On Wednesday, September 12th, Paradise Valley succumbed to the assaults of Jack Frost when a light snowfall covered the hills. Farther up the Mountain the ground was totally covered with this white blanket which remained throughout the day in spite of several attempts of the sun to pierce the mist and fog that clung to the slopes.
Consequently three of us with pack horses undertook to make the journey to Camp Muir to set the stone shelter cabins in order for the winter and retrieve the blankets that are left there throughout the summer for the convenience of those attempting to climb the Mountain. The wind was blowing a gale, driving the snow before it and although it was very cold the task of climbing in loose snow was such that we were wet with perspiration when the wind, for some reason or other, dispersed the clouds and exposed the entire country above 9,000 feet to view. The Mountain, Anvil Rock Lookout and Camp Muir stood out in bold relief against the deep blue sky while below us stretched great billows of clouds as far as the eye could see.
At Camp Muir we found the tracks of the Mountain Goat. He had travelled over a snowbank to the stone cabin, jumped eight feet into the air to the roof, walked across and surveyed the country--probably watched us coming up the slope--and hopped down to the windswept rocks on the other side.
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