MARK APPLEYARD GREEN TO GRIT IN UNDER A MILE

Mark came to California greener than the Canadian grass he rolled in on—fresh-faced, polite as hell, practically glowing with that north-of-the-border decency. Bill Weiss, patron saint of lost rippers, was always dragging down some wild-eyed Canadian kid who just needed a shot. And Mark? He took the shot, loaded it with nitro, and fired it straight through the heart of the skate industry.

Sure, he was nice (he had to be—Canadian), but his skating did all the loud talking. At first, he fit in by staying low-key—shy, cautious, eyes wide. But by the time we were halfway into filming Flip's Sorry, that fresh-faced snowbird had gone full scumbag road dog. Dirty socks, filthy jokes, eyes like lit fuses. Kidding. Sort of. We love you, Mark.

He adapted fast. Slept on floors, ate gas station cuisine, took slams like communion wafers. And by the end of that filthy, glorious tour, he was walking into any session like a full-blooded Pro—chin up, board blazing.

That signature Appleyard laugh? You can hear it across a parking lot. It says everything about why people gravitate toward the guy.

Now, a little confession about this photo: he never landed the trick. Not that he couldn’t—hell no. He was just warming up. Over-popped the approach, missed the lock, and launched himself into a slam before Fred even set up the damn camera. Session over before it even started. The spot was too remote, too obscure—we never went back.

That’s why the photo sat unseen for over 20 years. But here’s the kicker: I know—know—that if Mark and I went back tomorrow, we’d get the make. No doubt.

So, what do you say, Mark? Let’s go finish what we started.

• 10 mil (0.25 mm) thick
• Slightly glossy
• Fingerprint resistant
• Paper sourced from Japan