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to visiting my old stomping grounds on the East Coast of Canada, especially when it’s with a group of people who have never been there before. One thing I’ve noticed about people from other parts of the country (and the world for that matter), is that no one really knows jack shit about the place. They have these clichéd ideas that everyone from there is a fisherman, eats seafood three times-a-day, and that we’re all really nice and hospitable. Bullshit. I’ve never even fished once in my life, I hardly ever ate fish and I dare you to walk around Dartmouth or Spryfield, Nova Scotia, past dark. You’ll find out how “friendly” everyone is real quick.
Myself and filmer Dave “Curly” Pelletier, along with most of the Studio Skateboards team (I mention “most” because for reasons to be discussed later, Mike Fyfe missed the ride down), including Jai Ball, Darrell Smith, Jean-Mat Vincent, Kyle MacDonald and Joey Larock, hopped in a blacked-out Suburban to discover the “Real East” for over a week during the summer. I think that myself and Kyle, who’s originally from Dartmouth, or the “Dark Side” as it’s sometimes referred, were both excited about taking advantage of the rest of the guys lack of knowledge of the area. We were to play tour guides, basically making things up the whole time.
The only scheduled event of the trip was a demo in the town of Riverview, New Brunswick, so we had some freedom to roam around and check out spots in nearby Moncton before heading to Halifax. Kyle and I filled everyone’s head with enough lies and disinformation to safely prevent any of them from returning again. All in all, I think it was a sweet trip. —Geoff Clifford
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The plan always seems simple, but attempting to get eight skaters to do anything on time never is. So when our 8:30 a.m. rendezvous time turned into 10:30 a.m., with no sign of life from one Mike Fyfe, the usual sigh of frustration turned into wild guesses as to his whereabouts. You see, Mike has a wildly unpredictable side, kind of like drinking on an empty stomach; you could have a great time or vomit violently. After dozens of unreturned texts and calls, we finally drove our rented, black Suburban out of Montreal at 11:00 a.m., hoping and praying that he wasn’t in a ditch somewhere. When my phone finally rang at 11:30 a.m., hearing Mike’s dejected slurred voice brought a small grin to my face. He was alive. When he told me why he missed the ride, my small grin turned into a giant ear-to-ear smile. A wise man once said, “sometimes you go to jail and sometimes you don’t,” and on that hot Friday 34
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morning in June, Mike Fyfe said it. So with Mike on the next bus to Moncton, our crew headed to the Maritimes with one crazy story already in the books.
This tour came together thanks to our good friend, Surface skateshop owner and Riverview, NB park administrator, Ross Smith. Supporting us since Day One, he was able to get the town of Riverview to bring our team in instead of a team from the States for their annual Sun Fest event (take note, that’s how you help build a Canadian industry!) It’s guys like Ross who support local that make it all worthwhile, and true to form, continued the legend of Maritime hospitality. Whether it was food and booze around every corner, places to stay or showing us around, Ross and his crew made our lives easy. With only one demo on a five-day trip, we were stoked to hit the streets of Moncton and the surrounding area. After three days of skating,
barbecues, talking shit on Keith’s porch (our strong silent-type host), we made our way out to Halifax. Kyle MacDonald’s hometown, and by his account—the Compton of the East Coast. Gya.
Most of the team had never been to the Maritimes let alone Halifax. Kyle was pumped, but Kyle’s always pumped. He’s got his own time zone, one where nothing starts before three coffees, showers are optional, and casual banter is 24/7. He can talk you through anything, and when tensions would simmer high due to too many smelly dudes in a small van, Kyle’s verbal gems broke the stress every time. Halifax was awesome; rad spots (I would drive back just for brick banks), beautiful views and one of the best outdoor parks I’ve ever skated. Although trying to hit spots in the middle of the week is never easy, we got a lot done as well as ate dope fish and chips near Pro Skates.
While searching for a Future Shop on the last day of the trip somewhere outside of Halifax, Geoff accidently missed a stop sign coming out of a strip mall; enter sirens and a seriousass cop. With his big head eyeing us through the driver’s window, he called it in: “Run a check on license plate number blah, blah. I’ve got eight males in a black Suburban.” Pause. You see, when Jean-Mat and I rented the truck, we were stoked. I mean, these things are balling. You feel half-gangst’, half-FBI swat team and all the way good.
Little did we know that for an ex-NARC cop who just finished 10 years undercover, these vehicles are to drug dealers what Volkswagen vans are to hippies. But thankfully, after a few routine questions and the aforementioned explanation as to why he stopped us, he let us go without a ticket and left us with a well-learned lesson: you can rent a black Suburban, but wear a suit when you drive it. So all in all the trip went like this... Joey killed it as usual; Mike made it out and got tricks
as well as added to his lore; Jean-Mat skated his ass off but had bad luck with photos; Darrell is still dreaming about Keith’s back deck; Geoff is a frickin’ soldier (last one to bed, first one up); Curly Dave is like the Incredible Hulk, but tried his best to remain as Bruce Banner; Kyle solidified his place as road trip entertainer, and as for me, I felt like the old, crusty dad vacationing with his kids, having controlled fun, always a little worried about time and making sure everyone makes it home alive. At least I got a decent air mattress.
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