The Great Sand Dunes

It's September, it's snowed, and dammit, it's time for some skiing! But "snowed" might be too strong a word---there isn't enough down yet to cover the rocks (indeed, many noble peaks still lie naked). So Dave decided that maybe rocks aren't so bad for skiing, as long as they're small. The Great Sand Dunes are a ways south in Colorado, and support skiing year 'round. Off we went.

big		The sky was amazing. I took lots of pictures of it from the car.
big		I think this is Mt. Princeton. No wonder our colours are black and orange.
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big		As you can see, I thought Mt. Princeton was rather elegant. But not a whole lot of snow...
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We tried to get into the National Park camping site, but were greeted by naught but sign that said "campsite full". So we had to drive back to a nearby state park that was filled with RVs (whatever that means). The campsite cost $19 (actually $20 since we didn't have correct change. I'm sure they planned it that way) and had no water! Just a sewer system at every campsite for the benefit of the RVers. Of course, the flora consisted of desert bushes less than a meter high, so once the almost-full moon set I had the most amazing night sky to admire! Dave slept in his tent, and missed the show. But I suppose that if I had a tent that spiffy I would sleep in it every night. In fact, I'd pitch it atop my bed.

We got a fairly early start the next morning. Dave was woken up by geese (or something large and flapping and squawking). I was woken up by not being used to sleeping on a thermarest. Amazing how fast grad school can make you soft. Of course, there was also the small matter of dawn. Nowhere near as spectacular as sunset had been, but not to be missed.

After all that, it turned out that the campsite had not been full. Not even close. Well, sort of close, actually. But we guessed that the gate attendants had simply noticed that it was getting fullish and would probably be full enough soon, so they put out the sign. *sigh*

big After a ride down the trail with a woman who was on her 144th consecutive month skiing, we finally arrived. Here's the slope. Not, by any stretch, the tallest peak in the dunes, but apparently it's where all the cool people ski. But we thought they wouldn't mind us joining them...
big Dave goes up...
big Ben goes up...
big Sand goes down...
big Dave contemplates his hydration system...
big Dave contemplates the merits of waiting for me...
big I contemplate work...
big ...and I'll have to ski on this? It's so beautiful! Like skiing on a fine bird's-eye maple table. Drafting table, that is. Very steep drafting table?
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big Life's a beach. Don't forget skis.
big Dave goes down...
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big Ben goes down...
big As we quickly discovered, the ski-sand interface has a truly phenomenal amount of friction. The slope looked to be about 35° and yet in softer sand it was all we could do to slide straight down.
big The trick, you see, is to find areas where the wind (or a large mammoth) has packed the snow, um, sand, densely. That's where you can actually go fast enough to enjoy the turns. Apparently the sand was actually very fast that day. By the way, we (and other folks who showed up later) kept referring to the sand as snow. Neat how the brain does that.
big My first tracks of the year! Woo-hoo!!! Aren't they pretty?
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My attempt at movie-making. Sorry, Dave, I caught your stumble on film and didn't have the decency to censor it. Cameras are really at their best when you want to blackmail someone.
big Near the bottom of the slope, apparently having far too much fun.
big Looking straight down. This is from about the point of here on the way up. The sand is loose and runny (which means that it would have been terribly slow to ski down) and cool-looking.
big Later on, more people showed up. I think these folks were from Steamboat. Dave had been expecting another group from TTips, who arrived just as we were leaving.
big More slow sand. I'm not as think as you drunk I am!!
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big Kids with sleds almost turn the slope into a kind of glade, and sit on the sand in much the way fremen don't.
big No ride out. We walked for a while along the river, but then headed back up to the road and the SUVs (none of whom offered two tired-looking skiers a ride, despite the fact that Dave was hiking in tele boots and I was in bare feet). SUV bastards! Of course, the walk afforded some nice views of the hill.
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big On the ride home, a most amazing cloud decided to loom. Off to the left are scattered cumulus and snow-clothed peaks (if Victoria's Secret sold garments made of snow, they'd look like these). On the left the world disappeared, swallowed up by synthanight.
big Unfortunately, most of my pictures of said night didn't come out, the lighting not being too good. But here's the edge of it.
big Looking back towards all that is light and good, as we ascend the pass into the cloud...
A most wonderful trip! Highly recommended!

big		After a ride down the trail with a woman who was on her 144th consecutive month skiing, we finally arrived. Here's the slope. Not, by any stretch, the tallest peak in the dunes, but apparently it's where all the cool people ski. But we thought they wouldn't mind us joining them...
big		Dave goes up...
big		Ben goes up...
big		Sand goes down...
big		Dave contemplates his hydration system...
big		Dave contemplates the merits of waiting for me...
big		I contemplate work...
big		...and I'll have to ski on this? It's so beautiful! Like skiing on a fine bird's-eye maple table. Drafting table, that is. Very steep drafting table?
big
big		Life's a beach. Don't forget skis.
big		Dave goes down...
big
big		Ben goes down...
big		As we quickly discovered, the ski-sand interface has a truly phenomenal amount of friction. The slope looked to be about 35° and yet in softer sand it was all we could do to slide straight down.
big		The trick, you see, is to find areas where the wind (or a large mammoth) has packed the snow, um, sand, densely. That's where you can actually go fast enough to enjoy the turns. Apparently the sand was actually very fast that day. By the way, we (and other folks who showed up later) kept referring to the sand as snow. Neat how the brain does that.
big		My first tracks of the year! Woo-hoo!!! Aren't they pretty?
big
		My attempt at movie-making. Sorry, Dave, I caught your stumble on film and didn't have the decency to censor it. Cameras are really at their best when you want to blackmail someone.
big		Near the bottom of the slope, apparently having far too much fun.
big		Looking straight down. This is from about the point of here on the way up. The sand is loose and runny (which means that it would have been terribly slow to ski down) and cool-looking.
big		Later on, more people showed up. I think these folks were from Steamboat. Dave had been expecting another group from TTips, who arrived just as we were leaving.
big		More slow sand. I'm not as think as you drunk I am!!
big
big		Kids with sleds almost turn the slope into a kind of glade, and sit on the sand in much the way fremen don't.
big		No ride out. We walked for a while along the river, but then headed back up to the road and the SUVs (none of whom offered two tired-looking skiers a ride, despite the fact that Dave was hiking in tele boots and I was in bare feet). SUV bastards! Of course, the walk afforded some nice views of the hill.
big
big
big
big		On the ride home, a most amazing cloud decided to loom. Off to the left are scattered cumulus and snow-clothed peaks (if Victoria's Secret sold garments made of snow, they'd look like these). On the left the world disappeared, swallowed up by synthanight.
big		Unfortunately, most of my pictures of said night didn't come out, the lighting not being too good. But here's the edge of it.
big		Looking back towards all that is light and good, as we ascend the pass into the cloud...