It starts with a specific sound. Not the slap of a kicktail on flat ground, but a low-frequency hum that vibrates through your shins. That's the sound of skating in a pool. It’s different. It’s heavy. When you drop into a concrete bowl that was originally designed for a suburban family to swim in, you aren't just riding a skateboard; you’re navigating a piece of architectural history that was never meant for you.
Empty pools are gritty. They’re usually filled with a layer of stagnant "pool tea," dead leaves, and maybe a skeletal frog or two. You spend three hours pumping water out with a bucket just to get twenty minutes of ride time before the cops show up. But those twenty minutes? They feel like flying.
The drought that changed everything
Most people think skateboarding was born on the sidewalk. It wasn't. Or at least, the soul of it wasn't. In the mid-1970s, California hit a massive drought. The state enacted strict water rationing. Lawns turned brown. Pools were emptied because nobody could afford the fines for filling them.
For the Z-Boys of Santa Monica and Venice—guys like Tony Alva, Jay Adams, and Stacy Peralta—this was a goldmine. They weren't looking for "skateparks" because those didn't really exist yet. They were looking for the "Keyhole," the "Gonzales pool," and the legendary "Dogbowl."
Skating in a pool changed the physics of the sport. On flat ground, you’re limited by your own kick. In a pool, you have centrifugal force. You have G-loads. You have the "pocket," that magical sweet spot where the transition meets the tile line and gives you a burst of speed that feels like being shot out of a cannon. It’s why vertical skating exists today. Without the 1970s drought, we wouldn't have the X Games. We wouldn't have the 900. We’d probably just be doing handstands on moving planks of wood.
Understanding the "Breadloaf" and the deathbox
If you’ve only ever skated a prefab wooden ramp, a real pool will terrify you. It’s not smooth. It’s lumpy. Backyard pools were hand-poured by guys who were thinking about water displacement, not wheel bite.
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Take the "deathbox." In a swimming pool, this is the concrete housing for the skimmer or the light fixture. It’s usually a rectangular hole right in the middle of a perfect transition. If your wheel hits it, you’re done. You learn to "air over" it or carve around it with surgical precision. Then there’s the "breadloaf"—that rounded-off step in the shallow end that looks easy but will buck you off the second you lose focus.
The coping is the biggest difference. Modern skateparks use steel pipes. Backyard pools use "pool coping," which is essentially heavy, porous masonry blocks. When you grind it, it doesn't "clack"—it growls. It eats your hangers. You can see the aluminum dust left behind on the stone. It’s a violent, beautiful interaction between metal and rock.
The legal reality of the "skate and destroy" era
Honestly, let's be real: most pool skating is trespassing. It’s a cat-and-mouse game. You find a foreclosed house on Google Maps. You scout it. You check the neighbors. You bring a generator and a submersible pump.
There is a code here. You don’t tag the pool. You don’t leave trash. You respect the spot because once a pool is "blown," it’s gone forever. The owner pours dirt in it or the city fills it with gravel.
Expert skaters like Salba (Steve Alba) have spent decades documenting these spots. Salba is arguably the king of this subculture. He doesn't care about "perfect" transitions. He wants the crusty, the weird, and the dangerous. This isn't about landing a trick for an Instagram reel; it's about surviving a bowl that was built in 1962 and hasn't seen water in ten years.
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Why concrete feels different than wood
- Vibration: Concrete absorbs nothing. Every pebble feels like a boulder.
- Speed: You don't lose momentum in a pool; you gain it. If you don't know how to "pump," you'll get stuck in the bottom.
- Consequences: Falling on wood is like falling on a floor. Falling on pool concrete is like falling on a cheese grater made of bricks.
Finding the line
In a pool, you don't just go back and forth. You "carve." It’s more like surfing than anything else. You’re looking for "the line." A line is a continuous path that keeps your speed up without you ever having to put a foot down.
You start in the shallow end, carve high under the tile, drop into the deep end, hit the "hips" (the corners where the walls meet), and try to get your back wheels over the coping. The feeling of "barking" your wheels on the tile is the ultimate goal. It’s a high-pitched skrrrrt that lets everyone know you’ve reached the top.
But it’s hard. Really hard. The transition in a backyard pool is rarely a perfect radius. It might be "tight" at the bottom and "vert" at the top, or it might be a "mellow" slope that suddenly turns into a wall. You have to adapt your stance every millisecond.
The Gear: Don't bring your street setup
If you try skating in a pool with 52mm street wheels, you're going to have a bad time. You need surface area. You need grip.
Most pool skaters run wheels that are at least 58mm to 60mm. They’re harder, too—usually 99a or 101a durometer. You want that speed. Your board should be wider, probably 8.5 inches at the minimum, often closer to 9 or 10 inches with a long wheelbase. This gives you stability when you're pulling 2 Gs in a corner.
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And for the love of everything, wear pads. Not because you’re a beginner, but because concrete is unforgiving. A "hip" injury in a pool can side-line you for months. Pro skaters who spend their lives in bowls—people like Bucky Lasek or Lizzie Armanto—know that the transition is a partner you have to respect. If you disrespect the pool, the pool will break you.
Transitioning from parks to pools
If you've spent all your time at a local skatepark, a real backyard pool will feel "wrong." The "flat bottom" isn't actually flat. It usually slants toward the drain. The "walls" aren't symmetrical.
The first thing you'll notice is the "vert." Many backyard pools have a few inches of actual vertical concrete at the top. If you don't "kick turn" early enough, your board will fly out from under you. You have to be aggressive. You have to lean into the fear.
Actionable steps for your first pool session
Find a DIY spot or a "pool-style" bowl at a modern skatepark first. Don't go looking for a foreclosed backyard until you can comfortably carve a 6-foot deep end.
- Check your hardware. Tighten your trucks slightly more than usual to avoid speed wobbles, but keep them loose enough to carve.
- Learn to pump. The power comes from your legs, not your feet. Push down into the transition as you go down, and pull your weight up as you go up.
- Eye the drain. Never skate directly over the drain if the cover is missing. It’s a one-way ticket to a broken ankle.
- Listen to the stone. When you start hearing your wheels "bark" on the tile, you know you’re getting the right height.
- Clean the spot. If you find a real pool, bring a broom. A single pebble can stop a wheel dead, and in a 10-foot deep end, that’s a long way to fall.
Skating in a pool is the closest thing we have to the roots of the culture. It’s loud, it’s dirty, and it’s technically demanding. It requires a different mindset—one that values the "flow" over the "flip." Once you feel that first carve in a real concrete bowl, you'll understand why people have been risking arrest and injury for it since 1975. It’s not just a hobby; it’s a way of reclaiming architecture.