The Dirty Thirty Do It Legit

The scene of the Non-crime. Portland's Dirty Thirty have proven that working with the government pays off for mountain bikers.

They call themselves the Dirty Thirty Crew. As the name suggests, they are all over the age of thirty or closely nearing the number and are dirty, dirty bike riders. They get dirty like we all do while in the saddle but their name comes from a different definition of the word. They are dirty like strip clubs, late night all you can eat shrimp buffets and dive bars that serve silos of PBR for a buck and a quarter. Trailer park dirty.

But when it all comes down to it, these guys are beauties, and while they are getting to the point where knees are starting to give out and backs hurt more than they feel good, they give ‘er on their bikes, ride like kids half their age.

A few miles down the road from one of the better-known strip clubs in the Portland, Oregon area, The Acropolis, sits the pride and joy of the Dirty Thirty Crew. The Meldrum Bar Park dirt jumps have gone from a few rundown humps and landings to an intricate, well groomed, wonderful collection of jumps over the past two years and this motley group of riders is the major reason why.

One of the most unique aspects of Meldrum is the relationship its builders and maintainers have with Gladstone, the Portland suburb where the jumps lie.

Damon Richardson first started digging at Meldrum in late summer of 2004 and has since helped create a viable relationship between its riders and the municipality of Gladstone. He has attended city meetings, met with the police officers that patrol the area and developed a professional affiliation with the Gladstone parks and recreation department.

This affiliation with the parks and recreation department is the most important component to having legal jumps at Meldrum, Richardson says. He says that a city’s parks and recreation department will usually be open to ideas like jumps parks, it’s simply a matter of finding the right location and gaining city approval.

“If you pitch an idea to parks and rec and they think it’s good, which they probably will,” says Richardson, “they’ll give a written recommendation to the city and why. This then makes the city think it’s a good idea.”

Meldrum in repose.

He says that approaching the parks and recreation department betters your chances at getting dirt jumps because parks and recreation land is public.

“It’s easier to get jumps on parks and rec land because state and federal land requires you do stuff for erosion control and things like that,” Richardson said.

Rocker Dave, a Portland ripper who is well known throughout the city’s riding community for his ballsy style and crazy drinking performances, has been with Richardson since he started throwing a shovel around at Meldrum. While Richardson takes care of the logistical, red tape issues with the city, Rocker Dave is an equally pivotal part in the Meldrum machine. He has a large role in the size, shape and feel of the jumps - he designs them - is generally considered to be the architect around Meldrum.

There is a huge contingent of riders, both 20” and 26ers”, who help maintain the jumps and build new lines, but it’s Richardson, Rocker Dave and Scott Odergaard, another beer guzzling Dirty Thirty member, who carry the clout and make the major decisions.

“More or less, we’re just guys who are really passionate about dirt jumping,” Rocker Dave said. “We’re in it for the love of riding and because we enjoy it.”

Odergaard, Rocker Dave and Richardson bounce ideas off one another while they are building and taking care of the jumps though each one has his own simply stated duty.

“I’m the chief grunt and dirt thrower,” Odergaard says laughing. “Dave’s the dumb engineer and Damon’s the logistical genius.”

Meldrum Bar Park is a high use area. It sits just off the eastern bank of the Willamette River and is used by hikers, boaters, fisherman and remote control car drivers (there is a small RC track near the dirt jumps). Soccer fields are behind the jumps. The boat launch around the corner from the jumps sees lots of traffic when the weather is nice. Crowds will often gather to watch riders jumping and riders interact with people coming off the river and using the walking path almost regularly.

This is a new way to look at dirt jumping. Usually jumps have been confined to the trees or the outskirts of town away from the eye and frown of the general public.

But in Gladstone it’s different. Much of this can be accredited to Richardson and his relationship with the police and the parks and recreation. The riders promise to pick up their garbage, not drink, treat the other users of the park with respect and act as responsible role models for the numerous children enjoying the park’s facilities.

The Dirty Thirty boys act as the jump’s watchdogs, maintaining both the peace and the lips.

“Sometimes we have to kick out kids who are building new lines,” Odergaard said. “We tell them that we maintain these jumps and that they have to run it by us first because we have to talk to the city about the new stuff we’re building.”

The three have this stern mentality because if someone gets hurt riding jumps that haven’t been approved by the city, they could get into legal trouble. There is a law in Oregon that states it is illegal to sue a city if you get hurt while recreating in a park but the Dirty boys don’t want to have to deal with the unlikely chance of running into a legal battle. Lawsuits are extremely uncommon because it is very expensive to sue a city and a victory is almost impossible.

“Some parent may try to sue us,” says Richardson. “They know they couldn’t possibly win but some guy might try anyway and we don’t want to have to deal with that. If kids come out here and build new lines without letting us know, it looks bad for us and the parks and recreation department.”

What this crew of riders is doing in Gladstone is by no means groundbreaking. There are city sanctioned bike parks popping up all over the country. But, what it shows is that it is possible, that if you’re dedicated enough and follow the necessary protocols with local government, a piece of public land to legally build jumps is feasible.

Along with their relationship with the city of Gladstone, another unique characteristic of the Meldrum builders is the community approach they build with.

“We’re 30 year old dudes,” Rocker Dave says, “who aren’t just doing this for ourselves but for anybody who comes through here.”

It does come with a price however. Richardson estimates that during this past summer he, Rocker Dave and Odergaard were sometimes putting in thirty to forty hours a week at Meldrum. The lot of this work was spent on manicuring jumps and building new lines. The newest lines they are working on are located on the backside of the existing jumps and Richardson frankly states are, “going to be the best jumps in Northwest.”

The area of land where the new jumps are being constructed is in a short, shallow gully and is approximately an acre and a half in size. Dozens of riders helped out this summer clearing the blackberry bushes and creating the runways where the jumps will sit. Richardson operated a tractor during the clearing and is currently setting up dirt drop offs from local excavating and construction companies.

He estimates they will need almost six hundred yards of dirt to complete all the lines - a big line with twenty five to thirty foot gaps, a smaller intermediate line, an advanced hip line and a beginner table top line.

Rocker Dave drew up the blueprint of what the lines will look like and Richardson pitched it to the parks and recreation board. The board liked the idea of a broad range of jumps based on catering to all skill levels.

“A beginner will be able to come here and in a day learn on the tables and move up to the intermediate line,” Odergaard said. “At other jumps that are big, you have to be a really good rider to ride them. This isn’t like that, it’s a great place to learn.”

The underlying factor to having a jump park on public land is communicating with the city, Richardson says.

“Let them (the city) know what is going on because it is easier to try and get something OK’d by them than to just start digging,” he said. “I mean, look at how skateparks started. When Burnside (the United State’s first public skatepark) was built no one wanted it around and now there’s a skatepark in every city.”

The future for the riding scene in the greater Portland area is looking quite bright. And with the old, dirty men of the Dirty Thirty Crew leading the way; the jumps are here to stay. Legally.

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