Why I Finally Learnt to Skate.

CULTURE & SOCIETY / ISSUE 5

We spend a lot of time worrying about what kids are missing these days. Watching a skatepark for an afternoon complicates that story.

Have you ever wanted to learn how to skateboard? Just picture it, being able to nimbly work your feet across the board like a ballerina of the street with the ability to kickflip on a whim for random passersby. I certainly have, and I bet you have too. Skateboarding is something I feel most people have been captivated by at least a little bit at some point in their life. Just watching one of these mystical wizards of the board flip their way across a footpath is enough to spark even a little bit of interest—even if it's short-lived. My own journey with skating has been somewhat of a lengthy one. While I was gifted a skateboard at eight years old, I, in my infinite childish wisdom, decided it was “too hard”. So, after stalling on skating for a decade, I finally decided that last year I would bite the bullet and teach myself to skate. Armed with a $50 board from Facebook Marketplace and some slightly sketchy Warehouse safety gear, my journey into skating began. Along the way, I discovered a lot about how to skate (duh), but also a lot about what it means to be a skater. Which left me with an interesting assertion: more people should skate.

To start: Skateparks. The average person sees skateparks as either a place for kids or for hardcore skaters, and nothing in between. But when you actually start skating, you discover there's so much more depth to your average skate spot. It's almost like whole new areas of your city have been unlocked. Instead of the park as a conglomerate of obstacles, you start seeing each individual ledge, ramp, and rail, and apply your own skill level to it. You start thinking about what you might be able to do on each element, what you aspire to trick off next, and what spots would definitely send you to the ER (but might try out anyway). When you start learning to skate, each new skatepark feels like a different challenge to conquer. A new playground to try out, a fresh take on the ramps you’ve mastered—but with a little bit of something extra.

Even if you’re not skinning your knees down a halfpipe, skating is worth learning for a better way to get around. Skating isn't quite biking, nor is it quite walking. With most people walking at around 5 km/h and the average biker at 25 km/h, skating is a happy medium. You might not be making trips across town by board, but it definitely makes those journeys that are too short to take by car or bus that little bit faster.  Plus, unlike something like a scooter, you have the added benefit of free hands. Meaning you can hold your groceries, parcel, newborn child, (okay, maybe not that one) or whatever your trip requires. However, as I soon discovered, not every footpath is created equal.

Although Christchurch's relative flatness is a godsend, it loses some points for the quality of its footpaths. In and around the city centre, most surfaces are relatively new and flat (though the sound of me skating on brick through Cashel Street makes me feel incredibly obnoxious). But once you get into the suburbs, the quality of your ride can vary greatly. Unmaintained, cracked, or wheelie bin littered footpaths can be the difference between you rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ and walkin’ walkin’ walkin’. Even worse, some footpaths often end up right along roaring main roads or interrupted by driveway dips. As a result travelling by skateboard can often be quite hit and miss, but learn what streets to take and which to avoid and soon skating around town will be second nature.

Another thing I’ve discovered about skating is that it is almost by default a social activity—whether you like it or not. Usually, I mind my own business while trying not to look like a complete amateur. But if I want to use a ramp or a more complex part of the park, a good fifty percent of the time there’s usually someone there you have to share it with. Generally, this just looks like taking turns; going down the ramp or into the bowl, doing your line (series of tricks), and then stopping when you lose momentum or want to reset. Often not even using words, just little nods or gestures, using your body language to figure out your order in the park.

At first, this was terrifying to me. The thought of having to share a halfpipe or ramp with people who were doing tricks that I didn't even know existed was more than slightly daunting. But the more I skated, the more I realised that people simply don't care. People just seem to want enough space to do their thing, and then once they’re done, they’ll let you do yours. You know those stereotypes of those unfathomably cool, ‘lax skaters? Turns out that's almost entirely accurate. On top of most people being generally chill, I’ve had people I had never even met before congratulate me for things as simple as going down a ramp. Or even give me tips on tricks and talk about their own skating experience completely unprompted. Given I didn't really have any other friends who skated, this experience and encouragement was immeasurably valuable to my skating journey. I have met very few skaters who are dicks, which is strange considering how frowned upon skating was in the 80s and 90s.

If I’m not trying to fall off my own board, I often find myself watching other park-goers. When I want to catch my breath or take a break, I lean back on the wall and take stock of what everyone else is doing. The cool thing about skating is that you’ll often find people of all skill sets congregating in one park. I might be watching someone who’s just a little better than me, trying to figure out how they’re getting tricks I haven’t quite nailed yet. Or I could be gawking in awe as someone absolutely sends it into a bowl that makes my ankles quiver in fear. One of the most astonishing things about this is that a lot of the people I saw were far younger than me. I’m talking kids that looked anywhere from 8 to 14, who looked like they skated right out of the womb and into the park, doing kickflips, jumping gaps, and just about everything in between.

Apart from making me seriously rethink my life choices, the more I watched, the more I realised that skating can be so much more than just a hobby. These days, there’s a lot of concern about the next generation of “iPad Kids” and their apparent lack of... a lot of things. But I genuinely think the answer might be skating. Sure, skating helps build fitness, dexterity, and balance, but there’s so much more to it than that. It teaches resilience and stick-to-it-iveness when learning tricks, patience with others, compassion and empathy when your fellow skaters don’t quite land right, and ambition.

Of course, there are other sports and club-based activities that teach similar skills, and doing almost anything social or physical will help to some extent. But skating is unique in that it has such a high skill ceiling and isn’t something anyone can just pick up straight away. There are no shortcuts. You can't just be fast at running, be able to hit hard, or have good reflexes to be good at the sport. You have to build your own skillset, piece by piece. And that's why skateboarding is such a friendly sport. Everyone who’s a skater knows how hard (and often painful) it is to learn as well as it being a slightly more niche sport. Which is why other skaters are often so accepting and willing to share their tips. Making for an incredibly welcoming and friendly community.

More people should skate. That's it. That's the conclusion. It not only is an incredibly eco-friendly, fun way to get around and an engaging pastime, but it also seems to bring out the best in people. I'm not saying skating would solve all of the problems in the world, but maybe if more people had the values of skating, humanity might be just that much better. And with skating more popular than ever and skate schools cropping up left, right, and centre, who knows? Maybe all the doom-and-gloomers about the next generation will be proven wrong after all.