It’s Different in the Winter

Yosemite is a different place in the winter, one that the millions of visitors who only come during the busy season (June, July, August) never see. It’s a little more quiet, there’s a little more solitude and life takes on a slower pace as the surrounding mountains lie under a deep blanket of snow.

Don’t let that fool you though. Even in winter Yosemite is a place of unsurpassed beauty and there’s lots to do, including some things that you can only do after it snows – [snowshoeing] and [cross country skiing] to name a few.

Here’s a great article from the Orlando Sentinel about the [Ostrander Ski Hut] and the great people who get to stay there and enjoy the beauty of the Yosemite [backcountry] during the [winter].

Orlando Sentinel: I am skiing uphill in the dark. It has been raining for six hours. I am following a pair of tracks threading between pine trees. Now and then, the beam of my headlamp catches a reflective marker high on a trunk, so I guess I’m going the right way.

My destination is the [Ostrander Ski Hut], a cabin in the [backcountry] of Yosemite National Park, nine miles from the nearest road. Since leaving the Badger Pass parking lot just before noon with my friends Tim, Jeff and Nettie, except for an hour on a groomed trail, I’ve been climbing steadily through forest.

The trek into the Ostrander Hut is legendary for its difficulty, and I had determined to pack only the essentials for a two-night stay. These included a quart of lobster bisque, a chunk of Stilton, slabs of prime rib, a pint of cream, half a pound of butter, a dozen eggs, a tin of English toffee and a bottle of zinfandel. For the last hour, with the pack digging into my hips as I climb what’s known as Heart Attack Hill, I’ve considered pitching the denser items into the snow.

Finally, I crest the hill and coast blindly down through the forest. Faint lights emerge up ahead, filtering through the windows of a pitched roof outline. I click out of my skis, and as I pull open the heavy wooden door, a blast of heat escapes.

Inside, triple bunks line both walls, and picnic tables run end-to-end down the center to a glowing wood stove. A foursome in long johns and knit hats look up from a card game.

“Welcome,” one says, slapping down a card. “Grab a bunk.

Photo by Kelle Cruz via Flickr.