AWAY DAYS LA premiere exclusive coverage.

Snoop was there, Marc Johnson and Daewon Song are now on Adidas, Mike Carroll is pissed, and Away Days is a sick for being an international sportswear company video.

What’s more important is that Adidas poured copious amounts of alcohol down our throats and gave us exclusive backstage/poolside access, which we would fully take for granted.

In light of the LA premiere, WTFB made an unprecedented comeback, providing an inside look at the video that took the industry by storm.

“3 MIDWEST BASED SKATEBOARDERS EMBARK ON AN EPIC TALE OF NETWORKING POOLSIDE WITH THE PROS, SKATING SKATEPARKS WITH THE BROS, AND CHIC-FIL-A WITH THE HOES ALL IN THE NAME OF MAKING IT IN LOS ANGELES. WILL THEY BE DISCOVERED? WATCH AND FIND OUT!” –WTFB

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Raw footage from Medellín.

Raw clips have been around about as long as skateboarding has been on the internet. They’re always fun to watch because unlike your typical skate porn with back to back clips over some music, they offer a glimpse into what it’s actually like to skate around a foreign city.

Medellín, Colombia is one of the most hectic cities to skate in; you’re always dodging cars, buses, cracks and crack heads. That’s also why it’s one of the funnest cities to skate. The constant sensory overload makes 5th ave Manhattan feel relaxing on a Monday. Local Medellín video magazine, Brutal, started a raw series of their own that gives you an idea of what it’s like to push around the city of eternal spring.

 

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“I can’t even kick it with these broke boys”

Where The Fuks Bae, the hardest working iPhone video production company in skateboarding, dropped another edit featuring more bone structure than an episode of grey’s anatomy. It’s a farewell clip for our beloved former co-worker Teddy Seeley, who left the skate shop for his new career in Ann Arbor, where you can now find him in a cardigan selling handmade leather-back journals and watches.

Unfortunately shitfoot staff couldn’t get to it before Ride Channel, but Mikey Callendar’s wallride is the most exposure Grand Rapids skateboarding has gotten since Josh Kalis’ epicly later’d, or that one time Chad Muska spray painted on the bank at Clemente and Hoag put it on instagram.

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JUMP IS LIKE STAIRS–exclusive coverage of street league Chicago.

Once upon a time at the 2015 street league championship in Chicago, Announcer Brian Schaefer said to a little boy who was offered a prize if he were to land a 360 flip in front of thousands of spectators, “Where are you from?” And when the little boy said he was from a small town about an hour outside of Chicago, Mr. Schaefer asked, “Did you skate here?”

“No.” The boy replied.

And then Mr. Schaefer looked the little boy directly in the eyes and said into the microphone that projected over the massive crowd, “Well you should.”

Kevin Hoefler, the other Brazilian who deserved to win, won.

“Jump is like stairs.”

In more important news, Where The Fuks Bae dropped another one of the best edits of the year, ***Trash***.

And Dusty Familia and editor in chief of the Premier video that might come out this winter, Matt Eggebeen, filmed stuff with his phone and turned into Grand Rapids cinema gold.

 

 

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Kind of skateboarding in La Paz.

The first week of our Mexico trip consisted mostly of driving 50 mph for a thousand miles through the deserted Baja Peninsula, stopping at taquerías or slightly racist Chinese restaurants, and camping in some secluded bay along the Sea of Cortés every night. After seven days we finally made it to La Paz.

La Paz is hot as fuck, but if you think about it as a sauna that you don’t need to buy a membership for but also has good skate spots and cheap beer and tacos, it’s not so bad. They have some bump to bars and in the hills there are a bunch of porch gaps and driveway banks between the houses kind of like San Francisco. The only downside is that it’s nearly impossible to push through the streets because of the crusty Mexican roadwork and the gay damn ass rocks.

When traveling in the Unimog, the easiest way to stay awhile in one place is by parking at an R.V. park like the Aquamarina in La Paz. Throughout Baja there’s no shortage of R.V. parks considering the growing number of retired gringos that want to stretch out the rest of their life savings in Mexico while they wait to die.

Aquamarina is cool because even if you don’t have an R.V. you can rent a nice three or four bed apartment for 40 dollars a night, and you’re on a decent/slightly toxic beach/marina and only a 10-minute push from downtown. It’s not a bad place for a group of skateboarders as well as for your average soul-searching white girl traveler that loves to see the world on a budget.

Also, there’s this guy Ernesto that works at the Aquamarina who took us out for a night on the town and brought us to the realest taco stand–Taquería el Chino. The last time Pat and Randall were here, Ernesto gave them a bucket of American change that he had picked up around the park for years, which we brought to a coinstar in San Diego that totaled $500 US. When we asked him what he was going to do with it, he said he was going to give some to his kid in mainland Mexico, but also because la vida es “tomar, a coger, a mamar, porque el mundo va a acabar.” Use a dictionary.

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The owner of the Aquamarina R.V. Park is an adorable little 82-year-old Mexican lady named Mary Lou, who learned English by crossing the border into El Paso as a child to watch American films without subtitles, in particular Frank Sinatra movies because “he pronounced everything the best.” Makes me wonder to myself, What the fuck makes you so interesting?

After skating around the city one day, Pat and I stopped to dry our sweat-soaked pants in an air-conditioned bar. When we finished our frosted mugs of Pacifico, one of the employees, mostly likely a bus boy, walked up to us and casually leaned on the bar, and started talking to us in broken English.

“You skateboard?”

“Sí.”

“Where from?”

“Chicago,” We’d always say when strangers asked.

Then he asked the most logical next question for a couple skateboarders, “Smoke weed?”

“Sí.”

He paused for a moment. “I get you weed. 100 pesos” (which is less than ten dollars). Meanwhile everybody else is working and fully aware of what’s going on, and there’s maybe one other customer in the dining area.

“Okay, gracias.” We’re pretty sure he went straight to his dealer around the corner while on the clock, because twenty minutes later he came back with a bag of the dirtiest looking weed. He had us follow him into the bathroom where he ripped the bag in half, keeping some for himself. Either way it was more than what you’d get for the equivalent in the US.

So I guess if you’re ever in Mexico and you need a plug, just walk into a bar with a skateboard.

IMG_6090Aquamarina R.V. Park. #mogporn

 

 

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Life on the road Mexico update.

There’s an old saying among sailors that for everyday you’re at sea, the boat gets one foot smaller. The same goes for the Unimog, and our friends at Filmmaker for a Cause have been at sea for three years. It’s like traveling with a married couple of fifteen years when it should have been a one-night stand. On one side of me there’s Randall, a well-educated middle-aged man with a whole lot of life experience, common sense and optimism and who’s always the one driving, while to my right there’s a 22-year-old entitled pessimistic white boy from the suburbs (including myself), and on my lap is a panting dog whose paws constantly dig into my sun-burnt kneecaps. Not to mention, there’s no AC and the cab isn’t insulated from the heat of the engine. Regardless, they still work together to stay on the road and work indefinitely to continue making a difference in the world.

As skateboarders, it’s not often we find ourselves in a place where if you were to step out of your car, pick any direction and just walk, you would die. That’s where we were–a single desolate road that winds through mountainous desert as far as the eye can see across the Baha Peninsula–when Randall noticed something weird and something told him to stop the Mog. He walked around the truck and came back and said, “Pat, shut the car off. We have a problem.” It turns out the wheel was just seconds away from peeling off the truck, which certainly would have killed us if we waited a minute later as we were coming up to another treacherous bend in the road. Find out exactly what happened to the Mog here.

After we put the spare on, Pat accidentally ripped a hole in the air compressor tube that we needed to tighten the lug nuts as well as fill the rest of the tire.

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But luckily these dudes know every nut and bolt on this truck, and have planned for every worst-case scenario imaginable, so we patched the tube with some sealing tape, and finished replacing the 300-pound tire with the spare. In case you ever have to replace a 300-pound tire, use a shovel to prop it up and then wiggle it on. There you go, you learn something new everyday.

Before nightfall we made it to Bahía de los Angeles, where we would swim with turtles and watch dolphins and manna ray jump out of the water and snorkel and fend off packs of coyotes in the night with machetes, among other things you would normally do on a core skate trip. After that long day driving through the desert in the Mog, a short stay at Bahía de los Angeles was well deserved, so we could focus and gets lots of work done ;)

image4#nofilter

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Mexico vacation with Filmmaker for a Cause.

We Are Blood premiere San Diego.

Before driving into Mexico, Shitfoot correspondents flew out to San Diego for the premiere of Ty Evans’ new blockbuster skate film, We Are Blood. I know what you’re thinking, “…but they didn’t have a San Diego premiere for We Are Blood.” No they didn’t, but we downloaded the 4K skate film from Amazon or whatever and watched the two-hour long Mountain Dew commercial in the production studio mounted on the bed of a German military truck, the Mercedes Unimog.

The Unimog hauls around an arsenal of cameras including a RED, some other 4K cameras, and some drones for those fly-by shots of skating on helicopter pads, so regardless it felt like we were on a skate trip with Ty. But the real reason we’re out here is to see first hand what’s it’s like traveling the world with a few cinematographers and a dog who are doing good things for humanity while we try to skate and eat tacos.

Deported from Mexico.

It’s not surprising that our 11.6-foot tall German military truck painted in dark tactical grey got “anonymously” searched at the San Ysidro/Tijuana border. El Jefe wasn’t buying that the Unimog is just an “RV” and that we were only heading to Ensanada for vacation.

As soon as we were sent back we were on our way to the next border crossing at Tecate, the same Tecate where our favorite Mexican beer is made. Passing through Tecate was smooth, and the Jefe there only pocketed 25 dollars from us for our FMM visas (It only costs 20, but el Jefe clearly didn’t give a fuck so we weren’t going to ask questions). After a few fish tacos and cokes, we made our way to our first camp just outside of Ensanada.

It just so happened that our camp was directly across the street from a DIY park built in the median of the highway.

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