Ah,
the Road; she gives and she gives, and we are better men for it. I read that in
a skate mag a while back and thought of it as somewhat of a prophecy.  And so it has been for the last week…or
I guess I should say first week.

    The
way it comes about is through the steady passing of white lines under your deck
that send you into a kind of meditation. It’s not a contrived or intentional
attempt to enter some transcendental state, just a basic zone out. Then all of
a sudden a truck cuts past, or your calve muscle spasms, or the feeling simply
becomes so intense that it reveals itself and recedes with as much mystery as
it arrived. But despite their briefness, those are the ecstatic moments. They’re
the times when thoughts don’t just sound like your voice talking a mile a
minute, but rather bolster a rare clarity.

    Luckily certain remnants echo out
of the vastness and there’s a realization that maybe something has changed. The
resulting calmness is difficult to describe, but chances are you’ve experienced
it. For me, that’s the joy of skating.

    And we’ve been doing a lot of
that…obviously. Once the day is done though, we have to find a place to go
about the enticing business of finding a place to wash up and hopefully get a
couple hours of shut-eye. Generally we sink-shower in fast food bathrooms,
leading to us leaving with both awkwardness and combed hair.

    Parking lots have been our
bedrooms and the gravel our mattresses. May sound kinda tough, but when the
stars are your ceiling things don’t seem that bad. Of course waking up the next
day covered in dirt and bugs with a kinked neck and a face full of mosquito
bites takes away some of the mystique.

    But we’ve managed to shake that
all off and get going everyday. On day 4 of the skate, Rob and I got separated
from Geoff and James (they wait for us 10 KM ahead in Lucy, our traveling
palace), and ended up waaaaay past the meeting point. There wasn’t much we
could do except keep going, so that’s what we did. Eventually it had been so
many hours that the sun was going down faster then the dwindling water supply,
and we decided to sit down and hope for the best.

    It’s amazing what being lost
together can do for a friendship. We talked a bunch about life and
Skate4Cancer, and managed to get a lot of stuff sorted in our heads. Finally we
decided to give up on the idea of being found by the rest of the team and stuck
our thumbs out to hopefully snag a ride back into the closest city. About 20 minutes
into that our beat-up Telstar rolled around the corner with a very relieved crew,
and we jumped in to get a drink. Alls well that ends well right? Right.

    See you on Sunday for the first
video blog update. Geoff from The New
BEAT has been putting it together, and if I were you I’d check the site
every 5 minutes to see if it’s up!

Live fast, skate faster.

Daniel + The S4C Team

            Aight.
Last time we spoke I felt a little spark. I don’t wanna jump the gun or
anything, but I feel like we have something special going you know? Anyways
it’s been a crazy week, and since we’re BFFs now I’m sure you won’t mind
letting me talk it out for a quick minute.

            The
weather.
Some say it’s a lame topic but for real, it’s been an ordeal lately.
You know those ads you see for beautiful, sunny and tropical New
Zealand?
Ya, “tropical” is the vital word there. It’s been raining a lot lately,
and as
a result of our non-water proof tent- that’s right, some hilarious
person
invented those- we’ve been waking up drenched in water. Nothing to get
crazy
about, but it really is tough to wrap up camp when everything and
everyone is
soaking wet.

            Nah,
the real issue is trying to skate in the pouring rain; bearings bust
out almost as fast as boards soak through. Pair those things along with wet
grip tape and insanely slippery roads and you’ve got yourself a recipe for road
kill. The last thing we want to do is slide out in front of a rain-blinded
truck and turn into just another flat highway decoration.

            Honestly
though, the major factor is mental. The rain just plays with your head and
mocks any idea of southward progress. Luckily we’ve had some well-appreciated
boosts, not the least of which have been government employees. The road workers
get super stoked when we skate through highway construction, pushing us forward
with mad positive energy.

            A
different kind of government worker has also lent us unexpected encouragement:
Cops. Sweet right? Our car Lucy has been pulled over, and the skaters have been
approached. But instead of tedious lectures and figurative roadblocks the cops
get pumped and happily take flyers to give to their kids. It’s hype when a
cruiser zooms past with a wave and a honk. You could say we’re bridging the gap
over here in NZ, no big deal.

            And
of course, the real and indisputable mental boost is bombing around a winding
corner only to glimpse a towering, snow-peaked mountain. The views dudes, the
views. Oh! I forget to mention R2D2. We camped by the side of the road one
night and started hearing the weirdest robot noises. Everyone was freaking,
being like “Seriously, what IS that?” Turns out we had a wonderful
little bird that chirped out flawless Star Wars sound-effects followed by a pretty
little song. You probably won’t believe me, but we chatted with it. R2D2 is our
friend, I don’t care if you think we’re crazy.

            So
all in all, the team has been getting closer and we’re in a generally amazing
state of mind. Jokes are abundant, beans are plentiful and ideas are flowing.
We’re working hard for the cause and seeing a good reaction from Kiwis. Keep
sending us love over the net and make sure to stay up on the video blogs which
give a sweet picture of the day to day, and also help keep you healthy.

Nice. Stay real young hobbits.

Daniel + The S4C Team

P.S. The Beatles…think about it.

            It’s
funny. When I first explained to people what I would be participating in this
year, the majority of them were skeptical at best. Some outright ignored me
when I presented the idea of going with the S4C team to skate across New Zealand
and then Australia. Upon arrival to NZ, the locals essentially dismissed the
possibility based on the road conditions and frequency of mountains. My Mom was
especially stressed with the idea of trucks hitting us and serial killers being
magnetically drawn to wherever we slept.

            The
criticisms were vast, the practical suggestions even more abundant. Doubt was
tangible, an energy that was omnipresent and unwavering. This couldn’t be done.
And if it could, it certainly shouldn’t
be done.

            Fast-forward
two weeks (this is where it gets funny). Fourteen days into the skate and the
only e-mails we get are positive. The calls we receive force us to hold phones
away from our ears as the stoked callers blast out encouragement. Doubt is no
longer a thing. It has been replaced with certainty.

            One
of the things we do here with Skate4Cancer is try to assure people. Sure some
ideas require struggle, sometimes to the point where their success seems almost
unimaginable. But those are the things that must be pursued with that much more
vigour. We have to be relentless; we have to expand the notion of what can be
done.

            The
energy it takes to skateboard across a country, or two, or even four is massive.
Most wouldn’t want to even if they could overcome their cynicism. But if
someone champs through it, they prove the possibility of accomplishment. And as
soon as that precedent is set a floodgate is opened through which endless
achievement can rush with white-water intensity.

            Cancer
can’t be cured? Really? We beg to differ, because we know that anything can be
done with enough commitment to absurdity. Listen. If you get stupid and try
doing the impossible, what’s the worst that can happen? Even sweeter, what’s the
best that can happen?

Hopefully your goals are
achieved, but the true success is in the means, the struggle. And if anyone
tells you different, let their pessimism fuel you. As Cartel wisely put it: They say we’re wasting our lives. But at
least we know that if we die, we lived with passion.

Burn bright.

Daniel + The S4C Team

THE CURE IS KNOWLEDGE

Challenge: 1 in 8 women contract breast cancer in their lifetime. Show this Self-Breast Examination instructional pamphlet to 8 women you know, and you might just lower that statistic.

Photos from the week:
(we're planning on implementing a better way of displaying these photos so expect improvements on Friday!)

            It’s
true, our first little celebration. The North Island has been officially
skated, right up to the departure gates of the ferry. Tomorrow we’ll be
embarking on the second portion of the New Zealand skate, starting by zipping
across open ocean to arrive in Picton, a town on the Northern point of the
South Island. After that we head down more winding highway, through seal
guarded roads and along dolphin filled coasts. We’re told the north pales in
comparison to the south’s epic landscapes…not gonna lie, pretty stoked.

            It
wasn’t an easy trek to the ferry though, not by any means. We got lost again,
separated from our support vehicle. This time it was our fault, because neither
Rob nor I remembered to bring our cell-phones, and skating into a big city like
Wellington is always complicated. So after another stint of waiting and hoping
the dudes in the car would find us, we figured it was best to just buy a map
and head for the destination.

            The
funniest part was that AC/DC was playing a capacity show to 90,000 fans in
Wellington that day and the town was overrun with hilariousness. There were fans
everywhere going insane in preparation for the big show, so no matter where we
were loads of people constantly advised us to “Rock ON!!!” That’s a nice
welcome to a town. Plus, the Skate Gods smiled on us that day and provided us
with reasonable and consistent asphalt for the first time, which made the last
49 KMs really fun.

            Oh man, I have to interrupt myself. I’m
sitting with Rob in a café writing this blog, and some guy just pushed the
newspaper at us saying “That’s you guys isn’t it?” I look at the article and
indeed it is. During our first day of relaxation yesterday we did a quick
interview and photo shoot for the local paper. The journalist was really
interested and the photographer was super sweet. Only problem was he didn’t
quite get the concept of riding a deck. He kept telling us to do weird poses
that looked ridiculous despite our repeated explanations that skating isn’t at
all similar to figure skating.

Finally we quietly agreed to do a
pose that was clearly not authentic just for jokes. And obviously, as the paper
is slid over the table toward me I have to crack up because out of the dozens
of realistic photos taken, that’s the one he used. Haha, all publicity is good
publicity right?

Anywayssss. We’re off to find out
how much it costs to get Lucy across on the ferry and finish some last minute prep
for the South Island. Maybe we’ll ball out and buy a water-proof tent… who am I
kidding, that would be way to decadent. See you on Sunday for the 3^rd
video blog!

Stay cool kids.

Daniel + The S4C Team

     There's a song by Lupe Fiasco that all skaters know. Some
hate it, some love it but I feel like all of us can identify with the
feeling he describes in the chorus. It goes "Kick, push, kick, push, coast."
Now if you take those first four words and remove the fifth you have
our North Island experience. Constant physical work with no substantial
momentum gained.
     I know, I know. I can picture you playing the
world's smallest violin and telling us to harden up and deal. But for
real, when you're used to that general pattern of pushing and coasting,
the absence of the latter starts to get to your head. Things start
tweaking up top and you'll see Rob throwing his deck in frustration or
me foaming at the mouth, cursing physics for abandoning us. It's
probably a strange sight for motorists passing by.
     But after
enduring a 3 hour, vomit-filled ferry ride over to the tip of the South
Island (insane waves, everybody got sick), we witnessed a drastic
change in the road conditions; simply put, they've improved
significantly. Of course as I'm writing this the dudes are getting raw
knuckles as they desperately knock on wood. I probably shouldn't be
talking about it, we're not that far down the South Island. But still,
it's looking really sweet right now. Finally, as if New Zealand has
decided we're actually serious about getting to Dunedin, the coast
factor has exploded in intensity.
     This has initiated a domino
effect of positivity. Most importantly, we can skate further, faster
and with less pain. The result is high spirits that inspire good jokes
which inevitably evolve into ingenious pranks. Result: 3 happy
Canadians and one disgruntled Aussie. Hey, someone's gotta be the
recipient. Don't worry, it's not a xenophobic alliance, it's just that
James' reactions are waaay too funny to resist. "You goys think yor soy
cleeva doint yoy!?" Seriously, the best.
     And as if that's not
enough, the vast scenery has somehow managed to get stepped up.
Mountains peak into wispy clouds as we wind around them, passing jagged
rock formations that jut out of the sea. And lining those ancient
boulders are literally hundreds and hundreds of seals, all chilling
after a hard day of fishing. Despite being very comfortable in the
presence of humans, they can be quite aggressive, so obviously we've
been testing the boundaries. I mean how are you not gonna try to pet
the cutest lil' ocean puppy!?
     It's like a mystical beast world out here actually. We've also
seen the standard cows, horses and sheep. But NZ has thrown reindeer,
emus, llamas, dolphins and whales into the mix. Ahem...did you catch
that? Ya, whales. No big deal, just THE BIGGEST ANIMALS ON THE FREAKING
PLANET. Sorry, tiger got outta the cage there.
     Wanna know the most subtle but important addition to the skate?
Ocean. Sure it's beautiful and calming and smells great, but that's
really not the point. The point is that we can bathe. Now that may not
sound appealing to you and your luxurious heated showers with soap and
shampoo and loofas and jasmine scented candles and inflatable bath
pillows and...i need to relax. But for us, crawling into a jammed tent
that smells like fresh salt-water instead of the remarkable
amalgamation of four men's natural odours is a blessing you can't
imagine. Ocean, our nasal passages salute thee.
     So all in all, the first three days in the South have been mad epic, and things seem to be getting better.
     Now it's off to bed for you, the grown-ups have to heat up their porridge and go shred the gnar.

Keep pushing.
Daniel + The S4C Team

P.S. Rob says check out www.Push.ca to follow our skate and peep some sick Canadian-based skate culture.

            A
lot happens in a standard day here. Time is different, slower and more
pressing. We reminisce at night while warming blackened fingers over the fire,
not about past years, but past hours. From the time the sun rises over stark
turquoise to its cyclical demise behind the western hilltops, as our shadows dance
circles around us, first taunting with their distance then eventually losing
resolve and lagging behind in sinewy length, the hours lay claim to adventure.

            Our
alarm clock is physical discomfort. Once the tarp of the tent has irritated the
skin enough and surmounting body heat becomes unbearable, we wake with broken
grins and consult each other. Who managed to sleep well last night? On a good
night, one or two of us.

            Next,
the process of cleaning camp begins. Tear down the tent, fold the blankets,
re-pack Lucy and find a bin for the previous days’ build-up of trash. While
that’s happening someone boils water. This gives us enough liquid for porridge
and sometimes coffee.

            If
we’re in a town, we check fake world.
That’s tour talk for Internet, where connections to family and friends
hopefully boost our morale. If we’re far from city limits, we head back to
yesterday’s finishing point and get set up for the day. This entails changing
into skate shoes, stretching, lathering up with sun block, filling water
bottles and most importantly, choosing the first song to get stoked on.           

            After
that, it begins. 10 kilometers. What the boys do in the wagon ahead is a
mystery to me. What Rob and I do is put push to pavement and get our minds
psyched for another day at the office.

            Arriving
at the wagon we’ll generally find Geoff tangled high up in a tree trying to
obtain a slow-motion shot for the video blog, and James either chilling in the
driver’s seat mashing out tunes or exploring the area trying to keep himself
entertained. We sit, breathe, snack, chat and head out for the next 10.

            This
is the general pattern throughout the day, but it’s in the depths of minutia
that big things happen.

Clouds part. They reform. Drops
hit bitumen, tickling tar from the crevices and slicking black around our
wheels. Rainbows arch across the damp sky, always within reach but never
touched. A friendly wave and a gnarly
sign get you amped. A horn palmed with so much anger that the tone bends around
time does not. Surprising electric fences literally jolt you into regret, but if
you’re lucky, a group of galloping horses will show solidarity as they run
parallel for a hundred metres.   

            And
then, as earphones buzz with the sound of Bon Iver creaking out of his
stool
after recording “Re: Stacks”, all goes quiet. Inhale, exhale. Inhale,
exhale. The
innumerable dramas of the day are focused out of the pores along with
droplets
of perspiration. Wheels spin as the right foot pounds rhythmically,
bearings
sizzle and eyes water. Our Earth turns golden as the Sun sings its
daily eulogy, harmonized by a choir of multi-coloured clouds.  

            The
road winds, the white stripes pass and the blazing horizon illuminates a
million sparkling points on the tips of blinking lashes. This is the
slow-motion symphony. This is the last ten K.

Daniel + The S4C Team

            We’re
getting close, really, really close to finishing up this portion of the skate.
And as we look ahead to the finish line in Dunedin, we have also to look back
upon the gracious hospitality shown to us throughout these two isolated
islands.

            When
we landed in Auckland, Chris and James showed love by hooking us with beds and
a home base to prepare out of. Not just any beds either, bunk beds. They took us to black sand beaches and rope swings to
work up appetites, and our friend Grace cooked massive feeds to quell them. Gem
drove us to all these places and back a million times with a big smile (and a
heavy foot, slow it down Gem, for real), while Acorn provided endless laughter.

As
we traveled south and the rain crept deep under our skin, the loveliest couple
welcomed these 4 ragged young men into their jam-packed home without the
slightest bother. We awoke dry, grateful and enticed by hot breakfast waiting
on the table.

            Continuing
down south, Rose and her family repeatedly extended their hospitality by
providing not only a roof but also fresh and passionate conversation. Even 14
month-old Mado MacInnis voiced some of our names…how polite of her.

A
couple skate rats learned our names as well when we rolled into Palmerston
North. Nei and Nathan gave us their living-room floor without any idea of who
or what we were doing, and traded international skate slang with us while we
YouTubed sick clips from back in the day.

            Crossing
into the South Island, one of Rob’s old friends and his entire Canadian
household (plus one awesome Kiwi) took us under their wings and gave us the
best gift of all: a taste of home. Tom, Sarah, Paul and Sam opened the door to
what is affectionately known to their friends as The Canadian Embassy, wearing
Maple Leafs jerseys (Brap!!) and
rocking Canadian flags like it was a given. The next morning, they brewed a
fresh pot of imported Tim Horton’s coffee…haha, almost too stereotypical right?

            Just
now, as we finished today’s skate and begun setting up camp in a small town
south of Christchurch, the nicest old man standing behind us in a grocery store
queue told us to stay at his place without blinking an eye.

            These
are the people who change the world through seemingly unnoticeable gestures. We
want you all to know that we’re grateful and that you’ve made our passage
through New Zealand not only more comfortable, but more inspiring. You’ve
repeatedly reinforced our belief that if people want it, the world can be a
beautiful place.

Thanks.

Daniel + The S4C Team

To switch it up this week, we’re using photos
taken by one of our Canadian hosts. He joined us for a few hours outside of the
city and managed to capture a new angle that we’re stoked on.

Photography by Paul Pennington

“Ain’t nothin’ final about the frontier.”

-Talib Kweli

           
It happened on the wrong day. We awoke to rain, an unusual and
unwelcome sight that had been fortunately avoided for almost three
weeks. I sat up sore and damp, groaning with the discovery that both
socks and shoes were sufficiently drenched. Everyone emerged from
equally disrupted sleeps with eyebrows indignantly angled downward,
mimicking our frowning lips. It was going to be one of those days, and
despite defiant facial features we all knew this in our hearts.  

           
The first reasonable solution was to wait it out, so the four of us
piled into the wagon and headed for a café. A couple coffees and some
heated discussions about various bands thrust the clock hand forward in
grand circular swoops. Two hours had passed, and with them the rain. It
was time to shred.

            Everything
seemed to be working relatively well; the road was straight, flat and generally smooth, and the first ten kilometres had gone without hitch.
The only real threat came from word we had received earlier that
morning regarding a bridge that spanned 3 Ks, arching confidently over
rushing blue glacial water fresh from the mountains. But nothing was in
sight on the horizon, and it seemed that perhaps the warning had been
exaggerated.

            Heading off for
the next ten, the logic was that if there was indeed a bridge, the boys
would wait in the car at its start and we would evaluate as a team.
Crossing an obstacle like that in a vehicle is no issue, but when the
shoulder disappears beside the constant rush of State Highway 1 things
can get ugly.

            So off we went with iPods bumping out Kamaal the Abstract
and heavy semi-trailers thrusting us forward with momentous blasts of
wind. In the distance the road drifted upward and over, the classic
sign of a bridge. It appeared as though the tale held weight, and we
were about to deal with it. But as Rob and I rolled closer, worry
receded at the sight of a small overpass designed simply to make way
for standard freight trains.

“Hassle avoided,” we figured, “Sweet.”

           
However as we cruised down the far end of the small bridge the issues
we had left just behind immediately resurfaced but with a new and
intensified urgency. Just as promised, a massive bridge spanned the
predicted distance, ending in a small point just within eyesight. There
was no room for pedestrians whatsoever and crossing on a deck amidst
the rushing and intermingling line of raging vehicles was out of the
question. We would have to be innovative or risk losing the entire day
as we waited for a lull in traffic.

           
If we couldn’t go over the bridge, the second most viable solution was
clearly to go under it. But despite the disappearance of rain the
clouds still hung low and thick, blocking any warmth the sun was
offering. And taking a dip in frigid ice water appealed about as much
as warm pulpy orange juice after a fresh minty brush of the teeth. In
other words, we weren’t stoked.

           
Nevertheless, total paralysis loomed around our indecisiveness so we
committed and headed down beneath the massive grey structure to
investigate. What we discovered was both disconcerting and encouraging;
a rushing blue current that bottle-necked into a narrow yet crossable
side river. The surging water pulsed through restrictive land on either
side, stubbornly rushing onward to its eventual goal of the Pacific.
This first obstacle appeared traversable but hinted at less cooperative
natural factors that potentially lay over the next three mysterious
kilometres.    

            Luckily some
locals had tied a nylon rope across the most suffocating portion of the
river, and after some debate both Rob and I stripped down to boxers and
began the process. Bobby D went first, suffering a large rope burn
across his left ribcage while I followed and streaked my left bicep
with the same.

            Standing in
nothing but underwear, bare feet and goose bumps we looked over the
next thousand metres. All looked rocky and my feet tingled with
hesitant anticipation of steady and constant torture. We laughed at our
own stupidity as we danced over the jagged ground, offering passing
vehicles a poor and highly masculine interpretation of what ancient
ancestors might have looked like.

            After some time I looked at Rob.

“I kind of hope that’s not it dude,” I offered after noticing that he seemed curious about my thoughts.

“What do you mean?” A fair response.

“I dunno, it just seemed too easy, you know? I mean that was scary and stuff, but not really though.”

“Haha, true. But be careful what you’re asking for,” came his prophetic reply.

           
And barely two minutes later, the Earth displayed her sense of humour
and authority all at once. I had gotten my wish in the form of a series
of deep, freezing, white-water torrents that smashed through a
labyrinth of rocky shallow points. No nylon ropes ran along this
portion. Oh no, this was not an exhilarating risk; this was courage
country.

            Yet despite the
apparent fact that attempting to move forward would not only be ill
advised but simply arrogant, a pressing momentum weighed down on us. We
had to try, we’d come this far and we had to at least try. So after
apologizing mentally to my Mom I carefully waded in further, deeper and
with more resignation than I’d felt in some time.

           
The current picked up, stronger at my ankles than my chest. A feeling
of total fragility and sudden anonymity swept through my body, stronger
than the waves crashing around my flailing limbs. Within twenty feet
lay the shore, but in between flowed an ode to power. The main body of
the river could not be navigated in the manner we intended, and an
alternate route no longer felt as cowardly.

           
As I realized this I looked up to see that this conclusion had not
eluded Rob and he had begun trekking over to a different possible
crossing. And that's basically how it went over the next three hours.
We tip-toed across a variety of jutting rock build-ups in search of
shallow points through which to wade. Not all resulted in success. More
than once each one of us lost his footing and struggled against the
charging mountain runoff.

           
Several hours after beginning the seemingly plausible trek, desperate
bodily reactions matched the colour of our extremities to our
adversities. Fingers and toes turned pale blue as they succumbed to
physical restriction. But just as sincere worry began to resonate deep
within, our determination was rewarded. The final of the myriad rivers
trickled over shivering calves as we climbed onto solid ground. It was
over, we had made it.

            Later
that night as we shivered in our sweaters and blankets we looked back
over the day’s events. Though the decisions lacked substantial thought,
the laughter and new memories more than covered for the mistakes. In
the coming days we would face a couple more bridges of similar design
and approach them with more thought and less hypothermia, but for one
cold and panicked day, we were pioneers.

Daniel + The S4C Team

Photography by James Borg

K, this one's gonna have to be really short. First off, happy birthday Robby! To celebrate this day, we're going to skate into the heart of Dunedin, our final goal for the 2010 New Zealand Skate. We've only got 30 KM left, so it's time to finish this thing. Check back on Friday for the wrap-up blog, and Sunday evening for the final Video Blog of NZ.

Peace!

Daniel + The S4C Team

  
 As the aroma from a fresh morning coffee drifts skyward Geoff and I
sit in a café and reflect on the last 5 weeks, laughing at our own
stupidity and marveling at the novel feeling of being done. After we’ve
finished our celebratory bagels (a rare commodity in these parts), we
realize that trying to sum up the experience of our New Zealand skate
is not only an intimidating task, but one not entirely necessary. What
seems more appropriate is considering the basics and the big picture
all at once.

    The final tally was 1366 KM. In under 40 days we
covered the equivalent of over 34 marathons, wore through 12 pairs of
shoes, consumed around 100 cans of beans, did 3 and a half back flips
and completed one very animated adventure. The thing is that along the
way certain obstacles may have proved insurmountable if not for the
inspiring encounters we’ve had throughout the weeks.

    A
poorly sealed mountain-road is one thing, but low spirits and dwindling
resolve can tear a crew apart, something that threatened our team on
more than one occasion. Yet with almost fateful timing we constantly
found ourselves rescued from the jaws of total exhaustion, always as a
result of the encouragement and generosity of strangers. No symbol of
gratitude can be offered to capture the essence of how thankful we
are.        

    Finding the cure may just be a dream, but we’re
pursuing it with vigour and indefatigable love, something that people
seem to be able to identify with. If we failed at everything else, at
least we poured our hearts out into the world. Maybe nothing direct
will come of it, but I know with certainty that all of our energy will
be recycled and hopefully nurtured into a seed of hope. With that, the
world is a better place.

    At the culmination of one of the
greatest albums music has ever been graced with, The Beatles proclaim
harmoniously that in the end, the love you take is equal to the love
you make. This could not be more evident to us. We have
extended ourselves, constantly pushing both physically and
philosophically to get the message across. And in return, the message
is getting across. I find it difficult to think of a more practically
rewarding result.           

    So now we rest as we prepare for
the biggest challenge Skate4Cancer has ever embarked on. Australia sits
poised and ready to tease us with fresh hindrances and frightening
possibilities. New roads, new conditions, new authorities. Hell, even
the spiders don’t like skateboarders over there, jeez.

    Thanks
to everyone who has followed our blog so far, hopefully you’ve been as
inspired as we have. Now as the sun sets on this portion of our journey
we look forward to bringing you more chapters of the continuing story.
The countdown is back on! See you in Aus...

With love.

Daniel + The S4C Team

Check these photos from the Skate4Cancer Competition in Dunedin, put on by Seth and crew.