Thrasher Magazine

What’s impossible for some is light work for Rowan—ollie over the rail into the tight bank



It’s funny how as you get older you find yourself drawn back to the places you were once so hellbent on escaping. When I was 18, and my two best friends left our hometown of Dunedin, NZ for greener pastures in Melbourne, AU, I couldn’t wait to join them. Later that year when I finished school, I fled and moved in with them. Melbourne is on all counts a better city for skating, but everything gets stale after a while and I recently found myself thinking, It would be sick to head back to Dunedin. So when I started talking to Cole at Thrasher about doing a video series, I knew the first trip had to be back home with the whole crew.


Rowan, Jack, Ben and the Birthday bunch bring their A game to Geoff's old haunts. This is one helluva a homecoming

The plan was to spend two weeks in Dunedin. It’s not a huge tourist destination, so I didn’t think there was much urgency in regards to booking accommodations. I was wrong. There wasn’t a single room available in the town the second weekend of our trip. Apparently the Red Hot Chili Peppers were playing their only South Island show that weekend in my hometown—a once-in-a-decade event for a place like Duds; a pain in the ass for us. I considered dragging ten stinkin’ mates over to my parents’ house for a few nights, but opted for the kinder route: packing up for the weekend and heading to Christchurch.



We found Animal Chin in Fairfield. Nek-minute frontside and backside ollies by Jack and Rowan

With a dream team of skaters lined up, there was only one guy missing. Rowan Davis had been wishy-washy about joining us, as he was possibly going to be in the States during the time. But he was still in Newcastle a few days before we left, so I threw a hail Mary: “You wanna come? I can still get you a ticket?” I texted. “I’ll think about it,” he replied. That was all the glimmer of hope I needed, and one persuasive phone call later he was booked. The next two weeks were everything I dreamed of and more. Nothing could be more satisfying to a competitive, old, injured prick like myself than taking some of the rawest contemporary rail chompers to my career-pinnacle spot—a 13-stair rail I once boardslid—and having them tell me, “Yeah, it’s kinda scary.” Two minutes later they were all grinding it back to back, but for a few brief moments I bathed in sweet glory. —Geoff Campbell


Former Sydneyladz AOTY (Arse of the Year) winner, Jack O’Grady pressed his ass through a window moments before this gap to nosegrind. Baby’s got back


Ben Lawrie (AKA Lincoln Child) was on a tear a few years ago, constantly one-upping himself every time he dropped footage and landing on everyone’s favorite Oz skaters list. So it was a real head scratcher when he abruptly took a leave of absence and didn’t set foot on his board for an entire year. This decision only added to his mystique, though, heightening people’s interest in him. During his hiatus, he leaned into the party-boy lifestyle, catching up on—in his eyes, at least—lost time. When I heard he decided to join us on this NZ trip, I had to see it to believe it. And there he was, board in hand, ready to jump in on the sessions. Honestly, it seemed like it was a good move for him to distance himself from skating for a bit. It enabled him to come back and embrace the simplicity of skateboarding and enjoying time with his friends. Ben is back, and swinging ten pounds lighter—mentally, that is. Welcome back, LC. You can read more about Ben's gap year with his recent interview here.

Makin' up for lost switch back tails

A true crust hunter, Corey takes this nose manual into the bank first thing in the morning before sneaking off for some peace and quiet at the pub


The city center of Dunedin features an eight-sided plaza, dissected by Main Street. It was stunning by day, but a totally different ballgame at night. We parked there the first evening of our tour and were shocked. It felt like the aim of the establishments was to be the shittiest bar on the block—and competition was FIERCE! It made for great people watching, though, and gave us all a little ego boost (no offense, party people of Dunedin). We ended up spending most of our nights at the octagon, drinking our own beers, uncapping and fixing the ledges, skating, making new friends and ultimately forming an allyship with the local police force, who seemed to appreciate having more eyes watching the eight sides of chaos.

Corey traces lines around the octagaon. Manual pivot to fakie manny shove out

The octagon became our second home. Rowan took a fully-clothed bath in a fountain after being stopped in his tracks by a pebble camouflaged amongst the Oxford brick. A first date was had by a skater (who shall remain anonymous) on the six stair whilst Corey did his thing with a manual. The local dairy Night ’n Day cranked the pie warmers and fryers, keeping the lads more than happy ’round the clock. We got to know the workers there so well that Geoff would bring in his battery charger and they’d plug it in behind the counter. If we’d stayed another week, one of us probably would’ve ended up getting a job there.

Rowbags came back clean as a whistle after a cold bath a few days prior whilst trying this kickflip

• Strawberry milkshake x 2 - one before bed and one for breakfast in bed


• Punnet of crisscross chips and wedges covered in a kilo of sour cream and sweet-chili sauce


• ANYTHING from the pie warmer


• Wallowing lamb shank


• Touch the pot and enjoy NZ’s fine biscuit collection, squiggle tops and toffee pops


• Anything square shaped and deep fried. Could be a chicken cordon bleu or a lasagna topper—you let the teenage clerk decide your destiny


• V Energy drink

The only request at this residential household was: “no fucking with the fence.” Unfortunately, everyone fucked with it and the homeowner was left in the dog box. Act first, apologize now. We are sorry. Jack, kickflip




Drifting down into the abattoir, a slight drizzle descended upon us. It wasn’t enough to ruin the session, but had us all wondering what exactly was in the air. It was meat rain. The poor vegetarians in the group had to wrap up and hide whilst the carnivores enjoyed the rich protein air. We only spent one afternoon at the slaughterhouse as there was a very bizarre feeling to the place. A meat packer immediately tried to boot us, but we ignored her request and scattered throughout what I’m going to call “a New Zealand plaza.” We went to work skating a concrete flatbar into a bank as rough as the surrounding Otago Hills. I don’t know if it was the noise of a meat grinder running in the background or the lads chicken legging at the top of the unforgiving bank, but as we lined up, a certain ritual was performed with absurd quotes being repeated: “Temporary for the lads. Focus like the All Blacks. Write your own chapter.” I wish I could explain these phrases, but there is no context. Only one spill was taken there, thank God.


I suffered an elbow to the ribs and a loss of breath after being pitched down the hill. No sweat—a lick of the lips and the meat rain gave me the strength to head back up, perform the ritual and we all got our tricks. We left safely and soundly smelling like a Sunday roast, curious to what exactly was going on inside the plant and how close we were to being turned into a Night ’n Day treat.

The scent of ribs might've been too much to resist

Wipe that meat rain off your lip, Digby. Focus like the All Blacks and write your own ending. Boardslide to fakie





Shaun repenting his strop day sins with a switch crooks


Now, I’d never been to Dunedin, but I’d had an earful about the place. The hilly landscape and aged setting really did make for some crusty terrain. We found plenty of spots, but the characters we ran into were most entertaining. My favorite encounter was when a rarked-up local jumped out of his van, trying to throw hands because he took a corner too tight and Rowan gave his car a little tap. In the heat of the moment, he forgot to put the handbrake on and his van started rolling away down the slight hill. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Everyone was yelling, “Your van’s still rolling!” He didn’t want a bar of it and just pretended like it wasn’t happening. Lucky for him, his wife pulled the handbrake while filming and screaming from the passenger seat that she was going to expose us on Facebook! Tom Snape cooled the situation down a little but the classy bloke ended his tantrum with a pants-down, bent-over, spread-the-cheeks OG brown eye. Our jaws were on the ground and we are all in stitches. I guess he kinda won.

Who could suspect what's next?





Geoff’s dad would walk up and down this hill every day to and from work. He was in disbelief when he heard Brass made it down in one piece after landing this 50-50



I should probably use this opportunity to talk about the trip by juicing up my peers. I could tell you how much of a deadly weapon Rowbags is, or how Raph’s natural style is so fucking cool, or maybe wax poetic on Shaun’s impeccable flatground game or speak about special it is to have LC back on his board after a year of “finding himself” at music festivals. Or maybe I should be talking about Bryce’s bald head passed out riding shotgun or how I pissed my pants while dreaming that my bunk bed was the underside of a bridge. But all I can think of is Ash—the middle-aged man on a Segway who didn’t skate and was only with us for a single afternoon. Now, this type of situation usually goes bad—one guy thinks it’s funny to ride the Segway, then a couple more want to try it, and pretty soon you’re stuck with the dude for the rest of the day—and they turn out to be a fucking punisher! We thought this was going to be the story with Ash. He had a giant vape on a lanyard around his neck, filming us with his huge android phone, wearing weird clothes, asking strange questions and not wanting to leave once we engaged him. And yet here I am writing about him, because he wasn’t a punisher. There was something so endearing about him. He was searching for other Segway hobbyists to ride with, and when he found none he just wanted to hang with us. And everyone was happy to have him around, even after his two-wheeled vehicle had been turned off. Bonus: he gave Pavey a handful of muscle relaxers to help with his back pain. Cheers to you, Ash. I hope you find your people and your place in this world, mate. It was a pleasure.

Old head Brass handles his bomber on a fruitful street in City Rise. Ollie

Freshly juiced off Brass’ bomber, Jack takes a mint ollie. Two for the price of one at this spot

Classic Snape G giving the crowd what they want, frontside flip




Timaru is home to an abundance of corner dairies (NZ term for convenience stores). Some little, some big, some good, some bad—I think they’re the only reason I would consider moving there. Lasagna topper and a V Energy drink for breakfast, lunch and dinner? Sign me up. One dairy owner took a real liking to me after I told them I was a big, famous pro skater. Shortly after, I was taking photos with them in the store, signing napkins and receipts that they stuck to the wall to remember me by. It was the highlight of their life. It worked out for the best, too—they hooked us up with free food and cooked us some bread with sugar on it. It wasn’t the most sophisticated dish, but it really summed up New Zealand to a T.

Not the only trick Pavey rifled off at this chained-off monument—he was feeling even more relaxed than usual. Front tail kickflip

No cold hand on cock on top of Signal Hill for Raph this day. Ollie



You know you’ve got a winner when you get home from a trip and can’t stop talking about when and where you should go next—even after the filmer strangled someone. I’ve been pestering Geoff nonstop, letting him know how much fun I had and asking him to please get the next one going as soon as possible—and I’m the one he strangled! It wasn’t the pies or the cheap beer; it wasn’t Dunedin or the spots—I just have a fuckin’ good time with this group of people. —Nick Boserio

Port Chalmers lies ten kilometers outside of Dunedin and feels ten degrees colder. Rowan’s 50-50 transfer was leaked straight to the local Facebook rag from a bystander. We tried to bribe her to take it down but she liked the clout. If you saw this on the local page then lucky you. This is fucked

You gotta come down eventually. Stay tuned for more Internet Birthday coming soon