Skatehike

The Landyachtz crew went deep into the San Gabriel mountains of Los Angeles in search of an untouched switchback road

Story & Photos by Stephen Vaughn // @stephen_vaughn

Google Maps is a downhill skater’s best friend. It’s the only way I found a mystical road too good to be true—El Dorado: the Cogswell Dam.

We knew this wasn’t going to be an easy task. We loaded ourselves up with hammocks, sleeping bags, tents, and supplies for 2–3 days. What we didn’t account for was the 7-mile skate to camp being consistently uphill, turning our skate into a hike at many points. The only motivation was that certain-to-be-delightful cruise downhill back to the van. We trudged onward.

We stumbled across the most inviting fairy pool of a waterfall I’ve ever seen. Not knowing how much farther we would have to go before reaching our campground for the night, we spent a solid chunk of time chilling in the refreshing mist and cool temperatures of the falls. Our campground turned out to be right around the corner, turning the pit stop into a convenient water source that we returned to many times.

After setting up camp and unwinding a bit, a group of us decided to continue on the path in search of our final destination. Very quickly, the road turned into some of the most hairball, ridiculously steep asphalt and concrete I’ve ever seen. After about a mile of that insanity, the road turned into a dirt trail and we still hadn’t spotted the road for which we had embarked. Knowing it would be getting dark soon, we made the decision to turn around and skate back to camp for the night. 

The next morning was a chilly. We warmed ourselves and our boards by the fire. After getting some food in our stomachs and some sunlight on our faces, we decided to embark on the last leg of our journey. Once more we climbed the steep incline and reached the dirt trail and within one mile we turned a corner to be greeted by the magnificent view of our hill.

Six long miles cruised by in a pleasant blur of trees and asphalt.

We reached the van and reflected on our journey during the ride back. Another Skate & Explore mission was in the books, and we could say that we were the first skaters to discover and ride this magical stretch of pavement. 

landyachtz.com // @landyachtzlongboards.com

What could go wrong?

Story By Amalia Boyles // @gingerfox00

Art By eatcho // @ eatcho // eatcho.com

What could go wrong? 

What, indeed.

I eagerly persuaded my partner Eatcho to take a break from beachside relaxation to enjoy a day of ocean kayaking. I promised a quick jaunt out into the bay, and a return soon thereafter. Eatcho was reluctant. His hesitation inspired me to push the idea harder.  

Our feet made funny swooshing sounds in the sand as we stumbled to rent our kayak. Without instruction (or life jackets), we were presented with a custard yellow two-person kayak. We trusted our desert-colored vessel and suddenly found ourselves paddling out to sea against the rising tide.  

We reached the edge of the bay and gazed out beyond the jagged rock edges of the shoreline and into a vanishing horizon of ominous dark blue.  After moments of serenity and awe at the abyss around us, we decided to head back to the beach. As we turned the kayak on its heels, we became parallel with the waves. With one hefty blow of salty sea, we began to sink. 

The ocean rushed into our kayak with rapid fury, swallowing us whole. We were left treading water, our yellow vessel bobbing with increasing depth below our flailing feet. What followed was shock, disbelief, discomfort, paralytic panic, and overwhelming fear, without control. We tried for an instant to revive our sinking kayak and cried out loud sentiments of WHAT THE FUCK, draining our lungs of air. 

Our cries lost their gusto as the reality of our situation sank heavily into us. We threw out inarticulate gasps at one another, hoping to stop time for long enough to catch our wits (or at least, to catch our breath). Instead, we were greeted with adrenaline — unsophisticated, but with enough aim to clarify our survival strategy. 

Abandoning our sinking ship, we swam. 

And we swam. And we swam. We swam against the tremendous pull of the current, contradicting our every stride. We swam, with terror and little choice, through a school of jellyfish. Wrapping around our arms and legs, one jellyfish slapped me in the face, adding stinging insult to injury.

The beach didn’t seem to be getting any closer, and desperation set in. Eatcho is a poor swimmer, and as time passed, hopelessness got the better of him. Treading water next to me, my dear love began to spit sonnets of our life together, trying to say goodbye. I screamed at him to shut up and save his oxygen. How did we mess up THIS bad? I rolled onto my back, catching enough breath to curse my former self. Go kayaking, I said. It will be fun, I said. What could go wrong, I said. I should have knocked on wood. Or, better yet, we should have asked for life jackets.

After three hours and well over a mile of open water, we made it within striking distance of the shore. The closest point to us was the northern tip of the mainland, an austere cliff face surrounded by mollusk-covered rock islands popping up out of the ocean like the shoulders of a great, gray giant. The tide churned around the rocks with a mighty wake, swelling up and down and over. 

We followed the upward swell of a wave and came crashing down on the nearest rock mound. The tide dropped, and our soft, fatigued bodies ground down the jagged razor-sharp mollusks. It shredded our front sides like cheddar to a cheese grater. Blood poured from our new cuts, wretched deeply across our shins, knees, thighs, stomachs and the tight tendons between our fingers. 

Finding our grip, we climbed to the top and clung — shaking, bleeding — to the first bit of land we had felt in hours. Rejoice at our success lasted for a brief but distinct moment, interrupted by exhaustion and the even more sobering task of jumping back into the water once more for a final push to the mainland.

It took us a very long time to move — perhaps an hour spent on that mound. Fearful weeping came and went, and eventually we regained our ambition to tepidly step across our sanctuary of mollusk and rock. 

Laughter, screaming, and sobbing compounded. We walked for another hour through dusty deer trails and cactus-strewn forest peaks. Eatcho paused every so often to politely release his severe diarrhea from ingesting so much seawater. Our bodies became streaked with crimson as our wounds poured out the evidence of our naivety. We stumbled back to the road home. 

The Vanishing Islands of Panama

Story and Photography by Greta Rybus

gretarybus.com // @gretarybus

Off the Caribbean coast of Panama lies a constellation of approximately 365 islands known collectively as the Guna Yala Comarca. It is the land where the Guna tribe lives. Some of the islands are owned by locals but uninhabited: sand and palms rising from the sea, places to swim or gather coconuts. Other islands are inhabited by densely-packed communities of Guna families with thatch homes built to the very edges of the islands, sometimes built over and above the water.  

In Guna communities, decisions are made collectively. Each week, problems are brought to the congress house during a series of meetings overseen by sailas, or tribal elders. They talk about how to manage fish populations, how to grow crops and care for children, and they mediate quarrels between neighbors. These days, there are new, unprecedented problems brought on by changes in the environment. There has been too little rain. It is not enough to fill the water tanks or water the crops. Sometimes, parts of the island are flooded, the seawater rising to the knee and crossing the thresholds of homes. The sea seems too hot for the fish, and the storms seem to get stronger and stronger. The new problems exist alongside a loss of traditional knowledge, increasing influence from the cities, and overpopulation. 

The communities must make new decisions: what to do with the unpredictable environment and where to go when the sea begins to swallow the islands. According to a report by Displacement Solutions, it is estimated that 28,000 people in Guna Yala will eventually need to relocate.

 Gardi Subdub is an island closest to the highway on the mainland that leads to Panama City, an island with a cell phone signal and a small supermarket. Because of the rising sea and the growing population, the island’s congress has decided to relocate. They’ve already begun building a new community on the mainland a short drive into the hills where a new school building is almost completed. Next, they will begin to build homes.

Six hours by boat from Gardi Subdub is the island of Coetupu. It is more remote, more traditional. People wait in line to use one of two pay phones to call their families in the city. There, they are drafting plans to relocate to an adjacent island. They worry if the sea and land will continue to sustain their families and community. 

“The sea is good. The sea is medicine. If you have mosquito bites, you go inside the sea and then you feel better. Now, the sea can’t heal the way it used to. It is too hot. And in the past they used to catch a lot of fish. Nowadays, there is not much fish. And before, there were a lot of coconuts and bananas. But not now, because of the changes with the sun. And it used to rain like for about a week long. Now, if it rains, it rains only one hour and then it stops.”

— Leonidas Perez, saila (tribal congressman) - Coetupu community

“Young people, they are going to suffer the consequences. Governments, politicians, big countries should think about the relationship between people, not only indigenous people but all around the world. The problem is that as long as the social system doesn’t change, we will continue to have problems. The rich countries only work to get more and more money, and they want to dominate. There’s no equality. Poor countries are becoming even poorer. The system has to change. The resources, the wealth that God created, only a few are taking advantage of it and only a few are protecting it.”

 -Guillermo Archibold, agronomist - Gardi Subdub community

“Climate change is happening. And it’s happening in other countries, too. Right now there’s no water. We’re in danger. In the future, our islands are going to disappear. We aren’t safe. We are going to leave our own island because the sea is taking the land.”

— Alberto Lopez - Gardi Subdub community

“Parts of the island that normally didn’t flood are often covered in water. When people realized the sea level was rising, they started to destroy and use corals to build a kind of wall, which is very damaging. Our island is mostly made of coral infill now. So, we’re planning to move to a real island, an island made of land. About five years ago, we tried to start a project to relocate to the mainland, but there were disputes within the community. The land on the continent is already distributed; it has owners. And these owners don’t want to give their land to other people. So now we plan to relocate to another nearby island.”

— Asterio Ramirez, teacher - Coetupu community

Skate Pine Ridge

For over a decade the Elemental Awareness foundation has been traveling across the nation visiting Indian reservations to empower skate scenes and share massive amounts of product. This year they visited the Lakota reservation in Pine Ridge, South Dakota. The road was long, cold, and there van broke down on the way there. Luckily, someone lent them a big rig truck from a diesel repair shop in Nebraska. So they crammed all their stuff in, learned how to drive it, and made it the rest of the way.

The reservations in the States are notorious for their poverty, substance abuse, and high teen suicide rate. What you don't always hear about are all of the wonderful things that coexist with the bad: the smiles, the high fives, the communities, the ceremonies, the kickflips, and the grinds. Those are the things they saw and focused on during their visit. In the words of the great Lakota Chief, Sitting Bull, “Let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children.”