Where the trail turned off toward the mountains and Kintla Lake, we met
a solitary horseman. He had ridden sixty miles down and sixty miles back
to get his mail. There is a sort of R.F.D. in this corner of the world,
but it is not what I should call in active operation. It was then
August, and there had been just two mails since the previous Christmas!
Aside from the Geological Survey, very few people, except an occasional
trapper, have ever seen Kintla Lake. It lies, like Bowman Lake, in a
recess in the mountains. We took some photographs of Kintla Peak, taking
our boats to the upper end of the lake for the work. They are, so far as
I can discover, the only photographs ever taken of this great mountain
which towers, like Rainbow, a mile or so above the lake.
Across from Kintla, there is a magnificent range of peaks without any
name whatever. The imagination of the Geological Survey seemed to die
after Starvation Ridge; at least, they stopped there. Kintla is a
curious lemon-yellow color, a great, flat wall tapering to a point and
frequently hidden under a cap of clouds.
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