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Jump building at Duthie Hill Mtb Park

It takes a village to raise a bike park. Each jump, drop, berm, roller sculpted into the art project takes someone’s vision, craftsmanship, dedication and love. A lot of love. The raking, the post-holing, the shoveling, chopping … the hauling, the laying and packing. (I’m starting to hear that Moby song from Lifecycles, you know, when they’re hammering away.) Anyway, it’s a real love.  Because the back aches after an afternoon of building a lip from the ground up, in the constant drizzle; rain above the tree canopy. And a place like Duthie is a small kingdom of features. All that flow, that rhythm and airtime: It had to be imagined up (by the little kid inside?); calculated and constructed with precision, or thereabouts. It takes people like Scotty and Andy and Billy who become engrossed in the labor despite the rain falling harder. I admit, I love seeing the glow about them as their jump takes shape. Because this is how I, too, like to spend a cool Sunday spring afternoon when the trails are too sloppy to ride from days and nights of rain.

I don’t know how many buckets of dirt I shoveled, but there’s a big hole in the ground amid the ferns from it. But don’t fret, Scotty takes care to replant and restore patches that we take from.

If you gave the scenery here a quick glance, you wouldn’t be blamed for not seeing the miles of trails and hours of work put into this place. But focus a bit. See it? That’s love—a whole village worth of it. We put some of ours into the start of a new hip on the Paramount line.


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