Happy Hydrological New Year
Remnants of the Foss Glacier on Mt. Hinman in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, September 2025
The pace of glacier change struck me hard this summer. Never before have humans lived with such a deglaciated Cascades mountain range. Not the settlers, not the fur trappers, not the first people who have been here for 13,000 years or more. Cultures and ecosystems spawned from the retreating edge of the Cordilleran Ice sheet into the Puget Sound area. Alpine glaciers fed streams, rivers, salmon, all kinds of human projects in Washington State. Our societies are shaped by the ice and now we are experiencing glaciers disappear, quickly.
Today marks the end of the 2025 hydrological year. I am waiting for winter snow to shelter the land I love in a cool white blanket. The devastation of the alpine glaciers has surfaced so frequently in conversation these last couple months. Those who have seen the mountains are alarmed as beds of ice they once knew to be hundreds of feet thick look shallow and frail, ice pitches that were once climbed are now grey gullies of rock, and volcanoes which have always been white are unnervingly gray and shrouded in smoke. The realities of climate change in the Northwest are clear.
It is a painful time to care about the glaciers of the Cascades. Witnessing the erosion of something so much older and bigger and impactful than myself is staggering. There is much action to be done in this new terrain but for now, I come back to this: I sit in the dying glaciers warm light as the sun rises, summon the deepest snowfall in years and tell the glacier that we care, that we were grateful for all the help watering our food and feeding our oceans and making sure our salmon had somewhere to live. I am here because of you.
Sunrise hits the former Ice Worm Glacier on Mt. Daniels in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, August 2025