Chattermarks

You can feel them approaching. It is a surge of energy, a tidal wave of enthusiasm and wonder, about to overtake this place. The momentary quiet of the North Cascades Environmental Learning Center awaits eagerly the arrival of giggles and shouts, of singing and learning once more. Standing in the parking lot on a Monday or Wednesday afternoon, we, as instructors, can anticipate only so much. Backpacks are stuffed to the brim with daily supplies and previous nights are spent late, preparing for the next day’s activities.

It isn’t about us, though. As students arrive, whether by bus or by car, with gaping grins of glee and eyes wide with wonder, every time a Mountain School tidal wave hits, we are reminded—it is about these students and this place.

» Continue reading This place, through their eyes

It is as simple as taking some time for yourself.

So often are we scheduled from dawn until dusk, moving from meeting to meeting, checking the clock for what event awaits us next. With hardly a moment to breathe, we are already looking past what is in front of us, skimming over what marvels may meet us, on the daily life journeys we lead.

When we make the choice to, for a moment, embark upon a walk, we may find what a walk can truly reveal — about our selves and the world surrounding us.

» Continue reading What a walk can reveal

Why do leaves change colors in autumn? While some cultures found the answers in the stars, Mountain School students can find the answer on their breakfast plate.

Native Americans believed that a long time ago, as the air was getting colder and the days shorter, three great hunters were pursuing game in vain. With cold weather settling in, the hunters desperately tried to find food for their tribe. They searched for days and days, climbed mountains, crossed rivers, and fought through dense thickets but still could not find any food. Eventually, the hunters found themselves in the celestial realm. One of the hunters spotted the Great Bear and quickly shot him with his bow and arrow. The blood of the bear dripped onto the leaves of the earth down below. In joyous celebration, another hunter pulled out a pot in which to cook the bear meat, while the other hunter lit the firewood he had been carrying. As the pot boiled over, the yellow fat of the bear painted the other leaves on the trees. In the night sky, you can still see these three hunters as the “handle” of the Big Dipper in the Ursa Major constellation.

Red vine maple shows its colors at the Environmental Learning Center

Mountain School students just have to peer at their breakfast plate to find a piece of the autumn colors mystery. During the winter, deciduous trees cannot receive enough sunlight or water for photosynthesis. Additionally, their leaves are too fragile to withstand the chill of winter. Instead, these trees will live off the glucose produced and stored during the summer. As autumn daylight continues to dwindle, the production of green chlorophyll halts, resulting in pigments underneath being revealed. Leaves covered by shade display a yellow pigment, xanthophyll, which can also be found in bananas and egg yolks. Leaves that change orange share a common pigmentation with carrots called carotenoid. Red and purple shades are caused by anthocyanins, a pigmentation found in grapes, beets, and red apples. Formed by glucose trapped in the leaves of some trees, the red pigment thrives during autumn seasons with bright sunlight during the day and cool nights.

Sunlight dances among vine maples

Visits to the North Cascades flaunt this fall’s great conditions for vibrant leaf colors. Pockets of gold and streaks of red, surrounded by green evergreens, paint the landscape. Hearty enough to last the winter, the leaves of evergreens do not seasonally lose their leaves. Evergreen leaves are resistant to cold and water loss, containing a special fluid resistant to freezing.

Highlighted in the New York Times, the North Cascades is home to a deciduous conifer, the subalpine larch, which loses its needles seasonally. The yellow needles are displayed before dropping for the winter. Great hikes for viewing this stunning display include Cutthroat Pass, Blue Lake, and Maple Pass, all trailheads easily accessible from Highway 20. So pack some food containing your favorite fall pigments, and enjoy the stunning season in the North Cascades!

A larch’s vibrant yellow needles against a blue sky backdrop at Cutthroat Pass

“Eyes on the side like to hide. Eyes on the front like to hunt.” With rhymes like these, we begin to introduce students to the energy relationships between prey and predator here in the North Cascades.  For this fall season’s Mountain School Ranger Program, fifth grade students examine a variety of mammal skulls.  There is a Cougar (sp. Felus concolor), a Black bear (Ursus Americanus), a Gray wolf (Canus lupus) and a Wolverine (Gulo gulo). The position of their eyes face forward, all of them serving as hunters in these mountains.

Among the group of hunters also exists skulls of a Mountain goat (Oreamnos americanus) and Black-tailed, or mule, deer (Odocoileus hemionus), the side position of their eyes indicative of their status as the hunted, the prey. The sense of wonder in these students’ faces as they examine eye position, teeth shape and cranial size in their attempts to, as young scientists, figure out which skull fits which mammal, is clear and inspiring to me as an educator.

Observing from the sidelines, I have, at times, seen students compare their own teeth, their own eye positions and jaw bones with those of the mammal skulls they have yet to determine on the tables. Watching them, I wonder — how do they view themselves in relation to these animals?  We are mammals, too. Are we, as humans, the hunter or the hunted?  Or, in a child’s mind, are we humans seen as separate from this ecosystem, outside of the realm of observation and inquiry these students so strongly exercise during Mountain School?

» Continue reading Gone huntin’

The rain, at first, came sweet and softly
as if to tease, as if to taunt me.
Light moisture perched upon my shoulder
gave subtle call to damp and colder.
No jacket yet, no need for shoes
this region’s rain is common news.

Yet, with each drop, it grew in size
and as a blanket, cloaked the sky.
Like the pitter and patter of baby’s toes
it giggled down in rows and rows.
And steadily shower spigots came
it rained, it rained, it rained and rained.
Buckets full, the rain came down
quenching thirst of parched Northwest ground.

I focused less on orange and red
seeking jacket, for rain, instead.
Still it drips and drops it seems
from peaks on high, low-valley streams.
It collects on leaves, in dirt, in pools
it sees no boundaries.
it knows no rules.

Rain’s song is loud, its lyrics, clear.
Rain’s presence—constant, important here.
This land, it breathes, because of rain.
The moment it goes, it comes again.

So think a moment before you shout, “What is all this noise about?”
Learn to listen, beyond the racket.

Go outside.
Don’t forget your jacket.

» Continue reading Welcoming the falling rain

The morning of September 27th was one of those mornings that you wake up, look out the window and know instantly that there is nothing keepin’ you indoors. When I walked out into the day, it didn’t matter what I did as along as it involved being active in my huge backyard of the North Cascades. At breakfast in the dining hall, Katie mentioned she was going to hike up to Trapper’s Peak and, just like that, my day began.

Katie, Justin, Rebecca and I all piled into Katie’s car, drove to the Thornton Lake Trailhead, just down valley from Newhalem. The 10+ cars parked on the road surprised us. Apparently quite a few people had the same idea we did. The first quarter of trail was an old logging road and had a low grade of elevation. The variety of mushrooms lining the trail was incredible. It seemed as though there wasn’t a size, color or shape we didn’t come across.

As we climbed higher in elevation, the blueberries were at the height of their season. We could barely take ten steps without having to stop and gather a handful. The berries’ deep blue color created a beautiful contrast against their bushes, which had begun to change from green to a reddish-brown. Justin’s lips and fingers, in particular, maintained a blue tint throughout the hike.

» Continue reading Blitzing Trapper

Last week I asked my fifth grade Mountain School students how they would describe the color of a Vine maple leaf. This is not a question I would have asked before moving here, to the North Cascades Institute. I used to think that leaves turned brown, orange, yellow or red. There were no variations to these colors. Now I see the leaves differently. I feel this sense of connection, intimacy that comes with knowing and learning a place. I watch the leaves change each day, lamenting and celebrating the change of colors, wondering how long they will persist, and theorizing how they will change in the days to come.

I now describe the leaves as mottled brown and yellow, red with streaks of yellow, pale yellow brushed with a hint of brown, deep burgundy ringed with green, sunshine yellow, and sometimes transparent pale gold leaves with flecks of brown.

It is not as easy to describe the color of a Vine maple leaf as I once thought, it is a change of perspective that I relish.