Johnson Lake 2021 - Day 3

We got to sleep in! And we both did, even though Ambrose is usually up and out of the tent well before I'm awake on sleep-in days. This was our day of hanging out at the lake. That might not seem like much work for a training hike, but you have to consider that we were hanging out at 8000 feet elevation. Acclimatization is work ;)

After breakfast, we decided to do a little exploring. Not a circumnavigation of the lake (this time), but a look around by the outlet. A little pleasure hike. 

The water was so incredibly clear. We even saw some fish.

Some mushrooms busting out. We looked, but saw no morels :(

When we got to what we thought was the outlet, we found that it is only the outlet in very high water years. This year, the whole area looked clear enough to house five or more tents, and a few hammocks to boot. Ambrose said we might consider camping there in the future, but I'm not sold. It's right above the outlet, and I bet it would be a bit cold. 

Lovely cascading outlet. 

I told Ambrose if I were going to swim to the island, I'd do it from here. Nice short distance.

After we got back from our little ramble, it was lunch time. Or close enough. We got lunch done and then settled into the afternoon's hard work of acclimatization. We'd find a shady spot with a view, settle down on a tarp with our pillows, water and snacks, then relax. 

Someone was watching for snack leavings.

Ambrose kindly holding onto my pillow while I get supplies. Wonder if I'll get it back...

When we were facing the lake in the late afternoon, microbursts would blow up and chase waves across the lake. I even got a video of one of them. 

And so the day passed. My dinner seemed a bit too small, but I made up for it with snacks. 

It's possible I didn't bring enough snacks on this trip though - at least, not the right kind. On this trip, Ambrose and I discussed the necessity of "chewy" snacks. Not snacks that were chewy in the mouth, but snacks that gave your stomach something to "chew" on. We can't subsist on just sugar or energy gels/chews (which are mostly sugar). We need something bread-like, meat-like. Something to assure the stomach that its needs are being met. 

On the next trip, I definitely plan on having more snacking meats. I'll probably bring some nuts, too, which I skipped on this trip. Nuts aren't the best on my digestion, but I can handle macadamias while backpacking. 

Bed time came a bit earlier for me on this night, because in the morning we were going to pack up and hike the whole way back to the car. And then I would get to drive home. Got to rest up!

Johnson Lake 2021 - Day 2

The morning was also very cold. The wind hadn't really let up, probably because we were in the river canyon and high above the water. We got moving as quickly as possible to try and stay warm. You know, when you're out there, that you will eventually wish it was cold outside. Later in the day, my cold hands will be slick with sweat, and I'll just wish I could have just a small piece of the morning's cold, as the sun beats down on my head and reflects up to my face from the trail rocks. 

But in the morning, no matter how much I tell myself this, I am still pretty darn cold. I keep my down jacket as on as I can while I change clothes, especially if I'm changing bras. And I keep my legs in my sleeping quilt while I change pants and socks. 

We had cookies for breakfast. It isn't much of a breakfast, but it's a nice way to break one's fast. When backpacking, I don't really like doing a big heavy breakfast. Part of that is time; I don't want to spend the time doing breakfast when it's too cold to be sitting still. It feels like a waste of prime hiking weather to cook breakfast. 

Cookies actually work pretty well; a burst of sugar to get you started. I like doing peanut butter chocolate chip cookies for a smidgen of protein to go with my sugar. My only problem was on this trip, Ambrose was the holder of the cookies, and I was a bit impatient to get a hold of mine and start eating (we're fixing that situation on the next trip). 

I cannot overemphasize how rare it is for Ambrose to hike in his down jacket. COLD.

I was kind of hoping that we would take long enough to get to the next crossing of the Little Queens River that the sun would be up. But we were just too darn fast. The sun was flirting with the ridgeline, but had not crossed when we reached that cold, cold water. 

Nothing to it but to grit our teeth and get it over with it. 

And nothing wakes you up quite like submerging your feet, ankles and calves in snow-melt water with no sunshine. My feet were aching with the cold by the time I got across. I couldn't wait to sit down and dry those poor footsies. 

We also snacked before moving on together. Again, it was not easy to leave Ambrose behind as we hiked. It was a little awkward, because I'm used to being so far ahead that he can't hear me talk or sing to myself; now he can hear me, but not clearly, for the most part. I talk to myself a lot on the trail, sometimes out loud, often not. It's a good place for introspection. 

It was so cold, he put his down jacket BACK on!

But not long after, the sunshine caught up to us.

Before too long, we made it to the trail junction for Scenic Lake. I think we could have made it all the way to there the day before, if we'd been willing to set up camp in the dark. 

I swear, this section of trail used to seem so long. It used to take forever! But we just moved right along. The sun started shining on us, and it started warming up. And then, in what seemed like no time at all, it was time for the section of trail that we call 'The Ramp'.

The Ramp leads up to the junction for the Browns Lake trail. It's maybe half a mile long, but more than 500 feet of gain. The whole section we'd hiked that morning was uphill, but it was a gentle, sneaky uphill. This was hard core rock 'n roll. 

Before starting up, we paused where the trail first turns and agreed to have lunch at the top of The Ramp, where we know a stream flows. And then I started going up, intending to just power on through and get it over with. 

Then I ran into a downed tree. Okay, well, I could get around it, it was just a little tricky. I kept going, and then I just stopped. 

A gigantic tree had fallen across the trail. And it had to be recent, because the needles were still green. There were two options: go around on the up side or go around on the down side. I decided to try up first, but lost crucial time as Ambrose continued to approach. I didn't like the look of things from the top when I got there, so I decided to go down around. Ambrose had already started up so he decided to try the up side, and it turned out to be easier (and less wet) than I had thought it would be. But by the time he figured that out, I was already doing the down, which was doable. 

There is, in fact, a stream under that log.

Pretty good zoom action on the new camera.

Then we both got down to the business of climbing The Ramp. I've timed myself hiking this section before, and I think my best time was around 20 minutes. I didn't check my time on this climb, but I did note that Ambrose finished in about 27 minutes. Which means, with the tree problems slowing us down, he is moving fast. 

We split Mountain House biscuit and gravy for lunch, nice and hearty. Then Ambrose took a little mini-nap and I took the opportunity to do a bit of reading. We were resting up for the next big climb, from here up to High Pass. After High Pass, it shouldn't be more than an hour or so to Johnson Lake, most of it downhill. 

Just another 600 or so more feet, along decently graded switchbacks, and we'd be done with climbing for the day. The hard part would be over. 

So I thought at the time. 

That big dark lump across the trail is a tree.

We got moving and I pulled ahead on the switchbacks, moving easy and relentlessly. There were a number of snags to get over, and I did pause at the point where you can look back down on the valley you just hiked through. But otherwise, I climbed it Terminator style. 

Until I got to the top, and was greeted, not just by an expansive vista of stunning beauty, but by the sight of snow. Snow on the trail. Snow on my trail. 

I suddenly regretted removing the snow baskets from my trekking poles at the car. But I was also happy to be able to grab some snow and stick it under my hat. Snow hat feels sooooo good while hiking. 

So, I sat down (not on the snow) and waited for Ambrose to show up. I wondered just how far behind me he actually was; I'd noticed him getting two switchbacks behind before the trail made it so I couldn't see him. 

He was only 12 minutes behind me! On a big climb! I was so excited that he was able to hike so much faster than in previous years. 

He got some break time at the pass before we got going. Because my shoes were not water proof and his were, he volunteered to be the snow leader. Oh, and also because he wasn't exhausted and grumpy. 

But kickstepping into mushy snow along narrow switchbacks did tire him out - understandably. He actually fell twice, when the snow deceived him as to its hardness. But neither fall was hard, more like slides to the dirt, partially landing on snow.

The snow, which came in patches along the trail, slowed us considerably. Each patch needed to be negotiated with care, lest we fall. I exercised my patience while Ambrose would slowly navigate each patch, making sure to leave good steps for me to use. I was only able to cross as fast as I did because he made the path for me. 

Looking back over the valley.

Looking towards Browns Lake.

Snow!

We got down past the snowline, and then down to the trail junction to Johnson Lake. The trail to Johnson is not well maintained, especially close to the lake, but I've hiked it enough times to be able to route find through it. Ambrose has not, which I reminded him of when he wanted to turn left and go down instead of continuing to traverse. Pretty much, once you find the trail across the outlet of the tarn, you keep going straight until you can see Johnson Lake. 

I do always seem to lose the trail when I get close though, and this time was no different. But I don't consider it getting lost, because I can see the lake. I know where I am. I just need to move myself through the brush and snags to where I want to be. 

We rarely see this stream with so much (or any) water in it.

And I've never seen this much water here either.

We paused at the first camping spot, taking stock and deciding if we wanted to stay here or move on. I didn't like the look of the spot as much as in prior years; looked too slanted to be comfortable. So we left our packs and went to see if another spot might be better. 

Turns out, there was. With no rain in the forecast, we agreed on a nice flat spot, set back from the lake, that would probably get washed out in the rain. 

I got to pitching, and Ambrose worked on water. It was still too early for dinner prep, since we arrived around 3 pm. 

Johnson Lake

Since we were staying for two nights, I decided to try a trick I learned from my friend Bill. The fork changes the angle of the guy lines, which results in more headroom inside the tent.

Ambrose giving some finishing blows to his sleeping pad. 

The rest of the day was spent organizing camp and enjoying the beauty surrounding us. Even when it got a little scary, in the evening when it sounded like someone was clacking sticks or rocks together, one-two, click-clack. It didn't sound natural, but I figured it had to be deer (or maybe goats?) jumping on or off of rocks, making that sound as their front and then rear hooves hit rock. Neither of us confirmed that with a sighting though. 

Johnson Lake June 2021 - Day 1

I took a half day off work on Thursday so Ambrose and I could drive up to the Queens River Trail Head and start hiking instead of having to camp at the trail head for the night. Our current vehicle does not have the capacity to carry both car camping (for overnight at the trail head) and backpacking gear; in addition, it isn't pleasant to sleep in the car itself. Ambrose was thinking we might make a mile or two before stopping. I knew we could make the bivy site, a little more than 3 miles up the trail. 

Well. I knew I could make the bivy site for sure. I was pretty confident Ambrose could, but, I'll admit, I wasn't absolutely certain. Just mostly. 

Usually, we start hiking when it's coldest, first thing in the morning, and don't have to sweat the heat until later in the day. Today, we started hiking around 3 in the afternoon - the hottest time of the day around these parts. I had been debating whether to wear my warm, waterproof Outdoor Research hat, or my new sun hat, but as soon as I got out of the car and felt that heat, I knew it was a sun hat kind of trip. 

Ambrose was also not wearing his Outdoor Research hat; his hair is big enough that that hat no longer fully protects his face from the sun. Instead, he used a hat his dad had given him a few years ago, which worked much better for keeping the sun off his nose. 

We both changed into our hiking clothes after parking at the trail head. Before long, it was time to hit the trail. Time to find out how the trail had changed, and how we had changed. 

I knew that there had been a trail crew up the Little Queens River last fall, and I appreciated no longer having that big tree barring the start of the trail. But that trail needs a LOT of work. There are areas that were burned several years ago, and the burned trees are starting to fall by the score, many of them across the trail. There's bushes overgrowing the trail that need lopping and chopping. The trail is passable, but there are some spots that get a little scary. 

Nice clear trail junction!

The first side stream crossings came as a surprise - they seemed to be coming too soon. My pack felt absurdly light; I hadn't weighed it, but Ambrose insisted it was lighter than his 22.2lb pack. My calves ached, but more of a getting used to movement ache than something wrong. I typically get those little passing aches and pains in my legs and feet. The right ankle will start complaining, I'll walk it out only to get the left knee chirping up, and etc... 

We don't typically go into this area this early in the season. The Little Queens River trail has a ford less than a mile in that can get deep. But this is a low water year, and so we were able to get by that crossing with ease. We did make sure to change into crossing shoes BEFORE getting to the ford. See, the closest place to change to crossing shoes is this little sandy island. You have to cross water on the trail before you get there, but the sandy island used to be a nice place to change. No more. It belongs to the ants now. The last time I tried to change shoes there, the ants crawled up my legs and into my shoes and bit me. 

Even changing beforehand, I couldn't wait for Ambrose to cross while standing on the island itself. I had to stand in the shallow water just off the island so the ants wouldn't get me. Good thing it was in the late afternoon and the sun was shining down. The cool water felt nice on my feet for once. 

There were some snags. 

We took a brief break after crossing and then continued up the trail. There would be no more crossing of the Little Queens this day. Just a couple of side streams, including Nemesis Creek (not its actual name), which always seems to pull Ambrose down when he crosses. 

I focused on moving forward. There's a little meadow that we've camped at once before; it comes just before the trail starts to climb. Ambrose paused there and asked if I wanted to camp there, last chance, and I just kept hiking. I didn't even slow to consider his proposal. We were going to the bivy camp, by gum! 

And as we hiked on, I kept looking for the spot, even though I know it's after Nemesis Creek. I was just looking around, taking it in, and continually being surprised when I stopped, because Ambrose was right behind me. Usually, I can hike for ten, fifteen minutes and get about five minutes ahead of him. Not today! 

There were particularly tricky downed trees after Scott Creek, on a part of the trail that is quite narrow, along a ridge where a step off the trail to the left is a long fall to the Little Queens and there is no stepping to the right. I could have squeezed under for the first one, but I'd have to take my pack off, so I decided to go over. Ambrose followed my lead, and we did make it, but it was a scramble. And then we had one more. 

Not an easy snag to navigate.

This one was particularly difficult.

But then it wasn't long to Tripod, aka Nemesis Creek. I don't know what it is about that creek, exactly. Perhaps its spirit is strong and demands tribute. But this year, it looked like crossing would be pretty easy. There were logs laying in an inviting bridge. I took the invitation, and went first. 

I was one step from the bank. 

One. Step. 

Turns out, that last step had 0 traction. My foot slipped out from underneath me and I landed kind of on top of the log I had just been walking on. As far as falls into creeks go, it wasn't bad at all. Ambrose was behind me and he finished crossing before coming back to see if I needed help. I started by assessing my situation; no broken bones, no twisted ankles, hardly even wet. My pack had kind of caught on the log, and prevented me from having a hard fall or completely immersing. All I needed to do was sort myself out and figure out how to stand up. 

Which I did. 

I'm glad Ambrose got through that creek without falling in, but dang it, why did I have to? 

Tripod Creek strikes again!

Afterwards, I sat on the bank for a bit and had a good cry. I'd been feeling vaguely emotional all afternoon, and this was just the last straw. I needed to let it out, and I did, while Ambrose filled up our CNOC water bags for camp. We would both carry a full bag the quarter mile or so to camp so we wouldn't have to come back for it. 

I felt shaken, but relieved, because that fall could have been so much worse. And it was a good reminder that my Altra shoes may have excellent traction, but they are not perfect. 

The bivy site was empty, as expected with the empty parking lot at the trail head. But there was clear evidence that it had been used since our last visit. There was a fire pit ringed with little makeshift log benches. At some point, I'm going to have to make a trip specifically to destroy that fire pit, since they aren't allowed in the wilderness area. 

There were also two onions under a fallen tree. I moved them to the fire pit so I could move the tree over and make room for our tent. The tent was erected and our beds made up before the sun passed below the ridgeline. We ate dinner, and then settled into the tent. 

Once the sun was down, it got cold. And I somehow ended up on the side of the tent that the wind was blowing into, even though I run cold and Ambrose runs hot, so we usually switch that. It was so cold, that when I got out of the tent to make some water, I couldn't stop shivering. It was the weirdest thing, just these big, wracking shivers that made it hard to relax enough to even pee. 

But the inside of the tent was nice and cozy - once I got dry socks on! 

Despite the cold and the wind, I slept well.