26 dec. 2015

Vacación de misión, part 2


The City of Angels. Smogtown - the urban high-way experiment. The city of fantasy and of dreams. Baudrillard wrote that Los Angeles needs Las Vegas as an outpost of simulated reality, to maintain some sort of rational self-image. You've already heard it, most people who've been to L.A., hate L.A.. Still, this ultra-commercial, automobile driven sprawl of city, can only be known through direct experience.



Not driving in L.A., you're still surrounded by cars, constantly. There are curb-cuts and slappy-curbs to die for. And at many of them there's too big a risk to do just that. It's perfectly possible to get around on foot/board/public transport, though. And, free from the constraints of automobile life, it brings you closer to people, events and spots to be skated on sight.

The difference between a prison and a school, in southern California? There was no bust outside this school, during Christmas break.


This was one of these do-or-don't decisions. Closing on these classic waves, a guard in the lobby was already on alert. There was no time to pull the camera out of the bag. Instead, the bag went tumbling on the ground as I ran for speed - made a big, lazy backside turn, kicked some speed in the flat, aimed for the lip on the other side, but these transitions are too mellow; on the third wave, settling for a lower section, finally, the back truck scraped againt the lip. Then a voice called: You stop that! The guard had his hand on an old-style revolver in his belt, obviously serious about actually draw it if I insisted. I went to a halt with the heel of my back-foot, mumbled something in the direction of the guard and went for the bag. Walking away from there, with my back to that gun, I told myself not to be ridiculous. Still, it freaked me out. That's a lousy job, sitting around, guarding this set of waves from being ridden. There had been worn-out bitterness in that guard's eyes. He seemed more in a low, slow and negative mood, than manic and likely to pull his weapon on a skater. Still, a feeling hung on afterwards. What was it? What did that guard beam out? Finally it cleared: the only sensible thing to do in relation to this man, had been to act evasive and hide all amuzement. He made that very clear, just by his appearance. There was indeed aggression close to the surface. Too bad on them waves.


Back in the 1980's,  anyone who watched Sick Boys or read mags from the States, probably knew about ditches. But in childhood suburbia of northern Europe, the concept of a bank-flat-bank was unheard of, up until the joust-scene in Thrashin'. Ever since, the Bronson Canyon ditch has been the Yellow Brick Road of ditch dreams. Had Restposter existed without it?

Walking up to Griffith Park from Hollywood, you get away from the traffic. Early in the morning, the air is actually clear. At this time (2008-2009) there were some minor DIY additions to the ditch, up by the dragon's back. Since then, alot more has been added, check Confusion Magazine for an update!

Never mind the Jewish family or the no comply - check out the bollox writing!
http://www.confuzine.com/2014/02/12/bronson-ditch-urban-skate-project-hollywood-california/





From Hollywood, the legendary Channel Street skate park is only a train-ride down to Long Beach and a bus-hop over to San Pedro. But nothing is close-by in L.A. This ride took almost 3 hours.

The short-version review of the DIY spot: There was nothing wrong with the bowls under the bridge, but the parking lot was the real treat!
Skateboarding is not supposed to be simple.
 


18 dec. 2015

Vacación de misión, part 1

3rd / Army

Look at this! Back in the archives from 2008-2009 there are some Restposters from a spot-search in California. It even had some notes attached. First out, San Francisco.

Exploring urban areas of the USA by foot, board and public transportation, is hard work in its own right. Then, skating those spots when you find them, is sometimes too much to handle. Tourist!
 
To accept this, and still try to make the most of the circumstances, is at the heart of kung-fu skateboarding. Mastery of this attitude is very hard to achieve. So, here come the excuses for a dissapointing China Banks session: Cold morning, stomach full of Chineese food, old hardened wheels, those bricks rougher than they look. That and the less than 5 minutes to ride, before a guard appeared from the Illuminati tower at the end of the bridge. Bust!


After this sour start, it was time for revenge. And as every ninja knows, fulfillment sprouts from the soil of planning and strategy. That and 4 a.m. apple pie with coffee and a new set of 99A urethanes.

The one and only non-stop skateboarding day in San Franciso started at the Dish, out on Hunter's Point. Up there, you're on top of the world. And, as it were, free to gaze both back down at the city and back through the vertigous paths of skateboard history. Lately, it seems the place had a "face-lift", though. Why ruin classic skate grounds, to build new skate parks? It happens in many places. Is Restposter turning into a medium for archeological documentation? Appearantly.








Good thing about starting up high in the morning, is the downhill you get post-first-session. That ride was way too good to be spoiled by some camera. Next stop: 3rd and Army.

3rd / Army

San Bruno barriers, was it? 15th / Interstate 80...

Climbing fences makes for a better session. Trouble here was that a fellow human was still sleeping on top the fundament of a freeway overpass pillar, just by the run-up. Trying to make as little noise as possible, the fresh urethane helped - at least these boardslides didn't drive Sandman away.