IBIZA B-SIDE by Alex Villanueva | SBMAG #1

Let’s clear something up: Ibiza is no skater’s paradise. On paper, it’s a nightmare. The few skateparks scattered across the island are crusty, rough, and sun-bleached to a crisp. And then there’s the summer heat. Skating under the Ibiza sun in July isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s a health hazard. The humidity sticks to you like glue, and the concrete radiates heat like an open oven.

Because of that, my board stayed in the trunk more than usual. Skating became a game of stealth. Sometimes I would set alarms for 6:00 AM to hit spots before the sun became a weapon.

By the end of that summer, the Sant Antoni rail line was still mocking me and I couldn’t leave the island without testing it. When the day of the session finally arrived, we were forced to skate it at high noon—the absolute hottest part of the day—because it was the only time the spot wasn’t swarming with tourists.

That’s when reality kicked in. Definitely not a skatepark. The rails were getting faster, there was zero time to think between features, and the landing shot you straight out into one of the busiest streets in Sant Antoni. It took some heavy slams and a serious mental war, but I finally clipped the line and Juanca filmed it running from the front. Pure cinema.

Unfortunately, we only had that one camera. By the time I rolled away, the streets were crowding up again and I was completely empty on gas. We eventually left the island happy that it was done, but without THE shot.

That brings us back to last year. The ghost of that image returned to my head, and I couldn’t get it out. I linked back up with Juanca, packed the proper gear, and headed back to the Balearics. This time, the goal wasn’t just to get the definitive photograph, but to prove that if you look at it through the right lens, Ibiza can indeed be a skater’s paradise.

Ibiza means a lot to me, but I’ve always felt like there was a missing chapter in our history. Now, the book is closed. The circle is complete.

Text by Alex Villanueva

Photography Juan Carlos Gutierrez

In mid-June of 2018, my summer plans took an unexpected turn. A job opportunity in Mallorca fell through at the last minute, leaving me tranded and forcing me to adapt quickly. I knew some friends from Andorra were heading to Ibiza for seasonal work, but finding an partment on the island in peak season was a statistical impossibility.

With no options and very little money, my friend Juanca and I packed a mattress into his car, caught the ferry, and decided to sleep in the car for the summer.

To the rest of the world, Ibiza is a neon-soaked clubbing mecca. My only previous experience there had been the standard, mind-numbing tourist circuit: overpriced beach clubs, crowded hotels, and generic parties. I wasn’t excited to go back; my mindset was on the exact opposite end of the spectrum. Turns out there's a wild b-side, and one of the rawest landscapes I’ve ever encountered.

Without a monthly rent check, we didn’t need to grind out 60-hour workweeks. I picked up odd jobs—everything from manual farm labor to working as a background extra on a movie set—just to keep gas in the tank and beer in the cooler. The rest of the time was spent mapping the island. We lived like nomads, enjoying a slow and quiet life. Where to watch the sunset was the only thing to worry about.

One of the first days, we drove straight to Sant Antoni to grab a few sunset beers. I stepped out of the car, looked up, and stopped dead. Right there, framed by the sea and flanked by stark white Ibizan walls, was a sight I never expected to find there: eight low, perfectly spaced rails in a single row. It looked less like street architecture and more like a snowpark slopestyle line, offering just enough transition to carry speed through almost every single one.

That image was instantly burned into my brain. Some people like techy spots, some people like gnarly ones—I like aesthetic ones.

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