In May this year, Sichuan Airlines made international news when a co-pilot was partially sucked out of a shattered cockpit window during the breakfast service on one of their flights.
Just a few months earlier, the same airline was making news of a different kind: Reasonably-priced airfares to celebrate the opening of their new route; a direct flight from Melbourne to Chengdu. So in April Max Couling, Hootie Andrewes, Jarrad Carlin, Rowan White, Tully West and myself arrived in China’s westernmost metropolis and commenced the time-honoured Chinese tradition of trying to find out whether the hotel we had booked actually existed.
Max Couling, switch nosebluntslide in support of his theorem that skate spots cluster near bodies of water.
Hootie Andrewes, frontside ollie wallride after a first-try slam that evoked images of a visit to a Chinese emergency room.
Rowan White, frontside nosegrind at a distant plaza that looked way less sketchy on Instagram.
Hootie Andrewes, kickflip into a crowd-control nightmare.
Tully West, switch wallride in a new development on the outskirts of Chengdu, as the number of angry public heroes approached a critical mass.
Jarrad Carlin, fakie kickflip; on day one as the world's happiest man, and again for this photo on day twelve as the world's sorest man.
