Johnson Mine

Cookhouse at Johnson Mine.

In 1868, Thomas and Charlotte Dearden sailed from England to the New World with their two infant children, Sarah, who was sixteen months old, and Joseph Hyrum, a newborn of two months. They traveled with others of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to gather in the mountains of Utah. 

After six weeks at sea, they landed safely in New York City. From there they took a train to Chicago and then Laramie, Wyoming, which at that time was the terminus of the Union Pacific Railroad. During their final leg they traveled in a mule train of fifty wagons. The trek came with hardship as they lost their sweet daughter, Sarah, burying her along the trail. Eight days later on August 19, 1868, they arrived at their destination of Salt Lake City. 

Thomas and Charlotte spent their first few years on the Wasatch Front where Thomas operated a couple of sawmills and worked for the railroad. There Charlotte gave birth to two more babies. 

Thomas Dearden.

In 1872, Brigham Young called them to settle Fillmore. The Deardens faithfully responded and made the 150-mile journey south with their young family. Here they put down roots. They built a comfortable home and Thomas operated another sawmill. 

Eight children were born to them in Fillmore, bringing the count to twelve. It was here that Joseph Hyrum, the eldest son, grew to adulthood and married Margaret Russell. During this time Thomas found a job running freight to miners and ranchers in Nevada. This job would eventually take him in a different direction. 

On January 5, 1889, Charlotte passed away at the young age of 39. Her health had been declining for years. This was a big blow for Thomas. He stayed loyal to Charlotte and never remarried. She was buried in the Fillmore Cemetery. 

As stated earlier, Thomas freighted goods to the miners and ranchers in eastern Nevada. He would load up his wagon with salt, grain, fresh fruits and other goods. It was during one of these hauls that he conceived the idea of opening a store in Baker, Nevada. A friend loaned him 500 dollars and he made the 130-mile move and opened up “Rancher's Store,” the first retail establishment in Snake Valley. Years later he would also buy a store in nearby Garrison, a tiny town just across the border into Utah.

Rancher's Store in Baker, Nevada. Thomas Dearden in beard next to his granddaughter, Daisy. (about 1906)

Thomas Dearden by this time was becoming old. Those who knew him noted his “long, white, shining beard and walking so straight and proud with his grandchildren on his arms. There was always that twinkle in his eyes and a smile for everyone—jovial and pleasant to be around.” 

In 1908 Thomas Dearden and Alfred “Timberline” Johnson filed a mining claim at the head of Snake Creek Canyon in the South Snake Range. Nowadays much of the South Snake Range is included in Great Basin National Park, which is best known as home of the Lehman Caves and Wheeler Peak, the second highest peak in Nevada. The town of Baker, which is still tiny, is the closest settlement to the park.

So, who was Alfred Johnson? That's a good question. I found very little on him. He was born in Trässberg, Sweden in 1870. As far as I can tell, he had no wife, no kids, and came to America with no family. But I could be wrong. Despite the lack of information on him, he managed to leave his name on the landscape. Johnson Mine, Johnson Lake and Johnson Peak are all named after him. 

Thomas and Alfred were joined in the venture by Thomas's son, Joseph Hyrum Dearden. Details of their time at the mine are scarce. In Joseph's simple biography there is only one reference to his venture on the mountain: “Joseph and Margaret spent several summers up Snake Creek with 'Johnson.' They had some mining claims up there so they lived in one of Johnson's cabins and the three of them mined and fished.” 

Joseph Hyrum Dearden and wife, Margaret.

What were they mining? 

Tungsten. Considered a rare metal, tungsten has proved to be valuable over the years. It has the highest melting point of all known elements—6,192 ºF. Because of this it is used to make filaments in incandescent light bulbs and halogen lamps. Carbon tungsten, which is a super hard alloy, is used in cutting-tools such as knives, drills and circular saws. 

Tungsten is almost as dense as gold, weighing nearly 20 grams per cubic centimeter. Because of this it has been used to create counterfeit gold bars, with gold on the outside and tungsten in the middle.

During the time of the Johnson Mine, the price of tungsten was on its way up. Around 1910 this increased demand was related to the incandescent light bulb, as well as new technologies coming from the production of alloy steel. Demand continued to increase during World War I. 

The source of tungsten at the Johnson Mine was a quartz vein on a high ridge above Snake Creek. Ore was mined on the ridge, then placed in barrels where it was transported on an areal tramway, down a forty-degree slope to the tramway terminal. From there is was loaded onto pack mules and hauled to the mill, which was less than a mile away. 

The thing that makes the Johnson Mine special is the fact that it's still there. The old rocky road has now diminished to a trail, which in a sense has helped preserve the mine. If someone has to hike several miles uphill, they are less likely to pilfer any artifacts. 

Hiking trail to Johnson Mine that was once an old road.

The mine today retains a semblance of its former state. The cabins and mill are still there, along with several artifacts and the long stretched-out cable from the tramway. But as expected after 100 years, roofs have caved in and wood is drying out. Debris is scattered all about. Yet it remains a fascinating place to walk through and to imagine what it used to be like. 

To get to the mine one can either begin at the Baker or Snake Creek trail-heads. The two trails eventually merge and climb at least a couple thousand feet. Passing through a coniferous forest strewn with granite boulders, the first structure the hiker will encounter is the mill. 

Ruins of the mill at Johnson Mine.

Aspen trees growing inside the mill.

The remains of the mill building sit at 10,200 feet in elevation. The building was made of logs, the upper section with two stories and the lower with one. A sign near the structure explains the process:

“Rocks from the mines above Johnson Lake were brought to the large log mill building by mule or wagons. Ore was dumped in the upper side of the mill and funneled to the ore crushers in the building below. Heavy pounding piston-like stamps or tumbling ball mill cylinders powered by water and drive belts pulverized the ore. Through processes of sifting, washing, and leaching, tungsten mineral was collected for further refining at smelting facilities in Nevada and at Frisco, Utah.” 

The mill has long been abandoned. The corrugated roof no longer sits atop the building and sapling aspens now grow where men once worked. Stove parts, machine parts and other old debris are scattered about. 

Nearby is another structure that has been identified as a stable for pack mules. This square enclosure is nearly six-feet high, with roof beams over half the structure. Nearby is a metal trough. 

Remains of a stable for pack mules.

If one walks up the trail another half mile, he will arrive at four cabins built to support the workers of the mine. The largest was probably a cookhouse, serving as dining room and kitchen. This cabin has a rodent-proof pantry and other cooking artifacts. Fancy dishware has been found here, suggesting a woman on the premises⸺most likely Margaret Dearden. 

Attached to the cabin is another room, this one serving as a bunkhouse for visitors. I can imagine a group of men sitting around a wooden table after a long days work, visiting and discussing the issues of the day and a welcoming heat radiating from the wood-burning stove. Aroma from a bowl of stew or a loaf of bread would fill the air. Mrs. Dearden, dressed in her apron, would serve the hungry men a plate of food. 

Interior view of the cookhouse.

The cookhouse had a kitchen, as well as a dormitory for visitors.

I would imagine that Margaret kept things tidy while the men worked, for that's how Joseph expected it. Working in a mine would make a man dirty with dust, smoke and muck. Joseph's daughter, Daisy, said her father liked things to be clean and neat, and he was clean in his appearance. She would see a group of men walking down the street and could pick out her father by looking at their boots. The other men's boots would be spattered with mud up to the knee and her father's would be spotless. He also liked a clean yard and neat woodpile. 

There are three other cabins nearby, all of them smaller in size than the cookhouse. They are simple in structure and probably served as dormitories for the regular workers. One may have been used as a shed or storehouse. None of these cabins have a roof. I'm sure that over the years the heavy snows have caved them in. It is interesting to note that some of the corrugated roofing metal that has been found nearby has the inscription: “Jefferson Metal Co., Milford, UT.” 

Cabin at Johnson Mine.

Inside a cabin, probably used to sleep in.

This cabin was small enough that it was probably used as a storehouse.

They say that one man's trash is another man's treasure. This saying holds true at the Johnson Mine. Some “trash” is heaped in piles, while other discarded material is strewn in random places. 

Several years ago an archeological team came and inventoried what remained of the mine, including trash deposits. Their list of trash included cast iron stove parts, milk cans, lard cans, meat cans, oil cans, coffee cans, tobacco cans, earthen ware, glass, canvas, a hose, water pipe, leather scraps, mining equipment and machine parts. They also found mason jars, drinking glasses and liquor bottles. More than 500 milk cans and 500 food cans were counted, including cans that once held meat, sardines, lard, tuna, baking powder, coffee, and tobacco. 

One of the fascinating items we found was a leather shoe sitting on a stump. This, along with all the other items found at the mine, offers clues as to what the day to day operations may have looked like. We don't have a lot of other insight from histories or journals, so gleaning what we can from “trash” may give us our best understanding. 

Trash pile.

Old leather shoe.

Another couple hundred yards up the mountain lies Johnson Lake at an elevation of 10,800 feet. The lake is fed by a spring and supposedly there is a man-made dam that increased the capacity. They say that a stream is supposed to run out of the lake, but when we were there, there was no water running out. 

Just up the mountain from the lake there is a lot of old machinery and parts strewn around. A cable, which at one time supported an aerial tramway, is stretched up the mountain slope to a mining portal.  At the bottom end of the tramway there used to be a terminal building, which is now destroyed. We could not find the portal when we were there.  My guess is that it has been reclaimed. The cable is still hanging. 

View of Johnson Lake. The cabins are tucked in the trees at the upper right end of the lake.

A tramway ran down the mountain along this cable.

Piece of mining machinery.

My experience with being there included a lot of head-scratching, wondering what all the artifacts were used for. I have never mined in my life and have a difficult time piecing together a scene of what it may have looked like. One thing I do know for sure is that the conditions up there were brutal. Even during the summer, this place is susceptible to freezing temperatures, high winds, hail storms and even snow. During the winter I'm sure it was inaccessible. 

The time period in which the mine operated is a little fuzzy at times. The following was reported from the Department of Interior: 

“Tungsten deposits in upper Snake Creek were exploited in1916. The Uvada Tungsten Company was established in 1918 and reportedly had a 20-stamp mill operating at the head of Snake Creek which Unrau suggests was the Johnson Mine and the mill near Johnson Lake. This mine worked sporadically on a small scale for many years. The Engineering and Mining Journal [in] 1920 describes a 1,200 foot tunnel driven on the property of Dearden and Johnson near the head of Snake Creek. The article states that ore was milled in a two-ton gravity concentration plant in the canyon below Johnson Lake. In 1935 [Joseph Hyrum] Dearden of Baker shipped a small quantity of scheelite from the east side of the Snake Mountains. Sometime after this a major snow slide at Johnson Lake reportedly caused severe damage to the mining operation.” 

Stumps from trees that were cut down over 100 years ago and used to build the cabins.

Detail of cabin.

How did it all end for the players in our story? 

Alfred Johnson lived longer than any of them. He died at the age of 91. Nowhere could I find any indications of family or spouse. 

Joseph Hyrum Dearden lived to the age of 75 and died in 1943. He outlived his wife Margaret by 14 years and married another woman after her death. Both Johnson and the Deardens are buried in the Garrison Cemetery. 

Thomas Dearden was the first to pass away. He died in 1911 and likely never lived to see the mine come to fruition. Although he died in Garrison, he requested that his body be returned to Fillmore. There he was buried next to his eternal love, Charlotte. ♠

Grave of Thomas and Charlotte Dearden in Fillmore, Utah.

Detail of headstone.

Road Trip to Great Basin National Park

Memorial Day weekend can be a tricky time to travel, with floods of people anywhere you go. This year we made a wise choice and missed the crowds. We traveled northwest through some pretty isolated country, our final destination being Great Basin National Park in Nevada.

From our home in Enoch, Utah, the one-way trip is 138 miles. The largest town we passed through was Milford, population 1,360. Other than that, it is a desolate stretch of land. We saw a few small herds of antelope, sheep, and cattle; small farms in the desert, and a ghost town.

The average person could call this land boring and monotonous. "Ugly" may be the term used by the most cynical. But for me, it is fascinating! Any terrain that is this remote has got to have layers of mysteries waiting to be discovered. I ponder the stories that may never be told and geological wonders that have never been discovered. Here's a small collection of what we found.

Frisco. Just fifteen miles west of Milford on Highway 21 is the ghost town of Frisco, named because it lies at the foot of the San Francisco Mountains. At its height—around 1885—this mining town had twenty three saloons and a population of 6,000. That's really hard to believe because now, no one lives here.

We parked just off the highway and walked across strewed debris and old foundations. On the side of the hill are five beehive-shaped charcoal ovens (below) used by miners to serve the smelters. Most of the large conical ovens are well preserved.

With more time, and a big enough interest, a man could spend all day exploring Frisco. Many old mines and buildings are scattered around the area. Being on a tight schedule, we chose only visit the ovens, and then the cemetery.

The cemetery (above left) is located due west of the ovens, and accessed by a good graveled road. I was pleased to see that the graveyard still sees visitors, as evidenced by coins, flowers, boots, and other knick-knacks left at many of the graves. Headstones are intermingled with wild grass, sagebrush, and juniper trees.

The demise of Frisco is a fascinating tale. One evening in 1885, the night shift had just emerged from the Horn Silver Mine when the foreman realized the ground was shuddering beneath him. He held off on sending the next crew down, and a few minutes later there was a “thundering roar” that shattered windows as far as Milford. All at once, the entire mine collapsed, taking with it not only dirt and ore, but also the jobs of those in town who were employed at the mine. In the years that followed, Frisco held on by a thread, but by 1920, the town became empty.

The next sixty or so miles from Frisco takes you through some pretty lonely territory, with long stretches that cross the Wah Wah and Pine Valley's (above).

As the highway climbs another crest and takes a noticed turn to the northwest, the first view of the snow-capped mountains of Great Basin National Park come into view. I was also impressed with the fields of Indian Paintbrush that grew like wheat in the valley (right).

We pulled over to a corral that was just off a dirt road and found scattered wool on the ground. It appeared that this had been a spot for sheep-shearing not too long ago.

Garrison, Utah. The first hint of any civilization in nearly seventy five miles, Garrison is a tiny town in Snake Valley. I don't know much about the history of this little place, other than it was founded in the 1850's by cattle rustlers and other outlaws. Sounds interesting to me.

Other than farms, there isn't much here. An LDS church that appears to be made with two modular homes sits in the middle of town. Behind the church is an interesting cemetery (left), with several old graves and a graveled ground. The majestic Snake Range stands as the backdrop.

Baker, Nevada. Less than a mile after leaving Garrison, we cross the state line into Nevada. Seven miles later, we are in Baker. Baker isn't much bigger than Garrison, if at all. Total population: 68.

Baker is headquarters to Great Basin National Park, and tends to have the look of a National Park border-town with hippie-like art on some of the buildings. 

We took a small drive around town, past the elementary school playground, and past the community church (above).

At the center of town, it is necessary to take a left-hand turn onto Lehman Caves Road. This is the road that will take you to the main entrance of the park. Along this stretch you will find several pieces of “art” if you pay attention to the fence posts (above). Although this is the main thoroughfare to the park (and we were there on Memorial Day!), you'll still have the road mostly to yourself. Take your time and see what you can find.

Lehman Caves. Around 1885, Absalom Lehman discovered a small opening in the hillside above his ranch, leading to a spectacular cave that would later bear his name. Although the exact story of how this rancher/miner from Pennsylvania discovered the caves may never be known, we do know that what he found is pretty amazing.

The cave is damp and cool inside, maintaining a constant temperature of fifty degrees Fahrenheit. We opted for the ninety-minute tour, which we took with fifteen other people. No gum, no food, no water bottles, no camera bags, no touching—among other rules—are strictly enforced. Cameras are allowed, and flashlights and jackets are recommended.

Our tour took us a little over half a mile past stalagmites, stalactites, helictites, shield formations and other configurations. The entire walk is conveniently placed on a cement path, along with some stairs. There are a few clear pools of water inside the cave. In the Inscription Room, several names are written across the ceiling, including one from 1903.

It is hard to fathom how the early discoverers of the cave got around without a foot path. They must have used lots of ropes and candle light.

There is evidence that Native Americans used the entrance hole as a burial spot, judging from bones found below the opening. But nothing suggests they explored the cave.

Wheeler Peak. The omnipresent Wheeler Peak seems to be visible from about anywhere in Snake Valley, and inside the park. This snow-capped crown is the second highest in all of Nevada, reaching 13,063 feet in elevation.

Although hiking this summit is on my to-do list, I knew it wasn't practical on this trip. We had little time, young kids, and the peak was still packed in snow. I had hoped to hike to Stella Lake, which sits below the peak in an Alpine setting, but the rangers told me it was under snow also.

So, we did the next best thing and drove ten miles up the Wheeler Peak scenic drive to a lookout point near 10,000 feet. The drive is pretty, and climbs at a steady pitch. Along the way you have great views of nearby Mount Moriah, as well as distant Notch Peak. There is also a roadside kiosk explaining the history of the failed Osceola Ditch project.

I will admit that when I came to the view point I was very disappointed.  Several tall trees grew around it (blocking the view), and it faced the wrong direction (toward the east, rather than Wheeler Peak). Therefore, the vista it provided was only mediocre.

I did what I tend to do and briskly walked a quarter of a mile further up the road toward a bend that appeared to have a promising panorama. Few cars passed me. Patches of snow clumped around the foot of the Englelman Spruce that grew from the steep slope that dropped at my immediate left. The high mountain air was welcoming and I breathed it deeply as I continued a quick jaunt.

At last, I reached the bend in the road, and as expected, the trees opened up, the valley below unfolded, and Wheeler Peak in all her majesty stood before me. Caked in white, with rugged granite ledges peeking out, I admired the splendor of the mountain.

But knowing that I had a wife and three girls waiting on me back at the car, I knew I had to leave. I steadied my camera with my right hand and trotted back down the road. ♠