cares to remember, the first dedicated and real mountain bike jumps in my hometown were crafted. This set of 3 doubles gradually evolved through varying stages of legality, sanctioning and enormity as the sport itself pushed through growing pains in the name of progression. The same has held true for nearly every worldly location where mountain bikes are ridden. Spots are developed and honed through the constant presence of an energetic, vibrant group or even a solitary individual gripped by the inescapable need to ride something new, and the will to make it happen.
Local Brodie Evans 360ing the second double.
The Centennial jumps were, and are, home to several defining moments since my introduction to the mountain bike arena, some good and others memorable for their less than endearing qualities. Injuries, tricks learned and witnessed, and film crews passing through and showcasing the zone to a broader-than-local audience are all among the memories that glow in the proverbial rearview. Since the inception of the spot as a mountain bikers haven, the jumps lingered below the threshold of what is considered strictly legal. In the past this has made for interesting (and sometimes heated) discussion within the local riding community, with the conclusion being that they were the best jumps around, legal or not, and to have them destroyed would be a travesty of biblical proportions.
It ain't always pretty...
A wood lip propels riders into the mulch pit.
Eventually, a selection of the Mans minions in high places called the legality of Centennials presence into question, and things began to look dire. This spot, in which so much had been invested and so many memories had been created, seemed temporarily destined to slip into the realms of the past? City council pushed for their termination and the mountain biking community pushed subtly, but forcefully back. In the end, the park gained official status, a true reversal of the original intentions of the city. Now, they stand legitimately and are maintained by a group of dedicated riders from the ages of 11 to 35.
The pumptrack often takes a beating with slashes like this.
Sunset riding is beyond mandatory when the cameras come out.
Whether its the dirt (a dreamy mixture of shapeable clay and forgiving top soil), the history, or the potential for future expansion, new generations of dirt jumpers have always recreated the spot each season. It is through the tireless efforts of a few dedicated and diplomatic riders that the jumps are now graced with a greatly glorified stamp of municipal approval, and their presence is solidified in the landscape of a small mountain town.
Tables and doubles, such a natural combination.
Not even the absence of daylight ceases the sessions at Centennial.
Right now there stands a rather majestic six pack, not dissimilar to the original (but paradoxically flowing in the opposite direction), an interlinking pump track, a mulch jump, a trick step-up, and a very recognizable hip jump which has graced the pages of major publications on more than one occasion. These stand tall for all riders to enjoy because of the camaraderie of mountain bikers; for the foreseeable future, theyll remain that way.
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