#7 – 14/05/2009

Apart from a few suspicious looking old guys in tattered tracksuit bottoms and grubby beige jackets [I stay well away from them and their dog], there is absolutely NO-ONE in, near, or around Kelvingrove Skate Park this early in the morning. It’s 9.20 AM, and I’ve just boarded along Sauchihall Street to get here for that early morning skills session. The low grey clouds seem to blend in with the concrete of the park; making it seem a long way away from the carnival atmosphere the park can have when the sunshine, ice-cream van, pretty summer dresses and KBG are here. I guess it really is a blank canvas, just waiting to be brought to life.

So, determined I shall be the mighty painter carving brushstrokes of life across the park with the arc of my board, I stride into the park and am immediately confronted with The Enemy. Oh dear. I’d been warned about this. NME was very thorough in their album review. But seriously. I had been warned.

“Don’t get your grip tape wet.” – My friend, Mike Gormley.

“I moved from Britain to Spain because the weather is so wet.” – Some guy in a skateboard magazine.

“I used to cry when people wanted to go home or it started to rain as I wanted to go on and on but couldn’t.” – Some other guy from Manchester in the same skateboarding magazine.

I had come up against Skate Park Enemy No 1: Puddles. But here. They weren’t all over the park. I could skate round them right? And anyway, what’s so bad about getting a little wet? Is this whole “Ooooo the rain!!!” thing not a little wimpy?

With this in mind, I charged on. Maybe it’s because I’m from the Highlands of Scotland I have a higher tolerance of rain. But more likely it’s because I’m new to this and totally ignorant to the effects of rain on skateboarding.

Anyway, I had a blast! I couldn’t do the biggest wedge ramp I wanted to try as it had a puddle right at the top and right at the bottom. So I did a smaller one. Once I got bored of that, my snaking path in the park weaving round puddles led me to the small/ big bowl combo.

Ah. This is what I want to do. Z boys style. I want this kind of skating. Well. A small nucleus inside me does; the rest of my body is screaming “NO NO NOOOOOO DON’T DARE GO IN THERE!!!!!!!”. Defying this sensation, my stomach clenched to the size of a ping pong ball and my heart in my throat, I gingerly cruised along and dropped in the bowl. AND DIDN’T FALL!! So I kept trying and trying, and although I couldn’t steer in the bowl (so tricky!) I did manage the transition between small to big bowl. “FEEL MY GREATNESS” was the sensation experienced after this however inaccurate that was.

Before I go, I have to give a shout out to Adam from Newcastle who I met that day. Apart from the skiving thirteen year old ned who tried to buy a fag off me [“um, I don’t smoke mate”], Adam and I were the only people in the park at that time of the morning. He’s been skating for eight years, and taught me loads about doing an ollie [I managed to do one! Albeit one inch off the ground, but it’s a start!], tic-tacing [continually lifting and dropping the front of board whilst moving side to side, thus making forward motion], and “pumping the transition” which helps smooth movement between features in a park. I learnt a lot, and once again, it shows how experienced skaters are very good at encouraging newcomers to the game.

I may reach such dizzying heights of skill one day…

Bye!

#6 – 07/05/2009

Boarding down sand dunes on a plastic sledge does not work for me. Gutted. I’ll stick to skateboarding. Oh well. Despite this disappointing revelation, Sand Dune Dave’s Beach Birthday Bash last weekend was a success. The past six days have been so adventurous in fact, I feel like I’ve just done a 900° backside McTwist off a large bridge onto the top of a moving Ford Ka. Huge ups, exciting twists, adrenaline filled jumps, and rapid spins, all finished off by landing on the move. This, of course, is great! But it’s nice to now be curled up in my laptop’s warm glow listening to The Sonics [the pioneering 50’s surf rock band influencing everyone from the Sex Pistols to LCD Soundsystem] and the rest of the genre-spanning, collection-enhancing CD’s I blew all of birthday money on. I got so many in the record shop that when I got to the counter, they whipped out the scales and charged me in tonnage. I love CD’s!

Right. I’m trying to remember where amongst all the adventure and CD bingeing I actually fitted in some boarding. Ah yes! On the sixth day away from home, I was in Glasgow, and I had to get up very early for a day off. But I’m a morning person, so it didn’t bother me at all, and once I’d done the gentlemanly thing of walking my gorgeous girlfriend to work, I stepped on my board and turned my trucks towards good old Kelvingrove Skate Park.
NEWS FLASH!!!

STOP >>>>>>>>

REWIND <<<<<<

“I stepped on my board and turned my trucks for good old Kelvingrove Skate Park” ??!!!!
Aye. *Smug smile*. Your eyes don’t deceive you. I feel confident enough to skate along the city streets now, carving up the pavements; gliding the tarmac. And. It. Feels. AWESOME!!!! It’s something I never, ever thought I could actually achieve. It’s the freedom. It’s the speed. It’s the hip-ness. It’s the Marty McFly factor. It’s everything I wanted to get out of skating when I started out. To roll down past University Hill nonchalantly yawning and scratching my cheek. To coast along a damp Byres road on my way to buy presents for my friends at the OXFAM shop. To be able to do all that now is thrilling. It gives me SO much enjoyment to have achieved that goal; the goal that has been there from the very beginning.

However, like Lacrosse, Water Polo or [yuk] Football: just because you score early on in the match, it doesn’t mean you stop playing the game…

#5 - 29/04/2009

"Here; you go first mate, you’re well better me."
"Aye, ah no. Ah am well better than yoow."
Thus I experience the business end of skateboarding snobbery for the first time. It was at the top of a ramp [well, a tiny, gentle slope] in Kelvingrove Skate Park, Glasgow. This snobbery, however, came from a cheeky young scamp who had obviously been boarding since he popped out his Moma, so I let it wash, the little scallywag!
Kelvingrove Skate Park is a carnival of bowls, ramps, scoops, stairs and colours; the neon BMXs of the KGB [Kelvin Grove Bikers], the greenery of the surrounding park, the summery dresses of all the pretty student girls, the pleasingly Fifties appearance of the astutely placed ice cream van, and the vast amount of bright tartan shirts, cool sneakers, colourful fake Wayfairers and crazy hats sported by the very talented bladers, skaters, and BMXers who tear up the park every day. Sometimes there are so many of them, it makes the park look like an organism viewed under a microscope. Loads and loads of cells zooming about all over the place, reaching the verge of chaos, but somehow achieving some sort of harmony to [mostly] avoid self-destruction by collision. It’s absorbing to watch.
If sunny Saturdays at Kelvingrove are neo-Tokyo though; the park was Chernobyl when I visited.
THANKFULLY.
Because I knew I’d be pathetic. But, despite not caring about loosing face too much [Well. I care about actually loosing my face. But I don’t mind about being embarrassed], I still didn’t want too many people there to witness my Mr Bend on a wobbleboard display of ungainliness. And I didn’t want my rubbishness to get in the way of any one else’s fun. Or cause a horrific accident where some guys ends up wrapped round a BMX with my board in his head whilst I lie passed out 50m away. Hmmm. Not appealing. But, as I said, the park was very quiet, so perfect for some learner action.
Talking about my board with my friends at the edge of the park, I was approached by another boarder asking if this was my new board. "Oh dear" I thought. I didn’t like the idea of explaining anything about my new board to a pro, basically because I didn’t have anything to explain about it apart from why I thought it looked cool. And that I loved it. And I didn’t want him to say anything bad about it, or make one blasé gesture, or I knew I’d go in a huff. But, turns out, this guy, Stu, had just literally bought his first board that day too, and was not an intimidating-all-knowing-skateboard-sage at all, so we just had some good banter and took on some easy cheese wedge slopes for a few hours.
"Easy cheese wedge slopes". Well. Not really easy. But I did have a good coach [I love you Tweenie aka Ruaraidh Mac!], and I was very determined. Ruaraidh taught me lots about my posture [knees need to be bent and relaxed to absorb impacts, keep your back straight, and keep your feet well positioned: one right to the back, one just at the front trucks) and he also explained about pumping the board [stop giggling]. This is when you press down onto the board with your weight, and then relax, repeat, and this helps carry momentum and makes a smooth transition between a ramp and flat piece of ground, for example. And Stu taught me just to go for it, as he was quite gung-ho and I wanted to keep up with him [of course!].
Equipped with this new knowledge, inspiration, and tough coaching [Tweenie ALWAYS makes me do difficult things], I tackled the STEEPEST cheesewedge ramp. And after a few bails, made it to the bottom. WOO HOO! I couldn’t carry the speed and had to bail again right at the bottom, but I did make it all the way down. Magic. I’m in Glasgow next week, so that’s my Everest. This will be after taking a sledge to Morar beach and trying to board down some sand dunes on it. I know, I know, that’s not skateboarding, but it’s kind of related, and will certainly be, em, an interesting story. So aye. This blog is not running out of momentum yet..... and if it does, I’ll just have to keep "pumping" the board. Magic.
BYE!!!!

#4 - 23/04/2009

Received this message on Facebook from my Glasgow based master Tweenie last week:

“Ruaraidh Mac: alight bruv! no clues on flatige mate , you could come live on my couch if ya want! sweet skillz man!! can you drop a curb yet? carry a little speed, lift the front wheels a little of the ground, push forward,land flat, roll off nd look steazy!! start small nd work big! peace xx”

I am yet to try this. The thought of leaving the ground is terrifying. I am sure the parting of man and board upon landing would be of Moses proportions. But this is my next goal. And I do have my own brand spanking new, first ever ever ever skateboard, so why not?

Ah my new board. I don’t know too much about makes and brands and things, but as it is pretty interesting and might help someone else looking at buying their first board, I’ll devote a bit of time to describing it here. As I said before, it’s gorgeous. It has a full size picture of a plastic orange 80’s skateboard on the bottom. It’s made by Girl. It's got Guy Maranio's name on it somewhere [I'm yet to YouTube him - apparently he's a Legend]. I’ve got intermediate wheels (not too hard, not too soft) made by some brand I can’t recall the name of. They’re connected to the cheapest trucks in the shop made by, um, a company beginning with ‘V’, and despite being the cheapest, the guy at Note in Manchester said he rode them too, so that was fine. But basically I don’t think it’s worth dwelling on all those aspects too much. Just get yourself down a skateshop [NO internet: OK!!?], choose a deck with a design YOU think is way cool, and get the staff to recommend bits and bobs based on you telling them what you want to do on the board. For example, I wanted a good board for cruising about on and carving up the streets; rather than one for mental high altitude tricks. And that’s what they sold me. Magic.

So that’s my board. Despite its beauty, I feared it like a like an awkward 1^st year kid fears having to make conversation with the most slamming hottie senior girl in school. I just wanted to hold and look. However, I realised there was no point in this purchase being just an ornament. So, finding a slabbed area just off the main pavement, between a Café Nero and Manchester Music Shop, I carefully stepped on, and rolled a few metres. The trucks were REALLY loose (my fault; I asked the guys at the shop, Note, for that when they had already set it up perfectly DUH!) and it meant I was wobbly as one of those red fortune telling fish things you get in Christmas crackers. Finding my feet though, I managed to board most of the way back to Manchester’s Potato Warf Youth Hostel without too many problems. I like Mancs. “Give us kickflip then!!” some workie lad joked, and he found my reply of “Here! I can hardly do this!!!” really funny as I snaked and wobbled by, not going very fast at all. BUT! I did manage to achieve some balance by the end of my voyage; skating onto the youth hostel patio being one of the hippest entrances I’ve ever made. Need to keep that in mind for the next party I get taken to.

That’s if I don’t get taken to a hospital first as the result a curb dropping disaster.

More cherry-popping board stories to come including my first go in a skatepark (aye, I know I promised that last time, but I’m conscious of holding your attention by not writing too much, so you’ll have to be patient!). Watch this space!

Later,

David

#3 - 23/04/2009

I’m feeling awful. The most broken I have felt in LONG time. I’m feeling like the blazing sunshine has burned into my head like a laser through my un-Wayfairered eyes, melted my brain, left 10 pounds of uranium in there and tied my legs in knots for good luck. Thus was the result of being a passenger on a long, five hour car journey on straight straight motorway, through flat flat countryside with the sun glaring in my sleepy eyes the entire way. Don’t get me wrong, England is a gorgeous country in places, but I guess I’m just accustomed to atmospheric clouds, twisty single track roads, huge mountains and being the driver rather than the passenger. So the car journey to Manchester really knocked me out, despite Mhairi’s beautiful new motor, some great banter, and some hot tunes to match (Mr Scruff, Ninja Tuna; The Knife, Deep Cuts; Now 25 Years Retrospective 3 CD Compilation. Ooh the solid Eighties, Nineties & Naughties hits; not to mention the potential for playing Guess the Intro). I was wrecked. Weird. I’m normally an awesome traveller. So when I get to Manchester, what do I do to prepare for one of the most important weekends of my life, relinquishing the role of OXJAM regional manager for North West Scotland in a celebratory evaluation with all the other 26 regional OXJAM managers from all over the UK? Take a power nap? NAH!!

How could I have passed up the chance to rove around my favourite English city once more? For the second time ever in fact. I couldn’t have, is the answer. So, freshly changed into my favourite basketball shorts, my favourite new boughtinthesale ultra cool Fila Italia hi-tops, and a nicely worn-in Pink Floyd t-shirt, I headed straight up to the Northern Quarter. With the excitement of the weekend, and lots of other things to think about, I hadn’t considered skateboarding would factor into this weekend at all. Until I was in a trendy book shop, surrounded by other trendy vintage clothes and record shops, and I realised, as if the thought had been placed in my head like a gleaming goldfish of joy into a shining crystal fish-bowl, there must be a skate shop about here. It would fit in perfectly. Not that I wanted to buy anything. Except maybe a cool hat. Was definitely not ready for a board yet.

Or so I thought.

The skate shop, Note [www.noteshop.co.uk], was up a wee flight of stairs, elevating it above the rest of the other boutiques. Outside, there were a bunch of hardcore skaters hanging about, doing kickflips and the like. Feeling a bit out of place (like that plankton staring up at Orcas again…) I didn’t make any eye contact, but was determined to at least browse about the shop without embarrassing myself or saying things out of turn too much. Because lets face it, I’ve read two skateboard magazines in my life and the rest is dreams; these guys have been living it since they were allowed outside.

Despite my nerves though, Nev, the guy behind the till, was great banter. I struck up a conversation (about rucksacks) which eventually led to talking about the boards on sale, how I was a beginner, and how I was maybe, just maybe thinking about buying my own board, as my birthday was nearby and all. I was quite determined NOT to buy one though. But I did browse about.

MISTAKE!!!

Aye. I found my perfect board. And made lots of justifications in my head to myself to warrant buying it. I won’t list those reasons here however; I’m pretty sure that the only person those justifications will convince is me! The board is wide and has loose trucks. It has a rad full-size photo of one of those ancient plastic orange fish-shaped skateboards on the bottom, against a white background [so it looks like I’m carrying about one of them if you’re not paying attention!] and is perfect for gliding about on. Everyone else I met in the shop genuinely admired the set up too, which made me beam with pride, and it was just cool to feel encouraged and accepted by all these people who are great at skateboarding already. Once again, no snobs.

I don’t know why I keep expecting to run into skateboarding snobs – I guess I am just worried people who are good and passionate about skateboarding will think I am too useless to warrant any attention, and that I’m just some hipster wanting to get in on their hobby to look cool. But I shall prove my legitimacy! Not that I need to. As I said. No snobs at all so far.

So, equipped with inspiration from the crew at Note, and my very first board, I um, walked a lot of the way back to Potato Warf Youth Hostel. Nerves about finding my feet on the board; in Manchester City Centre; during rush hour polluted my enthusiasm. But then I thought “HERE! Just do it!!!” …. And off I rolled. Awwwyea.

The skateboarding adventures that followed shall be documented shortly…. As I realise this blog didn’t quite have much actual skateboarding banter in it at all. No need to worry though. Blog #4 will certainly make up for that with details about my first ever board and my first ever go in a skatepark. Rather than just beside one.

Bye!

#2 - 22/04/2009

Being on a basketball court, I was naturally comfortable as it’s my sport of choice, and I’ve spent many a summer inhabiting one, buzzing like a bee in a hive, and lazing like a bear in a cave. The basketball court was also flat and smooth. Aye, this was certainly the place to learn basketball. But also quite good place for me to learn skateboarding due the fact it was, as I said before, flat and smooth. But it was also dark, positioned a wee bit away from the road into the village, and there was no-one else about because it was one of those frost-in-your-moustache, crispy winter nights. No spectators at all to witness the most spectacular display of ungainliness ever performed. Unless my trusted friend Melanie was filming it all secretly and I’m actually a YouTube phenomenon. Luckily I had my hat pulled way down and my scarf pulled way up as it was very cold, but I’ll admit that winter accessory positioning was mostly designed so no-one would identify me. Looking back on it, I’m massively tall, have big glasses and was wearing ridiculously magic clothes, so the whole hat/scarf thing probably wasn’t fooling any passer by. Not that there were many. Thankfully.

I’ve not had many falls at all so far. Which is not due to skill, oh no, no, no, no. Not one bit. It’s due to being very, very cautious. I don’t think I have a reckless bone in my body. No. I’ll rephrase that. I don’t even have a reckless nerve in my body. I’m really calculated with risks. I’ll take them. But I’ll analyze and scope and measure first. Which is one reason I’m not really suited to skateboarding at all.

Here’s an example. First night EVER of skateboarding with Melanie. I’m playing about with the board I loaned from Mike like a kid playing with a nasty piece of asparagus. Pawing at it with my feet, rolling it about with one foot on it, working up the courage to get one foot on and try and get the other one on. Getting the other one on and then immediately jumping right off like I had been stung by a vengeful wasp on wheels. “DAVE JUST GET ON THE BOARD” shouts the Moral Support Department. “Oh okay. Nah. You have a shot just now then.” I said. I thought I better give Mel a go considering she was freezing her cheeks off just to hang out and help on this. Surprise, surprise, she was a natural. Whizzed by. Magic aye.

Well, after a few more nights spread over a long winter of more of the same, I was making tiny amounts of progress. But due to my nature, these steps seemed HUAWAGE to me. Standing on the board. Moving forward. Moving forward more than one metre. Eventually taking on the Indiana Jones-esque void that is The Entire Width of the Basketball Court. Being able to steer left!!! (I’m a goofball… No, I mean goofy stance on the board, so turning left was easy thinking of it. Just lean!). All these things led up towards skating in Kelvingrove Skatepark in sunny Glasgow. No. I lie. Beside Kelvingrove Skatepark in sunny Glasgow (it was actually sunny). This was great though, as my skateboard sensei Tweenie pushed me harder than ever, and taught me loads of new things like how to drop in. On a flat piece of ground. Or in my case, a flat piece of grass (I was so nervous of smashing my face into a pancake shaped mess and the skateboard decapitating some poor granny behind me it made my tummy sore). But the drop in worked!!! So I did it on the path. And that worked too!!! YAAAAAASSSSSSSS! Liking this.

So, from there, things have been developing.

I noticed there was a virginal car park opposite where I work, as the office opposite mine is redundant at the moment. I’ve been honing some skills there on my tea breaks still using Mike’s board. I’ve had help from TJ who works in my office, and this other dude who mysteriously appeared next to me on a board one day too. He’s called Grant, works next door to me (but not in the redundant office obviously) and despite being totally amazing at skateboarding, he was just happy to meet another boarder and was really helpful and encouraging. I’m at the bottom of the skating food chain like a little plankton gazing dreamily up to leaping orcas, so it’s very inspiring to notice how encouraging and cool every other skater I’ve met is. No snobs at all yet. Which is awesome.

So awesome in fact, when I was in Manchester last weekend, I decided to buy my first ever skateboard. It’s gorgeous. The whole story surrounding that milestone of a purchase will be coming up soon of course…. Watch this space.

Later!

#1 - 21/04/2009

Maybe it's because the image of a top heavy metre stick badly glued upright to a tea tray on wheels enters people's minds when I tell them I'm learning to skateboard, or maybe it's because I'm a 6" 4" twenty-two year old Scot and not a nimble tiny American teenager; but people often respond with a bemused laugh when I tell them of my quest for balance, speed, and that intangible grace/ freedom I might try to articulate later. I don’t understand that bemused laugh. But then again, I don’t think they understand The Quest. It's the kind of bemused laugh people make when, say, trying not to offend The Drunken Person who is passionately telling a story you can't make a word out of, but know is supposed to be hillarious. The kind of laugh reserved for Friend’s Crazy Dad’s surreal jokes that aren't funny. Or maybe it’s only him that gets the joke. Maybe it’s only me and a few others that get The Quest.

Ah. The Quest. It’s been there since I was wee. Since I first watched Marty McFly effortlessly evading the bad guys in Back to The Future on Channel 4 during a rainy primary school in service day. Since I could actually wake up on Saturday mornings and watched skateboarding heroes amongst the lacrosse, handball and Italian football [GOAL-AT-ZEEE-OHHHHH!!!!] on Transworld Sport in the AM on Channel 4 [wow I hope Channel 4 don’t claim royalties if this blog goes huawage]. I’ve always dreamt of skateboarding. I remember my friend’s first skateboard [we were born at the perfect time to get caught up in skateboarding, they were right in fashion when we were wee]. The board was a blue Sonic The Hedgehog one, fishtail in shape, and garnished with lots of cool neon coloured plastic bits. But alas, despite being amazing and beautiful, my parents never allowed me a similar board. I guess they were being protective. Aw. That’s nice. It didn’t do much for The Quest though.

High school, being the whirlwind of exams, crazy teachers, super hot girls (I couldn’t get), massive computer game sessions, basket ball matches, medium hot girls (I couldn’t get), chubby bellies, toy fights, pranks, any level of hotness girls (I couldn’t get) and all the other usual teenage boy antics kind of distracted me away from the allure of that plank of wood with 4 wheels. The experience of jumping on a friend’s board didn’t do much for the cause either. We separated like two polar opposite, highly charged electromagnets, me landing, um, somewhere, and the board CRASHING mightily into the library door. I hobbled away. Ashamed.

And my Mum still wouldn’t have let me have a board anyway.

So, enough of my life story. Bottom line is that I still want to learn to skateboard, I still want to carve up the streets in fast sweeping beautiful arcs, and I still want to tail on the back of cars like some sort of screwy 6”4” Michael J Fox (I have my red gillet at the ready).

And at 22, I’ve made a start. Which I shall tell you about. Soon.

This journey could be interesting, entertaining, and if not, basically I’m counting on it at least being funny. Me embarrassing myself always guarantees a laugh or two.

Bye for now!