Before the X Games: The Untold Story of the Gulf Coast’s Skateboarding Scene.

This weekend, some of the best skateboarders in the world will roll into New Orleans for the X Games. There will be television cameras, sponsor banners, professional course builders and even Tony Hawk who will be calling the action.

It will feel like skateboarding has suddenly arrived on the Gulf Coast.

But It hasn’t.

Long before the X Games came to New Orleans, skateboarders were riding homemade ramps in Ocean Springs, organizing competitions in Mobile, searching for street spots around New Orleans and keeping an underground scene alive in Pensacola. They traveled Interstate 10 with boards in the back seat, slept on floors, traded photographs and built whatever they could afford to skate.

The region’s history has never been as neatly documented as California’s. There is no single Gulf Coast skateboarding museum, definitive book or complete archive. Much of the story survives in old photographs, faded contest footage, message-board conversations and the memories of people who were there.

But the scattered evidence tells a fascinating story.

The Gulf Coast was never simply waiting for skateboarding to reach it. Skaters here were building their own version of the culture all along

California Dreams in the Deep South

The first national skateboarding boom reached the Gulf Coast during the 1970s. Kids who saw California riders in magazines wanted to surf concrete, even if the nearest suitable empty swimming pool was hundreds of miles away.

Pensacola was part of that first wave.

Fred Esposito, a longtime figure in Pensacola skating, later recalled running a skate park there in 1976. When the city opened the Blake Doyle Skatepark in 2023, Esposito said it had been 46 years since Pensacola possessed a comparable outdoor skateboarding facility. A surviving social-media description identifies that early park as Paved Wave, reportedly operating during the summer of 1976.

Paved Wave Skatepark was one of the Gulf Coast’s first skateboarding destinations, attracting riders from across the Southeast during the sport’s first boom. Located on W. Navy Blvd. in Pensacola, near the site of today’s Goofy Golf, the park became a regional hotspot before closing in 1978. Though it was only open for a short time, Paved Wave helped lay the foundation for the Gulf Coast’s skateboarding culture long before the era of modern skateparks.

That places organized skateboarding in Pensacola near the beginning of America’s original commercial skatepark explosion. More than 200 purpose-built parks opened around the country during the late 1970s and early 1980s, although many disappeared almost as quickly because of declining participation, rising insurance costs and the sport’s changing popularity.

Click the Link Below for a Directory of all the Skate Parks in the United States in 1978.

1970s Skateparks | Skateboarding Heritage Foundation

Mississippi apparently joined that movement too. Photographs and recollections shared by longtime Gulf Coast skaters refer to a Biloxi Beach Skate Park during the late 1970s. Documentation is limited, and the park’s exact dates and layout remain difficult to verify through public records. Still, the surviving memories suggest South Mississippi had something resembling an organized skate facility years before many modern residents would expect.

A skateboarder catches air above one of the signature bowls at Biloxi Beach Skate Park during the late 1970s. The beachfront park was one of the Gulf Coast’s earliest skateboarding destinations, drawing riders from across Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, and Florida during the sport’s first boom. Though the park disappeared decades ago, its legacy lives on through rare photographs like this one.
*Photo courtesy of Richard Vogt.*

Then the first skateboard-park boom faded.

Across the country, commercial parks closed. Skateboarding did not disappear, but it moved underground. That transition was especially important on the Gulf Coast, where skaters learned early that waiting for local government or private investors to build something could mean waiting forever.

So they built their own.

The Swamp Ramp: Ocean Springs’ Backyard Legend

The legendary Swamp Ramp in Ocean Springs became a gathering place for Gulf Coast skateboarders after the first wave of commercial skateparks disappeared. Built in a quiet neighborhood beneath the Mississippi pines, the homemade halfpipe welcomed generations of riders from across the Coast, helping keep Mississippi’s skateboarding culture alive throughout the 1980s and beyond.
*Photo courtesy of Dana Buck.*

If there is one place that deserves to be remembered in Mississippi skateboarding history, it is the Swamp Ramp in Ocean Springs.

Hidden behind a private home in Ocean Springs during the early 1980s, the massive wooden vert ramp became one of the Gulf Coast’s most legendary skateboarding destinations. While California had Del Mar and Upland, South Mississippi had a backyard ramp tucked beneath the pine trees just a few miles from the Gulf of Mexico.

The ramp became the center of a growing Gulf Coast skate community. Riders loaded their skateboards into their cars and drove from New Orleans, Mobile, Pensacola and across Mississippi just to spend the weekend skating. If someone heard the Swamp Ramp was running that weekend, chances are they found a way to get there.

The Swamp Ramp is most closely associated with Ocean Springs skateboarders Lindsey Kuhn and Dana Buck. The ramp also became a gathering place where skateboarders, surfers, artists and musicians all crossed paths, creating a creative culture that extended well beyond skateboarding itself.

Although the exact dimensions vary depending on who tells the story, longtime skaters remember the Swamp Ramp as one of the largest private vert ramps anywhere in the South. It earned its name naturally, built among the trees of the Gulf Coast, surrounded by the humid landscape that locals simply called “the swamp.”

For many Gulf Coast skateboarders, making the trip to Ocean Springs became something of a rite of passage. There were no admission tickets, no corporate sponsors and no television cameras. Just plywood, coping, friends and the constant sound of skateboard wheels echoing through the trees.

Lindsey Kuhn, Dana Buck and the Creative Legacy of Ocean Springs

Every great skate scene has a handful of people who become its foundation.

For Ocean Springs, those names were Lindsey Kuhn and Dana Buck.

Dana Buck launches into a frontside air on a backyard ramp during the 1980s, a time when homemade ramps like Swamp Ramp helped keep Gulf Coast skateboarding thriving after the first generation of commercial skateparks disappeared. Buck was among the influential Mississippi skaters who inspired a new generation of riders and helped shape the region’s skateboarding culture.
*Photo courtesy of Dana Buck.*

Growing up along Mississippi’s Gulf Coast during the late 1970s and early 1980s, the two friends became synonymous with the Swamp Ramp and the thriving backyard vert scene that quietly developed in Ocean Springs. Longtime skate photographer Glen Jones, who discovered skateboarding there as a teenager, called Kuhn and Buck the “kingpins” of the local scene. More importantly, he remembered them as the riders who welcomed younger skaters into the community.

Dana Buck quickly earned a reputation as one of the Gulf Coast’s best vert skaters.

Buck’s influence stretched far beyond Ocean Springs. After moving to Texas, he opened a Dallas skate shop called Buckitheads, remaining deeply involved in skateboarding as the sport evolved through the 1990s. When Buck called his old friend Lindsey Kuhn looking for graphics for skateboard decks, the conversation turned into something much bigger. The two launched Conspiracy Skateboards in 1993, creating a company rooted in the vert-skating culture they had grown up with on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.

Lindsey Kuhn brings the same creativity to the art studio that he once brought to the skateboard ramp. A pioneer of Mississippi’s skateboarding scene and co-founder of Conspiracy Skateboards, Kuhn has transformed decades of skateboarding culture into bold artwork that continues to inspire riders and collectors around the world.

While Buck continued shaping skateboarding through shops, ramps and board companies, Kuhn carved out a career as one of the sport’s most recognizable artists. His screen-printed concert posters, skateboard graphics and artwork have become internationally respected, but he has never forgotten where his creative journey began. Ocean Springs—and the skateboarding community that surrounded the Swamp Ramp—remained the foundation of both his art and his identity.

Looking back, it becomes clear that the Swamp Ramp produced more than talented skateboarders.

One of Lindsey Kuhn’s signature designed Conspiracy branded skateboards.

It produced entrepreneurs.

Artists.

Photographers.

Musicians.

Builders.

The friendships formed on that wooden ramp rippled outward across the skateboarding world. A backyard in Ocean Springs helped inspire a skateboard company, launch artistic careers and leave a lasting mark on Southern skateboarding that can still be traced today.

The Gulf Coast Was More Connected Than It Looked

Today, it is easy to imagine each Gulf Coast city developing in isolation. Before social media, however, regional skaters created their own network.

A serious rider in Ocean Springs might hear about a ramp in Pensacola, a competition in Mobile or a street spot in New Orleans. Somebody knew somebody with a truck. Telephone calls were made. Directions were written down. Gas money was collected.

Then everyone piled in. Old online discussions about the Pensacola scene do not stay confined to Pensacola. They wander into memories of Ocean Springs, the Swamp Ramp, local music venues and skate competitions. That crossover supports what longtime riders have often said: the Gulf Coast functioned as a connected corridor long before anyone used phrases such as “regional skate community.”

The area was tied together by Interstate 10, but also by necessity. No individual town offered everything. One place might have a good ramp. Another had the closest skate shop. A third had a contest. Another had a group of riders willing to let visitors sleep on the floor. That made road trips part of the culture.

When Tony Hawk Came to Mobile

In 1986, the Gulf Coast briefly became the center of the skateboarding world.

That summer, the Southern Fried Shred Pro-Am was held at Brookley in Mobile, Alabama, drawing many of the biggest names in professional vert skating. Among them was a young Tony Hawk, who was only 18 years old but already one of the sport’s fastest-rising stars. Hawk didn’t just make an appearance, he won the professional division, a victory that still appears on his official list of career contest wins.

The event was organized during a period when Tony’s father, Frank Hawk, was helping promote professional skateboard competitions around the country through the National Skateboarding Association (NSA). Rather than concentrating every major event on the West Coast, the tour brought elite skateboarders to cities that rarely had the opportunity to see professional skateboarding in person. Mobile became one of those stops, placing the Gulf Coast on the national competition circuit for a weekend.

For skateboarders growing up in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and the Florida Panhandle, Southern Fried Shred was more than just another contest. It was an opportunity to watch the best vert skaters in the world without traveling to California. Local riders stood beside the halfpipe watching future legends perform tricks they had previously only seen in the pages of Thrasher and TransWorld Skateboarding. For many young skaters, it was proof that professional skateboarding could come to the Gulf Coast.

Today, only scattered photographs, grainy video footage and the memories of those who attended remain. But Southern Fried Shred stands as one of the most significant professional skateboarding events ever held along the northern Gulf Coast, connecting the region to one of the greatest eras in skateboarding history.

An 18 year old Tony Hawk in 1986, after winning the Southern Fried Shred at Mobile’s Brookley Field.

New Orleans Before Parisite

A New Orleans skateboarder launches over an improvised obstacle at a neighborhood DIY skatepark, where creativity and community go hand in hand. Across the Crescent City, skaters have long transformed overlooked urban spaces into places to ride, proving that skateboarding isn’t defined by expensive facilities.

New Orleans has always appeared built for skateboarding.

Its ledges, rough pavement, concrete banks, abandoned buildings and improvised urban spaces offered endless possibilities. They also offered endless problems: security guards, broken surfaces, traffic, police attention and the constant possibility that a favorite spot would disappear.

Before Hurricane Katrina, skaters gathered at places such as behind the Sunbasket Grocey Store and Belle Promenade, both on the West Bank. Longtime New Orleans skaters later recalled a strong pre-Katrina scene built around DIY obstacles and informal locations. Many wooden spots were destroyed or removed by the storm.

Katrina fractured nearly every part of life in the region, and skateboarding was no exception. People left. Neighborhoods emptied. Buildings disappeared. Familiar spots were flooded, demolished or buried beneath debris. Yet rebuilding New Orleans also brought new residents, volunteers and young people searching for ways to reclaim neglected spaces.

An out of that environment came Parisite.

Building Parisite Without Waiting for Permission

Nestled beneath Interstate 610, Parisite Skatepark stands as the heart of New Orleans skateboarding. What began as a grassroots DIY project has grown into one of the South’s most iconic skateparks, where concrete, creativity, and community come together beneath the roar of passing traffic. Today, skaters from across the Gulf Coast and beyond continue to make the pilgrimage to this one-of-a-kind urban playground.

In 2010, a group of skateboarders began constructing a DIY skatepark beneath Interstate 610 near Paris Avenue.

The name was a play on its location—“Paris Site”—and perhaps an appropriate joke about a park growing beneath the city’s infrastructure without official permission. New Orleans had more than 350,000 residents at the time but no official public skatepark.

The earliest version was known as the Peach Orchard. Skaters bought concrete with their own money and organized competitions, concerts and benefits to fund construction. Volunteers contributed labor. Obstacles appeared one section at a time.

A skateboarder lands a trick beneath the elevated highway at Parisite Skatepark, where New Orleans’ DIY spirit continues to thrive. Built by local skaters and constantly evolving, Parisite has become one of the Gulf Coast’s premier skateboarding destinations, attracting riders from around the world to its unique urban setting beneath the Interstate..

Parisite was not initially the product of a polished municipal recreation plan. It was a response to the absence of one.

Accounts of the project describe hundreds of volunteer hours and money raised through punk shows, donations and merchandise. Instead of waiting for a permanent skatepark promised by someone else, the skaters created one on unused state-owned land.

Eventually, that unauthorized project became a collaboration.

The skaters worked with Tulane University’s Albert and Tina Small Center for Collaborative Design, the nonprofit Transitional Spaces and government agencies. The park earned official recognition and developed into New Orleans’ first sanctioned, skater-built public skatepark.

Professional skateboarder Ryan Sheckler carves through the bowls at Parisite Skatepark, one of New Orleans’ most iconic skateboarding destinations. Built beneath Interstate 610 by the local skateboarding community, Parisite has earned an international reputation as a premier DIY skatepark, attracting world-class professionals and everyday riders alike to its one-of-a-kind urban landscape.

One of the park’s most unique connections came in 2011 with the Red Bull Mississippi Grind. Red Bull and skatepark builder Spohn Ranch constructed a 3,500-square-foot skatepark on top of a barge and floated it down the Mississippi River, making stops from Minnesota to New Orleans. When the tour ended, several of the skate obstacles were donated and incorporated into the expanding Parisite Skatepark. Today, portions of that traveling skatepark remain part of Parisite, serving as a lasting reminder of one of the most ambitious skateboarding tours ever held on the Mississippi River.

By 2016, professional skateboarder Ryan Sheckler and the Sheckler Foundation were helping support an expansion of the park, including new coping. What began as an illegal collection of concrete beneath an overpass had become a destination capable of drawing national figures.

Parisite is now one of the clearest examples of Gulf Coast skateboarding’s defining trait: nobody gave the skaters a perfect facility, so they began with the space and materials they had.

The Red Bull *Mississippi Grind* transformed a Mississippi River barge into a floating skatepark, bringing one of skateboarding’s most unique events to New Orleans. As the barge traveled down the river, professional skateboarders competed on custom-built obstacles, blending world-class skating with the iconic backdrop of America’s greatest waterway.

Pensacola Waited Nearly 50 Years

Pensacola’s story took a different route.

After the original 1970s park disappeared, generations of local skaters lived without a large permanent outdoor public facility. They used private parks when available, temporary ramps, streets and whatever other spaces they could find.

The effort to build a modern municipal park gained momentum after the death of local skateboarder Blake Doyle, who was struck and killed by a train in 2015. The eventual park bearing his name became both a recreation facility and a memorial.

Blake Doyle Skatepark has ushered in a new era of skateboarding in Pensacola. Opened in 2023 beneath the Interstate 110 overpass, the world-class facility honors Pensacola native and professional skateboarder Blake Doyle while providing skaters of all ages with one of the premier public skateparks on the Gulf Coast.

The Blake Doyle Skatepark opened in 2023 with approximately 25,000 square feet of skateable space. It includes a beginner area, a multilevel street plaza and two bowls. Hundreds reportedly attended the opening. The park’s size and design show how far public attitudes have shifted.

In the 1980s, local riders built backyard ramps and worried about being chased away. In 2023, the city opened a major downtown facility intended for skaters of different skill levels.

It took almost five decades to travel from Paved Wave to Blake Doyle.

Skateboarders and spectators gather around the bowl at Blake Doyle Skatepark during a community skate session in Pensacola.

Mississippi’s New DIY Generation

Mississippi still does not possess the concentration of major facilities found in Florida, Texas or California. It also has not produced a widely documented X Games medalist.

But the old Ocean Springs instinct, build it yourself, has never entirely disappeared.

A skateboarder lands a flip trick during a community skate session beneath the Interstate 110 overpass at the Biloxi DIY Skate park across the street from Keesler Federal Park, home of the Biloxi Shuckers.

DIY skate spots in the Biloxi and St. Martin areas have carried that tradition into the modern era. Public parks in communities such as Petal and Wiggins have also given young riders places to practice without relying entirely on parking lots, handmade launch ramps or private property.

These parks may not receive national coverage. That does not make them insignificant. Every serious skate scene needs an entry point: somewhere a kid can fall repeatedly without being ordered to leave, somewhere older skaters can pass along advice, and somewhere a group of riders becomes a community rather than a collection of individuals.

The Gulf Coast has spent decades creating those spaces in pieces.

Why the Region’s History Is So Hard to Find

Part of the reason Gulf Coast skateboarding feels forgotten is that it was rarely documented by institutions. The history does not always exist in city archives or museum collections. It survives in shoe boxes, private Facebook groups, scanned zines, old VHS tapes, message boards and photographs whose subjects are no longer identified.

Even basic questions remain open.

Who designed every section of the Swamp Ramp? How many major competitions were held there? What was the full history of the Biloxi Beach Skate Park? Which skate shops served as gathering places in Gulfport, Mobile, New Orleans and Pensacola? How many professional riders passed through the region without the visit ever making a major magazine?

Skateboarders skate under the I-610 Overpass at the Parisite Skate Park in New Orleans.

The gaps are not evidence that nothing happened.

They are evidence that the people involved were more concerned with skating than preserving records for future historians.

Long Before the X Games

When the X Games begin in New Orleans, the event will represent something genuinely new for the city. It will bring elite action sports, national attention and a scale of competition the region has rarely experienced.

But it will not be the beginning of Gulf Coast skateboarding.

The beginning was a kid in Pensacola finding a place called Paved Wave in the 1970s.

It was a forgotten park near the beach in Biloxi.

It was Dana Buck and Lindsey Kuhn riding a giant wooden ramp in an Ocean Springs backyard.

It was Tony Hawk appearing at a competition in Mobile before he became a household name.

It was New Orleans skaters rebuilding their scene after Katrina, pouring concrete beneath an interstate because the official park they needed did not exist.

It was generations of people driving between Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida because the best place to skate was usually somewhere else.

Gulf Coast skateboarding has never had the cleanest pavement, the deepest sponsorship money or the brightest spotlight.

It has had plywood, concrete, salt air and people stubborn enough to keep building.

This weekend, the cameras finally arrive.

The scene was already here.