Arrival and a grizzly man. I got directions via e-mail from Aaron Astorga who just so happens to have recently got a job as the skate team manager for Hurley. On the phone he assured me it was a very mellow scene up there and I was expected. I wont broadcast the directions on the internet so if you get inspired to plan an expedition then you're just going to have to find your own way. I got utterly lost on the way out there.
That morning on my way to the supermarket, pre-coffee, I relapsed to driving in Scotland. Had some sort of driving flashback or something as I turned right from a 4 way stop sign by pulling all the way across the intersection and into the far lane of the wrong side of the road. I don't know what the guy waiting to turn left must've been thinking. We can but guess.
<<For the loop photo. I used a 7 by 10 Horseshit Hassleblad and an enormous parabolic soft reflector to light the loop. I shot at f 22 at 1/250 and bracketed the exposure by 2 bastards either direction.
Anyway driving wise it was one of those days. When I finally drove down the right avocado tree lined lane and found the large sculpted skateboard I was confronted with a sign which read. This ramp is on private property please do not skate unless you are invited. Well as far as I was aware I was invited. Like a vampire, it is when I am invited that my powers are greatest. Not really. Vert pro I am not.
When I pulled into the drive I was confronted by a grizzly looking fellow who beckoned me forward. I pulled up next to him rolling the window down and I told him I was here to skate the ramp and "I'm John by the way." I extended my hand in the customary fashion of friendliness. He warmed to this gesture and told me he was Tim and he lived up at the back and that I was ok because the Australian shepherd was tied up. She can smell fear and she's a nipper he informed me.
That made me think of the term "nipper" where I come from and how there was a skater in Dundee called Nipper when I was a nipper. He used to spend all day trying nollie one foot tail grabs on the extension at the first factory there. Oggy, Brian, Mimi, Marcelo.
At the ramp I met some locals. Brian and Oggy kicked the session off and then a girl called Mimi and a Brazilian kid named Marcelo joined in. Brian is a local photo guy who can rip and has a mean traveling frontside air, Oggy was sporting some Free Cuba griptape art and had the raddest big guy style. He powered through half cab rock fakies, backside nosegrinds and other such big guy stuff. Mimi was skilled and spent the session perfecting the art of the sliding rock and roll and Marcelo could truly fly.
Called the corkscrew, but i'm not really sure what it is for... >>
After a little while Bob came down from his house to check the session. He looked at me with interrogatory eyes. "Where are you from?" he queried with an
unreadable tone. "Scotland." I replied. "I think Astorga called ahead." I continued, unsure of the Brazilians feelings regarding my presence at his ramp. "Oh Scotland, what part?" He continued now sounding interested and thankfully a little happy too. "Aberdeen." "I went to Livingstone once." "I know it well. How was it?" "Great." My slight apprehension now fully dispelled, the session continued. Bob padded up and joined in as you can see from my photograph. For that I used a state of the art 24 Megapixel digital SLR on a radioslave tripod and shot at 1/1000 firing the shutter using a thirty watt pocket trigger. Once Bob started some truly wonderful moments of skate entered this world long enough for us to see them only briefly before vanishing into the past remaining only hazily etched in our memories. Let me see. Fakie 360 body jar followed by the front blunt where all the wheels appear to consecutively hang up but then he rides away no worries or perhaps the frontside 540 to whip through the cradle backside straight into the whatever it was. I can't actually remember what happened after that but suffice to say it was on a par with the best skating I've seen with my own two peepers. On the way home I felt satisfied. I'd done some backside airs. Felt that floaty sensation and spun a few fakie three sixties. Next step. Land some fakie three sixties. I had the thought that the ultimate tragic comedy might be to have the childhood story of the character Annie out of Misery told by Mary Poppins. Then I cut someone off badly as I attempted to merge over to the right lane for the freeway exit and I realised I should just bloody well concentrate on the road.
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John Talk:some words from straight out his dome! 
Photography:
Thanks to