It was a late Friday evening in Niagara, Ontario, when my father-in-law and I packed up the family Caravan for a journey like no other. Our mission? To retrieve a rare, German-made Black River fingerboard park from an old skate friend deep in the heart of Maryland. The park, a relic of the fingerboarding world, had been sitting in my friend Ed’s basement for over a decade. As a lifelong enthusiast of the downhill skateboard and fingerboard communities, I couldn’t pass up the chance to bring this treasure back to life. The challenge? A near 20-hour round trip through the winding, dark mountain roads of Pennsylvania and the highways teeming with wildlife.

The Van’s headlights cut through the darkness as we crossed the border and started our descent into the U.S. The excitement of the mission kept us sharp and eager, even as the road stretched endlessly before us. My father-in-law, a man of few words but steady presence, took the wheel for the first leg. We shared stories, snacks and laughter to keep each other awake, the rhythmic hum of the tires providing an oddly comforting backdrop.

Pennsylvania’s mountainous terrain soon enveloped us. The road twisted and turned, mostly with little to no lighting. Our nerves were tested by the ever-present danger of deer darting across the highway.

Hours later, we arrived in Maryland, greeted by the soft glow of dawn. My friend’s house stood at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, a suburban oasis where the legendary fingerboard park had been hiding for years. Seeing it in person felt surreal. Black River fingerboard parks are the pinnacle of craftsmanship, handmade in Germany and produced in limited quantities. Each model is a masterpiece, sought after by enthusiasts around the world. The fact that this one had made its way to North America, and was now destined for a new life in Toronto, felt like a piece of skateboarding history in motion.

Loading the park into the SUV proved to be a puzzle. Its size exceeded the vehicle’s capacity, forcing us to leave the back door open. Securing it with straps and bungee cords, we began our journey home. Before we left, my friend gave me a fascinating history run-through of some of his original boards—gifts from OGs in the skate scene who had passed them on to him. It was a glimpse into the rich heritage of fingerboarding, making the moment even more special.

The return trip brought its own set of challenges. The forecast called for a snowstorm, so we prepared for the worst. We plastic-wrapped and boxed the park as much as possible to keep it dry. Fortunately, luck was on our side; instead of snow, we faced rain for most of the drive. It wasn’t until the last hour before reaching the Canadian border that we encountered light snow. Even so, the drive remained tense as the open back door required frequent stops to check the cargo and adjust the straps.

As the sun set on the second leg of our journey, we finally crossed back into Canada. Toronto’s skyline welcomed us, and with it, the anticipation of delivering the park to its new home. Our final stop was 6Skates, Toronto’s beloved fingerboard store and community hub. We were greeted by a group of eager locals, ready to help unload and set up the park for an “after hours” session. The park fit perfectly within the shop’s vibrant space, its presence immediately drawing admiration from everyone. Knowing it would be enjoyed by the Canadian fingerboarding community and international visitors alike made every mile worth it.
Reflecting on the adventure, I couldn’t help but smile. The journey was more than just a retrieval mission; it was a testament to passion, perseverance, and the bonds formed through shared experiences.

The Black River park, once in a Maryland basement, now has a new lease on life, inspiring a new generation of fingerboarders in Toronto.