The Pioneer
The Pioneer was a dream come true for a kid with scuffed knees and a ragged skateboard. I'd spend all week in class drawing old Flip graphics in the back of my exercise book and daydreaming about skating. My feet itching for my weekly pilgrimage to the park. I'd arrive at the park and skate until I couldn't. I'd injure myself or my parents would be parked outside honking the horn. Nothing else would stop me.
The first time I went to Pioneer, I didn't even drop in. I stood at the top of the flatbank, looked down, and thought about all the different ways I could hurt myself rolling down. Glued to the wall, I watched the older kids tearing around the park and stood in sheer awe. The videos I'd seen simply couldn't compare to seeing the rawness of skateboarding in person. I was fascinated by their speed, power and the mental strength they had to shrug off a heavy slam and try the same trick again. I barely moved from my spot all day and left without having even rolled down any ramps. I was disappointed in myself. I'd so desperately wanted to take part in the session but I had been overcome by fear.
I thought about the park all through school that week and begged my parents to take me back at the weekend. This time I was determined to ride down that flatbank. Saturday finally came around and my parents dropped me off at opening time. I paid my entry, walked over to the bank and scampered up it's lumber skeleton. At the top of the ramp I stood and looked down. I was terrified but I knew I couldn't leave without at least trying to roll in. I rolled up to the edge of the ramp and peered over. It looked like a hell of a long way down. I followed this routine over and over and over again. Each time inching closer and closer to the edge but never quite having the balls to let myself roll over. There came to be a point where I knew I couldn't take one more attempt without rolling in. It had to be this go.
When I eventually I mustered up the courage to go down. I pushed off, put my feet on the board, and felt my wheels roll over the lip. As I picked up speed I began to wobble and I got about halfway down before I slipped out and slammed hard. I shook as I felt the unforgiving concrete connect with my knee. It hurt, but not as much as I expected, and once I'd got that first slam out of the way my fear evaporated. I could do this. I knew I could do this.
I clambered back to the top of the ramp and waited for the right time to roll in again. My heart pounded in my chest and my knees shook from the adrenaline. I saw a space begin to open up and took a few dummy pushes like a bull preparing to charge. I took off with the last push and hopped on my board. My wheels rolled over the lip and into the bank. Time slowed as I felt myself pick up more and more speed. I braced myself for a fall but before I had time to think I was rolling along the flat. I couldn't believe I'd made it. My face lit up. Fuck. I had actually done it. I'd expected to fall but I didn't fear the pain. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. All it had taken was the balls to push off, the strength to get up when I fell, and the belief that I could do it when I tried again the next time. I got hooked on skating from that point onwards and since then I've always been trying to chase that next challenge to push what I am physically able to do on a board.
I lived a town over from Pioneer growing up and found the scene in the local area to be a constant source of inspiration. There was everything a grom could dream of. The town had a local pro, a skate shop, an indoor park, a few skate crews, and a local video.
In a country notorious for it's damp and dark seasons living by an indoor skate park is important. England is a place where sunshine can all too often seem to be a mythic creature and the weather can snake you in a way that a child on a scooter can never match. The days where you watch a skate video and get excited to skate only to look out the window and see puddles forming on the pavement outside. Pioneer provided a level of security and a skate sanctuary on those drizzly days. I knew that when I felt that itch to skate there was always a place I could go bomb around on my board and empty my mind.
The park was originally set up when Rodney Clarke and Andy Willis approached the Pioneer Youth Club to see if they could store their homemade ramps there. They were tired of them getting ruined or vandalized when they left them elsewhere. They moved the ramps into the club and over time were allowed to build more and more additions. The park has been running and expanding ever since.
Andy Willis has been involved with the skate park since it's inception and was instrumental in the recent redesign and rebuild of the park. He has also been involved in a number of other skate parks around the UK. Most notably he was at the forefront of the Frontside Gardens project in Hackney Wick, a skate park built for the local community exclusively with materials left over from the construction of the London Olympics stadiums.
Andy's recent redesign of The Pioneer reflects the current state of skate culture. Modern skateboarding was birthed by surfers carving concrete banks but now the possibilities of what can be skated and how it can be skated have blossomed to include almost anything you find in the urban landscape. When these elements are placed in a skate park setting, skaters are able to practice their tricks in a safe space free from the interference of pedestrians or other difficulties found on the street. A great skate park architect will include a great deal of variety of obstacles in an arrangement that provides creative opportunities for fluid movement through the space. Not only that but a park needs to cater for the mixture of styles in contemporary skate culture. The new layout of The Pioneer has moved away from the traditional skate park structure of a few big simple obstacles arranged in a formulaic manner to a more complex range of small objects which provide greater creative opportunities for experimentation on a skateboard.
As a kid I'd occasionally see Rodney Clarke at Pioneer. He had great energy and composure on and off his board. Not to mention monster pop and the ability to conquer every obstacle in sight. Being able to see that level of skating in person blew my mind. I was amazed by the skate videos I saw coming out of America but I couldn't relate to the environment. The smooth concrete and seemingly endless sunshine was far removed from the grey skies and cracked pavement that surrounded me. Seeing Rodney skate completely demystified the other worldliness of LA skating and I was able to see that even in my hometown you could teach yourself how to skate to a high level. He was just some guy from my area who had put in the time to teach himself these incredible things. You would never see Beckham having a kick around in the local park but I could go to Pioneer and I might catch a glimpse of a professional skateboarder showing me the huge amount of creative possibilities with a skateboard at your feet.
This brought on the realization that on a skateboard, everyone is on a level playing field. Being bigger or smaller doesn't matter, it's simply how much time you have put in to learning the skill and what tricks or obstacles you have spent your time skating. When you see someone able to push themselves to such a high level it changes your perception of the possible and your ideas of what a person is physically able to do. The act of skateboarding instills the ability to learn within you. You understand what steps you need to take in order to teach yourself a new skill and gain the patience needed to learn something new. You become aware of your strengths and weaknesses on a skateboard and set yourself mental and physical challenges in order to be able to play with your board in a more sophisticated way. There is no glass ceiling in skateboarding and there is always something new to try. Can you learn a new trick or do an old trick longer, higher or faster?
Another inspiration for me at the park was Ben Rafferty. I grew up skating with Ben who is now a proud member of the Pioneer staff and lent a hand with the recent rebuild of the park. He's a ripper and a firm fixture in the local scene. I knew him when his skateboard looked taller than him and it'd didn't make sense how someone so small could throw himself down stairs so high. Ben started skating after he caught glimpses of his neighbour skating behind his garage and got his first board when Santa hooked him up with his very own Rhino deck when he was 10. Growing up he was one of those skaters you'd see every other week and in that time he'd learnt 10 new tricks. He looked completely unified with his board and it was almost impossible to imagine it any other way. His familiarity with the park shines through and he can attack the park like noone else. He sees lines that others would never notice and his bag of tricks on the course is seemingly endless.
I no longer live near the park but I still travel there when I get the chance and the place will always hold a place in my heart. Skateboarding can be a cruel mistress but we will always strive for those days when you're surrounded by friendly faces and everything is new and fun.
The Pioneer was first published in Radulthood (2014). Illustration by Otso Perasaari.
