The lodge in the winter Photo by Tom Ransburg / Courtesy of Sierra club

If your idea of a dream ski vacation includes an après-ski lounge where you put your feet up in front of a 72-inch HDTV football game while cocktail waitresses in bunny suits refill your hot toddy, then Clair Tappaan Lodge is not for you.

The Sierra Club's 70-year-old mountain retreat near Donner Summit in the Northern California Sierras bills itself as "rustic." And how.

The monstrous lodge is a living history of the club's change from an outdoor appreciation and exploration club to a notoriously political lobbying group. It sleeps 137 member and nonmember guests alike.

Shared bath, bunks and meals sounded to me like a good way to save money while creating a foo-foo free weekend experience for the kids.

The $47 per night adult fare includes three meals. Guests bring linens and do one chore per day. I wouldn't say it's a bargain, but the history lesson and eclectic mix of fellow guests are priceless.

The living room Photo by Tom Ransburg / Courtesy of Sierra club

My husband had been hoping we could all join him on an overnight ski trip into one of the club's exclusive huts located in the Tahoe National Forest, but unfortunately our boys, both under 13, wouldn't be allowed to go.

This meant I would get the kids and my husband would get to join a group of 14 other snowshoers and cross-country skiers to trek into the Peter Grubb hut, located three miles into the wilderness from a trailhead next to I-80. Arrangements for a list of area programs from children's cross-country skiing to "Rails and Trails," a popular local history tour, are made through Clair Tappaan staff.

An avid downhiller, I chose to look at the positive side; this would be an opportunity to give the boys some quality Mom-time and Dad wouldn't see the lift ticket receipts.

We pulled up to the lodge just west of Donner Pass Friday night at 6:15. We were late for dinner. It was a steep hike to the front door - through rained-on snow. The elevation of 7,000 feet was 6,000 higher than my oxygen level. Ugh. We all grabbed gear and started up.

The front door was welcoming; a key had been left in it. Inside a hand-lettered sign implored me to lock the door behind me. The left-in key suggested humans were not the target thieves.

Other ground-level doors (some on the second floor for when snow is really deep) had barn style locks meant to keep out bears, one of whom had actually made it into the main hallway of the lodge just last week.

A steep set of stairs led us to another door, from which we emerged to the fantastic smells of Mexican food being self-served family style to 30 or so guests seated on benches in a school-cafeteria style arrangement. We were immediately greeted warmly by a rosy-cheeked youth who turned out to be the lodge manager.

Other guests made room at a table with no solicitation and we were soon gulping soul-warming corn chowder with just enough picante for my nine-year-old to be able to slurp it up.

That evening my husband built a fire and listened to a retired astronomist recant his effort during a recent "work party" to unearth the floor of the wood room from its 18 inches of wood chips.

The living room of Clair Tappaan Lodge is very spacious, both vertically and horizontally. Entirely wooden, the interior walls answer the question of what to do with those ancient skis in the rafters of your garage. Tack them to the walls with hemp ropes to create a 70-year-old ski lodge look. This room was the original lodge, built by volunteers in 1934.

My seven-year old appeared briefly between ping-pong sets, studiously hammered out "Jingle Bells" on the piano. A group playing cards across the room began to sing along to my son's enormous pleasure.