Thrasher Magazine

Ronnie Sandoval, trophy-perfect frontside invert at the epic La Kantera park

The power went out all over Spain, Portugal and France the day before our big trip. Nobody really knows the cause, but people in Madrid were trapped in elevators for hours and had to hike out of pitch-black subway tunnels, feeling their way along the soot-covered walls to freedom. The Madrid airport was closed when we boarded our flights, and nauseous dread filled my gut as we reached cruising altitude towards connections uncertain. Five hours over the Atlantic our phone pinged and we were rerouted, first to arrive a day later, and then through an Amsterdam connection. Amsterdam! Now that’s a town that can strike fear into anyone in charge of a group of skaters. For example, it was just a few trips ago that a certain SOTY (Okay, it was Grant Taylor) was sent through Amsterdam, only to go look for a cheeseburger before his final flight… leading to an odyssey (possibly involving legal reefer) that delayed his and a filmer’s arrival for over a day and a half. In the end, he made it, of course. As did everyone on the Thrasher x Vans Vacation. The power came back on. We landed smoothly.


Spots: smoked. Demos: destroyed—the Vans gang shows you the right way to roll through Europe

You don’t wanna know how long a flight from Spain to Japan is. Daiki Hoshino slices a Suski in Madrid two days later


We all met up and had that giddy feeling you get at the start of a fresh adventure. No matter how many of these I go on, I always get it. I was filled with hope, and as I greeted friends new and old I made up my mind that, like Bill Murray’s character in that masterpiece of Western cinema What About Bob? I would be TAKING A VACATION FROM MY PROBLEMS on this one. The world may be on the Tilt-A-Whirl, with a new crisis every hour, but not me. Not on this trip. It was gonna be no worries from here on out.



Ancient iron meets modern tech, Delfino battled this one, old-world style




CYBER PEDRO
Though he may look like a normal skater, or maybe even a weekend Hellrider, Pedro Delfino is on the cutting edge of groundbreaking technology, unafraid to put amazing tools to use in his personal and professional life. “Meta, where is the best place to skateboard in Madrid?” you’d hear him ask, seemingly to nobody. Talking to yourself in public is much less taboo in this day and age, what with all the earbuds and Blueteeth and what not, but I couldn’t figure out at first what robot or AI agent he was speaking to. That is, until I saw him dart his head around slightly after asking a question to nobody. Yep, those Ray-Ban sunglasses weren’t just a symbol of his disdain for a square society, they were some sort of computerized cyber glasses! With a camera on one temple and a screen on the inside! “Meta, go live!” Pedro would command, and down a hill he’d go, transmitting his four-wheeled adventure to his legions of fans worldwide. You can only imagine how much time he’s saving and wisdom he’s absorbing with the Internet going straight into his brain like that, and soon we were all lining up to take a turn, including Zion, who borrowed the magic shades in hopes that they would help him land his backside 360 nosegrab to fakie at the demo. “Meta, what am I doing wrong?!” he cried out after slamming to the ground. Not sure what the glasses told him, but a few minutes later he was riding away triumphant—looking cool AND connected to the Cloud. And you thought those inverted kingpins were high tech. Nah.

In the future, all Texas plants will once again be made in America. Off the rails in Madrid

Zion kickflip 50s at the Madrid hubba where a riot of student support was probably the only thing that kept us all from getting arrested

On trend? On God! Rowan crosses genres with a boardslide to reverse pole jam. And a bank too!





ROWAN AND BERLE
It’s been ten years since Vans’ first video Propeller, and Berle and Rowan continue to be the backbone of the operation, at least if consistently mind-blowing skateboarding is your bag. The filmers and I always joke that when these two show up on a trip they immediately raise the bar, especially for their peers who may have made it in the van based on trends or lucky associations. Not that this was that kind of trip. This was an all-kill, no-fill lineup by design. And not that these guys are jocks either. They’re just two of the best. You don’t blame an eagle because it soars. Or a bear because it can kill a man AND ride a motorcycle in a circus. Anyway, these guys are natural-born rippers and we’re lucky to have them. Lucky to be alive!

Remember when he noseblunted that dude’s head? No wonder this 5-0 was so easy for Elijah Berle

Breana Geering is as punk as she is sweet and hilarious. Grinds massive hubbas, too. The perfect package, really



“Not bad for the Uber driver!” Pfan Man sails another big one for the boys

Berle rides a high bar on the bluff above Algorta. The cops gave him one more, and he took it

Zion learned frontside inverts on the trip! His pants paid the price




DOS DIEGOS
“Fucking Clark Kent is ripping!” Diego Bucchieri remarked after watching Diego Todd skate the first spot of the trip. Our guide for Madrid, Diego B was one of my favorite skaters I got to shoot photos with when I first got the job, and Diego T is one of my most recent. They don’t share much as far as tricks or demeanor, but they both rip and really, really give a shit. Diego Todd never stopped skating the whole two weeks. Whether it was with the crew or all by himself, he was jamming around at every spot, mixing high-speed ledge shit with weird dork moves… he even got a banger on a playground slide. “Is this guy pro or what?” the Butcher asked. Good fucking question.

After kickflipping into this wavy bank, Diego Todd was going so fast he cleared the entire sidewalk and landed on the manhole

Backstage view of Martino Cattaneo’s switch BSO the channel

KILLER CAPSULE
We were chasing the Ghosts of Hellrides Past for several spots in Spain, including at Madrid’s Killer Capsule, skated by Phelper and the boys in July of 1997. Described as having “sweet corners and no kinks” back then, time and neglect has taken its toll on this largely abandoned pit. Everyone knew the go-to obstacle was the chest-high bar, the one Phil Shao had done a frontside 5-0 on during what would be his next-to-last summer. Pedro got the Texas plant, while Berle battled the good ol’ tailgrab nosegrind. It was the hottest day of the trip, and we spread a Euro picnic out in the shade of the connected basketball court. This kind of terrain is Ronnie’s specialty, and it was cool to watch him walk his eggplant up the rungs of the railing—first on the lip, then the bottom bar, the middle bar and so forth until he was hoisting a huevo grande off the top rope. Rowan’s switch crook attempts were only half the stunt, as he had to switch backside roll in over the cracked and funky lip to get enough speed to make the top. It was looking good until he finally committed, only to slip out and explode on the drain, the kind of skeleton-rattling slam where you don’t know if you’re paralyzed or just gonna shit your pants. Rowan was rocked for the rest of the trip. But in true Hellride fashion, he never even thought of changing his flight to bail early… and a return mission is already in the works.

Top-rope Top Gun! Berle handles a nosegrind

Ronnie Sandoval. Egg dreams, FTW





Fakie flip into the bank, proper as a picture

THE RIGHT DAIKI
Early emails for this trip had a different Daiki listed on the roster. “But didn’t that Daiki quit for another shoe team?” I finally asked, typical know-it-all. Turns out that even though we had the wrong Daiki on the docket, we were all imagining the right Daiki—Daiki Hoshino. “Has he gotten better since the last trip?” Elijah asked out loud. It would seem so, and Daiki soon became the go-to test shredder for dang-near every spot as well as the big demo. Daiki’s English continues to improve, revealed as he tried to charm the various rails who would not give up the tricks he was trying. “What’s the matter?” he purred to a rail he was attempting to kickflip 50-50, “You’re so cute. Come on…” After slamming on the gap-to-5-0 several times, he confided to it, “I have to hit you soft, like a kiss.” Call him a handrail romantic, but it definitely seemed to work. The only time we saw Daiki shook was after a big swig of Breezy’s bright-blue absinthe. “I died!” he told us after barfing in the corner. He threw up at the next spot, too. “Fucking bad drink,” he explained.



Just a peck. Gap to 5-0 in Bilbao

Slappy grind to escalator bomb. The neighbors here LOVED the Funk


SO, HOW DID FUNK DO?
This was the most common question I got from everyone after the trip. The implication is that Vans is somehow taking a BIG risk sponsoring a classic hellraiser, despite him being one of the rippingest skaters alive right now (and getting one of the top-five greatest Thrasher covers of all time while wearing their shoes). I mean, What’s a guy gotta do? to quote Jim Greco. I seem to recall a time not that long ago when the Vans team was at least 50-percent rambunctious young men. Not that everything has to stay the same forever, but a little punk-rock attitude goes a long way in keeping things lively. Long story short, Funk killed it despite showing up with an ankle the color and dimensions of a mayonnaise jar. He brought the heat in the streets, hit it off with Breezy and Una, only barfed in the van once and displayed plenty of that GX recklessness that makes him so goddamned exciting (see the August issue's Contents). Funk and Ronnie disappeared in Madrid one morning, popping up with some exciting new hats—Ronnie, with an ear-flap number looking look like he was in disguise in the 1970s, and Tristan with a newsboy cap that made him the spitting image of either Grover Dill from A Christmas Story, or AC/DC’s frontman Brian Johnson. So, Vans, if you’re reading this, I guess you can count Funk in for Fashion Week modeling duties, too! Especially if it involves really cool hats.

Got any fucked-up shit? How about in the middle of a busy roundabout? Yep! Drop-in, ollie, drop-in







Hold up, SOTY dropping!


T-BIRD
Early in the trip Tony Trujillo surprised everyone by tossing a perfect kickflip down a hefty gap first try. Make a list of skaters over 40 with that kind of kickflip confidence and I’ll show you 30 others who’ve moved on to wallies only. Tony’s been a dick to almost everyone in skateboarding at one time or another, having learned from the best. And I’m neither kissing his ass here, nor saying he’s turned over a new leaf, but the dude I saw on this trip was as cool as the Fonz—a reference skaters over 40 will get. An asset to the crew, he took some horrific slams but got back up and made it. He also celebrated four years of sobriety, a major milestone for anyone, let alone a pro skater and rock star since age 16. Keep it up, T-Bird. Skateboarding needs you.







Lil’ melon roll, no big deal

No, breathe OUT

DEMO BREATHALYZERS
We get away with a lot of shit on these trips. Ignorance is bliss, and we can be as ignorant as cavemen. I can’t count how many times we’ve pulled the van over and skated a spot only to later be told by the locals how it’s a “major bust” they never get to skate. The demo in Madrid was basically rained out, but the crew showed anyway, and eventually everyone pitched in to get the place dried up. A good time was had, but the old guy at the adjacent soccer fields didn’t like what he saw and called the cops who demanded that anyone who was going to drive a van take a breathalyzer. Nobody was wasted, but to make sure, we nominated Una as our designated hose blower. “They test for weed, too!” one of the locals warned at the last second. This was definitely NOT true, because Ras Una passed with flying colors and we were on our way.

Una Farrar walks on air, passes drunk tests, all that

Ah shit, I think they’re talking to us…Ah shit, I think they’re talking to us…

Willow Voges Fernandes takes a double bounce down a corduroy mountain in Madrid



While the good people of Spain are somehow able to infuse ham into every available food item, this is not what we’re talking about here. Rather, this trip was marred by multiple injuries.

Rowan: exploded groin

Daiki: bleeding through white jeans on both hips, absinthe poisoning

TNT: 24-hour Norovirus

Rye: late-onset non-fatal SIDS

Pedro: cognitive overload

Rome: backflip to concussion, dead leg

Burnett: resting French face

Zion: stubbed toe

Berle: perma-swellbow

Una: handrail half-gainer to backyotomy

Ronnie: kebab-related incident

Pfanner: Uber-driver depression syndrome

Martino: beautiful mind

T Funk: barfed in the van, kankle

Jerome: death by pollen




Ronnie, BSO channel in a Bilbao fish bowl



QUOTES
“The amount of times I hear my name here is tripping me out.” —Una in Spain

“I’m at the top of my belt now; I was at my belly button. I’ve lost ten centimeters.”
—Pfanner, about his ollie height

“Family-style tanked.“ —T Funk, rating his level of drunk

“I got the gut at 19!” —Diego, not knowing we were talking about Sean Gutierrez

“The best thing about Filet-O-Fish is they’re made of pork.”—Delfino

“Oh yeah, chicks! Right in their faces!”—Tony, landing a trick while girls walked by

“Was that too funky?” —T Funk

“T Funk has beautiful teeth for a Hellrider.” —Jerome

“Zion, bring me a fit for the boat!” —Berle, right before he got a Red Bull hat and yellow shades

“I’m no doctor, but all the beer ain’t helping that ankle.” —Zion to T Funk

“This ground looks like it would be slippery for everything but your body.” —Rowan

“All French people look like Pete Townshend.” ––Burnett

“Do you think there’s anyone dirtier than me in this airport?” —T Funk



Funk barges a tailslide to switch crooks in Bordeaux



Rome Collyer got completely stuffed on a curved rail in Bilbao and didn’t touch his board until a week later when he jumped onto this 16-stair back Smith in Bordeaux. He barely had enough strength to party on a boat until 5AM that night. Very sad

GET A ROOM
We passed a mural with this image every day in Bilbao: a couple of cartoon walruses getting it on, with a pillow cushioning the tusks of the top guy. When I got home, I translated the words from Basque. “Focus on your business!” was the message. And though I’m not sure if that’s a direction for curious gawkers or the dominant Walrus, it’s a positive sentiment in general. And the fact that two fornicating sea mammals are proudly displayed on the wall of an elementary school and nobody there seems to think the world is ending, that’s a good lesson too. Keep it in mind at your community’s next book burning.

The banks at this Bilbao rec center are better than most skateparks. Berle pivots the proletariat

If you never stop skating like Diego, eventually you end up finding shit like this gap-to-grind on a slide

The cobblestone art bowl in Biarritz is actually a rough ride. Luckily, Ronnie cut his chops at Channel Street. One-foot floater




No worries? No way! This shit was insane. Until next time, Vacationers!

FRESNO SMOOTH
My no worries approach lasted the entire trip, more or less, though the stellar crew made it easy. These are some troubling times, and even in this fantasy life we get to enjoy in the skate biz, we’re not immune to bad news. “Well, boys, enjoy it!” I said, trying to make a joke, “This time next year our big trip may be to Fresno.”
    Elijah replied, not even sarcastically, but matter of factly, “You know what? I can have just as much fun on a trip to Fresno.” And I realized… I can too. Vacations to faraway lands with fancy events and orange-colored drinks are great, but so is the ditch in Bakersfield. And the curbs in Oklahoma City. And getting kicked out of a bump in Riverside. If the crew is good and the vibes are high, you can have the best day of your life pretty much anywhere. Thanks for reminding me. And thanks to all my friends for the amazing trip. What an honor. Hope to see you all again very soon.

Funk played through the pain long enough to take this nosegrind over a fat stack in France. Think he’s gnarly? They eat snails and shit over there!

Trick of the trip: Willow rode the skinny bank on the right-hand side of the stairs, then ollied from there into the massive bank on the left, snapping his tail on the roll away. The end