APOCALYPSE, LATER
There for the skating, an unbelievable ameoba shaped pool sits
motionless beneath tell-tale rwaying palm trees on an L.A. hillside.
or, LINCOLNS ON THE SIDEWALK
by Don Redondo
"And all the children are insane"
The Doors
This is the end.
We call it that because "the End" is the last part of this cool ditch
before it goes under the road. It's a full bust! The End usually means
the end of your session (when you were going to "lincoln" anyway)
because you cannot remain concealed by bushes, distance or darkness.
You are exposed, out in the open full "hit and run." If a lincoln so
much as drives by you're history.
Phoenix...shit! I'm still only in Phoenix (pause). Every time I
think I'm going to wake up back in the desert; at the pipes. When I
was home from school it was worse., I'd wake up and
there'd be nothing. When I was here, I wanted to be there (surfing)
and when I was there I wanted to be here (if there was a pipe -
involved). Now I'm in Phoenix for the weekend- shooting pictures
and getting softer. Every minute I stay in this room (writing) I get
weaker and every moment the lincolns sit in the donut shop, they get
stronger. Every time I look around, the walls seemed to move in a
linle tighter. I wanted pictures and a story; for my sins I was given
one.
"Alright gentlemen, you are now in enemy territory," said the
grader as my partner and I prepared to rappel down the side of a cliff
and forge our way, armed with assault rifles, through a series of
ambushes. (Besides skating this weekend, I had a rare and exclusive
invitation to attend a "shoot" put on by the Military Small Arms
editor of Soldier of Fortune magazine. Mr. Kokalis and his friends
are collectors and experts who have proper licenses to own almost
any full-auto firearm. They even had a permit to use dynamite for
targets. You know when you hit dynamite!) I clicked the selector
switch on the U.S. M-16 to "semi-auto" and easily lincolned the first
Don Pendirlon in another kind of line-up.
camoflauged cardboard cutout "guerilla" across the gulley. I put the
weapon back on "safe" and rappeled down the cliff. It was easy
compared to Baldy.
Yeah Baldy...the Pipe.
Besides the cliff, if you go the "commando" way to avoid being
seen, there's a ravine and then a fence to contend with. Straight in
means a nice 15-20' vertical cement drop you and your stuff have to
negotiate. Beef here and you might slide into the big square pit the pipe
empties into. The weekend before the contest we went in the
"commando" way.
After catching a few prime lincolns, Scott and I were on our way to
"the badlands." There had been a swell in so the lincolns were big. I
think I like surfing because I've never caught two lincolns that were
the same. When you standardize the terrain you ride you lose over half
of all there is to be had. Skateboarding basically grew out of surfing,
when it was flat. It in turn injected "air" moves back into surfing. A
natural cycle.
We left when the once serene ocean looked like a bowl of Lucky
Charms, too many people in brightly colored wetsuits. In the old days,
when it was packed, it looked like a bowl of Raisin Bran. The new
breed is the multi colored, arm waving, wannabee geek.
After eating the standard afternoon-breakfast we headed out across
L.A. to Pasadena. We were picking up one of Steve Shelton; he has a
split personality. On our way we saw a very young girl depositing fresh
"lincolns" on the sidewalk. It was going to be one of those days.
Anyway, we hit Upland for the contest or whatever you had to pay to
watch. Mike Smith raged. After his run he did a nice flyaway into the
judges. Tony Hawk pulled off two McNightmares in the square lincoln
in one run, plus this switchity-flippy thing and it was all over. While
they were handing out-the trophies and attention was diverted, Salba
siezed the moment, speeding into the square pool: first a no-coper
carve, grinding the whole corner and then pumping forever both-truck
carve grinds on the flatwall of the square. A few stood in disbelief.
They had just witnessed "the best" but this was different: it was fast
and downright mean.
As I rolled around the massive 15 foot bowl I flashed on how heavy
that pic is of Salba blasting a tipped out body contact frontside air over
Scott Dunlap who is doing a backside grind. Then past the combi-pool;
big, fast, with vert and gnarly coping. The sister to this pool was at
"Skate in the Shade" in Tempe AZ. Skate in the Shade was buried, dug
out, ridden and then dozed. When I reached the top of the channel run
that feeds the 15' bowl I was joined by one, or both, of Steve Shelto
I dropped into some speed carves and slides with Shelton shadowing
my moves. We then split up, with me rolling out by Scott (from H.B.)
and Shelton carve grinding the 15' bowl.
"Hey, you better cut that shit out, those close calls and near misses,"
a park geek told me.
We lincolned for Baldy.
Everybody was going to Baldy! Scott and I rode in the back of a
truck piloted by the Albas with Mike Smith who was crowing at top
volume to the cars we passed. All in all it was only a matter of time
before the lincolns came: a lot of people heard about the session and a
lot of cars filled with lots of heads descended on the neighborhood near
the infamous M. Baldy pipeline. I paused at the metal bridge that
crosses the vertical walled ditch right outside of the pipe to snap a
couple of aerial views of the place and then rappeled down the 15-20'
vertical cement drop on a rope. "This thing should have a strap like a
rifle."I thought to myself as I slid my board upside down (so it wouldn't
roll into the pit) to the transition below. The camera stuff I'd have to
carry.
As I reached the bottom of the cliff I dropped the last few feet onto
good footing. Throwing the rope to the side, I clicked the M-16 on
"rock and roll" with my thumb and lincolned three cardboard
guerillas in and around an old rusted out car with short bursts (2 or
3 rounds) of fire. (An assault rifle, unlike a submachinegun is not
made to spray bullets. The new US. M-16A2 will feature a 3 round
burst capability for this reason.) My partner worked his way down
the cliff with his Isreali made Galil assault rifle. Basically a
descendant of the A.K. (Kalishnakov), its only problem is that the
smaller version creates an intense muzzle flash. Because of this, the
short Galil SAR is not particularly suited for night firefights. While
my partner and I "covered" each other, moving quickly through the
course, I mused on how similar it was to running down a ditch, with
boards, just below the ridge to avoid being seen. You learn to run in
a crouch and rely on each other.
Iremember thinking, he's close...real close, blasting one last high.
backside in the pipe and coming out into the blinding light flying a
high frontside. I looked up into the vertical cement wall and saw the
pants, the gun, the knightstick, the badge, the moustache and the
shades. "Lincoln," I said outloud. As the sound echoed past them,
everybody still in the pipe knew exactly what that meant. Most of the
huge crew that had assembled for the session bailed and the lincoln
was going up to hassle them for awhile. Those that were left included
Scott from H.B., both Albas, Mark Gonzales and Mike Smith. We
opted to shoot the line. "Whoa - 8 miles downhill," Mark Gonzales
thought outloud. "It's a snap," somebody replied as Salba started
describing the rules of rollerball to the throng assembled to shoot the
line. "You mean you're going to try and knock me off my board?"
questioned Mike Smith, who, up until now wasn't paying attention.
"You got it," somebody said as we all pushed off.
Salba carried a special "gun" (longboard) and quickly sped off in
the distance, leaving a few rolling reminders that he was up ahead.
Then, above us, a "quiet mode" super-sleek police jet belicopter.
swooped down and chased us for awhile. It must have looked weird to
see a whole pack of skaters spread out and throwing things at each
other speeding down a mountain in a square ditch at over 40 m.p.h.
They bailed, not because they couldn't "lincoln" us, but probably
because we were leaving anyway, the next ten exits were Upland and
we could have gotten out anywhere. It was at this point that I saw Mark
Gonzales ollie a huge double-watermelon sized rock on flat ground at
speed.
Condo
"Ya gotta get to get out."
The only way down for those who take chances
Rospeling into the mouth of Baldy.