Issue 121 “Okanagan Battle” Feature
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words
tyler holm
photos
jay delaney
A long time ago, in a not-so-distant past... nine skateboarding warriors came together to form a beer-drinking alliance. They stood as a scruffy bunch, in all shapes and sizes, who were bound to a life of tattered shins and heel bruises. After loading up 20 flats of fresh, cold Cariboo brew and slapping together an armful of skateboard battle axes, they all loaded into a 36-foot recreational vehicle—their new home for the duration of a journey to the blistering Okanagan region of British Columbia. But the extreme temperatures didn’t concern any of the warriors—all of whom were prepared to guzzle brewskis, party and skate. For an adventure of this caliber, these influential men formed an alliance, including yours truly, Nick Moore, Arte Lew, Sean Lowe, Jamie Walker, Cam Schuster, Kyu Tae Kim, Dakota Allison, and photographer Jason Delaney. Some of these guys had known each other before the old Deca 2nd To None video had came out in 2001, which only helped when it came down to masterminding the strategy from the confines of the RV vessel. The only true battles were to be performed on the sweltering concrete, since floating on Kalamalka Lake with barrel of Cariboo isn’t much of a battle. It’s been said that the Okanagan breeds talent. Considering over half the guys on this trip are from this region, you’ll be led to believe that’s true. Is it something in the fresh, inland water? Perhaps, but maybe it’s in the Cariboo.
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Tyler Holm front board
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Cam Schuster
frontside tailslide
Ghost Town Escort
The Lowe Drinking Challenge
On the first night of the adventure, the boys were enroute to the old, forgotten ghost town of Kamloops. Loaded up and ready to go, I took the wheel of the rolling Tanker and navigated it towards the highway. Almost immediately the vehicle began to cultivate a fresh aroma of Cariboo towards the back, where Sean Lowe showed everyone drinking games he used to play back home in Salmon Arm with his family. Sean knew perfectly well that he may never see them again if the battle was to fail, but the warriors’ spirits were high—about as high as Jamie Walker at any given moment.
This expedition was well supplied with hungry skaters who have a hankering for ice-cold brew. That’s why it was imperative that the ’Boo was flowing on the regular. With all the different drinking games that took place and this voyage, one that stood out was the “Sean Lowe Trick Challenge,” something that consumed half of his time. The challenge itself was simple—two people, pitted against each other, would choose a trick for one another. The one to land the assigned trick last had to do a shotgun. Even though Sean would win most of the time, every now and then he’d have to open up the old hatch to suck one back. Perhaps it was the agitation of swimming to a pint-sized dock on Kalamalka Lake near Vernon that led to one particular shotgun causing Sean to dispense a vicious discharge of vomit. This claimed him as a temporary victim of the challenge he once championed, something that Nick and Cam didn’t hesitate to remind him of. Jay Delaney, being the media man he is, saw Sean’s performance as a quality Kodak moment, acting quickly to catch the action.
After a late start, and about a six-hour expedition, the bleak and opaque night in the ’Loops was upon us. The guys leap-frogged out of the vehicle after spotting a spot, and moved in for a closer look. All too busy admiring, nobody noticed this old decrepit lady of the night creeping up behind them. Nick Moore turned around, looked and jumped back 50 feet when she said he reminded her of her pet rodent. Next thing you know she was trying to invite herself aboard the Tanker. Being the General, I’m always down for the troops to pull some tail, but not of the ancient, feeble, cost-per-use variety. Avoiding dusty sheets, the boys withdrew rapidly, heading to the local skatepark to set up camp for the night in preparation of the urban concrete battlefield.
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Concrete skateboarding
Nick ‘Nugget’ Moore varial heel
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Sean Lowe
half-cab noseslide nollie bigspin heelflip
Crossing Arte The details are a bit hazy, and some slight fabrication may have occurred, but here goes. One morning, the whole crew strolled in to an old, rundown butcher shop in order to fuel up on fresh fish and sandwich meats. Arte Lew stepped into the line in his warrior stance, and almost immediately a Jersey Shore cast member look-a-like budged in front of him. This douche was with a couple of sweltering hot girls who failed to realize they were in the company of an absolute jackass. Arte proceeded to tap the guy on the shoulder, whispering something like, “Eh, you cut right in front of me and that wasn’t very nice.” The antagonist replied with a boisterous douchebag laugh: “Yo, I’m the coolest cat on the west side of Jersey. Get lost, kid!”
Arte stood there insulted and ashamed that this heathen would disgrace his honour. He took one more look at the guy before performing a running backflip kick to the side of his head. Post-timber, the Jersey boy stumbled to his feet throwing a swift left at Arte while questionable sandwiches were being made behind the counter. Arte reacted quickly, karate chopping his arm clear off. Post-aggression encounter, the patrons of the butcher shop cheered with a buzz, muddled by mouthfuls of bread and mayo, throwing speared pickles at his feet as if they were bouquets of roses for heroism. Jersey’s two beautiful accompaniments instantly threw themselves at Mr. Lew, at which time he grabbed a cold Cariboo from the RV, biting into it and assuming shotgun formation at a lightning-fast speed. Totally true story.
Mishaps & Good Times On the third day of battle, the boys awoke well rested, albeit hazily hungover at the Lowe family compound in Salmon Arm. At first they devoured every morsel of food in sight, then made their way to the Tanker to spark a day of skating. I stepped outside feeling good about the immediate future, when all of a sudden Nick walked up to me and said he fucked up. Nugz had not manned the wheel of the RV once on this trip for good reason, and thought he would take the liberty of navigating it out of the driveway on its final voyage to the concrete battlefield. Little did he realize the great steel vessel was still plugged in to the side of the house when he drove off, which yanked the power cord clean off the RV, rendering it unable to harness external power. My first impression was an unsavoury loss on the financial battlefield. However, Cariboo proved to be a powerful currency, and the RV tech performed surgery on the ol’ battle Tanker for a frosty flat. As the adventure wore thin, these warriors marveled at the fact that no one had died, and everybody stomped a handful of manoeuvres at the parks and spots of the Okanagan that had surrendered to the unwavering attack. Most importantly, the sweet, rich, cool, Cariboo brews lasted right to the end of the battle, quenching the ravenous thirsts felt by those of legal drinking age.
cariboobrewing.com/booskate
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