POOL
HAUL
WORDS & PHOTOS
BY WEZ LUNDRY
The desert is not the bare wasteland
some make it out to be. Under the façade
of dry sand lies abundant wildlife and
grand cacti, such as the saguaro, that live
for hundreds of years. Once there was a
whole civilization, the Anasazi, who seem
to have just packed up and left thousands
of years ago. Nobody knows why; perhaps
they just got sick of battling the elements
without the technology to overcome the
hardships. Since then, others have come
and gone, but now "civilization" thrives in
and gone, but
the desert of Arizona. People come here
ona. come here
for a variety of reasons: the Hopi and
Navajo have thrived for centuries; the
Mormons came after taking over Utah in
an attempt to spread their crackpot ideol-
ogy; retirees come to whittle away their
last days; and others just come to escape
natural disasters.
the de
But I'm not too concerned about the
civilian population here, however. I want
popul
to talk about the hardcore skaters and
their operations. But skaters come for
variety of reasons: there are gearheads
that go to the Motorcycle Mechanics
Institute; eggheads that come to check
to check
out the universities and business schools;
and others that.com
out
and others that come just to
shittier places they're from. Pee the
you
may have heard of, and others you might
not know, such as
now, such as Colby Carter, Kevin
Staab, Chris Livingston, Randy Colvin,
Jimmy Moore, and Chris Farrell, have cre-
ated a thriving skate scene that is like no
other. A lot of people here are content to
roll around the
e pubic
streets, hit t
hit the p
skatepark in Phoenix, or try to get some
runs in at the over-waxed roller goon ter-
mite park. But the hardcores are not satis-
fied with easy pickins like these; they get
their kicks from the forbidden fruit offered
from the forbid
by the desert pool gods.
Anybody who does
» doesn't t respect pool skat-
ing is a
is a fool. Pools are, on the whole, the
gnarliest structures you can find. They're all
different, none are perfect, and the chal-
lenge comes from finding, skating, and
escaping them without the fuzz coming in
to bust heads. It doesn't matter if you're the
Chris Farrell demolished the Buckeye Bowl and then cleaned it up with this sweeper.
Screaming Lord, Royce Nelson, or Dave Ruel, if
you're new
the game, you'll get off just by
the atmosphere: bucketing shitty green water
out so you can ride, hanging out in the shallow
end, bumpin' elbows with your buddies tryin' to
get runs, and, once you get to grinding virgin
coping, the satisfaction of knowing that you've
gone where no
no others have.
Arizona is pool country. The constant dry
heat makes pools less of a luxury than a neces-
sity. The heat also fries people's brains, and the
abundance of cheap methamphetamine cre-
ates a lot of wastoids who just can't get their
shit together enough to pay their rent. Too bad
for them; all the better for us.
em; all the better
us.
The photos on these pages represent some
of the better finds that last fall had to offer. The
Green Bowl in Mesa is inhabited by some
friendlies who are more than hip to letting us
ride, sharing their green and knocking back
cold ones while we go to town. But call before you come over; this is
known as a "permission pool." Buckeye Bowl is an example of a
"demolition bowl." For some reason or another, the house has been
ripped apart, leaving only the sunken bowl to provide some enter-
tainment for anyone interested in partaking. Nobody cares about this
place, so nobody is ever afraid of being busted; Sunday is the day
to bring your barbecue and beers. Ghost Town Pool is legendary. It's
been going for eons, just nome
north of Tucson, à an actual ghost town.
actual ghost
When we were there last, some local wastoids showed up t smoke
dowed up to
that
us out and search the area for the supposed "buried treasure
lies in the vicinity. I told you the sun damages people's brains.
But the real gem is a bowl in Tucson, the name of which I can-
not divulge because it'll Il give it away; the less people that know
about this one, the better. Our people were informed on the location
our peop
through a local branch of the nationwide network that exists in the
pool skating community. Calls were made, the chosen few were
selected, and a session was set up for the next Sunday. The crew
of Benny, Texas Dan, Jimmy, Bubba, Dan, Randy, and I hit Ghost
Town on the way, then made it into Tucson.
Clockwise from above: Randy Colvin, lien to tail on the loveseat. Jimmy Moore conjures up spirits of
the past with a frontside invert at the Ghost Town Pool. Wez Lundry grinds in the mongo clamshell.
The arrival was sketchy. Dogs were barking,
people were staring at us, and we had to hop a
barbed wire fence to get into the compound.
Once inside, we
by a glorious
were greeted
sight: a mongo clamshell in the middle of an
abandoned five-story motel complex. About
t inches of shitty green muck lay
eight inches
t the
fuck lay at tife
bottom, but there were a few buckets around.
ound.
Just as we began to bucket, we heard a voice
calling from the fourth floor balconey. It was
the caretaker. Were we busted? Nope. He
merely wanted us to leave some of the muck in
the jacuzzi so he could put it in the pool after
we left so the owner wouldn't get suspicious. He
was on our side! He didn't come down to see what
was up, but asked that we leave him a little green
package in a nearby dresser. He tossed down
some sheets to o expedite the drying process, and
in no time, the work was done.
WORK
The skating commenced soon after, and a local
named Elliott showed up with a few of his bud-
dies. He was worried that we might blow it, but
after assuring him that all was cool, he joined in
the session and proceeded to rip. We rode till
dark, but that still wasn't long enough. We
made promises to return and split to a
tiny mini-ramp located nearby. The
splintery piece of termite was anti-climat-
ic after a good day of pool riding, but pro-
vided some entertainment, especially
Colvin's nude skating antics as well as
local rip-dog-ripper Brendan..
We drank beers all the way home in the
back of Bubba's truck, and were ready for
a good night's sleep as soon as we arrived
home, knowing that another mission has
successfully been accomplished..
88 THRASHER