What I Wrote About Red Bull Rampage 21 Years Ago 6

Spoiler - groomers vs. raw was a hot topic then, too.

Internet Warning - Lots of reading, typos, lo-res photos and video ahead.

Foreword / Apology from 2024

I was looking through the old hard drives for Rampage photos and came across an article in the "Dirt Magazine" folder. Apparently I wrote an article about Rampage 2003 for Dirt. I don't remember writing it. I don't even remember if it went to print, and my 50-year-old self hopes it never did because the 29-year-old version of me was really insecure, jaded, bitter and weird.

My history with Rampage was mixed. In 2001, I went to the very first one, after a season filming all the regional, National and World Cup downhill races in the Rocky Mountains that year for the blockbuster MTB VHS tape called Alpha Project. I showed up to film the first day of practice and drove straight home after that first day. I thought for sure someone would die. I didn't want to watch that. I did watch Von Williams, on an Ellsworth Dare DH bike, roll up to the big drop of the day, hop onto his rear wheel, bounce a couple times and send it off to a slightly crooked, but solid ride out. That move was so rad!

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Lance Canfield rules. Rampage 2001.

A year later, I must have re-assessed the value of a life because I went back and filmed the whole week, my VX1000 and Century Optics Death Lens still clinging to life. That footage ended up below from the internet-award-winning DVD, Clappin' Yo Dome. Originally CYD was called RC Flipoff (as you'll see from the intro to the Rampage section...my boy Randy with the bluntslide and audio that is permanently etched in my brain) and the Rampage edit was cut to I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys. I thought using a Backstreet Boys song for a freeride contest would make a lot of people upset in the era of rap rock, but I went with Led Zeppelin instead, invoking artistic license with the rider names. I was definitely scared watching that year, too.

Fast-foward to 2003 and I started worrying about photographs more than videos and went back to Rampage. I did give my VX to Cam and Tyler McCaul, however. Ty filmed got some clips as it was Cam's first Rampage and you can hear his voice, amazed as he comments on the riding of his brother, Zink and others out there. To think of the line Tyler pulled this year compared to the terrified grom behind a camera back then. 

Apparently I had an assignment to write about 2003 Rampage for Dirt Magazine. Or it was an assignment I completely made up. I don't know why I'd write this article without an assignment, but I don't keep many old things like magazines, so if anyone has a Dirt from the end of '03 or possibly beginning of '04, I'd love to know if I'm hallucinating or if I really wrote it for them.

Let me repeat, there is some weird shit below. Like the reference to someone saying I have the clap? WTF is that about? And I open the article with a quote from the book White Noise by Don DeLillo. I only know that because I had to google the quote to see where it came from just now. Apparently this book made an impression on me back then.

Finally, I've always been insecure, but it's  sad to look back at how angry and jealous I was about what photo gear people had or how successful they were with their photography filming or determining what their motives for being at Rampage were. I apologize for the attitude I had about it and how my focus on others seemed more important than the riding at Rampage. Sheesh, what a petty, little grump I was (and probably still am). Sorry.

The biggest takeaway from all this blabbering in 2024 is that in 2003, there were raw runs and there were groomed runs at Red Bull Rampage. 21 years ago, it was as controversial as it is today. I imagine that will never change and I think we can all agree that as confusing as scores or results may be, the riding and digging performances are purely out of this world. I hope that never changes! -gordo

Article Written in 2003, Unedited 

(apparently I didn't realize Red Bull was two words back then).

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Andrew Shandro, 2003.

“We’re not here to capture an image, we’re here to maintain it. Every image reinforces the aura.” 

I just watched a movie made by Michael Moore, called “Bowling for Columbine. GREAT MOVIE! A sidebar in the movie notes that all Virgin, Utah residents are REQUIRED to own a handgun. Is that nuts or what? Viva U.S.A and violence! Virgin, Utah is also where the Redbull Rampage (or Gnarkill Slampage as I like to call it) is held. Handguns and Cliff drops…only in Utah.

The Venue:

You’ve all seen the photos. Nothing has changed in the last 3 years. What you probably don’t know about the venue is that sound gets amplified 300 times within the confines of the desert ridgelines. Because of this, the greatest things about the Crampage is that you can hear what everyone is saying from a 1/2 mile away. Photographers spraying about assignments, riders boasting about video parts, safety crews embellishing tales of blood and gore. It’s terrific. I got more gossip from listening to people across the valley at Gnarpage than I have from 2 years of surfing internet message boards. I even heard one guy say he thought I had the clap! He said, “Hey, did you hear that Gordo guy got gonorrhea from an overweight stripper at interbike last year?” I wasn’t even at interbike…how rich is that? If you think that’s bad, you should have heard the argument about Nico vs. Bender in a fight involving 13 different “media” people.

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Day One, Practice:

This was my 3rd year at the Glampage. I knew day one was pretty useless because everyone just walks around talking about the lines they’re gonna do and how to set up suspension and tire pressures and stuff. The few “media” that do show up feel jipped since no one is chucking, so they force riders to pose against the rose colored desert backdrop in hopes of catching that perfect “lifestyle” shot for the next big catalog and magazine article. A rider or 2 drops a line, but day 1 is mostly a spray fest with stories of drunken debauchery from interbike a week prior.

Day Two, Practice:

Day 2 is a little more legit. It’s a long day. More jocks with the newest digital cameras show up. All the riders are out scoping lines. Hardcore fans arrive and scramble the cliff bands hoping to catch a glimpse of Super T and Berrecloth. The desert is alive.

The most honest truth about Damnpage is that there isn’t a ton of riding getting done. The terrain is open for 8 hours on this 2nd practice day. 70% of the riders are working on creative lines. By working, I mean digging with hand tools. The riders and their friends are etching in lines into the landscape to make the unrideable, rideable. Originality means sweat and dusty lungs, but it also means valuable points in the judges eyes.

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Digging, isn’t entertaining, however. About halfway through the day, an edgy, urban assault loving, freeriding fan wasn’t happy with the performance of his “superheroEs” and yelled out, “SOMEONE RIDE THEIR DAMN BIKE!” His exclamation echoed through the bowl and his bro-brahs snickered and gave each other high-fives. Immediately after, however, the desert was quiet again, save sounds of shovels and picks scraping against dirt and rock. For some reason, the freeride legends ignored the “fan” and kept digging. I don’t get it. Isn’t freeriding all about big dollars and big hucks and lots of drinking? They don’t have to earn anything, do they? They’re just huckers, right?

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A few riders dropped in and gave the “fans” what they want. In fact a little session began when Kyle Strait, Cameron Zink and Cameron McCaul started trying backflips on a prominent hip jump. Strait got ‘em for the most part. Zink and Mccaul had some funny throw-the-cat-out-of-the-2nd-story-window-type slams, and then here comes Gracia. I couldn’t quite make out what he said, but I think it was something to the effect of, “Hopefully zee Dirt Magazine will still reezpect me in zee morning if I learn zee fleep.” He pushed his bike up the ridge, dropped in and learned how to flip in 3 tries. 1st try was funny and not even close with a grand bike toss. 2nd try, just about there. 3rd try, BOOM! Not bad for one of those racerboys in skinsuits on a weight conscious bike.

All in all, I think there was a total of 35 minutes of actual riding during the 8 hours of practice at the Fanpage on that day…not bad.

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Gracia
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Day 3, Qualifiers:

Well, this is it, competition! Now we’re gonna see some action! Well, sorta. Starts an hour late. Freeriders like to sleep in because they’re hung over, but eventually they all get to the top of the venue, maybe 1000 vertical feet or so? Since they’re world-class freeride competitors, Redbull somehow rigs it so delinquent high school kids are forced to carry competitors bikes to the top of mountain for them, kinda like legal slavery. Not too shabby…especially if you’re a real freerider with a 55lb bike! The aberrant teens hoped they’d get Minnaar’s bike because it was a lightweight racing-nerd bike. I saw one sherpa-kid trade another sherpa-kid 2 packs of smokes for what they called “Minnaar duty.”

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Bender going to land at the very bottom. Look at Aaron Chase in the shadows filming.

Bender is first off the line. There were really only 2 lines off the top. The main speedy ridge line or a more technical off-camber cliff line. Bender took the cliff line. He sketched a little and went over. Shaken and bummed, he continued on w/ a bobble that caused a mechanical. He fixed it, but time was almost up as he rolled towards his monster. Everyone knew what he was gonna do. He’d been prepping a gargantuan 30+ foot dropper towards the bottom of the course, so the crowd was eagerly awaiting the fling. The media swarmed around him as he got closer to the edge, then to the depths he went…30 feet to the dusty landing zone that, unfortunately, gobbled him up. He didn’t make it, and his time ran out, dq’ing his run. I know, you’re gonna say shit about Josh Bender and his skills…you already have. Ya know what? You can all go back to your cyber-freeplunking internet sites, and boast fantastic with your all-knowing powers of skill-sleuthing. Dicks. I know Bender tried his hardest and it was gnarly…propers.

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Qualifiers went on. Lines that failed last year were made this year. Gee and Wade did a gnarly gappy-type thing way up high. Shandro and Schwartz had some crazy gap in their runs too. Mike Kinrade had worked long hours on his line and rode it…it was rad. Slams were judged harshly this year, creativity didn’t seem to matter too much even though they always say it will. It’s all about the flinging.

Here’s an example: Rider X does a relatively gnarly line that flows well, uses the natural lines and terrain, but doesn’t have the gigantic drops. The exposure is more life threatening than the drops. Capiche? Rider Z rides the super worn in “normal way down” but happens throws in a no footer (yawn) off a drop. Aside from 1 “trick” there’s nothing out of the ordinary about the run. Rider X with his creative, exposed line doesn’t qualify, while Rider Z is in like 3rd place. What? How does that work? Fuck subjectivity. Give me rules, so I can make sense of shit in my life, like my girlfriend of 17 years leaving me for some TeenBeat cover boy!!! Sorry, tangent.

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Day 3 sums up as 25+ riders with 2 four minute runs. Most of ‘em do it in like 2 minutes, so let’s average time of riding out to 90 minutes total during the 10 hours of qualifiers. Some helicopters flying around, some bad crashes and “media” getting yelled at because they’re insolent douche bags…we’ll get to that later.

Day 4, Finals:

In some way the judges decide that 12 riders are better than the others, and the finalists are chosen. Riders could prep their runs for 2 days before qualifiers. On finals day, however, they get 4 hours. The finals venue is smaller, so there are fewer line choices to work with. The cliffs are bigger and the terrain is more tech. People are EVERYWHERE! “Media” that reproduced like wild rabbits are now numbering in the millions. Event staff irate. Spectators using landing zones and Andrew Shandro’s newly constructed, but delicate line as a trail to get to a good seat. It was chaos. It was pretty stupid actually.

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We’re all ready to roll. Riders at the top, helicopters buzzing around, crowd excited. The “media”, however, has one thing on their mind…their selfish ambition and the “perfect” shot. As a result, they’re crowding a ledge that is ridden by nearly every competitor. The emcee tells them to move off the lines, and they don’t. The volunteer medics try to shoo them away, but they come back like mosquitos. Finally, it takes WADE SIMMONS, who is now a judge because he didn’t qualify, to get them out of there. He grabs a megaphone and rightly chastises the paparazzo’s greedy intentions . Wade wanted to see riding. He knew the competitors only cared about riding. He publicly told everyone at the Bampage that the photos and video were not important, but the RIDING was. Wade Simmons, you made my weekend. Thank you!

The competition commences. Hucks were hucked, sketch-ball lines were ridden, and the “Leap of Faith” death gap is the talk of the hour. I find it odd “they” call it the “Leap of Faith.” For one, they’re ripping off skateboarder Jamie Thomas. Two, shouldn’t it be about calculation and measured skill level, not faith? Whatever.

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Gracia nails the LOF in practice AND on his 1st run. Michael Marosi stomps it in his first run too, but blows up off of it in his 2nd run.

You’ve seen photos. The shot is the “if it bleeds, it leads” image from the whole event. Everyone loves the gore, but usually fails to mention that Marosi greased the drop once, and had one of the sickest runs of the day and should have been in 2nd place. Gracia wins. His first run holds up and he didn’t even need to take a 2nd run. The sun went down and lots of alcohol was consumed. It was the end of the 3rd Dreadbull Manpage!

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I learned two things that weekend.

Out of maybe 2000 people total at this event, it seems like only 25 or so people actually cared about riding bikes…the competitors. The rest wanted action, carnage and bragging rights to the perfect image.

Watch what you say in the desert because you never know who’s gonna hear ya!

It would be cool if Michael Moore made a movie about the Redbull Rampage. He’d get to the truth of the event. All the corporate stiffs would get upset and 90% of the viewers would be pissed because there wouldn’t be enough crashing and extreme action in it.

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Things were weirder back then.
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