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Ostrander
Ski Hut
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If At First You Don't Succeed, Try, Try Again 2004 - FAILURE As a longtime San Franciscan who XC skis in Yosemite at least once a year, including around Badger Pass, I had often thought about making the trek to Ostrander Hut, but just never got around to planning it until an old junior-high-school buddy, Curtis, suggested it in early 2004. I made reservations for a Saturday night in March. We couldn't get a room in Yosemite Lodge, so we planned to stop in a motel near the Route 120 gate. The day before our date with Ostrander (Friday), I packed my equipment and food into my car, Curtis flew up from L.A., I met him at the Oakland airport, and we headed towards Yosemite. We stopped at a motel near the gate. We got up early and drove to Badger Pass. We arrived there around 10 am. Both of us are fair XC skiers, so we weren't worried about making it to Ostrander, given the distance shown on the map. When we signed in at the trail permit office, the ranger asked if we had a tent. "No, we're going to Ostrander hut," I replied. "Well, you might not make it. Do you have a stove?" he asked?" I replied "Yes, we have a stove, and we have tarps, so we could bivouac if necessary. But we'll have no problem making it there." "Mmmhmmm," he said, "Do you have metal-edged skis? Do you have skins or snowshoes?" We had only alpine skis and boots. He suggested renting telemarking skis and boots, and either skins or snowshoes. We followed his advice and went to the ski shop to rent better equipment. Neither of us liked how the heavy telemarking boots felt on our feet, but we rented them anyway because that's what worked with the telemarking skis we'd rented. We opted for snowshoes rather than skins. Problem #1: Late Start Problem #2: False Start Problem #3: Wrong Turn Unfortunately, we were misled by a road sign. We came to the Bridalveil Campground road, and somehow misread it as the Bridalveil Creek trail. We turned right and found ourselves skiing through the campground, with the tops of washrooms and phone booths sticking out of 6-8 foot snowdrifts. At the back of the campground, we found a trail marked "Ostrander Hut", so we still thought we were going the right way. Problem #4: Bad Boots Checking the map, I felt something was wrong. Where there was supposed to be a creek, there was none and vice-versa. Where the creek was supposed to be on our left, it was on our right. Etc. But we hadn't seen any forks in the trial where we could have gone wrong, so we pressed on. Eventually, we hit the real Bridalveil Creek Trail, and realized what had happened. By now it was about 5:30 p.m.. Our progress was slow. Curtis' feet were bleeding, so we were stopping every half-mile or so. We were also having to stop often to switch from skis to snowshoes and back. As we crossed a large grove of burned trees, the sun set and darkness fell. We got out our flashlights and pressed on. Curtis' flashlight died fairly quickly, so we had only mine. Luckily, the night was clear. Problem #5: Poor Signage Curtis was in pain and very tired. He wanted to stop and bivouac. I didn't want to bivouac without a tent, and felt sure that the Hut must be near, so I urged him on. Near the radio antenna most of the way up Heart-attack Hill, the ski tracks split, with one track going sharp right, and one continuing up the gradient. There was no sign pointing the way. We saw no trail-markers, but continued up the hill, past the antenna. When we reached a ridge, we spotted a trail-marker on a tree. It read "Horizon Ridge". My heart sank. I interpreted the sign to mean that we were on Horizon Ridge. I thought we had somehow turned the wrong way and were headed out over Horizon Ridge towards the road. Trees and clouds obscured the night sky, so we couldn't tell what direction the trail was going. I had been urging Curtis on based on my confidence that we were going in the right direction and that the hut couldn't be far away, but now I had lost that confidence. I felt I couldn't continue to urge Curtis to keep going on a trail that might be taking us in the wrong direction. It was 10 p.m., dark, and getting cold, and Curtis really wanted to stop. We skied back down the hill to the radio antenna, and bivouacked in the trees. We stomped down snow, laid out our tarps, put out our sleeping bags, got out the stove, cooked a quick hot dinner, and went to sleep. Very luckily for us, it did not snow or rain during the night. In the morning we got up, ate breakfast, and skied back down Bridalveil Creek trail to the road -- this time taking the real trail rather than the campground trail. Along the trail, we met a ranger skiing in to look for us. He'd heard from the hut attendant that we hadn't shown up. I don't know if he was the ranger from the permit office, but if so, he was nice enough not to say "I told you so." With our tails between our legs, we skied out to the car and slunk back to San Francisco. 2005 - SUCCESS, BARELY In December of 2004, I received an Ostrander Hut brochure, inviting me to make reservations for the 2004/2005 season. As a joke, I sent it to Curtis, with a note: "They're tormenting us. Should we try again?" Surprisingly, Curtis wanted to try again. Another friend, Lowell, wanted to join us. I made another reservation. Lowell had his own mountaineering skis, boots, and skins. I bought nice mountaineering boots. Curtis still wanted to rent, but researched boots until he felt that he knew what to get. I picked him up at the Oakland airport, and we went to Marmot Mountain Works in Berkeley to rent equipment. He tried on dozens of pairs of boots and walked around the store until he was sure which ones would feel comfortable. I rented metal-edged skis that fit my boots. We opted for skins this time instead of snowshoes. We packed a tent. We got a room in Yosemite Lodge so we could get to Badger Pass early on the day we would ski in to the hut. We arrived at Badger Pass at around 8 am. The ranger in the permit office advised us to take Horizon Ridge trail in, because the Bridalveil Creek trail had probably not been broken since the last snowfall. Starting down the road at about 9 a.m., we met another group going in to the hut. Most of them had been there many times before, so we decided to stick with them -- they knew the way. That proved impossible: they were much faster than us, despite the fact that one fellow in their group had a prosthetic leg. When we arrived at the Horizon Ridge trail, the others were long gone. We put on our skins and trudged up the hill. I found it relatively easy going, but Curtis was having a tough time, and Lowell was having a problem with snow buildup on his skins and skis. Overall, our progress was slow. Heading up Heart-Attack hill, we again got to the fork in the trail at the antenna, but this time more tracks went to the right, so we went that way. That turned out to be the right way, but it was very steep and twisty. Curtis and Lowell were having trouble: Curtis was falling a lot, and Lowell had serious snow build-up. I waited at the top of the hill for over an hour, and, as darkness fell, took off my skis and sat under a tree to try to keep warm. It started to snow hard. Lowell and Curtis finally appeared, and I attempted to snap my skis back on. The right ski would not go on. For a half hour, as the snowfall turned into a blizzard, I struggled and cursed, trying to get the ski on. In retrospect, I think rising panic was contributing to the problem. My fingers were numb. Finally, the ski snapped on. I wanted to ski fast down the hill to where I assumed the hut was, but Curtis and Lowell -- who still had their skins on and would not take them off -- wanted to go slowly and keep together. Visibility was nearly nil. We stayed together and called out periodically to make sure we were all going the same way. Eventually, we saw the lights of the hut. What a welcome sight. Our arrival time: about 8 p.m. -- 11 hours! Inside, the other group told us they wondered when we would show up. We were just glad to be there. The next day was beautiful. Lowell and I skied around the lake and out to the "bowl" while Curtis relaxed in the hut. What views! I'm glad we finally made it. Going back out two days later was an ordeal too, but you'll have to ask me about that over a beer sometime, if we ever meet at the hut.
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