When I was in my 20’s I lived in Riverside, California, and belonged to the Riverside Ski Club. Friday night after work twice a month sixty of us would cram our boots, skis and selves into a bus for the 300-mile trip to Mammoth Mountain. Back then US 395 was two-lane all the way; seldom did we arrive before midnight, 1 am was more typical; snow days, more like 3 am or 4 am. The working assumption and reservations were some people would get beds; others the floor. The earlier you signed up for the trip and the earlier you committed to the kitchen crew the more likely you got a bed.
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When I was in my 20’s I lived in Riverside, California, and belonged to the Riverside Ski Club. Friday night after work twice a month sixty of us would cram our boots, skis and selves into a bus for the 300-mile trip to Mammoth Mountain. Back then US 395 was two-lane all the way; seldom did we arrive before midnight, 1 am was more typical; snow days, more like 3 am or 4 am. The working assumption and reservations were some people would get beds; others the floor. The earlier you signed up for the trip and the earlier you committed to the kitchen crew the more likely you got a bed.