TR: No Joy on Johnson
Posted: Sat Jul 29, 2017 3:33 pm
Some years ago I read a few trip reports about Mount Johnson above Treasure Lakes near Bishop. The class 2/3 north ridge has
some fun exposure, reportedly worth the relatively short but arduous hike to get there. Having some time to break away from the house, I
made the 300+ mile drive to the trail head on Thursday afternoon for a day hike on Friday, July 28, 2017.
I managed to sleep in, dragging myself from the back of the Jeep at a leisurely 6:30AM. I was on the trail sometime after 7:00. The
skeeters were out in full force, the worst I've ever encountered. Thank goodness I found a skeeter net buried deep in my pack. Time
passed quickly on my way to the lower Treasure Lakes. I noticed many campers, all in their tents enjoying the massive swarm
of the blood sucking bugs.
Temps along the 395 corridor were very hot, and to my dismay the temps at elevation (11 and 12k) were relative scorchers too. The snow
filled valley en route to Johnson along with the complete lack of cloud cover and no wind whatsoever had me perspiring the entire day.
Still, it was a beautiful day to be in the mountains and it seems I had the valley above Treasure Lakes all to myself.
One of the lower Treasure Lakes drains into the other and there is a narrow outlet which typically provides a crossing to get above the
lakes using a log. This year that log was long gone, leaving about thirty feet of knee to crotch deep water to cross. I scoped out the
"best" place to cross and decided to remove my boots and socks to go barefoot. That was a very bad choice as the water was freezing cold
making my feet and legs numb and somewhat unusable. Back on shore I put my socks and boots on and crossed without issue
(face palm).
The snow began in earnest above the lower lakes, so I went up the rib which was snow free in my walk to the upper Treasure Lakes. I
dropped down of the rib into the snow filled valley and ascended the valley passing multiple tarns. Normally at this time of year the
valley would be void of snow leaving only massive fields of talus to navigate. I cannot imagine doing talus hopping for such a distance
so I was very grateful for the snow coverage (and only encountering short sections of talus). As I gained elevation in the valley some of
the sections got too steep and slushy for hiking poles so I stopped to put on my crampons for safe travel. While I had looked at my
planned route many times in advance, I was a bit surprised by how arduous the hike to the base of Mount Johnson was becoming. Seems
skipping breakfast wasn't such a good idea after all.
As I reached the cirque below Mount Johnson, I refilled my water bottle and took my first and only ten minute break and had a little
snack. The views were great and all was well, but I was silently begging for a little shade to cool things down a bit. What happened to
that 20 percent chance for rain in the forecast? You might say it was becoming Type II fun.
My original plan to get on the north ridge of Johnson was the well advertised use of Treasure Col to get on the low end of the ridge and
ascend to the summit. As I gnawed on my snack I observed that Treasure Col (and everything else around the cirque) was melted out on top
and I really didn't feel much like scrambling around in the mess above the snowline. And while I had a map in hand, the conditions made
it difficult to pin point which part of the rubble was Treasure Col. Sigh.
Plan B, and not shown in any other trip report I've seen, was to ascend the much longer and steeper col that tops out very near the
summit of Johnson. How convenient is that I thought, no problem there. The chute looked snow filled right to the top. So that's it, time
to get in the unnamed col and head straight up. I took a couple of gulps of water and started up. I had not been looking at the time, but
I think it was about noon. Almost immediately I noticed the slushy snow was turning into one big slurpee. Still, while kicking steps I
could hold my purchase in the snow okay using some discipling with each step.
In the classic "false summit" perspective, I could look up the col and perceive I am nearing the top only to find I'm just peering over
the next rise which was a bit steeper than the section below me. The higher I got, the sloppier it became, in an unsafe sort of way. My
energy was depleted with the one step up, two steps sliding down conditions. Checking my altimeter, I was a little above 12,500' above
sea level - about three hundred feet short of the summit.
I stopped for a short bit to evaluate my options and the conditions. I am making a six hundred mile round trip drive for a day hike to a
relatively easy summit. Here I am three hundred feet away from the summit in the vertical slurpee, zapped of energy (and the nausea that
goes along with over exertion) with one gnarly self arrest I didn't want to repeat. I know it's an ego thing, wanting to summit when
"it's right there". And it's with that I found my answer. I'd rather be telling of a great day in the mountains even if I missed the
summit with a very small margin of safety to spare, rather than showing up on the local SAR website being hauled off in a helicopter by a
lot of folks wearing orange.
It was a great day to be out in the mountains.
some fun exposure, reportedly worth the relatively short but arduous hike to get there. Having some time to break away from the house, I
made the 300+ mile drive to the trail head on Thursday afternoon for a day hike on Friday, July 28, 2017.
I managed to sleep in, dragging myself from the back of the Jeep at a leisurely 6:30AM. I was on the trail sometime after 7:00. The
skeeters were out in full force, the worst I've ever encountered. Thank goodness I found a skeeter net buried deep in my pack. Time
passed quickly on my way to the lower Treasure Lakes. I noticed many campers, all in their tents enjoying the massive swarm
of the blood sucking bugs.
Temps along the 395 corridor were very hot, and to my dismay the temps at elevation (11 and 12k) were relative scorchers too. The snow
filled valley en route to Johnson along with the complete lack of cloud cover and no wind whatsoever had me perspiring the entire day.
Still, it was a beautiful day to be in the mountains and it seems I had the valley above Treasure Lakes all to myself.
One of the lower Treasure Lakes drains into the other and there is a narrow outlet which typically provides a crossing to get above the
lakes using a log. This year that log was long gone, leaving about thirty feet of knee to crotch deep water to cross. I scoped out the
"best" place to cross and decided to remove my boots and socks to go barefoot. That was a very bad choice as the water was freezing cold
making my feet and legs numb and somewhat unusable. Back on shore I put my socks and boots on and crossed without issue
(face palm).
The snow began in earnest above the lower lakes, so I went up the rib which was snow free in my walk to the upper Treasure Lakes. I
dropped down of the rib into the snow filled valley and ascended the valley passing multiple tarns. Normally at this time of year the
valley would be void of snow leaving only massive fields of talus to navigate. I cannot imagine doing talus hopping for such a distance
so I was very grateful for the snow coverage (and only encountering short sections of talus). As I gained elevation in the valley some of
the sections got too steep and slushy for hiking poles so I stopped to put on my crampons for safe travel. While I had looked at my
planned route many times in advance, I was a bit surprised by how arduous the hike to the base of Mount Johnson was becoming. Seems
skipping breakfast wasn't such a good idea after all.
As I reached the cirque below Mount Johnson, I refilled my water bottle and took my first and only ten minute break and had a little
snack. The views were great and all was well, but I was silently begging for a little shade to cool things down a bit. What happened to
that 20 percent chance for rain in the forecast? You might say it was becoming Type II fun.
My original plan to get on the north ridge of Johnson was the well advertised use of Treasure Col to get on the low end of the ridge and
ascend to the summit. As I gnawed on my snack I observed that Treasure Col (and everything else around the cirque) was melted out on top
and I really didn't feel much like scrambling around in the mess above the snowline. And while I had a map in hand, the conditions made
it difficult to pin point which part of the rubble was Treasure Col. Sigh.
Plan B, and not shown in any other trip report I've seen, was to ascend the much longer and steeper col that tops out very near the
summit of Johnson. How convenient is that I thought, no problem there. The chute looked snow filled right to the top. So that's it, time
to get in the unnamed col and head straight up. I took a couple of gulps of water and started up. I had not been looking at the time, but
I think it was about noon. Almost immediately I noticed the slushy snow was turning into one big slurpee. Still, while kicking steps I
could hold my purchase in the snow okay using some discipling with each step.
In the classic "false summit" perspective, I could look up the col and perceive I am nearing the top only to find I'm just peering over
the next rise which was a bit steeper than the section below me. The higher I got, the sloppier it became, in an unsafe sort of way. My
energy was depleted with the one step up, two steps sliding down conditions. Checking my altimeter, I was a little above 12,500' above
sea level - about three hundred feet short of the summit.
I stopped for a short bit to evaluate my options and the conditions. I am making a six hundred mile round trip drive for a day hike to a
relatively easy summit. Here I am three hundred feet away from the summit in the vertical slurpee, zapped of energy (and the nausea that
goes along with over exertion) with one gnarly self arrest I didn't want to repeat. I know it's an ego thing, wanting to summit when
"it's right there". And it's with that I found my answer. I'd rather be telling of a great day in the mountains even if I missed the
summit with a very small margin of safety to spare, rather than showing up on the local SAR website being hauled off in a helicopter by a
lot of folks wearing orange.
It was a great day to be out in the mountains.