August 15, 2014, Sundance Mountain, Colorado
8/15/14
US elsewhere
3381
2
Day 54
Sundance Mountain, RMNP, Colorado
August 15th, 2014
Skiing all year.
A silly, esoteric, and frankly obsessive objective for sure, virtually impossible without travel unless one lives in certain parts of the West.
Unthinkable to a New England kid who would watch the snow melt in March, with April in the Whites perhaps as a last hurrah most years, and then a long, long, long wait to hopefully October for enough snow for first turns the next season.
I hated summer.
I can distinctly remember the feeling of receiving a new snowboard for my 14th birthday in March and then waiting until December of the next year to use it.
Never again.
Even though I now live in Colorado (and Washington for a spell), where it's now regular for me to only miss 2 months of skiing out of the year - August and September - I still feel the unquenchable yearning from my youth creeping back into my psychy as an adult. When I first moved to Colorado in the 90s, I did an almost three year stint of turns-all-year. But as most will tell you who live in dry Colorado, August and September turns can be a real chore in dry snow years.
I've not skied year round in about a decade.
***
On Monday I picked up a fun cool new book on mountaineering in RMNP. I devoured the pages, yearning for turns. The frustrated, angst-driven youth boiling to the surface.
Right.
This year was a 150% snow pack year. Easy car access turns were available even now in August I knew. Action was needed.
***
I arrived at the pull out at 4 pm. An afternoon thunderstorm had rolled through and dropped a sheet of rain, loosening up the firm snow. Or so I surmised.
The sun blasted now between waves of moisture in the atmosphere - a quick chance for safe turns between storms - I practically ran from the car to the solitude of the tundra.
A quick stroll to a hidden spot revealed a fabulous slanted couple hundred yard snowpatch. And its brother further down the slope toward the col.
I was in shorts and a windbreaker and dropped my pack at the top of the snowpatch.
Cranked up my earbuds for 1-2" of loose, red-tinted, Fugazi-filled corn turns.
Throw skis over shoulder and walk back up.
I repeated three more times before wandering down to the lower field for a single run.
I boogied back to my car to beat the next storm, and I was heading home in time for dinner.
***
Now I've done it. With August in the bag, the stock for September turns just went up.
Oh, the pleasant, inexhaustible fountain of the promise of skiing.
Sundance Mountain, RMNP, Colorado
August 15th, 2014
Skiing all year.
A silly, esoteric, and frankly obsessive objective for sure, virtually impossible without travel unless one lives in certain parts of the West.
Unthinkable to a New England kid who would watch the snow melt in March, with April in the Whites perhaps as a last hurrah most years, and then a long, long, long wait to hopefully October for enough snow for first turns the next season.
I hated summer.
I can distinctly remember the feeling of receiving a new snowboard for my 14th birthday in March and then waiting until December of the next year to use it.
Never again.
Even though I now live in Colorado (and Washington for a spell), where it's now regular for me to only miss 2 months of skiing out of the year - August and September - I still feel the unquenchable yearning from my youth creeping back into my psychy as an adult. When I first moved to Colorado in the 90s, I did an almost three year stint of turns-all-year. But as most will tell you who live in dry Colorado, August and September turns can be a real chore in dry snow years.
I've not skied year round in about a decade.
***
On Monday I picked up a fun cool new book on mountaineering in RMNP. I devoured the pages, yearning for turns. The frustrated, angst-driven youth boiling to the surface.
Right.
This year was a 150% snow pack year. Easy car access turns were available even now in August I knew. Action was needed.
***
I arrived at the pull out at 4 pm. An afternoon thunderstorm had rolled through and dropped a sheet of rain, loosening up the firm snow. Or so I surmised.
The sun blasted now between waves of moisture in the atmosphere - a quick chance for safe turns between storms - I practically ran from the car to the solitude of the tundra.
A quick stroll to a hidden spot revealed a fabulous slanted couple hundred yard snowpatch. And its brother further down the slope toward the col.
I was in shorts and a windbreaker and dropped my pack at the top of the snowpatch.
Cranked up my earbuds for 1-2" of loose, red-tinted, Fugazi-filled corn turns.
Throw skis over shoulder and walk back up.
I repeated three more times before wandering down to the lower field for a single run.
I boogied back to my car to beat the next storm, and I was heading home in time for dinner.
***
Now I've done it. With August in the bag, the stock for September turns just went up.
Oh, the pleasant, inexhaustible fountain of the promise of skiing.
author=MW88888888 link=topic=32148.msg135072#msg135072 date=1408228731]
I still feel the unquenchable yearning from my youth creeping back into my psychy as an adult.
^^^I know many of us can probably identify with this quote --- I certainly can!
Nice write up and report --- looks like a fun little patch for August. One more month and hoping for a white October!
Oh no you have re-become one of them. Nice work! I still require more convincing.
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