As I said back in this post, iPhones make it easy nowadays. I downloaded the WordPress app, so we’ll see how this goes posting directly from my phone.
Here’s some iPhone-only photos for my three days in Tokyo. (Well, it looks like it’s a little hard to insert a gallery so this selection below will have to do.)
See more of my iPhone-ography by following me on Instagram @sean_radich.
iPhones make it all too easy! In fact nowadays I hardly bother taking my pocket Canon digital camera with me, let alone my new Canon EOS 1D mark IV. So I thought I’d try posting a blog directly from my iPhone with photos from a recent roadtrip from Melbourne to the Gold Coast and edited using just the phone’s auto-enhance & panorama function as well as Instagram, Luminance and Pic Jointer apps.
And the result. Well, WordPress ain’t the easiest beast to tame on a 3 inch touch screen – I couldn’t work out how to change the order of the gallery photos, or caption them. So I think I’ll stick to computer blogging from now on…
If you picked up Australian-New Zealand Snowboarder Magazine’s Travel Issue that came out a couple of weeks ago you would have seen my story about snowboarding in The Czech Republic. Here are some extra bits for you…
When I was a young boy, my only knowledge of Czechoslovakia came from cheesy spy movies, and from the Eastern Bloc’s number one 80’s tennis export, Martina Navratilova. A framed black and white photo of Martina and my uncle still sits on my grandparents’ mantelpiece showing them holding the 1985 Wimbledon Mixed Doubles trophy they won together…but while you would think a photo of my uncle holding a Wimbledon trophy would be memorable enough, the scary thing that always struck me about that photo is that Martina’s forearm is about twice as muscly and huge as my uncle’s! And with other famous tennis players like Ivan Lendl, Jana Novotna and Petr Korda bringing their Terminator-like styles of play to the world stage through the 80’s and 90’s, I couldn’t help but grow up thinking that Czechoslovakians were either humourless, Ivan Drago-like superhuman tennis robots, or angry but stupid AK-47-toting communist bad-guys from the movies and novels.
But well after the ’89 Velvet Revolution and fall of European Communism I finally managed a summertime visit to Prague and the new(ish) Czech Republic, following the well-worn backtracker trail and enjoying all the cheap local beer. Even then, twelve years after their first democratic elections, the crumbling pall of Communism and problems integrating into a new capitalist way of life were visible all over the country. But you could see that the Czech Republic was finding its feet in the “New Europe”, and so this year, I wanted to go back with a bunch of snowboarders and see how things had changed…and to see if we could score some epic shredding along the way….but first we had to survive Prague!
We arrived in the capital of the Czech Republic at night, staying in a swanky Novotel next to Price Waterhouse Coopers, and if it wasn’t for a few funny looking street signs and lots of graffiti, we could have been in any bustling western European city. So it wasn’t until the new day dawned that we could see why Prague has become such a tourist hot-spot over the last decade. It really is a magnificent city: skinny communist-era trams rattling along ancient cobbled streets, magnificent multicoloured Art Nouveau apartment buildings lining the boulevards of the city centre, towering gothic church spires and winding narrow medieval lanes in the Old Town, and of course, the famous ancient Charles Bridge leading across the river to the largest castle in the world perched on the hilltop overlooking the city.
Most visitors to Prague come during the warmer months, but with a light covering of snow on the high points of the city, the whole complexion of the place changes, and as we were there to not just sight-see, we hit the streets trying to find features to ride. We searched high and low throughout the inner city of Prague, exploring into the ugly communist apartment block suburbs with their crumbling concrete facades and graffiti-covered shopfronts. There was a light covering of snow on the hill overlooking the city, but the rest of the city was dry, as it hadn’t snowed heavily since before Christmas. All the spots that looked promising needed just too much snow to be moved from somewhere else, so a day and a half of exploring yielded no real results, but we made up for our lack of luck with rails an urban jibbery the best way we know how: partying!
It’s not just for the picturesque tourist photos that visitors flock to Prague, it’s also the cheap beer and alcohol…and insane party scene. Martina and Jana were doing a bad job of representing the typical Czech woman in the 80’s. Instead, think of Eva Herzigova or Karolina Kurkova in warm black coats, tight jeans and high leather boots and you are getting a better impression of the typical Czech girl on the streets of Prague (check the foreground of photo to the right to see what I’m talking about.) I seriously considered giving up snowboard photography to become a Czech fashion photographer! And even in the depths of a cold winter all the pretty girls head out for a night on the town, and a serious dance to some seriously crappy euro-dance music. But the prices of drinks help dull the sound of thumping techno: if you pay more than $2.50 for half a litre of tasty local beer in a restaurant, bar or club, you are getting ripped off.
Check this previous post here to see some of the photos from the wild night out we had in Prague.
On the way to the snow we visited the spooky, famed ossuary (chapel) at Kutna Hora filled with skulls and skeletons. Supposedly the earth has been sacred there since an abbot sprinkled dirt from the Holy Land in the 13th century, and with between 40,000 to 70,000 skeletons overflowing from the cemetery, 140 years ago a local woodcarver was given the task of arranging the bones into a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a regal coat of arms on the wall. Creepy!
We snowboarded for three days at Spindlruv Mlyn, Czech Republic’s biggest and most developed resort, and then we had a couple of days near the German border at Bozi Dar trying to find some unique things to shoot. I’ll let the pictures do the talking.
Click on the thumbnails below to take a closer look at the photo, and pick up a copy of ANZ Snowboarder Magazine to read the story!
Here is a video by Jeremy Richardson of Ollie Pop Films who accompanied us on the trip…take a look and you might spot me dancing like an idiot to shoo away some bothersome pigeons.
And for all her assistance, I’d like to to thank Jana Soukalová from Czech Tourism– it was a great trip made all the easier by her.
What the…? After reading the heading I bet you have the same puzzled look on your face that I got from everybody in Sin City when I told them I was there on a snowboard magazine trip to Vegas. They would just look at me blankly, thinking that the strangely-accented guy dressed in snowboard pants and jacket in the lobby of Bally’s Casino was just part of the entertainment…like the Elvis impersonators. But it’s true, you really can go snowboarding in Vegas at the inventively-named Las Vegas Ski and Snowboard Resort, roughly 45 miles from The Strip.
Last year on a drive from Vegas to Tahoe I noticed some signs to a “Snow Park”, but didn’t think much of it until Radical Gloves‘ Jeremy Burns suggested we do a magazine trip there. I didn’t need much convincing to head back to Party Town, USA…especially when I could pass off all the partying and drinking as a “work expense” to the Tax Man!
I hit the road early Thursday morning with Darragh Walsh, Cohen Davies, and Darragh’s mate Casey, for the 800 or so kilometre drive through a dusty, windswept Nevada desert. There were a few sites to see on the way, but mostly it was just endless highway, punctuated by military installations, atomic test sites and roadside brothels.
We hit up LVSSR Friday and Saturday; it was a shock going from almost 30 degree heat in the valley floor and climbing 5500 feet to the resort carpark to be surrounded by SoCal-like spring snow conditions less than an hour later. The resort is quite small, with only three chairlifts and a rustic “Mom and Pop” vibe. But the park was decent, with at least six medium to large jumps, and a bunch of other jibs and small jumps. And above the resort there is some epic freeriding lines if you are willing to hike. There are plans to put in a few more lifts to access some good terrain, and it will be great to see how the resort progresses over the next few years. Everybody treated us amazingly, showing us around and helping us in any way we wanted. And we felt a little bit like rockstars as word had gotten out about the visiting Australian “pro riders”, and we even had some TV interviews for the local news organised for the Sunday (which unfortunately we had to miss: three nights in Vegas got the better of us and we also needed a day to see the sights in the sunlight).
Vegas, of course, was epic. And it started out well with me winning $250 on a $1.25 bet on a little mechanical horse table game at MGM grand on the Thursday night. Thanks for showing me how it’s done, Jez! My brother, El Rad, flew into Vegas Friday, and as my parents were already there, I was able to combine snowboarding, photography, fun and family holiday all in a few days in Sin City. Perfect! We made sure we got into the party spirit with beers for the drive back down to Vegas each day, and at night me and the boys hit up a lot of casinos, bars and clubs…and made a few new friends. We kept it classy of course, having a few chilled beers in the room before we hit The Strip.
And the rest? Well, like they say, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…unless it gets written up in an Australian-NZ Snowboarder Magazine article! Ha.
When our four nights were over, well, it was a loooonngg drive back to Tahoe. And after chilling by the Paris pool under brilliant sunshine, it was tough to come back to cold, snowy Tahoe…well, that was until we woke to 20 inches of fresh pow overnight! Eeeepppppic!
Keep and eye out for the “Fear and Shredding in Las Vegas” photos and article in Issue 2 of Australian-New Zealand Snowboarder Magazine coming out in a couple of months.
I made my way up from the depths of the starkly lit Munchen U-bahn and out into the dark, frosty night that had enveloped of the Olympic Park, following the fluoro-yellow “Zugangs” out into the mist. Somewhere up above a series of red lights flash in the misty sky like some alien spaceship descended like Close Encounters of the Third Kind. A deep, dank fog has descended on the city, and the solitary walk through the deserted parklands makes me feel like I could be the last person left on earth.
As I keep trudging, somewhere up ahead I can see some lights on the horizon. As I get closer, I really know that those two underground trains really were just a portal to an alien land, because up ahead Ridley Scott’s alien spacecraft emerges from the earth. Insect legs reach to the heavens, anchored to the earth by strong space-age cables to stop the spaceship from taking off, and laser beams claw into the night sky beckoning our alien friends to descend to Earth. There is a dull hum coming from straight ahead…or is it more of a roar? As I get closer I can feel the earth tremble as the roar fills the air.
A sign says Nike 6.0 Air & Style as I make my way through the bowels of the spacehip and out into the arena, and I am hit with a wall of noise: thumping music mixed with 16,000 screams. To the right a giant ramp of snow, lit up like a Star Wars X-Fighter runway, angles down towards us, and every minute or so there is some kind of spacesuit-wearing creature with board attached to his feet defying the laws of physics.
I push my way forward to get a closer look at these strange beings, who, despite their goggle-eyes, look like they could almost be short, stocky humans. But although they take the form of man, they clearly must be from another planet because no mere mortal could possibly land cab 1260 double cork mute grabs with such regularity. Even his name, Peetu Piiroinen, must be just some google-translation from his true Vulcan moniker.
And I know that the aliens have found our human weakness, trying to tempt us with absolute vision splendids in the form of Monster Girls. Those smiles they give me are just to try and lure me back to the pod ship, and no, I don’t care if your name is Holly and you kiss my cheek, I will NOT be abducted by your kind!
The action on the alien landing strip suddenly ceases, and with a scream of some harsh language a stage to the right lights up and punk music blares. Now I know for sure that I am in an alternate reality, like the limbo island in Lost, becase Sum 41 were a band that existed 10 years ago! But the thousands of night zombies seem to the enjoy the blast from the past up on the stage in front of them while I explore this alien land.
Before long the alien-men are back, whittled down to eight in number. The level of space-age trickery is mind numbing, with another of the Vulcan race, Halldor Helgason, almost stomping backside 1260 double cork japan airs, even discarding his alien goggle eyes and headware mid-trick, like a skink discards its tail. If you don’t believe in the alien action I saw, check out this video.
But the outerspace gods have decided that there can be only one winner, and as he stepped atop the dias to accept his Ring of Glory, he punched the air and his alien slit eyes shined green before all those close were doused with a sweet, sticky liquid exploding from their talons.
The show is over, and the night zombies disperse back into the dark mist of the parklands while I take the underground teleporter back to civilisation. The city is busy on a cold, dark Saturday night and as I enter the ancient arched stone gates of the old town, dark amorphous figures converge on me from the shadows, and it is not til they get closer that I see the black coats, long legs and high heels. Through the dark, narrow streets I wend, where looming towers and jagged facades crowd the misty sky above me. Evil gargoyles look down upon me, as I turn through the market stalls to find the Schrannenhalle and it’s underground secret VIP lair, where flashing lights and pulsating bodies fill the dancefloor. I throw some coins on the bar and grab a beer, and as I turn around, in the darkness I spot a couple of familiar faces and know that thankfully, I have returned to reality.
RadMania 
