The White Sheep of Kenai Peninsula 



This range of hills with their rough and 

 broken sides compares favorably in grandeur 

 with the finest of Alaskan scenery. Half way 

 up their slopes was a well defined timber line, 

 and then came the stunted vegetation which the 

 autumn 'frosts had softened into velvet browns in 

 deep contrast to the occasional berry patches now 

 tinged a brilliant crimson; and beyond, the great 

 bleak, open tablelands of thick moss sloped gently 

 upward to the mountain bases; and above all, the 

 lofty peaks of dull gray rock towered in graceful 

 curves until lost in the mist. Great banks of snow 

 lay in many of the highest passes, and over all the 

 landscape the sun shone faintly through leaden 

 and sombre storm clouds. 



Such was my first near view of the Kenai Moun- 

 tains, and, as I learned to know them better, they 

 seemed to grow more awe-inspiring and beautiful. 



When we reached Kenai Lake, Blake and I de- 

 cided that it would probably be the wisest plan to 

 divide things up into two separate shooting out- 

 fits. We could then push over the hills in different 

 directions until we came upon the sheep. Each 

 would then make his own shooting camp, and our 

 natives would carry out the heads we might shoot 

 to our united base of supplies on the lake, and 

 pack back needed provisions. 



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