I received a text from Steve saying that a new diy spot had sprouted up in Visalia, on Santa Fe and from the diminutive screen on the dumb fone that I obstinately keep, I could make out that it involved a spine thing with parking block coping. The next time we were in Visalia, Steve and I went to check out the goings on underneath the awning of the old almond processing plant on Santa Fe. We came upon a few cement obstacles clustered in one side of the huge space and soon we were pitching in with some cement work round one of those original obstacles. Steve long haired it with the trowel, trying to make that transition a bit smoother (this was all very much before the main builder locals had perfected the art of grafting their cement creations with the existing foundation of that reused space).
The beginnings of cement growth under there, among a lot of portable skate objects and bags of quikrete. We were quite stoked on the initiative of the crew toiling under that awning and on the tremendous potential of that space, should the cement work be allowed to continue.
Trying out the slide transfer for quite some time, while others toiled hard building the first incarnation of the punkwall/wallride.
This was the make, although looked the lamest. Probably why most of what we see in magazines are not makes, or so I hear.
Some gang presence in the dying light of that first session
On another trip to the spot, I donated the wheelbarrow that I used in various cement-centric experimentation closer to the Long Beach homestead.
An earthship by any other name, just as lovely. Pounding dirt into tires.
That initial spine parking block obstacle had sprouted some weird wings and tight transitions
I think Partanen helped with this thing.
Disposable camera investigations of the building technique. Grab whatever and stack it
The wind up
Back D hovering
Solo early morning sessions became the norm every time we would make the trip to Visalia. Each time we visited, there seemed to be a new thought realized in cement under that awning. Skate Fe (as it was lovingly christened at some point) became the spot that I skated most consistently for awhile there, even though it was a good three or four hour drive from Long Beach.
Since I began riding a skateboard, I preferred exploring the boundaries of what I could do with it by myself. Even though Visalia had a decent skate scene in the late 90's when I began skating, I had no inroads into that scene, no homie-sherpas to introduce-jump me into those cliques, the result of which is that I have carried with me that ultimate discomfort of skating with more than just myself. This preference for skating alone has followed me all the years of my skate life and those early morning sessions at Skate Fe were perfect. Enough room to push between obstacles, get a lot of speed, try new things unencumbered by the lines other people were drawing through that space. Ultimate freedom in a uniquely free space. Every time felt special and I appreciated each and every time I would drive up and it would not only all still be standing, but there would be new stuff to skate (by myself). As with most ephemeral feeling spaces/times/things (which, to be honest, is everything in life), each time felt like a blessing and I began amassing photos of the space as it grew, because I felt like each session was going to be my last, due to the unknown status of who owned it and what he/she/they wanted to do with it. They can't all be Burnsides, I suppose, but the hope was still there.
Anyhow, the light that morning slayed me. Felt utterly sacred
Twenty second timer catching ted about to blunt? You should know me better than that.
Trying to get it timed just right on that rock to fakie. Two examples of failure
Overview of another morning pilgrimage
Upon that particular one, I came upon this corner pocket that had sprouted up/got hand cement block stacked into existence
It was grafted into the older quarter beautifully and offered that space a new lease on line-life
This rather steep/short fellow on the opposite end of the spot all by itself...
...turned into this large wall, providing much needed speed from that sparsely populated end to the other. Stacked asphalt and cement blocks providing some of the more harrowing drop ins and lip tricks I've had.
Frontal view, pre middle filled in stage. Ollied the gap in my head
The cement block work round the backside. Super impressive
This thing also came into existence
They learned new techniques in the process
New paint job for the corner
And this flopped phal, another failed self-timed shot of me trying to get one over on something
A new speed-form on the way up to the new big quarter
Middle almost filled in and love seated
This thing, in full plumage
Drainage problems solved
Repurposed rules as transition helper/art
Another new morning, on the approach to the spot. Morning golden hour, which I sadly dont see as much as the GH on the other end of the day. This trip to the spot, to bring things fuller circle, was a session was with Steve. We had to get up round five to session an hour or two before the security guard got there (which I will explain more in detail shortly).
Not self timed this time, but still a failure of footing
Money shot/make
Punk wall and the bones of things to come
Exciting potentialities in dirt and wooden forms
This bank realized, with the beginnings of new ideas all 'round it
A few steps back
Another punk wall/joke (or so I thought...). Pool coping!
Punk wall got cornered
Bank constructed. That end of the spot was getting so good. One didnt have to push much to get through it all with ample speed.
Details amongst it all befitting such a singular/human space
The beginning of the security guard phase, The previous owner lost the property to the bank (this bank, to be exact) and that bank acted how most institutions would that cannot see beyond money making/hoarding. They made some moves to protect their newest acquisition and stationed a security guard at the spot every day (well, morning-ish to afternoon-ish. She would let us know her schedule so we could skate around it) so as not to be sued (or so I assume).
After the session-interuptus, a man and his van
Jobs well done
One of the last sessions I enjoyed at the spot was just one small part of a larger skate trip with Reno homies. Below you will find Scaught and the joke/punk wall I thought was for sure unskateable.
I thought he was joking about a drop-in until he shimmied up to the top of it and jammed his tail atop the pool coping and rushed right into a healthy slam (which there was only one of, surprisingly).
I think this was the make
Dane atop a Kershnar (that he wallrode furiously over the previous couple of hours. We were all fairly engaged with getting our time in with the spot and I didn't do much to document it all).
Up th'Gocks!
As we sessioned, a dood came to the spot and instead of slipping through the various holes in the fence, he simply pushed over a section of the fence and strolled into the spot (yes, shortly after the security guard era commenced, the shitty fence era happened). We all took his cue and took turns pushing over parts of the fence, getting most of it down before we got booted. The security guard seemed stoked about the flopped fence.
Shitty fence phase eventually lead into "all of the cement forms of the spot being de-materialized" phase (which, as far as I know, we are still living in). In order to protect theirs, the bank took around twenty four hours to destroy two and a half years worth of work/creativity/love. Melissa and I toured about the ghost ramps...
...kind of felt like puking the whole time
But also felt grateful for all of the sessions that I was able to have there
Corner pocket de-materialized
I performed the customary fence shove on the way in/out
They left this thing, however (coping disappeared though).
Completely Ghosted...
I suppose this was all a good exercise in appreciating/getting bummed by the process of realizing yet again how each moment is extremely ephemeral and nothing gold can stay. Expressing these sentiments, however, after peering back through the smallish collection of photos I took of Skate Fe over the past couple of years doesn't feel satisfactory in the least. The greed and inability to understand what was being built under that awning (beyond the cement park itself, of course, that spot was also a great/positive community building zone, without the normal drug and/or bad vibes trappings of skateparks in general, the city sanctioned Visalia park in particular) was incredible, but (after my anger over the whole thing subsided) not surprising. Get it while you can!
