SKATOPLA
SK
So much style and character is what makes Sloppy Sam one of the greats.
Brewce and mega dude.
Sloppy Sam and I discuss
money, cash, hoes.
S
o this guy named Brewce Martin, along with
two others, Carlos Biaza and Wendy
Willhoite, got together to buy 88 acres of
land in southeastern Ohio. Their goal was to
build a crapload of ramps and have a place where
skateboarders could come 24 hours a day, seven
days a week, and any day of the year to skate these
things. It was created to be a utopia for skate-
boarders. And in a sense it is, except for the first
weekend in June
when it turns into
a hellzone loaded
with
every
drunken gnar-
dog who can pos-
sibly make it to
Ohio for the gath-
ering known as
"Skatopia."
My roommate
Pat went last year
to check it out
with "Sloppy
Sam," an official
CIA member,
and experienced
TOUDO
CLEVELAND
Words: John Trippe
Photos. Pat O'Dell
gladly have watched from the sidelines. But this could be my only chance at
the bowl-the sessions ran all day and all night, but it thinned out around 4
or so. Into the deep end I went. Shit. I slammed into the opposite wall. Take
two: slide out, my
board launched
straight up, and
I attempted to
"Concentration was at its
Chaz McGee is 16 years old, and he had no problem keeping up with the catch it. Damn, something
older gnar-dogs. He ended up being the talk of the weekend.
truck and burn off both his shins. I had to drive Sam
to the hospital after he got amnesia from slam-
ming his head at the bottom of the bowl, and it's
just sweet. You'd fucking love it. You've got to go."
Hell yeah, I thought. I can't miss it. So I spent
the entire year getting drunk in preparation for the
big show. "Oh shit. Skatopia in two months." I
found myself bouncing from excitement and nerv-
ousness. Word got to Sam that I would be there,
CIA
Very few took it upside down, but Brewce Martin
showed all that a 13-foot-bowl is nothing to fear.
the chaos firsthand and relayed the information
back to me. "Oh Trippe, we've got to go next year.
It was fucking nuts.
Everyone's wasted, running
around, shooting guns, throw-
ing themselves into the
ground, crashing through the
forest in rundown Suburbans,
and ripping the wooden bowl
that's 13 feet deep. I saw a guy
I know jump onto a burning
DHIO
CINCINNATI
RUTLANI
and he shook his head
in apprehension. "Shit,
Trippe's going. Does
he know what he's
getting himself into?
He'll die."
Now that made me
nervous, but the time
had come, and I was
aboard a plane
headed for Columbus,
where I would meet
Pat. "Tonight we
drink with some
friends and tomorrow
we head for Rutland,
the epicenter of
Skatopia." Here we go.
After picking up Chaz Magee, John Simms, and
84 canned Milwaukee's Best, and a three-hour
drive, we pulled into the half-mile driveway.
People beamed our truck and I heard drunken
yells and screams. (It was 11 PM, total darkness.)
"Welcome to Skatopia," a sign read. My heart
skipped a beat. Brewce's son, dressed as Darth
Maul from Star Wars, asked us for two dollars to
park the car. Pat was told to ignore him and we
headed up the cratered dirt road. People passed our
headache increased to a very painful level. I
guess the alcohol, no sleep, and bright sun
temperature had a serious effect on my per-
son. I tried to
withstand it
all, but had
to bail to
the tent way
too early, which
best, considering
consumed"
the 15 or so beers
would hurt later. But after
some attempts I got it going, and it felt so good. The transition never stops.
truck and yelled while holding cans of beers in Concentration was at its best, considering the 15 or so beers consumed, and
their hands. People trudged up the hill, down the it felt great, at least until the next afternoon, when I woke up with two jammed
fingers, an arm that couldn't be made straight, and some fragments of bone
floating around in my first-ever swellbow. Nice.
hill. There were tents
wherever our head-
lights shone. More
drunken screams were
heard all around our
truck as we passed
through the darkness.
After a serious offroad
PRIATE
PARTY
So we made a fire, burned some stuff, and
saw the sun rise. Now, going to bed when the
sun is up is okay, but when your bed lies in a
tent with no shade... fuck. It was so goddamn
hot in that thing. Sweat was all over me, and
breathing felt like a gift from God. But after-
journey, we reached the top of the hill where we noon came and everyone crawled out of their
camped which overlooked the barn that houses tents and made their way either to the ramp or
the monster bowl.
Some sort of food source.
All welcome.
We threw a tent up and grabbed as many beers Now, food: They had food. A truck selling
as our hands and pockets could hold and headed chips, hot dogs, and Twinkies was what kept
on down towards the ramp. Here a band played most going. Oh, and they had a badass bar-
some fast shit and by now we all had a good buzz becue beef sandwich that killed. Good shit.
going. The first person I saw skate was Brewce, and But after two days I was psyched to get my
he was killing it. The bowls were not big enough for hands on anything else. Freaking Taco Bell
him. Frontside Smith, whip around the shallow cor even sounded good after two days of those
ner and into the deep. Frontside air and downough eats. But again, let me stress that we
frontside 50-50, still faster. Fucking gnarly were glad it was there. Remember that
Someone threw a couch into the bowl and chaos Skatopia is near no 7-11 or Pizza Hut, so
had been initiated. After checking the outdoor ver you've got to take what you can get.
ramp and a few more beers down the hole, I tack Saturday was spent in the heat. Blazing sun
led John into a pile of boxes. Some people moved kept my body perspiring out all the beer con-
out of the way; others jumped on. I was wasted, and sumed the night before. I should have just kept
we all stumbled around to the music. My clothes drinking like the others, but it hurt to think of
were somehow wet from beer. My new shoes were that beastly alcohol. Sam and the other
dirty as fuck, and I loved it. I wanted to get dirtier Providence locals didn't have any headache
but how? The bowl.
ang-ups though, because I saw them cruise
meant missing a portion of Skatopia. For
example, I missed a heated session in the
bowl. "People were going off. No limits," said
Pat. Chaz threw himself in the mix and stayed
up most of the night before he made his way
to the truck, where he lost
control of his stomach. The
stench of vomit would per-
meate throughout the truck
for the remainder of our trip.
Oh well, dirt was the name
of the game.
Sunday we packed it up
and cruised home. On the
way, we discussed the
weekend. It all went grand,
we thought. There was so
much gnarly skating going
Science, pre naked skate.
Heavy metal parking lot.
A small slice of what is
Skatopia.
COLA
on with such a positive atti-
tude that even though our
bodies were bent and bro-
ken, it was determined that
a return next year was
inevitable. There's some-
thing about beating your
body to all ends that just
feels right sometimes,
something like a religious
experience where you felt
you might have seen God. I
felt like I saw God at Skatopia, in the unearthly skating, the
millions of fireflies flashing in the trees, the surrounding
locust screams which continued all weekend, the sun rising after being up
all night, or the sound of screams after Science would take one of his runs.
Or maybe it was just my drunken vision blur. But whatever it was I'm
already looking forward to my return next year. I just need to remember to
bring aspirin, more beer, and fireworks.
Rob Erickson with a backside disaster.
It was 4 AM now, I think, and Pat said, "Drop in round the premises throwing, drinking, and spilling more beer than I would
Trippe," as I kidded around with putting my board are to match. They had a good time. So, instead of drinking my weight in
over the edge. I looked into the bowl and I guess alcohol, I chose to watch the ripping, which continued from morning to night.
said fuck it, because I went for it. Now mind you. When the sun set the fire went up. The flames rose to five stories and one
love transition, but I'm no skatepark kid or ramphad to stand far back from the heat. I sat and talked with some friends as my
local, and if I hadn't been intoxicated, I would
No fear: Chaz shows the
results.
114 THRASHER
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