Winter Snow Trips

Each year Troop 14 embarks upon 2 snowbound trips: Snow Camping and the Ski Trip. Both trips entail a visit to the Sierra Nevada Mountains, one is somewhat luxurious (by Scout standards), the other is somewhat harsh (again by Scout standars). Both are extremely enjoyable and are trips that the scouts look forward to.

Survivor -- Snow Camping
by David Veuve

It was already warm as the brave souls gathered under the early morning sky. For some of the Boy Scouts it was their first venture into a world of infinite frost. For others, it was a chance to return to and face the challenge that they had conquered time and time before, yet yearned for time and time again. We were going into the snowy world of the Sanistlaus Forest to sleep next to Lake Alpine. This fellowship of seven and our four adult companions were ready to put all our hours of preparation to the test. There were Josh Marcum and his father, David Saunders, Ian Miller and his father, Patrick Lingane and his father, Victor Yu, James Smith and his father, and David Veuve.
The sun had begun its descent from the sky by the time we arrived at the take-off point. Sleds were loaded up and tied on to the back of the packs of the older scouts. The hike was only a mile and a half, but at 7,350 ft, without any acclimation, and in snow that collapses under every step, such a hike was not something to be taken lightly. By going this distance, we would earn the Arctic Wolf award. We left the main trail and entered an area that looked as pristine as the day it was created. The snow ahead of us had not been touched, with the exception of small tracks created by a forest animal, running across the clearing to the nearby stream. Occasionally some snow would fall off a branch, creating a miniature avalanche that would glisten like a rainbow as it floated down.
After 45 minutes of downhill hiking, we decided upon a suitable camping spot. We began walking around small rectangular areas, to compact the snow enough so that we could put a tent on it. Every group had set up such tents before, and it went easily. Soon after, the time came for the creation of snow structures. We built a kitchen area with enough seating for all to eat, an area to cook, and a tarp for shelter from snowfall. Then, dinner was served; it was finely prepared minestrone soup, bread, and hot spiced apple cider. After dinner, as darkness crept over the camp, thoughts began to move towards the inviting sleeping bags. I was one of the last awake, and just as I entered the tent, I felt the first snowflake fall gently onto my hand. I looked up and saw many more following closely behind.
At five in the morning, I was lying in my tent, with Victor and David Saunders, waiting for morning to come, when a sound hit like a thunderclap. The tent roof dropped two and a half feet over Victor, who was sleeping soundly to my right. Seconds later I heard another crack, and the tent roof fell further. Where it was once the height of the younger scouts, the roof now rested less than a foot above my nose. Victor had merely two inches above his nose, and David had about two feet. I opened the tent door and discovered that the rain fly door, normally three feet high, could barely be seen, due to the collapse of the tent. There was a window, which showed pure snow. Victor asked me why my hand was shaking, and I told him that I was cold. Then the troubling realization hit me. My hand wasn’t shaking because of the cold. My hand was shaking because of the realization that I was trapped in a very small place, beneath two feet of snow.
Victor suggested asking the nearby tent where Mr. Miller slept for help. I called out in my loudest voice to say that our tent had collapsed, but we heard no reply. Every scout had been given an emergency whistle, and David blew his as loud as he could, but again, no response. We tried to knock the snow off the tent by pushing on the roof, but to no avail. Victor and David helped me to put on several dry layers and eventually I shoved aside the layer of snow surrounding the tent and surged out into the open. And so at five o’clock our morning began.
I woke Mr. Miller while Victor and David were getting out of the sad misshapen tent. We looked at the damage. A piece of the rain fly flapped in the wind as evidence of an exit wound left by one of the snapping tent poles. We then began an hour and a half of early morning labor, clearing snow off of other tents, shoveling snow from around our tent and dealing with our tent. Finally I grabbed a water bottle and went into one of the snow shelters and leaned against the wall. The sun was beginning to come up, and I said to myself as I looked around, “If it didn’t almost kill me, I would say this was the most beautiful morning I’ve ever seen.” Over the next hour the rest of the camp got up. They began checking their own equipment and reconstructing all of the previous day’s work. By nine o’clock everyone was thoroughly ready for breakfast. The weekend improved greatly from there, with some people going on hikes and others building snow shelters. The next night everyone shifted around in the tents and James, Ian, Patrick and David S. bravely slept in the snow shelters. In the end, the tent incident was merely a footnote of the trip, and everyone returned home very happy, and very, very tired.
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