California's mountainous Sierra are among the most heavily traveled in the U.S. You have to book a year in advance to hike to the summit of Mt. Whitney. Good luck trying to find a camping spot in Yosemite or Kings Canyon - and a solitary hike along an isolated mountain trail is a thing of the past for most. To experience the sense of planting footsteps on untrodden ground, you have to go during the winter months when the mountains stand cold and silent.

   The Tioga Pass Resort (TPR) is located along Hwy 120 (Tioga Road) a few miles below the eastern entrance of Yosemite National Park. In summer more than a thousand people a day will stop for a coke and a Snickers, have lunch, buy souvenirs or maybe rent one of ten cabins for a night's rest. During winter the crowds disappear and the resort becomes one of the Sierra's best-kept secrets.

   I was the first to arrive, parking my little Toyota truck just below the locked, heavy gate where Hwy 120 continues up into Yosemite's high country. I unpacked my duffel bag and cross country skis and began to dress for the colder weather above. Within half an hour, 24 other people arrived and began to fill their backpacks with the clothes they'd need for the next three days.

   General Manager Dave Moretz emerged from behind a bend in the road and parked his 4X4 on the other side of the gate. We were instructed to place our gear into his truck and take seats up front. The road was strewn with rocks and avalanche debris as we rumbled unnervingly toward the chasm of Lee Vining Canyon and up to the snowline. From there a waiting sno-cat ferried our gear up to the lodge - the last two miles we had to cover ourselves. Telemark skis and snowshoe poles helped us move quickly up the snow-covered trail.

   Pausing alongside a buried signpost, I looked across the wide canyon and watched climbers ascending the 300' frozen cascade of the Lee Vining icefall (see page 50). As we rounded Ellery Pass the warm afternoon instantly turned cold as fierce winds forced us to don sweaters and Gor-tex. I began to feel warmer when I sighted the main lodge of TPR.

Owner Ron Cohen (who is now ably assisted by Courtney Scribner) greeted us with cups of hot coffee before showing us to our rooms (most took private cabins like mine - others shared a dorm room). My cabin was a wood-finished affair with small kitchen and an electric fan providing heat. Deep snowdrifts prevented any sunlight from penetrating the side windows so I kept the lights on. At an altitude of 9,600' I needed to lie down and catch my breath.

   That night the dinner was hearty and described by then-chef Dan Molnar as "French-based American" - black bean soup, fresh salmon sauteed in white wine, mashed potatoes and fresh bread with apple or blueberry pie for dessert. Current

chef Bob Dougall continues to maintain a first-rate-fresh menu.

   We moved from dining room to main lodge where a large iron wood stove uprooted from the old Lundy Canyon mining town radiated a velvety warmth. Wet clothes hung on metal hooks to dry. A cord of wood was stacked neatly along one wall while an aged puma skin stretched across another. Electric lights mounted on old wagon wheels provided a warm glow. Our well-fed bodies sacked out on five different couches and discussions drifted from the ease or difficulty of certain ski runs to which technique was best. “A River Runs Through It” played on the VCR until people retreated to their cabins for sleep.

   After breakfast the next morning, it was time to experience the kind of off-piste skiing you find in Alaska or Canada. In this confined area there are dozens of runs from moderate to the nastiest double diamond. Bread Runs drops through a widening couloir just below Mount Dana. False White screams down the blank open slopes of a peak just northwest of the resort. Fresh un manicured powder also means there are no lifts. The shortest run is an hour or two of vertical post-holing before zipping up your jacket and fixing skis or a snowboard on your feet. Winter snowfall can drop two to three feet of fresh powder a day making radios and avalanche beacons mandatory. That night a modest storm enveloped the valley and left several inches of dry white.

After an early hot shower on the second morning I struck out on my own. The day was cold with a breeze blowing from the south. Wisps of clouds broke up a liquid blue sky. I traversed the expanse of snowy meadow and headed up into the trees, carefully crisscrossing the snow-covered Lee Vining Creek. I noted the rustic wooden buildings of Bennetville, the last remnants of a turn-of-the-century mining camp, and decided to remove my skis for a closer look at its still-sturdy weathered pine buildings. I entered through a narrow doorway; a light coating of spindrift covered the floor. I slalomed around graffiti-scarred support posts and looked out the paneless window at the high wind blowing flurries off the 13,000' summit of the Dana plateau. As I packed up to leave the ghost buildings I watched two skiers cut perfect Zs down the steep unblemished slope of Tioga Peak.

Their long shadows reached upward with the fading light of the late afternoon sun.

   The following morning we all headed for home. Easier going this direction - just skiing down the snow-covered road and taking the truck back to the gate to where our gear had been sno-catted down. Packing up between handshakes and hugs, I said goodbye to people who were strangers a few days ago and could now call friends. I took a last look toward the high snowy peaks towering above me before climbing into my truck for the long drive home. SH

Details:

Reservations are necessary for overnight winter stays. The cost per night for this season ranges from $105 to $155 per person, three meals included. Be prepared to stay an extra day or two if a storm moves in. For more information call Tioga Pass Resort at 209/372-4471 or contact ron@tiogapassresort.com.