What'sThis About Plates?
In order to create more confusion, within certain circles the term "spode" is often used in referencing a specific high quality china, or plates since we may need to translate for Gomer :-). Dirtbikers most often use the term to refer to comical and unskilled attacks of inept riding. This is certainly not reserved for less experienced riders alone. Many of us out there have had such attacks, and recovered from the injuries that went with them, only to discover that friends will never allow a spodely story to die a quiet death. A good example might be a certain unnamed individual (an editor of an online publication) who blasted through a reset (in a certain National Enduro), and thus rode full blast around a corner into a certain checkpoint a certain number of minutes too early. And, In a fit of braking exuberance,  this same unnamed individual ended up being marked 2 minutes early as the inverted dirtbike rode the sliding prostrate individual into the checkpoint. For additional references we must consider - but not print - Ken Murphy's famous "Tree Story." This has achieved the Bench-rider's Hall of Fame, and is a story this writer is not qualified to tell.

The Spodefest originated as a "Net Ride" based in the Atlanta area in 1997, and gave out awards based upon the most heinous acts of spodeocity. Since that time the event has completely failed to mature. However, it has certainly grown in enthusiasm, popularity, organization, and attendance! While Spodefests are great fun, underneath resides a serious dedication by riders to enjoy a challenging recreation and experience the beauty of the great outdoors.

Colorado Spodefest 1999
This year's Spodefest - or "Ride the Divide '99" was a complete success. Tremendous kudos go out to the official non-organizer Ken "Merfman" Murphy for coming up with one of the most breathtaking locations for this Spodefest, and for lining up a list of sponsors to provide awesome services, food, and door prizes. Merf thoughtfully organized a crew of riders experienced in the area to guide smaller groups. The official attendance of this non-event was less than 50 riders. Anyone else who was there was certainly not involved in the COSF '99, it was simple coincidence. That's the story, and all of the non-attendees of the non-event are sticking to it. In actuality, OHV enjoys a very good relationship with the Pike National Forest. Local club members are extremely pro-active in trail maintenance and participate in USFS sanctioned projects that including widening and improving the trail network to prevent erosion and to allow ATV access.

The Spodefest was located west of Colorado Springs near Divide, Colorado. Many families and individuals traveled great distances to be there. Having driven so far, a number of participants and their families were able to do some sightseeing, driving up Pikes Peak and exploring some of the finest scenery Colorado has to offer. The "Farthest Distance Traveled" award was given to Mike Nyland, otherwise known as "High Lord Gomer" to his friends on RMD; he and his family drove out from the Carolinas. Participants came from such places as California, Arizona, Nevada, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, Georgia, and Ohio... just to name a few. Even a family from... (all of 8 minutes away) Divide Colorado!

Day 1
First day (Friday) activities included free jetting and suspension setup from DNA Racing. Since some of the riders were coming from fairly low altitudes this was a great benefit. It certainly saved a few fouled plugs. Merf and DNA also put on a great party that evening with beer, BBQ, and door prizes from a variety of sponsors. Participants poured in all evening and late into the night. The rain also poured off and on all night - many Spodes found exactly where the low spots and dry creeks were located.

Day 2
Saturday arrived bright and clear and as Jim Hall mentions in his report: "This is the first day where we are to have real unorganized rides and so forth. Courtesy of the unorganizer and his local Colorado unbuddies." Several large groups set out to test their mettle against some of Colorado's finest riding. No one immediately captured the coveted "King Spode" award - not for lack of entertaining crashes - but for the relative lack of witnesses.

I arrived rather late in the game Saturday after waiting in town for a postal delivery from ORC. I stepped out of my truck, only to meet 'Spodekill' Scott Wilson face to face for the first time. For those that don't know, Scott wrote the winning entry for the ORC helmet giveaway in July, and I handed over the delayed AFX helmet - not daring to wait until the evening gathering & deluge.

The Weather!!!
August weather in Colorado is highly predictable, dry & hot. Apparently Mark "MX Rainmaker" Klein's influence was felt despite his apparent absence. It had been raining in Denver and the surrounding areas for nearly the entire week before Spodefest. This just doesn't happen. Before the weekend was over, just about everyone was convinced that Colorado was part rainforest.

I totally missed seeing ORC's own Vintage Dave again. We live 12 miles apart and have met only twice now. According to Jim Hall who used to race the desert with Dave back in the 60's, Dave enjoys an inverse relationship with the age of his bikes. He wrote, "The bikes keep getting older and older, so he keeps getting younger and younger. As a matter of fact, he has a line on three ancient Zundapps that should put him back into diapers..." Rumor has it that Dave was flying his '68 Husky 360 through the woods and keeping some fast guys very very busy.

Afternoon Ride
After throwing on all my gear and giving my ever so wonderful wife a very apologetic hug (leaving her to find a campsite and setup,) I hooked up with a group of seventeen led by Ken Murphy on a 40 mile loop down to Hackett's Gulch. This was one of the rides we did for the 97 'fest - but it was an almost entirely changed ride due to the amazing efforts of local OHV clubs and the USFS. There were a tremendous number of improvements to the trail, including the installation of flexible rubber waterbars for drainage. On the way we encountered a large group of jeeps that somehow make the dirtbike superhighway seem a little narrow. With surprising ease 16 bikes and 1 four-wheeler squeezed past with inches to spare, and no damage done. A dramatic contrast to the Pikes National Enduro of '98 where some poor Suzuki owner returned to his stranded vehicle to find it yet another obstacle on a moss covered sidehill section of a race. Needless to say, the trees holding the vehicle from a 50 ft tumble were only responsible for a small portion of the scratches.

Who?
After several long breaks and 2 fouled plugs we broke into two groups, the fastest beginning to emulate Merf's flawlessly smooth style through his personal playground. We paused by the river waiting for the second group to roll in. I get my first chance to chat and demonstrate my exceptional memory skills. "So you're Bob... right? No... Hi Dave, uh... Spillman? Yeah I remember you!" 5 minutes later... You said your name was Bob... right?" All I remember now is Jim Hall was there - and fellow tenter and Spodefest neighbor Dave "wring out the sleeping bag" Spillman. Jim was kind enough to reintroduce himself again later after the endorphins had worn off.

After a while the second group rolled in. The four-wheeler gave an amazing demonstration of hill climbing prowess by heading back up the tremendously steep incline - stalling - starting back up and ultimately clearing a portion of trail which had put two spodes in contention for best biff in '97.

Taking the easier route home seemed the best plan as it meant I didn't have to perform the "loop/lowside combo & slide down rocky hill with bike on top" routine which had so impressed Richard Mathews in '97 shortly before his own mysterious "drop XR on sharp rock for no apparent reason" maneuver. We were just in time to hit the worst of a hail storm flying flat out down a Forest Service road and feeling like targets at the air gun booth in a carnival. Of some small significance - we passed the same group of 4x4's several miles further along and much later. Apparently they found the narrow steep section.

Evening Underwater Festivities
Back at camp, I had barely put the bike on a stand before a torrential downpour started me digging drainage trenches around our inadequately waterproofed tent. The rain would let off just long enough to sucker people into the open so it could pound on them some more. Rex pulled in around 7, never setting up his tent, but electing instead to chance it in his new Dodge. Several endless wet hours later, folks started wading over to Ken's RV for the evening festivities. Pretty soon the area under Ken's awning resembled nothing so much as a college phone booth during pledge week as more spodes crammed into the finite amount of space. The rain just would not stop and shortly Merf had a moat around his RV.

Thanks to all the sponsors! There was enough loot being passed around so that everyone scored a souvenir from Spodefest. Items included hats, t-shirts, Moose Juice, grips, oil, premix, and lots of stickers! The hats were especially helpful to those stranded near the edges of the shelter and awning. Bench-riding was limited to brief squishy exchanges before heading back to trailers & tents to weather the weather. I sat in my truck and ran the heater until the majority of my riding gear was dry again, before joining my wife and slipping into my sleeping bag for a restless night floating on newly formed Lake Divide.

Day 3
Dawn broke bright and early, if a bit chilly. Mike Troast was having a discussion with several others concerning the scheduled trip to the extremely technical Sargents ride he had been planning for this morning. Just getting to the area after all the rain would be quite a trick. Dave Spillman, our neighbor was busy bailing out his tent. We spoke for quite some time concerning the dessert riding he was used to, and the change to mountains and trees. I snagged my camera intending to document Spodefest while it was still dry and made the acquaintance of Jeff Deeney, Dave Jones, Kevin Unthank, Keith Hunwick, and Mike Baxter. Great Guys! After hearing the story on RMD of how Baxter had snapped a suspension linkage on his new YZ, I expected the former Texan to be a giant. The giant things about Mike are his riding skills, constant energy, and tremendous good humor. Bench-riding had commenced!

Morning Ride
Mike Troast decided to postpone his trip until Monday when there was an outside chance of better conditions. Having run part of his planned ride in an enduro several years ago I was relieved. I had fully expected to be buried in bentonite clay, or sliding off greasy rocks to land far downhill. Another large group started to form and shortly we launched a massive exploration on and around trail 717. This is by far the coolest and longest trail in the area. So long that it has been broken down into sections 717-A, 717-B, etc. After a short jaunt we rearranged ourselves into two sections - the more adventurous ones heading out with Merf to meet at an intersection 15 or so miles away.

King Spode Awarded
Mike Troast led the "short on sleep and caffeine" group through some beautiful country, part of what is called the New England section. New England it is not - but as close as you can get this side of the Mississippi. Damp roots made very treacherous traction through windy tree shaded sections with puddles, creeks, and slimy rocks. A few stops were made just to take a look at the gorgeous scenery. After a relatively short time and several photographs - we stopped at an intersection for the faster riders to "catch -up" from their longer - more heinous ride. Of particular note, Rex McKinney captured the uncoveted King Spode award for his outstanding attack of spodliness in front of the maximum possible number of witnesses. He was riding tail-end charlie on the advanced group and rolled slowly to a stop near the side of the trail at the intersection where we were all waiting. Unexpectedly his tire shot 90? to the left and he plunged face to tire in a tangle with his YZ250 that took several humiliating moments to get clear of before he could take his bow.

King Spode award decided for the event, I decided to stay closer to the front on the next leg and was rewarded with a rear view of a bunch of really talented riders as they flew by throwing mass quantities of gravel. Of particular note I trades places with Uwe Hale several times. I had pushed myself to try and see exactly what it was that he was riding. It certainly was the right color for a Suzuki - but turned out to be a Gas Gas 250. A sweet looking and performing bike.

That's A Trail?
Although my memory is not as fresh as it could be I remember a nice little obstacle shortly after starting off again. We dropped into a rocky dry creek with a bunch of head sized rollers (loose rocks) with a sharp sidehill climb with plenty of roots and rocks to qualify it for a trials obstacle, as nasty as some of the worst tricks I have seen in an Enduro. The real trick was to get enough momentum to lightly pop up and over. I decided to make my play for King Spode at once but failed to crash. In fact, I ended up doing a little dance of triumph up at the top. However, there was plenty of comedy to follow. Merf and Baxter spectated and gave suggestions from up on top while many riders got stopped by the intimidating foot tall rock faces and had to push. High altitude and exertion combined to create an unplanned water break. Back on the gas we began to make some serious time again. The riding began to settle into an incredible rhythm of coordination as we worked out the kinks and had an almost Zen ride. We dropped onto an access road and motored out into a gorgeous valley.

Here's Mud In Your Eye!
Merf, Baxter, and I slowed to a halt in front of a particularly deep puddle. Merf as the designated non-leader decided to scope it out first. He pulled slowly in and started to give the bike some more gas when his front dropped into some deeper water. As soon as his rear wheel dropped his vent lines hit the water and the YZ drowned. Not to be outdone by a little water, Merf rapidly kicked his traitorous bike to life and roosted out of the puddle. I really have to thank the forethought of Mike Baxter for being so kind as to completely shelter me from the deluge of skanky, slimy, snotty, and smelly mud that shot out of the hole and painted itself all over Mike and bike. Never in my life have I smelled anything so rank with the possible exception of a sewage treatment plant. Thanks again Mike for your selfless act.

We pulled up into meadow for a little break and I performed some minor adjustments to my suspension. Unlike the suspension of my 90 RM, the'98 had always felt a little harsh. Due to the beating I have given it this year I was beginning to feel that it was a little too plush for once - big mistake. Bench-riding was beginning to take place as groups form to talk over the days adventures so far. Baxter decided it was very much time for a bath and a powerwash, and so headed out for several high speed blasts through clean water, followed by some detail work rinsing various pieces of apparel. Peeuw!

Why Did I Do That?
After the rest, we blasted up the trail again. I decided to show off a bit and the suspension of my bike quickly started to hammer on me. At an intersection there was a brief stop to allow people to catch up and see which way we were going to go. I blasted in right behind Merf and ahead of Baxter for almost a mile before I really began to realize that something was dreadfully wrong with my bike. After wards Mike mentioned "Spodeboy, you scared me!" It was not my skill he was commenting on as I fought to control the bucking bronc my RM had become, but the apparent lack of skill as I fought to stay on the trail and keep up. I finally relented and dropped to the very back. In Divide there is no such think as too plush. I corrected the error of my ways and sought to redeem myself; I set my suspension back.

AAAGGGHHH!!!
The remainder of the ride was notable for the comfort level many of the riders had achieved by the second day. Paces were exceptionally fast, and interrupted only for brief regroupings. One such was prompted as Merf, Baxter and I raged through a particularly tight section. Boom! Reconstruction of the event was that Merf and someone on a big Husaberg thumper came around a blind corner at each other at warp 9. Merf got over as far as he could with Baxter in tow braking for all he was worth, I charged off the trail through trees and deadfall. The Husky rider managed to do the impossible by climbing up the inside off the turn getting several feet up off the trail before coming to a stop. The trail looked like a dirtbiking convention with bikes pointed every which direction and riders modeling the best in dirtbiking attire. After much celebration and release of nervous energy, Merf was seen heading off into the woods to clean out his shorts.

Shortly thereafter the group split once again and many headed back to camp. A smaller core group continued onto a trail conveniently called powerline for the usual reason. This was very fast, and very straight with big jumps and care taken not to hit any utility poles along the way. After about 45 minutes of additional riding I was pretty much done with Spodefest. We headed in after 60 miles and 6 hours of ear to ear grinning fun. My ever so patient wife Rebecca was practically waiting with the proverbial rolling pin. The two-hour jaunt I had anticipated had come and gone several worrying times. I promised her a great dinner and begged her forgiveness, while thanking her for everything she had done to help make this Spodefest so fun. After we packed and loaded up, we circulated around and made our good-byes. Relatively few were staying on to ride Monday, but I understand that Mike and crew had a terrific time riding Sergeants the next day.

Good Bye!
Truly a great bunch of people, Mike Nyland , Troy Maxel and their families are even nicer people than I had been led to expect from prior Spodefests. Both families worked as teams to get everything done prior to departure as I continued to Chatter at them and take pictures. Gomer (Mike) had brought several 50 gallon containers and Troy brought his power washer and was systematically removing every trace of Colorado from all the bikes. I wandered around finally attaching permanent faces to the names, reintroducing myself to people in the hopes of once again coaxing their names out of them, and finished up the bench-riding so rudely interrupted by the constant rain the night before. Gear was being packed, and vehicles and trailers maneuvered out of camping spots only to head back home. Final good-byes were made with promises to get back on the Internet and make up all new lies. It was truly outstanding!

• A-Loop Offroad
• MX South
• Works Connection
• Boyesen
• Smackover MotorSports
• DNA Racing
• Aztec Family Raceway
• TSS Graphics
• Thunder Trail Navigation
• AfterShocks
• Big Gun Exhaust