Wish You Were Here, 2147

Dust conditions were terrible yesterday, but the violet break opened up around sunset.

We almost packed it in. The forecast had promised long, clean curls off the western ridge, but most of the afternoon was just loose particulate blowing everywhere and collapsing before it could form anything worth riding.

Then, around six, the whole thing changed.

A pressure front came through from the nebula and pulled the dust into these enormous slow-moving tubes, lavender at the edges and almost black underneath. You could see stars through the thinner parts.

We stayed out until it got dark.

The van is holding up surprisingly well. One of the stabilizers makes a horrible noise whenever we park on anything steeper than about twelve degrees, but otherwise she's been perfect. There's a little shelf of rock here where everyone camps between sessions. Somebody left three chairs and a fire ring, so we've basically moved in.

I still don't understand how the fire works.

Nobody else seems concerned about this.

Tomorrow we're heading farther down the coast. Apparently there's a break about four hundred kilometers south where the dust comes off an old supernova remnant and glows pale blue when you carve through it. A guy at camp says it's the best ride in the system.

He also said that about this place.

Anyway, we're sunburned somehow, the boards are filthy, and there is cosmic dust in absolutely everything.

Wish you were here.