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.

Snake Range (day 2)

Last night was much colder than I thought it would be. I didn't shiver, but the constant chill brought on a consistent restlessness. Of course, the crisp mountain air contributed to this, as well as damp clothing from the rain. I slept in a zero-temp bag with socks, pants, long-sleeve shirt, beenie, gloves and a good coat. None of it sufficed. 

As I crawled out of my tent and walked toward the lake I realized that my feet were sore and knees ached. My eyes struggled to focus. My body felt groggy and heavy. 

Johnson Lake.

The sun crept above the eastern horizon and no one else stirred. I decided to return to my tent and rest a bit longer. 

When I withdrew to the outdoors again (just ten minutes later), I made my way to the lake with an empty water bottle where I stooped down to fill it up, trying not to capture any small bugs from the water. There was no running water here, just the stagnant lake. I would use some iodine tablets to purify. 

Suddenly, a massive shroud of fog swooped down from the cliffs and enveloped the small basin where we camped. The vaporous cloud felt palpable, moist and misty. The fog shrouded the sun and the tall coniferous trees stood as silhouettes in varying shades from dark green to black.—Then, in a moment, the fog lifted and sun returned. 

Fog moving in.

Pine trees standing as silhouettes in the fog.

I felt a little better now. My feet and knees no longer hurt, but my stomach was slightly tender. As I stated earlier, this backpacking trip was a test for me, an examine to see how my body would react after acquiring my new disease.

Slowly, Dave and Devin rolled out of their tents and we ate breakfast and packed our bags. A distant thunder rolled through the valley. Wet, puffy clouds slowly passed over the saddle above us. We would have to cross that saddle to enter another basin. It was now time to get moving. 

With heavy packs now encumbering our shoulders, we ascended the switchbacks toward the saddle. I felt weaker than I had yet, focusing on my breathing and moving forward one step at a time. For me this was the most difficult part of the hike. We climbed nearly 500 feet in just a third of a mile, maxing out at a 38% grade. It doesn't sound too bad, but for a sick old fogey like myself, it about put me under. By the time we reached the saddle I was ready to lie down and take a nap. 

Up to the saddle.

From this point we wandered off-trail for about 45 minutes in search of an adit and old structure belonging to the mine. We had no luck. Perhaps the adit had been reclaimed and the structure swept away with snow. Who knows? 

We continued down the other side of the saddle toward Baker Lake. Did I mention that this whole area is a rock-hounder's paradise? Although I can't identify all the types, one of them is a quartz monzonite, a dalmation-colored stone. The only issue is that you'd have to haul it out . . . and it's a long haul! I picked up a couple smaller specimens and put them in my pack. 

The three amigos at Baker Lake.

Baker Lake was lower than normal, and less impressive—in my opinion—than Johnson Lake. But the rugged cliffs above were impressive. Nearby is Baker Peak, one of the highest peaks in the range. 

The trail switchbacks to lower ground below the lake. It is here we took a little break off the side of the trail. I just happened to look across a boulder field onto the hillside about two hundred yards away and saw something move. Lounging on the slope were nearly a dozen bighorn sheep. They blended in well with their surroundings and I'm willing to bet that most hikers passing by that day would never notice them. Although I forgot to bring binoculars, I could tell that the largest rams had fine horns that nearly made a full curl. Seeing these sheep was definitely a pleasant surprise! 

Bighorn sheep.

We continued down the trail. 

Water below the surface of the ground magically bubbled to the surface and suddenly we noticed a healthy mountain stream below us. Grass grew all around it with occasional flowers. It tumbled down the mountain in elegant fashion. 

Occasionally we were treated to a cluster of bright fall colors. I'm sure this place would be a festival of colors at the right time, but we were still a little early. 

As we made our way down the canyon, the vegetation changed and pine trees gave way to oaks and other small trees. I would say that our hike down was a combination of the ordinary and the impressive. 

A few fall colors were beginning to develop.

This stream appeared suddenly out of nowhere.

For one final treat we spotted four nice bucks in the vicinity of the trailhead. They nibbled at the leaves and bushes without giving us much thought. 

The largest was a massive four-point, with at least a 28-inch spread. His antlers were darker than the others, but what caught my attention was that they were smeared with blood. And upon closer examination, he still had a piece of flesh dangling from his right antler! This guy must have been in a serious fight. 

Nice buck with blood-stained antlers. Notice the piece of flesh hanging from his right side.

We finally arrived back at the vehicle where we fished the Mountain Dew out of the stream and I quickly cooked a jalapeño cheddar hot dog on the grill (because I was craving it). The wind picked up and the sky teased with rain. 

As you may recall, this backpacking trip was a test. It was my first such trip since my health issues arose fifteen months ago. We hiked 13 miles and climbed 4,000 feet in elevation. The part I struggled with the most was fatigue, especially during the grueling uphill portions. I had no major stomach pains. I think we chose the right size. Any more, I think, would have been too much. 

—I would say I passed. 

[After having returned home, this hike really wiped me out, and it took several days to recover.] 

Now, I know what I can do. Next time I will push myself a little further, until, little by little, I am doing beyond what I did before. This is my goal. ♠

 

The best way to end a hike!

 

Test of the Snake Range (day 1)

It was one year ago this month that we had an awesome backpacking trip planned to the Snake Range. I wanted to do it so badly, but I hadn't felt well for several months. My stomach was tender and I worried that the pressure and strain from backpacking would only make it worse. Mentally I was back and forth whether I should do it. Then, my decision was made for me. 

In the weeks leading to the hike, there emerged small clues from tests and symptoms that suggested I might have a rare blood cancer called polycythemia vera. Doctors felt they had enough evidence to give me the diagnosis, but as part of the process, they needed a bone-marrow biopsy to be sure it hadn't progressed to an advanced staged called myleofibrosis. The first phone call I received was from the oncology center discussing the diagnosis. The second call was to schedule the biopsy. It would be the same day as the hike. 

That settled that. Deep down I was relieved because I knew I shouldn't be doing a backpacking trip like that anyway. 

One year has passed and I have been in and out of doctor's offices like most devotees are in and out of church. I am officially diagnosed with polycythemia vera, but my stomach pains persist. The pain has subtly improved. I still get fatigued, but not as much as last year. Doctors can't necessarily connect my pains with the cancer. We have tried so many things, but nothing seems to work. 

A nice buck under the flashlight.

So here I am, a year later, and I am anxious to get out and do anything outdoors. Up to this point I have pushed myself on some hikes, but never a backpacking trip. Yet I needed to do one to test my limits. I had to push myself. 

With this in mind, my friend Dave and I planned a backpacking trip to Colorado. It would be a perfect challenge for my body—not too far and not too short. We were all ready to go, when just a week before departure, everything started falling apart. With just one day before leaving, we made the difficult decision to change plans and try something similar, but closer to home. We chose to replicate last years plans and backpack a 12-mile loop in the Snake Range of Nevada. 

I can't say I was completely confident. My stomach was still tender from time to time. Sometimes I had issues breathing. My white blood cell count was lower than normal. Fatigue was always an issue, especially with exertion. (And this hike would have no lack of exertion, climbing almost 4,000 feet in elevation!) 

With that as the background, we hit the road. 

The trail to Johnson Lake. Pyramid Peak is in the background.

The forecast for Garrison called for a 0% chance of rain. We knew that wasn't true as we witnessed lightning, dust storms and torrential downpours as we approached the border town. 

We tried finding a campground, but it was getting dark and everything was filled. We decided to take our packs and find a flat plot of ground to pitch our tents. We did our best to sleep in spite of howling winds ripping at the flaps of our tents. 

None of us slept well, but morning brought a new day. Perhaps the anticipation of a new adventure eclipsed our poor night's rest. 

We ate breakfast, then strapped on our packs. I had worked hard during the last year to make my pack lighter, and I certainly felt a difference. 

But as we headed up the mountain trail, I could feel my usual fatigue set in. My stomach was tender as well, but tolerable. I focused on breathing and continued forward, albeit at a slower pace than normal.

The mountains of the Snake Range are beautiful. It was now mid-September and the higher in elevation we climbed, a sprinkling of aspens began to change colors to yellow and bright orange. 

Final ascent near the Johnson Mining District.

We had the trail to ourselves. In spite of the masses in the campgrounds below, no one dared tackle the steeper mountain slopes. 

We came to a series of switchbacks which tested my energy levels and muscle strength. But I passed. At the top we entered a large meadow. Pyramid Peak loomed to our west. We were hiking a loop trail, but it was our goal to summit at least one, if not two peaks during our trek. 

After the meadow we climbed a small ridge, then beyond the crest we entered another basin. This was the Snake Creek Basin. Our legs enjoyed a brief downhill section. It was near here we spotted a four-point buck walking through the timber. 

Four-point buck walking through the timber.

Beyond this point, the trail was merciless. The steady uphill slope was full of rocks. I think fatigue began to hit Dave as he trailed further behind. 

As we made our steady climb, we came to the first remnants of the Johnson Lake Mining District, an operation that extracted tungsten in the early 1900's. The mine has long been abandoned, but artifacts from its existence are strewn across the mountainside. 

We first came across the mill, then a half-mile further, the cabins used for lodging. We removed our packs and spent ample time exploring the relics. I will go into detail about the mine in a later post. 

Cabin at Johnson Lake Mining District.

At last we arrived at Johnson Lake. This was our destination for the night (although it was only 1:30 in the afternoon). We had time to relax, pitch our tents, and perhaps hike a peak. 

Mother Nature would prod us along. The wind picked up and a light rain fell from the sky. We scrambled to set up our tents. The urgency proved to be a benefit and in record time we were good to go! 

Johnson Lake is a wonderful setting. At 10,732 feet in elevation it is higher and much colder than anywhere else in the area. The lake is surrounded on three sides by steep mountain slopes strewn with white boulders. High to the north is Pyramid Peak. A tramway cable for the mine is still strung on the hillside. 

The meadow around the lake is an ideal setting for a camp. Alpine tundra, including dwarf flowers, low-growing perennial herbs and grasses grow where soil will allow. The wooded area around the lake abounds with pine, fir and aspen. Although most of the moraine is strewn with rocks, there are still several places flat and smooth enough to pitch a tent. 

Johnson Lake.

I will mention only one other adventure from this day. As I have stated, we wanted to climb a peak. Pyramid Peak was our most eligible candidate, but the weather at the peak was sketchy at best. Storm clouds blew in and blew out, changing every ten minutes. Occasional booms of thunder rang in the distance and we knew from personal experience that a high mountain peak was the last place we wanted to be during a lightning storm. 

So we waited and took a nap. 

When I woke, to my pleasant surprise, I found the skies to be mostly clear. I woke up Devin and Dave and we decided to make a run for the peak. 

As a general rule of peak climbing, it is best to be off the summit before 11 am to avoid a higher probability of electrocution. It was now 5 pm, so we were obviously ignoring that rule. 

The ascent to Pyramid Peak.

The climb to the peak would be at least another 1,200 feet. But without heavy packs burdening our shoulders, the task seemed easy. We followed the trail above the lake and onto the saddle below Pyramid Peak. It was here that the weather began to turn. 

Both Dave and Devin wore shorts. Devin forgot his jacket, but brought a red poncho that flapped sideways in the wind. The gusts now came at near hurricane speeds. All we could do was put our heads down and focus on walking up the steep slope, over talus and tundra. 

As we got higher up the slope, we could see that it was storming on all sides. Below us to the southwest a bolt of lightning lit the clouds. Our speed to the top now became urgent. We had traveled this far and didn't want to turn back. I prayed that no lightning would hit the peak before we got there. I knew that if just one bolt hit, we would be turning around . . . running! 

Devin, about to be blown away.

The gales of frigid air nearly blew us over. We held on to our coats and hats with clinched fists. If the wind were to take anything, it would be long gone! 

At last we reached the summit, but here our misery doubled. Hard pellets of hail shot from the sky and stung our face and any other bare skin that we foolishly left uncovered. Dave sat down, nearly crouching in a fetal position to block the raging pellets. I was grateful I wore long pants, a long-sleeved shirt and beenie. 

The storm started and stopped in uneven intervals. When the hail stopped, the calm came. After the calm came, the rain started. When the rain started, the wind picked back up. In short, it was a fine and pleasant misery! 

Dave, huddled on the ground.

From the summit we could see all the major peaks, including Wheeler and Baker. On a shouldering slope we could see it was now white, covered in hail. 

We took as many pictures as we could, then began working our way down. Even when off the peak, we weren't out of the woods yet. If a lightning storm decided to move through, we would be exposed and vulnerable. 

But, we made it! 

Moi.

As we returned to the trail above the lake, we marveled at our new adventure and drew similarities to another adventure two years earlier in the High Uintas. We also marveled at God's creations and discussed how “hard things” help you through life. 

We made it back to our tents just as it was getting dark. We still had to make supper. It would be much colder tonight, especially wearing damp clothing. 

The sunset glow on Johnson Lake was replaced with darkness and above the steep slope beyond the lake the stars came out in all their glory.

 

(to be continued . . .)

 

View of Johnson Lake from Pyramid Peak.