Of Mustaches, Mountainmen, and Mammoth

The Mammoth pilgrimage had been a long time coming. Normally a multi-annual trip, it had been nixed for over a year's time. Financial burdens, personal problems, not being able to assemble any sort of proper crew all at the same time without scheduling conflicts. Obviously a bunch of weak-ass excuses for NOT going.

The Excuse.

High Desert Scrub.

The Reason.

Heckler's Cove North.

"If you save your breath, I feel a man like you could manage it." Jake pushing across the desert.

  

We decided to drag young Jake Reuter into the wilderness to break him in on the finer aspects of angling, marksmanship, camping out, and if nothing else, bear bait. His reward for suffering the great outdoors came in the form of adventure and back-breaking labor. Somebody's got to train these kids how to survive the coming apocalypse. By the end of the weekend, he was ready to be dumped in the back country and stay alive with a few simple tools.

Trout country.

 

Devil's Postpile.

Ah... Crystals!

seatbelt smith.

Jo Jo back smith at altitude.

thug life.

Rat Face spracking.

Slow day's catch.

guerrilla arts.

Chris Henderson hurricane fakie.

Jake getting high.

The Volcom/Brothers Mammoth Skatepark is someplace you have to go at least once in your life. Do yourself a favor and camp, staying in hotels is not only expensive up there, but it's pretty much for pussies. Just remember to use the bear box. Really.

WSVT SHITTER JAM

  

 Pre warning 

The writer dude is on vacation. Too bad. I know with a title like Shitter Jam he would have had a field day with the word play. In fact I'm sure by the end of the article he would have somehow convinced us that the feeling you got after attending this event was equivalent to the feeling you get after you've taken a really good dump. Stoked. Word play. But he unfortunately missed it. So the coverage falls to me. Sorry. 

The Washington Street crew had a fundraiser on Saturday. Money was raised for insurance and more importantly … the shitter. That's right. That shit cost money. They had product raffles all day thanks to a long list of generous sponsors and BBQ provided by Carolina Mikes Sauce Company. I gotta mention, this was the best BBQ I've had in quite awhile. 

Damn that was good. A bunch of skaters showed and of course the locals ripped. They had a Death Race with two man elimination heats. The course wound thru the park and funneled into the back bowl where it was kill or be killed. Jake Reuter came away with the win. As I pointed out earlier, Im no writer. Here are a bunch of pics to tell the tale. 

Every Man has a purpose.

                                                         
                                                           Jake Reuter channel huck.

                                                         
                                                             Gabe Martinez BS Ollie

                                           I didn't catch his name but I caught his FS air.

                                                    Faceless Texas Plant by Justin Rhode

                                                      Carolina Mike. BBQ at it's best.

                                                            Shey Saladino Tail Block

                                                                   Jeff Ward killing.

                              Death Race was full of near misses and full on body checks.

                                     Jake Reuter edged out his rival to win the whole deal.

                                                                     The Trophy.

                                                 Victory lap with the winning trophy.

                                          Doug "Pineapple" Saladino. Corner Pocket Love.

                                                           Brandon Perelson. Terrorist.

Big props to the crew at Washington street for all you do. To everyone involved with this event ... Thank You. Go support this shit here: http://washingtonstreetskatepark.com/donate.php

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Ben Raybourn Handles Business at the Beach

Big Ben at the beach

It's safe to assume that people have tried to come up with catchy nicknames for good 'ol Ben Raybourn. He comes from Texas, he's smallish, he's got those little peabody-style eyeglasses, and he generally skates in an unorthodox manner that is born out of growing up reading only vintage skate mags. Ben's got all sorts of other little idiosyncrasies too, none of which need to be delved into here. Yet the nicknames are absent. One might think it helpful to have said monikers, especially at an event in which no less than 3 Bens are entered. Then again, when one skates as Ben does, nicknames are irrelevant. Maybe it's better to simply refer to Ben's instagram handle: @choadped.

Chaos with Charlie Blair directing traffic, and Greyson Fletcher pursuing Rob Russo

Riley Stevens

Kevin Kowalski, finger-flip lien disaster.

And so it was that in the midst of the sun-splashed sea of unclean humanity, ill-chosen swimwear, and general muckfuckery that is the US Open of Pro Surfing, Skateboarding, and a few other sporting endeavours, @choadped made mincemeat of the blue masonite that is the Converse Coastal Carnage ramp and walked away with 20 large. We heart @choadped. Now enjoy some photographs.

Another Ben, Hatchell. Volcanic sharkbite front blunt.

Lance Mountain made the finals

Ronnie Sandoval

Yet another Ben. Raemers, Back D.

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