Jesse (not Amy's cousin) and I trudged up Muir under beautiful, sunny skies and mostly calm winds Saturday. While the snow on the skin up looked like it would make for great skiing, things got marginal below about 8,400 feet, where we jumped into the Nisqually chute. Deep, sticky, syrupy mush greeted us there. In several spots, you could point directly down the fall line and still barely move if you weren't in anyone's tracks. Still, a great day in the mountains and at least the beer/sausage/chips afterwards were well earned.
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