Chattermarks

This past weekend dawned sunny and warm in the North Cascades, an unexpected delight for those of us electing to live out the winter in the solitude of the snow-capped peaks and hushed forests around the Environmental Learning Center. Although spring has reportedly been blooming down along the Skagit Valley, our world has remained snowy, rainy, and cold. And if by chance we forget, the closure of Highway 20 just a few miles to our east reminds us it is so. Eager to take advantage of the sun and rare blue skies, a group of 6 of us – staff, grads, and friends – decided to canoe up into the big drawdown of Ross Lake and spend a night under the stars.

We began our 22 mile canoe trip first in the wind-chopped waters of Diablo Lake, some of us (myself included) wondering what we were getting ourselves into. After an hour of paddling, we reached the boat dock at the end of Gorge Canyon, and hitched our canoes to a few wobbly, old, and very janky wheel gurneys in order to portage our boats up and over 540 ft tall Ross Dam to Ross Lake. It was a haul to say the least, and a huffing and puffing adventure at that. On the other side we were greeted by a stunning view of Jack Mountain, and chose to have lunch at the water’s edge, mesmerized by the beauty mountains in every direction.

Kai Girard portaging one of our canoes up the service road between Diablo and Ross Lakes. Photo by the author.

Surprisingly, the wind died down on Ross Lake, and our group paddled along in excited anticipation for every new peak and vantage awaiting us around each corner. It wasn’t long before Ruby Mountain came into view, a delight for me after months of barely glimpsing the tip of it, concealed as we are so far below along Diablo Lake. The water was glass, and each canoe of two spread out along its width as if responding to the naturalness of its quiet and its calm. It felt good to be out on water, moving ourselves by the strength and consistency of our paddles.

» Continue reading Entering the Ethereal Forest

EVENT INFO:
Join North Cascades Institute for a book release celebration for John Scurlock’s Snow & Spire: Flights to Winter in the North Cascade Range. November 30, 2011 7-9 pm. Skagit Station Meeting Room, 105 E. Kincaid St, Mt Vernon. Free!

John Scurlock makes his living working as a paramedic for the Bellingham Fire Department, but finds his soulful calling soaring high above the North Cascades in a small yellow aircraft that he built with his own hands. Flying in all varieties of unpredictable weather above the raggedy peaks and yawning glaciers of our American Alps, he leans out the window, does his best to focus his digital camera and snaps photos.

The results reveal a vast landscape buried in snow and encrusted in ice, a wintery terra incognito of terrifying beauty and austere grace: the frost-bound North Face of Mt. Triumph, impossible cornices on Cloudcap Peak, fire lookouts encased in rime, the Pickett Range hidden in mist, Mount Baker’s shining snowfields, Ripsaw Ridge and Skagit Queen Creek and Park Creek Pass in snowy, silent repose. This is the terrain that holds the world’s record for most snowfall ever recorded in a single winter, and Scurlock’s photography unveils the artistic potential of this seldom-seen northern range: something primitive, forbidden and inaccessible, yet also profoundly and exquisitely beautiful, according to Scurlock.

Cornices on the Southeast Ridge of Cloudcap Peak

» Continue reading Snow & Spire: Flights to Winter in the North Cascade Range

“I think we’re going to the moon because it’s in the nature of the human being to face challenges. It’s by the nature of his deep inner soul… we’re required to do these things just as salmon swim upstream.” ~ Neil Armstrong

In the fall, the Skagit River is flooded with dying salmon. I have spent three weekends in the past two months trying to capture the essence of these amazing creatures on camera. I am still not sure whether I succeeded in doing so, but I am happy to share my experiences.

Hanging out with snorkeling gear in 36-degree water probably isn’t everybody’s favorite thing to do, but since I moved up to the Environmental Learning Center, it has become my preferred hobby. The place I like to go is the Cascade River just upstream of where it enters the Skagit. When the salmon are running, you know where to find me!

There’s something extraordinary about being amongst these primordial beings and watching them in their natural habitat. It’s like I get to peer in through a secret window into the lives of one of nature’s wildest creatures. While watching the fish swarm around me and make their redds, defend their territory, court a mate, or just plain get feisty with each other, I begin to understand a little more of the complexity of this species. I don’t know their whole story, but I try to imagine all they have been through. Seeing their scars and bacteria loaded scales gives me a clue.

A dying, diseased female humpy on the final legs of her journey back to her native spawning grounds.

» Continue reading Swimming with the Salmon

Last week, half of the members of our latest cohort of graduate students posted “have you ever…” questions, sharing the triumphs and tribulations of our nine-day backpacking trip and challenging you to create your own “have you ever” story. This week, the rest of the students tell their stories.

Ashley Kvitek

Have you ever hiked to the highest point you’ve been in your life, seen the sun rise over the mountains surrounding you, and felt on top of the world?  At the tail end of our 9-day backpack through our new home, we stayed at Juanita Lake.  During our night there we watched the full moon rise, got up at midnight to try getting a view of the meteor shower, and then went on a sunrise hike up Boulder Butte, sitting at 7372 feet above sea level.  It was a short hike full of blister pain and pre-caffeine attitude problems, but at the top there was a 360° view of the white-topped mountains of the North Cascades.  As I watched the sun come up and wash over my new home, I had a moment of clarity that told me, “I am here, and I am ready.”  It was a magical sight and a special moment for me- this is my time, and I am finally in it!



Boulder Butte

Sarah Bernstein

Have you ever been so worried that you would run out of food on a backpacking trip that you decide to pack some fancy shmancy meals only to realize on the second night of your trip that you just want macaroni and cheese? Have you ever made mashed potatoes on day two that are SO bad you would rather pack out the extra weight than eat those mashed potatoes? A few things I learned about eating on a backpacking trip: One, salami and cheese gets old, greasy and mushy fast. Two, peanut butter for lunch and macaroni and cheese for dinner is simple and relatively light weight, plus it tastes pretty great after carrying 50 pounds on your back for five to ten miles a day. And finally, you will

be hungry, but not THAT hungry, and in the end the chances of starving in the backcountry when traveling with nine other friends is pretty small.

Sarah Bernstein and Susan Brown cook a meal at camp.

Jess Newley demonstrates the yumminess of mac ‘n’ cheese.

Jess Newley

Have you ever taken in a wilderness experience with all 5 senses?

…smelled the vanilla bark of a Ponderosa Pine?

…listened to the creaking of a 5 year old burn site in the wind?

….watched a magical sunrise over a 360 degree range of mountains?

…. tasted the goodness of mac n’ cheese after carrying it 60 miles?

… felt the chill of glacier water on your head, falling from 50 feet above?

Jess Newley takes a dip in Rainbow Falls

» Continue reading “Have you ever…” Part II

Have you ever traversed the North Cascades mountain range, from one side to the other, carrying nine-days of food? Have you ever slept under the stars for eight nights with your classmates? Have you ever thought that backpacking could be a part of graduate school?  The fourteen new students in North Cascades Institute’s graduate residency program in environmental education did all of the above, with six other students, as the grand finale to their summer block of classes at Western Washington University. Some had backpacked before; others hadn’t. Some had grown up in the North Cascades; others saw them for the first time this summer. Regardless of background, everyone experienced something for the first time during this epic adventure. Each of them shares their stories below in short essays asking the reader if you have ever experienced what they did.  We look forward to reading your answers in the comments section!

Colby Mitchell

Have you ever found a place where the world spins more slowly? Maybe it’s a place where the planet seems to stall on its axis completely, even if only for a moment. And in that moment, when everything stands still, you’ve found time that no one else has found and it’s yours to spend as you choose. A few weeks ago I found a place like this and time stood still for a solid moment and a half. You probably didn’t feel it. That’s not how this works but you can take my word for it. I’m very trustworthy. Time stood still and I spent my temporal surplus doing the same; standing still. Maybe I shook a bit because the water was cold. It was probably snow merely hours before it swept around my ankles. Anyway, I stood mostly still and thought about how elated I was to find some time…in a place…where the world stood still. I’m going to keep an eye out for more places like that.

» Continue reading Have you ever…

As much as we love North Cascadian landscapes, we here at the Institute are still called to visit and experience other amazing places on our planet. We publish accounts of the places Institute staff and graduate students visit in our Road Trip series.

About this time last year, summer solstice, with its long days filled with light and birdsong, I left Bellingham and headed out on a pilgrimage to Yellowstone and Grand Tetons national parks. It is a tradition of mine to spend some portion of my summer out there in the glory of western Wyoming. Having lived for a few years as a snowboard bum/river rat in Jackson Hole in the late 1990s, I have tasted the ineffable sweetness of summertime in the Tetons and the surrounding Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. Once you sip that nectar, it is impossible not to go back for more whenever possible.

This particular road trip with two good friends, one from Portland, another from San Francisco, started with a visit to Yellowstone’s northeastern Lamar Valley, an area of the park renowned for wildlife viewing opportunities and a more remote feeling than other popular attractions like Old Faithful or the springs at Mammoth. We spent two nights at the lovely Lamar Field Station in the heart of the valley, a rustic outpost that is operated by the Yellowstone Association as accommodations for many of their field excursions.

Approaching the Yellowstone Association’s Lamar Field Station

Out the front door of our cabin was a view across the verdant valley in fresh flush, studded with silhouettes of hundreds of bison grazing with their young. Out the back door, a trail followed a creek back to Druid Peak, the famed mountain where Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt let loose Canadian wolves in 1995 to reintroduce this vital carnivore to the ecosystem. It felt like a holy place, this ground where our culture made an attempt to right a wrong from the past, where the food chain thrives in all of its perfect, intact elegance.

» Continue reading Road Trip: Yellowstone

It’s been a long winter in Washington. Though it is late May, temperatures remain cool at the North Cascades Environmental Learning Center and the surrounding mountains are still blanketed in snow. Leaf buds are just opening and most wildflowers have yet to make an appearance on our trails. An occasional errant butterfly gives us hope that spring is here, only to be chased back into hiding by rain or cold. Perhaps the most celebrated harbinger of spring in the North Cascades is the opening of Highway 20, six miles east of the Learning Center. Late snowfall and slides have kept the Department of Transportation busy this spring, and the highway that usually opens in late April is still closed, keeping those of us living at the end of the Highway in relative solitude.

» Continue reading The Ephemeral Beauty of Solitude

For several weeks I have had the goal of pedaling from the gate marking the seasonal road closure on Highway 20 (near mile post 134) to the snow wall–where clearing of the snow-covered highway ends. Near the end of each winter season, the Washington State Department of Transportation (WSDOT) begins plowing the North Cascades Highway once the snow has ceased to fall and avalanche danger has subsided throughout the region. This typically occurs in March.

However, it’s a bit different this year as WSDOT was still plowing Steven’s Pass on Highway 2 well into the first half of April, and is still busy with avalanche control as another slide occurred just last week! With the recent heavy snowfall in spring and the majority of the state’s snow equipment on Highway 2, it’s been difficult for WSDOT to swiftly clear the North Cascades Highway. The pass on Highway 20 is usually open by now, but this year it will be a lucky day if it opens before Memorial day–the latest opening since the highway opened in 1972!

» Continue reading In Search of the End of the Road

At the beginning of the M.Ed. residency, every graduate student writes down several goals. These personal goals are for both our teaching practicum as well as for what we hope to accomplish during our residency experience. One of my residency goals was to go on a full moon canoe every month. So far, I have only been on a few due to weather and being offsite. But every time I have been able to, it fully reinforces what motivated me to write down that goal.

There is something magical about gliding across the still, silent, black surface of a lake, moving solely by your own exertion. I always feel connected with the water when I go canoeing. But something about being on the water at night heightens this sense of oneness. It almost seems as if your paddle is an extension of the water, linked by an arc of tiny droplets.

» Continue reading Full Moon Rising

Though I was born in San Diego, California it doesn’t feel like home.  For the last eight years I have lived and traveled in Japan and Chile.  Each successive place in which I have lived or traveled has been nice, and my heart has slowly been pulled away from the sunshine and blue skies where I spent my youth.  Since moving to the Pacific Northwest in June I have been quietly lulled to comfort by rainy days, cold temperatures and good coffee.   Each adventure and experience in which I have participated reinforces the sanctuary of western Washington.

At the turn of the year I participated in an avalanche safety and training course with American Alpine Institute, a Bellingham-based climbing school and guide service.  The three-day class consisted of different components of avalanche safety, practical snow science, beacon practice and rescue scenarios.  The majority of the course was spent in the locally famous backcountry adjacent to the Mt. Baker Ski Area.

Students study layers of snow and ice.

» Continue reading Adventures in My New Home