Geobotany and Entomology on the Juneau Icefield

by Polly Bass, University of Alaska, Anchorage, Matanuska Susitna College

Today I am at camp 18 above the Vaughan Llewis Icefall and Gilkey Trench.  Some of the objectives of the geobotanical and biological sciences research group this summer include: Continued monitoring of permanent vegetation quadrats; Evaluation, retrieval and redeployment of temperature data loggers at some of the permanent plots; Investigation of possible invasive species at C18; evaluation of Saxifraga sp. found on the Mount Moore nunatak in 2013, re-evaluation of an observed Taraxacum sp., and investigation of a Draba sp. not before seen on the icefield nunataks. Work at camp eight on Mt. Moore revealed a second species of Saxifrage present. The two Saxifraga members are the only vascular species observed and recorded on Mt. Moore during the relatively long history of JIRP.  The vascular plants on Mt. Moore were found to inhabit a specific geological dike of fissile aphinitic intrusive igneous mafic composition.

Polly Bass leads the JIRPers on a geobotanical field lecture at Camp 10.

Grasses are being collected for a collaborative project with Saewan Koh at the University of Alberta in Edmonton. Saewan is exploring the relationship between the Neotyphodium ungus in grasses, and grazing by herbivores. In the Ruby Range of the Yukon Territory, the presence of the fungus has been identified as a deterrent to grazing. Poaceae family members and, in particular, Festuca genus members were collected at several sites to determine if the observed influence of the fungus on the forb impacts grazing across a latitudinal gradient.

Sean Schofield from the University of Wisconsin, Madison, has joined us to continue the investigation of Nebria lituyae and N. nivalis, two species of Arctic/alpine beetles. Dave Kavanaugh began an investigation of Nebria sp. in the Paradise Valley region of the icefield in 2012. In 2013, student, Ben Slavin collected Nebria at several nunatak sites for Sean Schofield’s research. This year, Sean is expanding on Ben’s work to include more sites. He is interested in understanding the distribution of the species across the icefield nunataks, and how the species migrated to the sites. He will also explore the adjacent environs. Additional collections and observations were made adjacent to the icefield in the Mt. Roberts and Mt. Gastineau areas. Future work will benefit from further collaborative field efforts between the geobotanical and entomological research groups. These joint efforts will strive to correlate habitat, substrate, and microclimate variables influencing the presence and absence of icefield flora and microfauna.

Phyllodoce glanduliflora on the icefield.  photo by Alex Micheler

JIRPers gather around during the geobotanical lecture.

Field Work of the Seismic Bandits

by Dan King, State University of New York at Oneonta

The Other Seismic Bandits:

Lizzie Kenny, Bowdoin College; Julian Alwakeel, Florida International University; Josh Ivie, Tarleton State University; and Mike Staron, Keene State College

Our Project:

Most research groups here at Camp 10 have now prepared, or already begun, their various projects. The seismic group, or the “Seismic Bandits” as we’ve come to call ourselves, has completed our research because all of our fieldwork needed to be done on the Taku Glacier.

Our research became a race against the clock upon our arrival at Camp 10. The delayed departure of the latter trail parties from Camp 17 certainly didn’t help our cause. Our faculty research advisers, Don Voigt and Kiya Riverman (both from Penn State University) were set to fly out of camp just under two weeks after the arrival of the first members of our research group  ( Lizzie and I) and our fieldwork needed to be concluded prior to their departure. Don and Kiya were also kind enough to provide the group with all of the essential equipment needed to conduct our fieldwork. Just a few days after arriving at Camp 10, our group began testing the field equipment in Icy Basin, just a couple hundred meters Southeast of Camp 10. Collection of the critical data for our research project did not begin until all of the Bandits had arrived at Camp 10 several days later.

In the past, Don and Kiya have typically used explosives for their seismic work. However, since we didn’t have permits for seismics, we used a sledge hammer, and occasionally an instrument known as “Betsy,” for a sound making device. Betsy is a surprisingly light piece of equipment that fires blank 12 gauge shotgun rounds into the glacier.

Before I get too specific, I’ll take a step backward… Our original goals were to use standard methods of seismic reflection to determine the depth of the Taku Glacier, and also to determine the underlying material (bedrock, sediment, water, etc.). We also planned to do seismic refraction surveys in areas of both low and high strain on the Taku Glacier in order to create firn density profiles. Firn is snow that has survived at least one entire melt season. It is denser than fresh snow, but not as dense as glacial ice. Using the firn density profiles that we create from our surveys, we hope to better understand how regional strain can affect the rate at which firn densifies into glacial ice. Firn densification is important to consider when trying to understand ice flow dynamics – this is where our work becomes valuable.

After getting into our fieldwork, we decided unanimously that we would prefer to devote our time to the refraction surveys, and to drop reflection from our work entirely. We did this, in part, because we were crunched for time, but mainly for other reasons: While seismic reflection had been used on the Taku Glacier before, refraction surveys to examine properties of firn densification have not. The Bandits agreed that it would be best to devote our time to a single research project that was unique to the area, and our advisers supported that decision.

We conducted 4 refraction surveys: two in areas of relatively low strain, and two in areas of relatively high strain. Each individual survey, however, was conducted in the same manner. We would start by laying out 500 meters of cable in a line, with nodes at 20 meter intervals. At each node, we dug a hole, buried a geophone, and connected it to the node. The cable was connected to a magical box called the “geode”. Also connected to the geode, was the trigger switch, which we connected to the end of the sledge hammer, or to the mallet used to trigger Betsy. We ended up using the sledge hammer much more than Betsy because it was faster and worked just as well, if not better. The geode was connected to a battery and our laptop. These connections made up our temporary seismic station for each survey.

One of several temporary seismic stations.  Don Voight - left, Kiya Riverman - right;  photo by Dan King

Starting at the closest geophone, and gradually moving to a distance of 20 meters, we would place the “shot” then take several recordings. The “shot” is the term for each sledge hammer hit. When ready, the Bandit manning the computer would say, “Quiet on the line,” to eliminate noise interference from the group, and the person manning the sledge hammer would strike a metal pipe on the surface of the glacier. The impact would trigger the switch and start a timer. The computer then recorded the magnitude and time of arrival of the sound wave(s) produced by the shot at each individual geophone, which we analyzed back at camp. Shots were usually taken 0-20 meters away from the first geophone, at an interval of 2 meters each.
 

Although the fieldwork was repetitive, we never got bored. Each of the Bandits learned the various team roles, and became masters of using the equipment. After a while, I became the designated sledge hammer-er… The team even started calling me “Thor.” Mike’s ski ballet was also a brilliant source of entertainment during our brief moments of down time. In the end, we were all able to walk away with great data and close bonds from our memorable moments in the field. All that’s left now is to return to camp and crunch our data.

Don, Josh, Julian, Lizzie, Dan, Kaya - right to left; Mike - center; photo by Randall Stacy

I’d like to thank Don Voigt and Kiya Riverman, not only for their instruction and the use of their equipment, but also for the enthusiasm and patience they expressed while working with the Bandits. I speak for us all when I say that it was a pleasure to work with you two. We couldn’t have done it without you. Perhaps the Bandits will someday reunite.

The Final Trail Party Finally Makes it to Camp 10

by Kim Quesnel, Stanford University, photos by Alexandre Mischler, Yukon College

After sleeping for a few hours, we woke at our campsite, the Norris Cache, to another precipitation-free day. Some people meandered out of tents while others crawled out of sleeping bags after spending the night outside. We slowly tried to make sense of what had happened the day and night before and of what had happened earlier in the morning when three snowmobiles came to pick up more than half of our group members.  People who wouldn’t be able to complete the traverse that day included students who had to catch a helicopter for their field work, those who had blisters the size of index cards, or other ailments so pressing that they were not able to make the final push to Camp 10 on skis.

As I zipped open the door to the tent that I was sharing with Stephanie and Natalie, I couldn’t help but smile at the hectic journey of the day before.  My smile got bigger because Kate, the wonderful staffer who had come to help us finish the trek, was dancing around in the “kitchen”, boiling water for breakfast and making cowboy coffee to get us excited for the day to come. I walked over to her and noticed that in addition to the best oatmeal and coffee of my life, there was also a homemade lemon cake with marionberry frosting that had been sent in the snow machines as a present from Camp 10.  The second round of snow machines came around 10:30am to pick up the tents, extra food, some of the gear from our backpacks, and the final few members of the group who wouldn’t be able to complete the ski.

Cake from our friends at Camp 10

Kitchen at the Norris Cache

Moving slower than usual, we got our belongings together, and by 12:15pm we started skiing. There were 7 of us left out of the 16 who had started the traverse day before- Luna, French Alex, Natalie, Tristan, our incredible staffers Annie and Stan, and myself.  Kate also joined us for the traverse, probably mostly as a safety concern since we were all exhausted from the day before.  The trip started off on a positive note as we realized within the first ten minutes that the skiing was going to be infinitely better than the conditions we had experienced the day before. All that we had to do was a simple kick and glide instead of struggling across icy suncups. To make things even better, we were following a snow machine track and could ski side by side instead of in a single file line, so we could chat while we moved. Kate even brought her JammyPack (fanny pack with built in speakers) and three fully charged iPods, so we were rocking out to music all day as we skied.

Kate and Annie skiing

We followed a 50/10 schedule, skiing for about 50 minutes and stopping for 10 (with the exception of one slightly longer break to re-tape blisters). We skied and skied and skied, practically in a straight line across the entire Taku glacier with Camp 10 in sight (yes, C-10 is real…) for the majority of the day. We were tired, burnt out, and sore, but morale was high and we were all happy to be spending the day together. Luckily, Luna kept us laughing all day while we trekked along.

Skiing across the Taku glacier

Taking a break during the traverse

While our trail parties may have taken the longest amount of time to complete the first part of the traverse, we had one of the fastest times for the second section as we skied the 12 miles from the Norris Cache to Camp 10 in 6.5 hours.  We were met at the bottom of the Camp 10 hill by bear hugs and cheers from our friends, some of whom we had been separated from for almost an entire week. As promised, Camp 10 was sunny with gorgeous views, overlooking the entire Taku glacier with endless mountains in sight. It was the perfect way to begin the next chapter of our JIRP experience.  

The final trail party makes it to C10!

Snow Throne Haikus

by Danielle Beaty, University of Colorado Boulder and Kirsten Arnell, Columbia University

Mass balance data collection is the heart and soul of the Juneau Icefield Research Program. The mass balance record kept by JIRP is key in understanding glacial processes as well as climate change. Furthermore, digging mass balance pits is one of the most fun aspects of JIRP, as it’s an awesome way to explore outside of camp and get to know everyone. On a particular mass balance digging excursion out of Camp 10, we had more diggers than work to be done.  We used this opportunity to construct a three tiered snow couch/throne out of all the snow we removed from the pit. Here we present to you some haikus we wrote about the throne, because who doesn’t enjoy a good snow sculpture haiku?

______________________________

A snow pit deepens

Shovels toss snow through the air

There, appears a chair

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A snow throne tower

In the middle of Taku

What a stunning view

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Ah, the sun is out

Should we dig a pit today?

How about a couch

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Tired from digging?

Sit on this wonderful throne

Watch the pit get dug

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What’s that over there?

Alas, it’s a three tiered couch

Ah, how fantastic

_____________________________

The JIRP mass balance snow throne.  photo by Danielle B.

Danielle and Kirsten, overseeing the mass balance pit, and enjoying their finished product. photo by Aaron H.

Danielle giving two thumbs up to the stunning view.  photo by Kirsten A.

The south-facing side of the Taku glacier snow throne.  Matt P. and Alex Z. working hard digging the pit to the right of the image.  photo by Danielle B.

Camp 17 to Camp 10 Traverse

By: Melissa “Luna” Brett

Our team got an early start on the traverse from Camp 17 to Camp 10. The sky was cloudless and blue, and there was a sense of adventure throughout the group. A not-so-graceful ski down the Lemon Creek glacier ended at the blue ice, where we prepared ourselves for the trek with crampons and some excitement about the alien landscape.

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On the traverse: Lemon Creek Glacier.

There is no other blue like that of a glacier, freshly exposed from the melting snow pack, alive and creeping slowly along. Aware of the quiet river beneath us, we trekked on and on, up and up, to Nugget Ridge. The clouds crept in around us just before the crevasse zone, where we roped up in teams, double and triple checking each other on the skills we learned at Camp 17.

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Getting roped up in the clouds at the top of Nugget Ridge.

Slowly through the foggy mountain pass we forged ahead, watching our tracks and the slack in our rope with a heightened sense of things, ready to react to any movement, any change in landscape. The fog let up just as we finished the heavily crevassed trail, and we all stood in silence with our first view of the deep icefield. Peaks jutting from the ice as far as any heart could imagine, and farther than our eyes could see. The sun turned the mountains purple and blue, with soft orange and pink snow and ice hugging every slope. A view of our campsite, the Norris Cache, was a tiny spot in the distance, above the Norris Icefall, with Death Valley sinking between us.

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Death Valley.

I knew right then, that everything I had ever done had led me to this one moment, to this one place. I found my limit and left it 6 miles behind me, 1000 feet below, pushing past my breaking point to find out who I am, and where I belong. Down we went, following with tired eyes and weakened legs into Death Valley, which seemed to go on forever. As the sun sank behind the peaks, the sky gave up its starry secrets, and we pushed on under the shining constellations, the Big Dipper leading the way. We finally reached the base of the Norris Icefall, weary from the relentless push. Everyone was helping each other, from layering up, to eating and drinking, staying warm, staying positive, getting prepared for the final push. We roped up for the crevasses on the icefall, checking each other’s exhausted knots 5 or 6 times, just to be sure. We began the climb up the icefall, slow and steady, calling out to each other as we went along to help keep the focus. The crevasses were deep blue canyons, as dark in the bottom as the night sky above, only there were no stars down there. It was like climbing the back of a sleeping blue dragon, slowly we inched our way to the top. At last, the tents were in sight, and the sweet thoughts of a warm sleeping bag sank into our minds. We all arrived safely, together, and sleep came easily that night. The next morning was bright and quiet, with a long straight shot to Camp 10 across the Southwest Branch and the Taku Glacier. The aches and blisters were no match for the need to finish the trek. We geared up and headed out early, taking it hour by hour, minute by minute, step by step, and enjoying the wild view the entire way. After what felt like days we got a glimpse of Camp 10, perched high on the rocks ahead of us. The last push took us to places we never could have imagined, and there was no greater gift than taking off the skis and hiking up the rocks to Camp 10. Tears of pride and joy brought me to my knees, and as I looked back at the ice below I felt strong and happy. Happy to be part of something so vast and meaningful, proud to be here with this team, in the most wild classroom on Earth, the Juneau Icefield. 

The Wet Traverse: Adventures of Trail Party 1

by Elizabeth Kenny, Bowdoin College

After over a week of safety training, it was finally time to traverse to Camp 10. Everyone was excited to see a new part of the icefield. We waited in anticipation for a helicopter to come in and transport some of our gear to Camp 10 so that select staffers could open camp before we arrived. There was a day’s delay due to the weather, but the following day at 5 in the morning the first trail party (Kirsten, Lindsey, Elias, Luc, Alex Z, and I along with safety staff Zach and Jon) was off. It was a perfect morning, with blue sky and amazing snow conditions for skiing!

Kirsten, Elias, and Alex beginning the traverse.  Photo by Elizabeth Kenny

Excitement was high as we rapidly made our way down the Lemon Creek Glacier towards an area where the snow had melted away, revealing beautiful blue glacier ice. As it was a bit slippery, we took off our skis and slowly crossed.

Crossing the ice on the Lemon Creek glacier.  Photo by Elizabeth Kenny

Looking back on the Lemon Creek glacier.  Photo by Elizabeth Kenny

However, as we began our ascent of Nugget Ridge, ominous clouds began to move in from Juneau. As we split into two four-man rope teams in order to safely cross a crevasse zone, the storm was drawing nearer. It soon became so socked in that you could hardly see the person in front of you on the rope. As the first party, we were responsible for setting a safe track for the following trail parties. This proved to be a difficult task, and we ended up going in a very large loop, spending nearly two hours skiing roped up. The rain was coming down harder and the wind was picking up as we made our way down the other side of the ridge.

Roped up while making our way through a crevasse zone in a white out.  Photo by Elizabeth Kenny

This was the type of weather we had been hoping to avoid. Had we known that it was coming, we probably would not have started our traverse that day. However, weather on the icefield is unpredictable. At that point our only option was to continue on to a cache that had been set up to support our night of camping on the glacier. It was slow going as we made our way across Death Valley in the rain, with sun cups on the snow significantly restricting our progress. Finally we reached the Norris Icefall, our last obstacle before the cache. Not one item of clothing was dry as we roped up once again, but we did so quickly in an effort to keep everyone warm. After reaching the top of the icefall, it was a short ski to the cache, where we were finally able to stop for the night. After almost 15 hours on the trail everyone was exhausted, so after a quick dinner of chili it was off to bed. The second trail party arrived at camp shortly after us, equally wet and tired.

                  Unfortunately, the tents we had were no match for the pouring rain outside. The next morning the majority of us woke up just as wet, if not wetter, than we had been the night before. It was still raining, and once again poor visibility prevented us from seeing any of the surrounding icefield. We learned that the next trail parties decided not to head out that day due to the weather, but once again, we had no choice but to power on. After scarfing down some oatmeal and hot chocolate, both groups began to travel together on the last stretch of the traverse. It felt like we were on a white treadmill, with nothing visible except for the skiers in front of us. Despite the cold and rain, everyone remained in relatively high spirits. The day was long and tiring, but just when we thought we couldn’t go any farther, Camp 10 appeared through the fog!

Camp 10 finally appearing! Photo by Elizabeth Kenny

Cheers of excitement arose as we made our way to the base of the nunatak. The short climb to camp felt like quite an ordeal after skiing so much for the past two days, but at least we were finally there. Wet clothes were quickly shed and hung up to dry as we moved into our new bunks, and after a warm and filling dinner followed by a quick camp tour, we could finally rest at our new home. This traverse was a classic example of Type B fun on the icefield – it may not have been fun while we were doing it, but it is certainly something we will never forget.