Posted on May 16, 2013
I live in a small and breathtakingly beautiful beachside town on the far east coast of Australia. It is famous for its pristine surf beaches, alternative lifestyle and the bohemian gypsies who flocked to the area in the 1970s and never left.
Every evening at sunset, local skaters gather at the beachfront car park where hippies beat at drums to call out the closing of another day in paradise. Tourists gather to watch the sun setting over the distant mountains, and skaters of all ages, who have devised their own unspoken dusk ritual of sharing the car park with the coming and going of holiday makers, and locals in cars as constant as the waves that crash on the shoreline.
I love it how their passion for sunset skating is accepted wholeheartedly within the community. There appears to be an unspoken equality, almost respect, from others on the road. They generally seem to politely give way to the skateboarder enjoying his ride, as much as the tourist enjoying his ice cream or the hippy enjoying his own wacky interpretive dance moves. And why not, skating is an art form in itself not dissimilar to movement in dance. It is almost poetic at times and any activity which celebrates the outdoors, evokes a sense of liberty and freedom from within, undoubtedly deserves space on our roads and in our car parks, because it sure beats the hell out of sitting indoors playing video games.