With its good southerly exposure, the Johnson Mountain Trail 652.2 struck me as a good early route to a great viewpoint. To reach this old lookout trail, there are several approaches to choose from – most of them are within a day’s travel from a trailhead. All but one involve the Bald Eagle Trail 650 and either the main or high routes (652 or 652.1) down to the Blue Lakes. I’ve heard that the snow on the cirque walls south of the lakes tends to really hang around. So does the snow along shaded portions of the Bald Eagle Trail 650. The snow persistence, coinciding with some high angle exposure can make the south approaches to Blue Lake and Johnson Mountain a little hairy for casual hikers until later in the season.
I was hoping that WTM might serve as my canary by reporting on West Cady Ridge conditions prior to my departure. Lacking info on actual conditions, traveling alone, and without an ice axe, I decided to approach the Blue Lake / Johnson Mountain site via the lower, northerly route. The northerly approach uses the Pilot Ridge Trail 652 branching off of the North Fork Sauk River Trail 649. My plan was to take The Pilot Ridge Trail in, and to return via the Bald Eagle Trail and Curry Gap, or along the PCT and Trail 649 – depending on snow conditions.
I got an early start Saturday 7/19/03. There were a couple of bear piles along the NF Sauk River Trail 649. As I hiked along, I got a brief, intense sensation of being disoriented. It was a sinking, if not sickening feeling of doubt that I’d have to relate to being lost. I had to chuckle as I quickly recognized the source of my discomfort: A moment before, I must have unconsciously acknowledged the rising of the sun behind me, and to my right. However, my heading was southeast, which would have put the sunrise in the western sky. My discomfort was simply an error message from my brain. Something was amiss. And since the sun is fairly reliable, the message suggested that I was walking the wrong direction.
One look over my shoulder showed that the “sunrise” had actually been Sloan’s glacier shining above the still-shaded North Fork valley. The reflection off the mountain was bright enough to spotlight tree trunks and to cast soft shadows. As soon as I dismissed the light as not being the sun, all was well again. It took less than three seconds for the sensation to register and then evaporate.
The Pilot Ridge Trail 652 immediately crosses the North Fork Sauk by way of a 42” foot log having no handrail. On the far side of the crossing, hikers need to scramble about 10 or 15 feet up a gentle slope to intercept a trail running parallel to the river. Upstream, the trail dead-ends. The Pilot Ridge Trail heads downstream briefly. Then it begins its many switchbacks up the heavily forested northeast face of the ridge.
I was thankful to be taking this ridge early in the morning on day one. The slope of the trail is “efficient” without being unreasonable. But I could really sense how punishing the switchbacks could be to a person coming out at the end of a tiring trek. Fortunately, I’d be exiting via Curry Gap or White Pass. But in the spirit of WTA, I flicked dozens and dozens dead boughs and sticks off the trail as I made my way up. My intent was to reduce tripping hazards for downhill hikers. But I found the activity greatly improved my ability to manipulate my poles as natural extensions of my arms.
The uphill track followed by the switchbacks remains north of a free flowing stream. I could hear the rushing water at successive south switchback points. But the water was always beyond the reach of the trail until nearly the end of the main series of switchbacks. About 45 minutes into the ascent, the trail crosses a section of fully depreciated puncheon. The treads of the collapsed structure are inclined downhill. The timber has a subtle sliminess that goes beyond the visible moss. The crossing looks like it could have a high injury potential, largely because it just doesn’t look that dangerous.
At about an hour and 45 minutes beyond the North Fork crossing, the trail finally intersects the feeder creek. It was running at about 300 to 400 GPM on July 19. It cascades over a series of boulders and then crosses the trail. If I were to do it again, I’d only carry two hours worth of water up the switchbacks from the NF Sauk. I’d use the upper creek crossing to load up water for the Pilot Ridge run. This is the last reliable water until the greater Blue Lake area.
To the hiker, I’d describe Pilot Ridge as a tightly connected series of progressively higher hills, culminating with Johnson Mountain at the far southeast end. After crossing “Last Chance Creek,” the trail continues to climb for about 80 minutes before finally hitting the ridge crest at a forested saddle. From there, the trail immediately begins climbing to the southeast along the shaded ridge crest. The trail gains a lot of its elevation as it continues on its southeast bent. This is no stroll along a flat back ridge.
As the trail passes from one hump to the next higher hump, it naturally gives up some elevation as it crosses the intervening saddles. Roughly the first two hours of the run to Blue Lake are in the trees, with a couple of very heartening open spots. The forest floor is very dry and broken up by shrinkage cracks running through the duff. I found that the bugs really liked this sheltered environment. Again, I was glad that I was just getting started. Encountering those swarms of bugs on the way out would simply be a kick in the pants with no prospect for reward.
After the trail breaks out of the trees, the views – primarily to the south and west – are great. And because the trail continues to climb as it heads southeast, the views get better with every step. Sloan Peak and the Monte Cristo family of peaks dominate the view. The wildflowers were numerous and varied. I was actually more impressed with the explosive green growth on the sloped meadows. Amazing what a little soil can do.
The saddle southeast of Point 5713 (Green Trails, Glacier Peak) represents the last significant loss of elevation prior to the trail’s descent into the Blue Lake bowl. From this saddle, the trail regains around a hundred feet, but it departs from the ridge crest. It clings to the steep, green meadows on the southwest slope of the ridge. It remains mid-slope and its elevation doesn’t vary much.
The views are classically sub-alpine. I couldn’t help but mentally hear my wife’s reference to the Sound of Music. For me, the scene stirred a slightly different image: one of Leavenworth and very cold beverages therein. Actually, a northerly breeze kept the exposed ridge face pretty comfortable and kept the bugs at bay.
The narrow trail bore deer tracks, but little else. This section had one remaining snow patch covering about 20 feet of trail. I stomped footsteps across. The trail resembles a game path as it continues its mid-slope run. The meadows are punctuated with just enough tree patches to prevent monotony.
About a mile and a quarter before Blue Lake, the saddle between Pilot Ridge and Johnson Mountain comes into view. A trail on the rocky west face of Johnson Mountain is visible, though its point of origin and path to the summit are unclear.
At this point, Trail 652 maintains its elevation pretty well as it wraps around the recesses of a couple of Sloan Creek feeder streams. Both of these sheltered areas still contained significant steep snow on 7/19/03. Significantly, both trail blockages had short, established bypass trails around the toes of the snow deposits. Neither of the patches seemed unforgivably exposed. But it would important to grind your way to a stop on the rocky bench below the snow. Bouncing beyond the bench would be a problem. Traveling solo, I had no reason not to take the bypass trails across the bare benches.
After the second stream recess, the trail climbs a little to get around the low, southwest shoulder of Johnson Mountain. An unsigned trail branches off and heads northeast. The trail passes by a relatively flat meadow on the crest of the Johnson Mountain shoulder. It continues up the shoulder to the base of the mountain’s west face. It heads north and then divides. A trail that appears to continue north along the west face of the mountain lost the mental coin toss. I took the route that switches back to the south. This trail eventually wraps around to the south side of the mountain as 652.2 shows on the maps. The trail looks down on Blue Lake, which was about 55 percent clear, with ice clinging to its north and south shores. A couple of small pieces of ice were floating free and looked like swans.
Trial 652.2 continues as not much more than a goat trail, all the way to the east end of Johnson Mountain. Here, there’s a glimpse of the snow-cloaked north face. It’s more of a cliff than a slope. The trail switches back to the west, staying on the south slope of Johnson Mountain. The high angle exposure on the south slope is not that bad; the tread is not that great. But together, the two factors call for really paying attention. It’s not technical, but it’s not casual either.
Just below the summit, there’s a rock outcrop. About four feet of tread, approaching the outcrop, is narrow and grainy. This poor tread is also at a near-vertical drop-off. There are numerous handholds and footholds to allow safe crossing of the questionable section. Another option would be to forgo the remaining trail and scramble up the less-exposed rocks prior to the section of bad tread.
From the outcrop to the top, the remaining 100 feet of trail is wider. A few 40-year-old, three-foot-tall trees encroach. They’re pretty easy to step around.
On top, the remaining piers outline the footprint of the old lookout. The lookout took up the entire width of west end of the ridge. The true 6,721-foot summit is on the knife-edged ridge extending east of the lookout terrace. This obstruction cuts the view from the lookout site down to a measly 350 degrees.
Otherwise, the view is limited only by weather conditions, and by peaks getting in each other’s way. I timed my visit with that of a high pressure system. The storm track was just about aligned with Vancouver, BC. So the view beyond Baker and Shuksan started to get hazy. Rainier was very clear, along with everything in between. The view of the Puget Sound lowlands is “blocked” by the Monte Cristo cluster and by Slone Peak. The view to the northeast is somewhat “localized” as well, thanks to Glacier Peak “getting in the way.” In short, the long distance views are fabulous; the foreground views are dramatic.
As I boiled up some dinner, I noticed that the ice in Blue Lake had changed significantly. All the ice had peeled away from the north shore. The large sheets were colliding and breaking up in the center. I also noticed a bank of clouds centered on a line with Vancouver Island. The clouds would help produce a sunset, I thought.
The lookout terrace has a shallow depression that has captured a mixture of quartz granules and volcanic fallout. While not beach sand, the material does provide a flat, three-by-eight-foot patch that has obvious applications.
After dinner, I scrambled about eight feet down to harvest some snow from the north side. Since the temperature was so mild, I decided to give it a chance to melt overnight before burning any fuel.
I also spent some time surveying options for the following day’s return trip. The high route (652.1) is only useful for a return via the PCT and Trail 649. Looking south to the wall above Blue Lake, the high trail seemed to be too snow-encumbered to be an option for me.
The 652 mainline (low route) is farther west, but its upper reaches are easy to make out. The trail follows a Sloan Creek tributary and then climbs a steep, northeast-facing slope in the shadow of June Mountain. This trail had obvious snow patches – high and low, but I thought it might be worth a try. A final decision would benefit from a night’s rest.
The sun dropped behind a wall of clouds out in the Strait, and that was it. There was no appreciable sunset. So much for a sailor’s delight.
From my sleeping bag, I watched darkness take over the night sky. I looked straight up, avoiding the glow along the west horizon. I must have looked like Snoopy stretched out on his doghouse roof. I saw one campfire on a line with Spire Peak. Other than the campfire and an occasional satellite, there were no signs of human activity for as far as I could see.
Midway through the night, a half-moon rose and I had to survey the peaks again under its light. A couple hours later, I started noticing fingers of high clouds under that same moon. Then the stars would reappear, then more clouds. Before the sun rose, clouds had lobbed off the top 300 feet of Glacier Peak. The immediate area was clear, but it was also clear that the high pressure influence was shifting south.
I took time to eat a hot breakfast and started packing up for a possible wet day. The temperature was about 53F. I watched a very brief and very red sunrise before starting down to 652.
Lower clouds seemed to be getting hung up on the Monte Cristo cluster and on Sloan Peak. This produced light showers and occasional rainbows on the lee side of the peaks. The Cadet Creek area seemed to be getting the precip; Sloan Creek and Pilot Ridge seemed to be benefiting from this micro rain shadow effect.
With stratus clouds now spanning the west horizon, I lost interest in surveying snow conditions and making it a loop trip. In fact, if absolutely no snow blockages existed along the 10-mile route to Curry Gap, I’d still have 7-1/2 more miles back to the car. On a long clear day, such a trek would be rewarding. But under overcast skies and drizzle, I think it could quickly turn into a boring chore. I could see rainfall above the Cadet Valley and snow on the trail near the 652/650 junction. So, I decided that the loop attempt was a “no go.”
I headed back on the Pilot Ridge Trail to encounter occasional mist but no rain. The bugs were worse on the way out than they had been on the way up. On the leg down to the North Fork Sauk, I ended up being the first beneficiary of my previous day’s trail work.