Roark Artifacts - Vol. 16: "Hong Kong Galore" by Roark

Hong Kong Galore Tai-O Village

East China Seaward Ninepin Islands

ROARK VOL 16: "HONG KONG GALORE" SPRING & SUMMER of 2019

56 HAPPY PARADISE

D R A G O N F LY I S L A N D

TA I L O R E D B Y TRAVEL

HONG KONG GALORE

VOL 16: HONG KONG GALORE

EDEN OF SORTS

Every season the collection is inspired by stories, culture, climate, people, and

ROSS TURPIN

local textiles from travels to a different point on the map.

BOREDOM-BUSTING

JERRY RICCIOTTI

The city of Hong Kong has earned its way onto the itinerary of adventurers

ENDURING KEEPSAKES

SAMâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S MUSCLE

and traders for thousands of years. But in true fashion, Roark explored the

PREPARE TO DISCONNECT

THE ALLURE

bowels of what most love about the city and what we never knew about the waves, tropical musings and rocks to climb in the extremities of the territory.

PAN-AMERICAN

T H E FA R S I D E O F L A N TA U

BECAUSE MOST ADVENTURES ARE CUT ON THE TRAIL - WE OFT FORGET A B O U T T H E C I T Y, A N D I N S O M E C I R C U M S TA N C E S W H AT L I E S IN THE SHADOWS OF THE MODERN STEEL-SCAPE.

THE ALLURE OF HONG KONG WAS MUCH TOO FRAGRANT FOR ROARK T O P A S S U P.

4 THE ALLURE

The colonial days of the region have shaped an interesting perspective on the world and Hong Kong’s history of trading has amalgamated many influences into a nature that’s truly unique. The flux of neon, exotic foods, exquisite tailors, head-spinning climate, unreasonable noise and prolific romance add up to a gluttony of experience that can only be captured by the galore of it all. Our crew of revivalists was comprised of surfers Parker Coffin and Ivah Wilmot, climber and photographer Drew Smith, skateboarders Jamie Thomas and Chris Troy, as well as resident travel monger and photographer Dylan Gordon. A diverse gaggle to explore every nook Hong Kong guards. Our obsession for adventure took us into the kitchen of “Happy Paradise” for a taste of modern Cantonese faire and into “Crab Alley” on Temple Street for the aforementioned crustacean and noodles both of which inspired prints in the collection. Neon signs guided us through the cloaked streets into gambling halls full of Hong Kong’s finest and on to “Star Crossed” Tattoo for a set of collaborations. A chance meeting with the finest tailor in Hong Kong led to a project with Jamie and Parker directed by Sam “the finest tailor” himself. But the wild called, and as usual Roark answered - climbing walls within the city limits and beyond. The taste of freedom wasn’t enough so we headed out to Tai Long Wan for a wave and on to a boat trip to the Ninepin Islands for fishing, camping, surf exploration and methodical cliff jumping. This jaunt certainly inspired print but also influenced a handful of products built for a hot, moisture-ridden terrain calling for purpose-driven solutions. Overall the Spring 2019 collection celebrates the abundance of everything in Hong Kong. The bright color palette, textile prints and technical needs are spawn from a journey only our road-weary wayward could uncover. Enjoy the excess of “Hong Kong Galore” and take a walk through the corridors of a magical place that’s always moving forward - faster than you. P H O T O G R A P H Y B Y D Y L A N G O R D O N , D R E W S M I T H A N D R YA N H I T Z E L

THE ALLURE

A R T I FA C T S

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 1

Hong Kong Galore Glamour, Glitz and the Escape Thereof in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China.

PG 06

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

HONG KONG GALORE

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 1

While the exact origin of its name is not known, Hong Kong is generally believed to be a phonetic rendering of the Cantonese pronunciation hēung góng, a phrase that translates to “fragrant harbor,” the fragrance either referring to the sweet taste of fresh water from the adjacent Pearl River, or aroma of incense artisans lining the coast of Northern Kowloon. Regardless, this intrinsic quality of scent signifies some corporeal connection from the start. A clash with the senses, certainly something one immediately feels when walking down the electric-overload that is Nathan Road or through the frenetic Temple Street Night Market. Car exhaust mixing with fragrant Bauhinia blossoms, mingling with dried cuttlefish beside dim sum simmering on a dingy alleyway wok at the foot of a billion dollar skyscraper. Hong Kong, a clash of cultures, an island that has seen rulers and language and uniforms exchange power for over 6,000 years, from Baiyue tribes to Chinese dynasties to British occupation, and quite recently, back to the Chinese again. But maybe the term “clash,” which infers a sense of conflict isn’t the right word. Perhaps it’s a mixing of cultures. A spinning of stories. A centrifugal whirl rotating around this island nucleus. The colonial in a complicated tango with tech. Hundreds of high-rises that from afar look like desperate arms reaching toward the heavens for gifts from the gods. Or maybe it’s the way arms raise in a dance… And nevertheless, despite being barred from the third den, their Whatever the hell it is, Parker Coffin, Ivah Wilmot and Drew

spirits are not sullied. Our young, green but grinning local handler,

Smith have been looking for some action for an hour now, kicked

Mikey C, had informed us earlier, a mere hour after Parker and

out of their third straight mahjong den without even getting a seat

Ivah arrived, that the surf was up (for Hong Kong) and to grab

at the table, their only crime being a gweilo (Westerner). And who

their boards and get in the bus before the waves were gone.

the hell could have ever known it would be so hard to hand locals

Apparently, Big Wave Bay was firing, so we loaded up the 25-seat

your money? Go figure.

mini-bus, each got a row to ourselves and Jamie Thomas set the tone like he always does, clicking play on a small but potent travel

Speaking of gweilos, the bunch of us were no small crew this time.

speaker which crooned: I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right

A larger band of gypsies channeling Roark’s adventurous spirit,

words to say/ I know they don't sound the way I planned them to

in Hong Kong, we would explore all terrains. Ivah Wilmot, a

be/ But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me/ I

young mystic from Jamaica and Parker Coffin, a merry prankster

promise, I promise you I will…

from Santa Barbara would lead our surf endeavors, while skate icon Jamie Thomas, aka “the Chief,” with Oceanside’s, Chris Troy, would

Indeed Big Wave Bay was surfable and the water was a balmy,

guide us through the streets. Freeclimber cum photojournalist, Drew

jade-colored bathtub. We gave it hell for a couple hours even if

Smith, would scale sea cliffs and rock-face, while return travel-addicts

it was like a mediocre day at home, Parker punting a couple air

Elvis and the Wolf would tow us deep into this island’s ethos. Of course

reverses off some left hand bowls, while Ivah faded, floated and

Roark’s trusted and perennial documentarians, Jerry Ricciotti

turned most-stylishly. We came in through a passing storm, cracked

(a seasoned VICE director of photography on vid) and the intrepid

open Tsingtao beers and slurped our first proper bowl of hot

Dylan Gordon on stills, would capture each moment, each escapade,

noodles while the rain let up, Big Wave Bay feeling quite removed

each boot from every mahjong den...

from the metropolis only 45 minutes away.

V A G AHBOU N N GD OKSO N DG E LG CA AL R ON RE

B I G WAV E B AY

HONG KONG GALORE

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 1

But back in the city circling the Temple Street Night Market, we run into Jamie and Chris, who have very quickly seemed to make themselves at home in this town. They’d assembled a steel construction sign and two road barriers into a waist-high launch ramp beneath an iconic neon sign and began doing massive kick flips in the middle of the street right under the city’s nose. A curious crowd is gathering and it’s always special how skateboarding can make people stop where they’re headed to, and watch, and be fascinated. Before we know it, they’re filming this impromptu event on iphones, probably Facebook Live, as this is Hong Kong, and nothing does not happen immediately. But a few cops on foot intervene 20 minutes in and tell the boys to break down the ramp. To, respectfully, beat it. So they do, and we scurry off to scour the city for another mahjong den, foot masseuse and an intersection with buildable kickers.

HONG KONG GALORE

JAMIE THOMAS EXPLORING THE BOWELS OF THE CITY

HONG KONG GALORE

A R T I FA C T S

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 2

The Far Side of Lantau Tai O village on the western point of Lantau Island feels old, lost in time, significant.

PG 18

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 2

What’s stunning about Hong Kong, something we’d never

Many of the houses we pass look crafted of tin or metallic

have guessed in a million years is how undeveloped it is right

insulation and perch like inhabited freezer boxes or igloo coolers

outside of the city. Dense, dark green tropical forests devoid

with windows. Flying on poles between them are ancient, wicked

of one neon light or structure for many, many acres. In our

looking dynasty-era battle flags fluttering over fragrant flowerbeds.

corner of a crowded passenger bus, Jamie’s small but potent

I pass a man with a yard full of bonsai trees surrounded by small

speaker blares a pleasant Sturgill Simpson country cover

3-leaf clovers. Everyone, in fact, has a lush home garden growing

of “In Bloom.” He's the one who likes all our pretty songs/

herbs and spices and as we get deeper toward our place, we spy

And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun/ But

men in sweat stained singlets smoking cigarettes down to their

he don't know what it means… Somehow Jamie’s selections

finger tips slapping mahjong tiles on tables in dark rooms with

always hit the mark to fit the mood perfectly.

no doors. Everywhere there are red lights illuminating Confucius Buddhist shrines.

Tai O village on the western point of Lantau Island feels old, lost in time, significant. A snapshot of old Hong Kong or whatever that

We drop our gear at the pad, have an afternoon coffee in the town

ever was. Walking through the tight streets lugging all our gear

square and Ivah sheds his shirt and shoes and skates around the

we’re assaulted by a collection of sounds and smells. A 300 year old

courtyard, doing barefooted 360-flips. Hungry from travel as the

fishing village, most of the houses are perched on stilts and seem

evening approaches and the earth cools down, we get in a row boat

to rise or crouch like tigers awaiting prey with the fluctuation of

to cross the river and explore the labyrinth of stilt houses and canals,

the tides. But through the tight alleyways of the market, sit trays of

paddling deeper and deeper into the floating neighborhood, ending

pungent dried shrimp, cuttlefish, scallops, and other delicacies from

up at an aptly named café called Triple Lanterns. It is only fitting

the sea that you can sniff 50 yards away.

that we’d finish three beers each here after their delicious fish stew.

T H E FA R S I D E O F L A N TA U

A R T I FA C T S

VOLUME 16

Samâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Muscle A small, unassuming suit shop off the frenetic Nathan Road in Kowloon.

CHAPTER 3

PG 24

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

A Every man needs a good suit. Even the most savage of souls. Guys like Drew who have paddled canoes down the entire Mekong, driven the coast from Alaska to Mexico and have climbed to the top of peaks in the Andes, and then named them. They’re a good cover, a good disguise over the wolf beneath the two buttoned blazer. After a couple nights in the village, we’d come back to Kowloon to stock up before a trip to the Outer Islands. Plus, the boys needed some suits. Parker especially, for an impending wedding. Coincidentally, or perhaps, cosmically, Parker’s mother and father built custom suits here with this same exact tailor (Sam) in the mid-80’s while his mother lived there. Also, Jamie wanted some custom shirts crafted from some epic fabric he found down a Temple Street alley. Thus, we’d come to the best: Sam’s Tailor, an unassuming shop off of Nathan Road, in an even more unassuming arcade. They say that it is not a question of who Sam has made a suit for, but who he hasn’t. And while this adage at Sam’s Tailor seems like hyperbole, it is not. More than a business or a brand name — Sam’s Tailor is a Hong Kong institution. A mythos. We're not sure if there's even a Sam.

D U R I N G A F IT T I N G AT S A M'S, JA M I E S A M P L E S A P I E C E F R O M T H E L I M IT E D C O L L A B O R AT I O N.

SAM’S MUSCLE

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 3

MYTHOS

M A N U , T H E FA C E B E H I N D T H E R E N O W N E D S A M ' S TA I L O R .

But stepping into the tight shop, above and below the scores of fabric

I slide behind the security booth with Boo and sip my beer

rolls wedged into the walls like tomes in some ancient library are

while he chews his betelnut and he proceeds to tell me his

evidence of this adage. Over the last 50 years there are photos of Sam

life story. A soldier from Nepal he served in the Royal British

embraced by a who’s who of world leaders and pop culture celebrities

Army, has walked seven straights days from his village to

he’s suited. Photos of Sam with: Bill Clinton, Prince Charles, David

Kathmandu (several times), has arms like Popeye and a

Bowie and Rod Stewart. His larger-than-life son, Roshan, seems to

smile softer than silk. Boo told me a couple war stories and I

run the show here and handles us with a hand heavier than a dictator,

listened intently, sipping slowly. Boo is the kind of man you

but a disarming charm that lightens the blow. He presents us with

could have a drink with and he’d have your back for life.

beers (craft ones, he explains) and we say Tchin-Tchin while he

The boys come out wearing smiles; they’ll have their suits

whips out the sizing ruler. The shop, however, is feeling like there’s

and shirts done when we get back from the islands and we

too many cooks in the kitchen, so I take my craft beer outside and

walk away from the legendary shop built around a name of

hang with Sam’s body guard slash shop security, Boo.

a man who may or may not even exist. Look out for a limited collaboration between Roark and Sam's Tailor this summer.

SAM’S MUSCLE

TRIP

CHEF

MAY

CHOWâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S

VIBRANT

AND

EXCITING

RESTAURANT

HONG

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

THE COCKTAILS ARE STRONG AND AROMATIC, CUISINE ADVENTUROUSLY DELICIOUS, AND YET THE SPACE IS THE OPPOSITE OF STUFFY OR PRETENTIOUS.

H A P P Y PA R A D I S E

CHEF

MAY

FILLS

ABOUT

THE

INSPIRATION(S)

KONG’S

HIP

SOHO

NEIGHBORHOOD

WORTH

THE

UBER

RIDE

SPADES.

NOT THAT WE SHOULD’VE EXPECTED ANYTHING LESS FROM MS. CHOW. THE GAL’S A CLASS-ACT WITH A SOULFUL VISION TO PROVIDE SOMETHING ICONIC FOR THE CITY SHE’S LOVED HER WHOLE LIFE.

H A P P Y PA R A D I S E

BEHIND

THE

JOINT

EVERY

FOODIE’S

TALKING

ABOUT…

UG/F, 52-56 STAUNTON ST,

CENTRAL, HONG KONG

FOR BAR & FRIENDSHIP CALL:

(852) 2816-2118

SENSORY

W H AT ’ S T H E I D E A B E H I N D H A P P Y PA R A D I S E ?

I think it has to do with the idea of “comfort food.” When I came home from the US, I was wondering what my comfort food was here in Hong Kong. Really, I wanted to do something special for myself and Hong Kong, and I also wanted to create something iconic for the city. I didn’t want people to just say, “Oh this place reminds me of New York,” but rather, “This reminds me of Hong Kong in 2019.” Sure, we do some more adventurous, authentic stuff like the pigeon brains, but we also do fun stuff like sourdough egg waffles, which is basically a street snack. Mainly, I think what represents Happy Paradise is a balance between fun and adventure.

A M A Z I N G . I D E F I N I T E LY F E E L T H A T V I B E I N H E R E . W H AT D O YO U LOV E M O S T A B O U T H O N G KO N G?

My favorite thing about Hong Kong is the contrast. You can ball out and dine and eat like a king, or you can eat on the street and that contrast is in everything we do here. There’s a building that’s about to fall down next to the most beautiful skyscraper in the world, the city is young and old at the same time and people are hungry for change.

H A P P Y PA R A D I S E

Honestly, I think the décor here and music is a culmination from my days partying at school in America. [laughs] I love things that are almost borderline ugly…but you’re not sure if they really are? [laughs]. But mostly, I was inspired by massage parlors. A guy from Adelaide came and helped me, too. I showed him my favorite barber shop, mahjong dens and a massage parlor, called Sunny Paradise, (which we stole the name from). We went to Nathan Road where all the neon lights are and got inspired from that and the exchange/ money shops there. Just love that sense of randomness. It’s like our bar is more of a neon light art installation than just bar décor. Also, you can see there’s a bit of a Chinese diner feel in here, too from maybe the 70s or 80s. To me, that was the golden era of Hong Kong. There was this guy Leslie Cheung who was openly gay doing music shows that the public didn’t even understand, so there was a lot of creativity in the air. It was an avant guarde time. So I take a lot of that vibe from the 70s, 80s and 90s but didn’t want to create a fusion. I want Happy Paradise to be authentically Hong Kong-feeling.

TA L K TO M E A B O U T T H E F O O D H E R E, W H AT W O U L D YO U S AY Y O U ’ R E T R Y I N G T O E V O K E ?

Mmm, that Chinese food is not just fried rice! [laughs] I would say our food evokes Hong Kong as a place and all the senses that Hong Kong activates. Teas that remind you of the morning, the smells of roasted goose and Chinese BBQ. The crazy thing about Hong Kong is that there could be one tight little street and you have ten different smells emanating from it. I think as a food culture we’re greedy in Hong Kong, too. We love having nine

COASTER

ROLLER –

TA L K TO M E A B O U T T H E D É C O R H E R E AT H A P P Y PA R A D I S E . W H AT I N S P I R E D I T A L L ?

different dishes to eat from and share with friends and family. That’s the whole point of the ‘Lazy Susan’ right? But, yeah, in Hong Kong the smells can also be very bombarding. Like, is that a sewer? Or, wait is that the best smelling BBQ goose? It’s a rollercoaster and I enjoy riding that rollercoaster. And that’s the thing about a really modern city like Hong Kong. How do you keep your soul? I believe it’s to preserve your culture and celebrate it. I think as part of the creative community, we try to preserve these stories in the old flavors we continue to use here.

H A P P Y PA R A D I S E

A R T I FA C T S

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 4

Prepare to Disconnect We drift away from Sai Kung toward the hazy fingers of the Ninepin Islands.

PG 32

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

C A P TA I N S U N, F E R R I E S T H E REVIVALISTS TO BASECAMP IN THE EAST CHINA SEA.

AND ESCAPE. DISCONNECT DOWN, TO SCALE WE NEEDED

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 4

The old harbor town of Sai Kung outside of the city in Hong Kong’s New Territories province radiates violently, even at midmorning. It’s been about an hour since the bus dropped us off and everyone seemed to scatter like cockroaches in search of trip supplies or other immediate necessities. Beer. Breakfast. Water. Beer. Another tent. Illegal makeshift Hawaiian slings. Another sleeping pad. Beer. But when we finally all make it to the charter boat floating like an aquatic getaway car on the last concrete pier — we knew we were in the right place. Young Mikey C looks at us seriously as we arrange the last bag

The captain appears on the main deck, introduces himself, and I

of gear and palette of Tsingtao and says to us all, he himself also

wonder who’s at the helm at the moment. His name is Sun, a small

dripping with sweat: “Prepare to disconnect. Any service will

wiry Cantonese man who could be either 45 or 75, it’s very hard

be patchy near the islands.” Prepare to disconnect. The message

to tell. Captain Sun is always: barefoot, in black overall shorts

echoes within our collective chest cavities like a Gregorian chant.

with a crisp white tee, wearing high fashion sunglasses over a

Like a Tibetan mantra. Like a Communist anthem. Like a haiku

permanently bronzed face. He speaks no English, smiles often

spotted in the cumulonimbus clouds from the top of a distant

and looks like he’s rarely, if ever, stepped foot on dry land.

snowy peak.

We are instant soul-mates with the man.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” smiles Jamie, peeling away a

Not far off one of the Ninepins both Elvis, Rod and Jerry get in a

drenched shirt to hang off the starboard railing.

skiff to fish while the rest of us do backflips and gainers off the upper canopy into the warm, translucent South China Sea. I see

So we drift away from Sai Kung toward the hazy fingers of the

Parker standing pensively with his heels off the rail, getting his

Ninepin Islands, snoozing on the horizon. It’s nearly noon now,

stance right. “I’ve actually never done a backflip before,” he laughs,

so we all crack open celebratory departure beers, rotating the warm

nervously. Ivah hops over him while he adjusts his feet and then

ones back into the icebox. It’s been five minutes since we left and

Parker giving it a go landing perfectly. “It took me 22 years to do

although we all know those beers won’t last longer than the first

that?” he shouts from the water.

day of this three-day jaunt, some things are better left unsaid. We motor around the small vacant islands looking for some We had to get out of Kowloon, if only for a few days. There were

good fishing and diving spots but instead discover perfect

too many lights, too many roads, too many buildings, too many

perches and ledges above deep water. Mother fucking jump

options — too galore. We needed to scale down, disconnect and

rocks. We proceed to explore the low cliffs and volcanic

escape. We needed to set up camp.

rhyolite columns finding one inviting cove with a tight, deep landing. Ivah immediately puts his heels over, not giving it a second thought and launches backwards stylishly. Lazing in the cove, we marvel at an afternoon where all we really needed to do was jump off some rocks into the sea. It was the opposite of galore. Or maybe it wasn’t. It was a soul galore.

P R E PA R E T O D I S C O N N E C T

JERRY RICCIOTTI

SAILING FROM CHILE TO A N TA R C T I C A T H R O U G H A C AT 1 H U R R I C A N E.

REVIVALIST PROFILE

Around dusk on a vacant island in the Ninepins off of Hong Kong, while the rest of us scrambled to set up our expensive tents with nylon rainflys, I watched Jerry Ricciotti in utter nonchalance throw a mosquito net over his camera tripod, curl up beneath it on bare ground and quickly fall asleep. I thought to myself, “Well damn. That there’s a real traveler.”

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

And even that’s an understatement when it comes to Roark Revivalist, Jerry Ricciotti, a cinematographer for VICE on HBO and documentarian for all of Roark’s campaigns. Getting his start at Transworld Surf magazine as their staff videographer, he did the rounds, visiting most tour stops and popular surf destinations 4X over. With a little luck and mostly his talent, he parlayed that into a job opening at VICE magazine and has since seen places few people in the world have ever gone. Like: North Korea. The guy literally shook Kim Jong-Un’s hand. Or, Libya during the Arab Spring, or Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria during their respective wars. In short, the guy’s gone far more than he’s at home in Brooklyn. And yet. Jerry’s one of the coolest cats you’ll ever meet, highly intellectual, honest, funny and takes major pride in his work. “I think the main thing that my work’s taught me is to: treat everything like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever shot.” Over frosty Tsingtao beers with our bare-feet in two women’s hands at a Hong Kong foot massage parlor, I picked Jerry’s brain a little on what life is like for a nomad as seasoned as he.

JERRY RICCIOTTI

W H AT H AV E B E E N A F E W T R I P S OV E R T H E Y E A R S T H AT

F O R S O M E O N E N O T I N T H E M I L I T A R Y… Y O U H A V E A

H A V E T R U LY S T A Y E D W I T H Y O U ?

LOT OF EXPERIENCE IN WAR ZONES. HOW DO YOU N AV I G AT E T H AT?

Well, I believe that who you’re on the trip with is as much a part of the experience as what you’re actually seeing. If someone doesn’t pass the 9-hour van ride test, you don’t want to be with them. You can’t get on a boat for 2 days or drive across Texas or go to North Korea with people that you can’t

Honestly, I’m usually the one to ask questions. But I think I have the right amount of recklessness and curiosity to keep me on the right side of danger. I usually want to know everything I can about what we’re doing and why — the calculation of the risk versus the reward. Like in Baghdad for instance. We were going to go

stand. But to answer your question…

film a protest and they were wondering about any suicide bombers

Central African Republic of Congo was a great one. It was right

what’s the risk? We ended up doing it, (I got ruled out) but I want

after my girlfriend and I broke up in Brooklyn. It took two days to fly to that part of the jungle and a 10 mile trek to get to this place for a story we were doing on this tribe. I had another friend there who was going through a divorce, and then another buddy that was going through some heavy stuff, so they knew a thing or two about heartbreak. So here we are, all these heartbroken guys following

walking through the barricade. So like, what’s the reward and to be the one to ask those questions. Although in some of these scenarios you see some truly historic stuff. I went to Syria during the war. I got to see Libyans after they took back their country. But also, it’s like, having a bullet get shot at you is really exciting, but once is enough, you know?

these hunter-gatherers looking for big deer [laughs]. Thank God I was with two of my best friends because we’re in the jungle, no internet, no phones, and all you can do is cry, drink whiskey and observe people that are looking for their next meal. I guess everyone has their baseline: I broke up with my girlfriend and this tribe doesn’t get enough protein. [laughs] You know how you can get so exhausted from traveling that you’re loopy? I love that — getting suffer-drunk. Antarctica was weird as it somehow felt familiar in a way. It’s like you’ve been seeing photos of it all your life, but the beauty, I can understand why people use religious terms. Nothing’s done for

A M E N T O T H A T. W H A T S T O R I E S , T O Y O U , F E E L L I K E T H E Y R E A L LY M A T T E R ?

profit in the continent. It took us like five days to sail there from

I think breaking up families is always terrible. Whether it’s from war

Puntarenas, Chile, through a Cat 1 hurricane, with 50 foot waves

or policy, fatherless, motherless children should have their stories be

and 70knot winds. It was nuts.

told. Human rights and women’s rights stories in any capacity matter.

But seeing and meeting researchers that actually live there year-round, to going to a penguin colony, it’s amazing all that stuff we do that you normally can’t do as a tourist. You get special access with our jobs

I’m the camera guy, though, so at the same time, gravitating to what you personally care about isn’t objective, right? That’s more op-ed and that’s not what I normally do. With VICE, we report.

— even here at a place like Happy Paradise where they’re making

Pubic versus private land use, like what’s happening in the US, is an

us drinks and a special menu and letting us check out the kitchen,

issue. Opening up more public land use to mining, and decreasing the

or at the tattoo parlor after hours — you just get a totally different

national monuments, stuff like that, access to rivers… This is the shit

experience than your average tourist. Roark’s done a great job of

America was built on and when it goes away it never comes back.

branding a feeling or like a compass to make the most out of life.

Those stories matter.

38 JERRY RICCIOTTI

MEETING RESEARCHERS AT A P E N G U I N COLONY IN A NTA RT I C A

JERRY RICCIOTTI

A R T I FA C T S

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 5

Dragonfly Island A particularly gorgeous island, Tai Chau, winks at us.

PG 40

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

VOLUME 15

CHAPTER 5

“ It’s like we’re gods on Mount Olympus.

Cliff-jumped out, the sun wanders lazily toward the afternoon horizon. A particularly gorgeous island — Tai Chau, to be exact — winks at us, beckoning our boat for safe harbor. Elvis and I grab surfboards to paddle over to the shore and scope out how campable the terrain is, as well as the mosquito, sand fly and snake-situation. Drew, Jerry and Dylan motor over in the skiff to scope the climbing scene. The beach is certainly campable, so the two of us follow one of the random sand trails to a peak with a Buddhist shrine at the top. As we hike up, the vacant island is eerily silent, like a host at a party keeping some peculiar secret. This place, though only a few miles from Hong Kong feels far removed, if not magical. We get to the peak and keep following the trail toward the end of the cliff and as we walk, a swarm of giant dragonflies encircle us, spinning over our heads curiously like chaperons. There must be hundreds of them and we sit down to marvel at this odd sight, listening to their drone. After maybe a minute of no word between us, I break the silence and utter, “How many times per second do you think a dragonfly flaps its wings?” A stony thought, sure, but Elvis smiles still watching the small dragons and says, “That’s just about the purest thought someone could have in this moment.”

D R A G O N F LY I S L A N D

We hear the skiff motor over and point down at an inviting rock face 200 feet below us, underneath the archway. Drew obliges and picks an inverted line over a deep channel of water bisecting the island. He makes it about 40-feet up (side-down) and releases, splashing with a smile into the South China Sea. Indeed, Drew too has disconnected. And yet. Sopping wet, he returns to the cliff, choosing a new line, nimbly scaling the wall with a seemingly inhuman proficiency. Not that we should be surprised or anything. This same photojournalist dirtbag-vagabond has summited peaks in Chilean Patagonia that no man ever has, literally christening routes he’d created. Just days prior, we’d seen this same vagabond climb rock faces outside the business district so high, he was looking down upon the skyscrapers like a smiling demigod. Perhaps to climb, to reach, to look upward toward the stars is actually the most human of qualities. To build temples and towers that pierce the clouds. To rise higher toward the heavens. To cling precariously to life, flexing every muscle in our being while climbing…up.

D R A G O N F LY I S L A N D

The rest of the crew shows up on the shores with camping gear as the sky turns a pale pastel. Hopping down to the beach we notice a small bluff halfway down with a 270-degree view of the sea and discover that the ground is a spongy grass, perched above an 80-foot archway, perfect for the tents. Half of us pitch on the beach, while half pitch on the bluff, but we all gather on the grassy plain, pass around a bottle of whiskey and a spliff and enjoy the view from Dragonfly Island. A cool trade wind keeps the bugs away and Ivah, headphones in his ears, closes his eyes, starts freestyle singing a reggae tune and skanks the sun to sleep. As if the evening couldn’t get any better, fireflies arrive and flicker around us in the darkness. Miles away, we notice a small thunderstorm shooting lightening bolts over the faint glow of Hong Kong. As we watch the storm make fireworks over the dim cityscape from our bluff, Parker says, “Shit. It’s like we’re gods on Mount Olympus…” All of us, staring at the same sight murmur in agreement.

D R A G O N F LY I S L A N D

A R T I FA C T S

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 6

Enduring Keepsakes Back in the bright lights of HK at Star Crossed Tattoo.

PG 46

BY BEAU FLEMISTER

VOLUME 16

CHAPTER 6

Back in the bright lights of HK, the Star Crossed Tattoo shop up

How does one decide on something they can never erase, I ponder

a few flights of stairs off Granville and Chatham Roads in Hong

between the buzzing of the guns. Maybe, beyond the meaning, or

Kong city is a lot like other tattoo parlors I’ve visited. Always with

the indelible significance, a tattoo is just another crossroad, like this

friends though, as I’ve never actually gotten a tattoo for myself.

island itself. Hong Kong, the link between the East and the West, the

But what I have noticed about most tattoo shops, is that there’s

ancient and the hyper-new, the crossroads of the Pacific, the fecund,

always a lot going on inside. Visually, I mean. In Star Crossed,

fertile soil where skyscrapers sprout toward the heavens. Maybe

a shop known for its elite artists, they are no exception. Beyond

a tattoo, like an adventure, is just an indelible badge that stays on

tattoo art, tastefully hung on nearly every wall, there are shelves of

you, never to be scratched from your skin, like the experiences

books, photos, trinkets, toys, tchotchkes and tools in each artist’s

themselves when you travel. Maybe, in a tattoo parlor, there’s the

respectful open office corner. An illustrated series of gastropods

old you, then an hour later, another one with a new story.

drawn purely from penises and vaginas near the bathroom wall struck my eye in particular. But perhaps that’s just the point; that while the artist pokes a needle into your flesh, you are stimulated in the meantime. There’s something to look at to pass the time. At the moment, though, the boys are getting ink done, certainly an enduring keepsake from this place to take home. Jamie’s getting a traditional Chinese tiger, Elvis, a modern, stylized cubic tiger head, and Mikey, a Mexican eagle. I look around the shop and think of how many men from foreign lands have passed through this island to perform this very same viceral ritual. European sailors and Asian merchants after the Age of Exploration. Allied G.I.s in World War II. The secret societies and Chinese criminals before all of them that were tattoo’d back when it was primitive.

ENDURING KEEPSAKES

Or maybe I’m just thinking on it too hard and need to disconnect…

BETWEEN THE BUZZ

SOUTH AFRICAN

BY BEAU

OF THE GUN

TRANSPLANT

FLEMISTER

ROSS TURPIN A R T I S T / C O - O W N E R O F S TA R C R O S S E D TAT T O O

“I was an artist and after graduation worked at an ad agency but I just

The Outer Islands are so close and so undeveloped. You can live

hated it. I just was a lot more into the punk rock scene and always just

outside of the city in nature away from the chaos, but then just go in

wanted to do tattoos because that was a big part of the culture. I knew

for work or dining.”

if I could draw and make a living that way, I’d be happy. It all worked out, though, and I’ve been lucky to make a living doing what I love

“As far as tattoo aesthetic, though, Hong Kong is very unique

here in Hong Kong which is a dream.”

because it does have some Americana influence from the military during WW II, it may have even started here with American

“Hong Kong has affected my creativity hugely, though. As far as my

sailors. But then, dragons are so connected to Hong Kong culture

art, mostly with the Asian aesthetic, but also being here you have so

too. They’re so ubiquitous. Trends move fast with tattoos, however.

much exposure with international artists passing through, so that helps

Personally, I love anything with a strong bold line that will last.

my inspiration a whole lot.”

I’m inspired mainly by American traditional tattoo and woodblock etching from traditional Asian culture.”

“Out on the street, though, here in Hong Kong there’s so much energy. Food and smells on every corner, and then not many people know how much jungle there is here.

ROSS TURPIN

A BRIEF HISTORY OF TAT T O O I N G F R O M CHINA TO HONG KONG.

PRE-900CE

Tattooing has been around in China for thousands of years. Called Ci Shen, a term that means literally “puncturing the body,” the art has been known for ages, but for the most part was an uncommon practice. Throughout Chinese history tattooing was commonly seen as a defamation of the body, something undesirable or considered a barbaric practice, normally depicting bandits and folk heroes.

1930S

1940S

SONG DYNASTY

“Water Margin,” a major classical novel of Chinese literature, references tattooing in the 12th Century. The book tells the stories of bandits of Mount Liang, three of these characters referenced as having tattoos covering their entire bodies.

MING DYNASTY

Dulong and Dai tribes, along with the Li people of Hainan Island traditionally tattooed themselves. Many Dulang women at the time, who were often taken as slaves, tattooed their faces to repel potential captors from neighboring tribes. But even after attacks ceased over time, many women continued with the tradition of facial tattoos.

German ethnologist Hans Stubel studied the Li people on Hainan Island, and wrote extensively of their tattooing practices. During the 1930s few still wore facial tattoos, as tattooing was primarily on the arms and legs. Today, still some Li elderly women have traditional facial tattoos.

James Ho becomes Hong Kong’s very first tattoo artist, starting his studio, Rose Tattoo in Wan Chai. Mostly tattooing sailors and servicemen at the time, many wanted a mark if their bodies got lost on a battlefield. But as the tattooed sailors returned to their homeland, the tattoos were much appreciated by the Westerners and Hong Kong tattooing spread internationally.

NOW

Many vibrant tattoo shops now exist in Hong Kong — like the renowned Star Crossed Tattoo shop — and tattooing’s stigma for bandits and outcasts is not nearly as strong as it once was.

Among Dai men, tattoos were seen as a sign of strength and virility. Generally, tattoos were made in such a way as to accentuate and draw attention to their muscles. Tattooing among the Dai is still practiced to this day.

ROSS TURPIN 51

O F

E D E N

TY TREMELLEN

ART DIRECTOR

A sojourn along the cliffside of Italy from the Amalfi Coast to the southern Adriatic Coast including views from the footpath, The Path of the Gods to distant grotto's where the sea glows electric blue.

S O R T S

R O A R K F A M I LY

A M A L F I C O A S T, I T A LY

SORRENTO

PRAIANO

A D R I A T I C C O A S T, I T A LY

L I D O C A L A PA U R A

PA L I G A N O A M A R E

FOLLOW THE WILDLINGS

BOREDOM-BUSTING WHILE EN ROUTE H O W T O PA S S T I M E I N - T R A N S I T W H E N T H E C L O C K S AY S HURRY UP AND WAIT

If “religion is the opium of the masses” as Marx once said, then Instagram is surely the opium of in-between times. And certainly there are better ways to pass the time before that next ferry leaves to Lombok or while you’re waiting around on an 8-hour layover in Heathrow than staring blankly at a 4-inch screen. Thus, when WiFi ceases and you’re completely over Rummy 500, let us recommend a few mind-sharpening ways to pass the time, if not celebrate the waiting.

GET LOST

READ

Get gone. Get improvisational. Get into trouble. Because the best

As much as possible. Nearly every great film today was once a

stories happen when you go rogue and break from script. At a train

novel and it’s amazing how much a movie can miss. And sure, you

station and you’re supposed to go to Madrid but you meet some

can load up a hundred ebooks on your Nook or Kindle, but there’s

wildlings headed to an underground Gypsy music fest in Granada?

something sacred and carnal about the sound a turning page makes

Follow the wildlings, the Prado can wait. Moreover: just flat out

in your fingers when time stands still once you’re utterly lost in a

get lost. Leave the station and just start walking. Follow the smells

story. Our recommendations could go on an on, but when you’re

of the smoky food carts, move toward the bass blasting from an

out in the world and away from home…Theroux, Rushdie, Garcia

unreasonably loud sound system, throw a bill into the game you

Marquez and Greene always have the goods, Vonnegut, Wolfe and

don’t understand that people are circled around and gambling over.

Palahniuk for the funny, Neruda, Whitman and Rumi to make your

That’s where the stories lie. It shouldn’t be so hard to get lost these

heart soar. The Overstory by Richard Powers, however, is one hell

days, but if you have the pleasure of doing so, as Confucius once

of a new book. Just try and remember to look up every so often or

said: “Wherever you go, there you are.”

you’ll miss the next flight.

LEARN THE LANGUAGE

WRITE

You know what separates one traveler from the rest of the tourists?

Anything. A poem. A journal entry. A short story. A novel…

Two words. That’s it. You learn the correct pronunciation of two

Just because you weren’t an English major doesn’t mean you

measly words in a country and say them to a local and they will

don’t have a story in you. And you’d be surprised how much

light up and exclaim, “You speak Bahasa?!” Of course you don’t,

your inner-Hemingway comes out when you’re a week-deep

but that effort is something special to them. Lonely Planet makes

into a trip drunk on train rides and new places. Sure, you could

great pocket phrasebooks; buy one and learn a few lines. You’d be

jot it out with your thumbs on an iPhone, but putting pen to

amazed at the kind of cultural access language will give you. That,

paper always seems to draw out the good shit you’re trying to

and you’re two steps ahead of every other foreigner trying to chat

articulate. Have a moleskin or legal pad handy and see what

up a local babe.

happens on that next 5-hour bus ride…

TRY THE STREET FOOD

If Tony Bourdain taught us anything, it’s to explore deeper and eat where the paved road ends. The next time you’re waiting around for the next ferry or train to pull into the station, wander outside of the terminal a little. Because when you’re sitting down — or popping a squat — with the rest of the local folk eating nasi goreng with your fingers out of a re-useable bowl, that says something to the people around you. It says: “I ain’t fussy. I’ll have what you’re having.” And it’s surprising how well food can unite cultures. Also, psst… psst…that roll-away kebab cart or glass window with the fly stuck inside is the best chow you’ll ever eat for the buck. Guaranteed.

MAKE SOMETHING

Knit a scarf, tie a fly-fishing fly, practice sailing knots, carve a soap figure, roll a ummm, weave a palm frond hat, make a shell necklace — and then give it away. Gifts from strangers in foreign places are always pleasant surprises and great icebreakers. Plus, when all you’ve got is time, practice makes perfect.

BOREDOM-BUSTING

PAN-AMERICAN

ROAD

THE

HWY A few months has passed since I finished riding the Pan-American highway via motorcycle, the longest continuous road system

SYSTEM

in the world.

LONGEST IN THE WORLD

CONTINUOUS

BY JAMES BARKMAN

PA N - A M E R I C A N

DEADHORSE, ALASKA

PA N - A M E R I C A N

40,000 MI >

USHUAIA, ARGENTINA

THANKS TO A COUPLE OF $1,500 DR650â&#x20AC;&#x2122;S AND A YEAR O F S AV I N G S U N D E R O U R B E LT S , MY TWO BUDDIES AND I SET SAIL F O R P O S S I B LY T H E G R A N D E S T ADVENTURE OF OUR LIVES.

Our goal was to ride from Deadhorse, Alaska to Ushuaia, Argentina, and climb as many high alpine peaks as we could along the way. We lived on a religious $10 per day food budget, washed our clothes in rivers and creeks, camped beside our loyal steeds by night, and watched our odometers spin 40,000 miles â&#x20AC;&#x2122;til it was all said and done. In the freezing arctic rain we prayed for the sun, in the blistering heat of Central American jungles we cried for rain, through the high elevation Andean highlands we pleaded for warmth, and in the scorching heat of desert wastelands we begged for mercy. Seventeen months in the saddle left me broke as a joke, 20 lbs lighter, two birthdays older, and with one hell of a windburn. Like any adventure worth remembering, there is an element of hardship and suffering that is a crucial component. There may have been a little more pain and suffering than we anticipated, but the memories and stories are etched into my memory all the more.

PA N - A M E R I C A N

DREW SMITH ABOVE THE HONG KONG SKYLINE.

ROARK VOL 16: "HONG KONG GALORE" SPRING & SUMMER of 2019

ROARK.COM

@ROARK