Outhouse on the Icefield

Outhouse on the Icefield

Tae Hamm, Lawrence University

    As one who has volunteered for outhouse cleaning more than any 2016 JIRP participants thus far, I am quite keen on the politics behind outhouses; you MUST flip the sign to “occupied”, “Het”(Russian for “No”) or simply “No” and you MUST lock the door once you are done with the business. Inside, you MUST remember that we are not technically in a restroom, but rather an outhouse, which means that the toilet you are sitting on is a non-flushing, drop toilet that requires tender love and care. This means throwing toilet paper in the plastic bag sitting next to you, not in the toilet itself. Lastly, hand-sanitizer is not an option, but an obligation, for the sake of the entire camp’s health.

Outhouses on the icefield have history and characters, providing a window into the history of JIRP. Outhouses, among all the facilities in the camps, stand out the most with their extravagant names and omnipresent aroma. Camp 17 has two outhouses, one with a divider (the “Doublewide”) and one without (the “Venus Fly Trap”, a two-seater). Camp 10 hosts a total of four outhouses, all varying in size: Petunia, Red Dog, Dream Land, and the Bomb Shelter (once a storage for explosives as implied by its name). Some of these outhouses were among the first built edifices on the Icefield, at the advent of camp construction; in fact, the oldest building on the Icefield, Petunia, was built in 1949 by R.A. Milan. Although the stories behind many outhouses now remain as urban (or icefield) legend, they are integral parts of the JIRP camp history. Outhouses are shelters for those seeking for a little break from all the group works, but they also bring people together—sometimes quite literally.

The Dreamland outhouse at Camp 10. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography.

Outhouses at Camp 17 specifically have been a topic of debate for many JIRPers: the exponential relationship between the camp population and the intensity of aroma in the outhouses, favorite quotes in the Doublewide, and so on.  Most people could only imagine two people casually having a conversation in a two-seater bathroom without a divider, but JIRPers at Camp 17 can experience this first-hand in the Venus Flytrap. The Venus Flytrap offers an awkward experience with its two toilet seats located next to one another. It gives you an illusion that there is privacy, but there really is none once you enter; it may be just a matter of time before a familiar face rushes into the Flytrap. Surprisingly, not many JIRPers are uncomfortable with such encounters; spending every minute together in a small camp community naturally allows one to be—simply put—low maintenance.

The Doublewide, located in front of the library at Camp 17, presents us with wall quotes dating back to 2001 It also presents us with a magnificent view of Lemon Creek Glacier, where JIRPers have their safety training for a week and a half. Here, we can take a peek at Matt Beedle’s (academic director of JIRP) past: “no, no, no, less cool, more scientific”. Dr. Beedle wrote this quote he remembers hearing as a JIRPer. Legend has it that the quote was an instruction from Jeff Barbee, a photographer and staff at the time, to then high-school student Beedle. Barbee was taking a picture of Matt at the Southwest Branch of the Taku Glacier and yelled this quote, requesting a more “scientific pose”, with his hand on top of his head as if he were looking out across the glacier. Like Dr. Beedle who may have been digging a mass balance snow pit on Taku Glacier, I, after a day of digging the same pits on the same glacier, am reminded of a quote written on the Doublewide: “’It’s better to go skiing and think of God, then to go to church and think of sport’- Fridtjof Nansen”.

Camp 10 with the Taku Range in the mist beyond. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography.

In Camp 17, I would often take a moment in the Doublewide to read the quotes on the wall and appreciate the view outside. When you are exhausted from the day’s work, it’s sometimes hard to recognize the astonishing view surroundings us every second. Outhouses are shelters for me to take a break and absorb the magnificent beauty of the Icefield. It shows the history of JIRP, and the course of JIRPers coming together as a group. Being a deadhead (a diehard fan of Grateful Dead), I try to revive myself at the end of an exhausting day with yet another Doublewide quote: “Nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile”. And after all, “not all who wander are lost, some are JIRPers”.

Skiing from Scratch

Skiing from Scratch

Louise Borthwick, Edinburgh University

I’ve chosen a slightly misleading title here because I have actually skied before. I learned on downhill skis on the dry ski slope near my home in Edinburgh, Scotland. This slope was made of a mat which was sprayed with water and my parents used to say if you could ski there you could ski anywhere. Coming into JIRP I hadn’t skied for about 10 years but I thought it’s just like riding a bike right, it’ll all come back to me, it’ll be fine.

So when we headed out from Camp 17 for our first ski lesson on Lemon Creek Glacier I didn’t raise my hand as a novice skier and soon found myself a little out of my depth and I was beginning to think maybe I couldn’t ski quite as well as I imagined I could. This made me realize how long it had been since I had learned a new skill from scratch and how it felt to be so hopelessly bad at something despite trying my best. Over the next few days I chose groups better suited to my ability and focused on improving my basic technique in the hope it would make me more confident. It did help and I felt good going down the shallower slope on Lemon Creek with pizza turns.

Tools of the trade resting on the flanks of the Staff Shack at Camp 17. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography.

The next step in our skiing progression was to move to the slope on the other side of Camp 17 on the Ptarmigan Glacier. This was significantly steeper and as we put our skis on at the top I could feel my heart rate increasing before we’d even moved. The plan was to side hill down, which means going across the slope and so reducing the gradient. When we’d gone as far as we could one way we made a kick turn (or switchback) which involved standing on one ski while rotating the other one 180 degrees (or as close as possible) then transferring the weight to that ski and bringing the first ski round so we were facing the opposite direction. We’d then head in that direction till we had to do another kick turn. It sounds simple but I was always very conscious of the steep slope dropping away on my downhill side and standing on one ski didn’t feel the most stable. It was unnerving to say the least and I was soon falling over, even when I was only trying to stand still. It was a frustrating experience and I felt like I wasn’t getting any better. Catherine suggested leaning into the slope and Ibai had us lifting up and down our uphill ski to emphasize we should have our weight on our downhill ski. With these tips I made it down, with a few more falls, we then used our skins to go back up.

Louise and her trail party skiing the traverse from Camp 17 to Camp 10. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography.

After a few more days practice the morning came for the traverse to Camp 10, and with it a chance to put my newly learned skiing skills to test. I went with the option of walking down the steepest bit of slope on the side of the Lemon and felt things were going pretty well once I got on my skis. The snow was very hard because it was so early and cold, and it was full of sun cups so it was very bumpy, but I stayed upright. When we got to the steeper bottom part I had a series of fall down/get up moments and Kirsten took my backpack down to the blue ice (thanks Kirsten!). I was feeling pretty despondent but I’d been told Lemon Creek was one of the hardest bits of skiing of the day and that kept me going.

The author, third from left (standing), ready to depart Camp 17 with her trail party...the first team to head out on the traverse this season! Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography

We covered a lot of different terrain on the traverse, it seemed mainly uphill, and on the next bit of descent on skis down into Death Valley Ibai suggested I keep my skins on to aid control. I did and it was great; harder work but I didn’t fall. Once we got down to the flat bottom of Death Valley I took my skins off and it was honestly the most amazing feeling to be able to glide again. I was kicking and gliding along and Kirsten and Mo had their music playing on speakers and it was a very surreal experience to be skiing across a glacier in the middle of nowhere signing along to music. Finally all the practice had come together and I felt the freedom of skiing for the first time.

Louise enjoying a hard-won rest with fellow JIRPers at the Norris Cache, halfway through the ski traverse from Camp 17 to Camp 10. Photo courtesy PBJ Photography.

JIRPers: From Different to Dynamic, Thanks to a Glacier

JIRPers: From Different to Dynamic, Thanks to a Glacier

Molly Peek, Smith College

As JIRP students, we come to Juneau with a few heavy bags and maybe a bit of nervousness. We were thrown into a group of 32 students from all over the world, all hoping that the gaps between us weren’t large enough to fall through. While fresh off the plane, my nervousness could be understood; as I sit at Camp 10 today, surrounded by people from Juneau to North Carolina to Switzerland, common ground seems less important than ever before. We are all sharing a glacier, after all, and isn’t that enough? JIRP draws students from all walks of life and from all over the world, and that expansive group, concentrated into tiny camps on islands of rock in fields of snow, matters in the science we do, enriching the questions we ask.

Surrounded by such individuals, I have found myself in the middle of a group with such varied backgrounds and interests that I wonder how it is we all found our way here. Many would consider this place to be the middle of nowhere, but somehow we have all decided that this piece of nowhere is scientifically significant enough to explore and to investigate.

JIRP Field Staff, Matt Pickart, Allie Strel, and Annie Boucher share a laugh at Camp 17. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography

So here we are, two weeks in, excited about glacier travel and sunshine. As we transition to the part of the season that focuses on science, however, it becomes clear that JIRP isn’t just about skiing with your friends and talking about your favorite types of cheese.  After Juneau Week, Safety Week at Camp 17, and a long traverse to Camp 10, it is time to focus on what we all came here to do, and leave cheese conversations to long traverses as field work takes precedence.  

Outside of lectures and research proposals, however, I find myself learning about much more than glaciers. On the long (and incredibly, stupefying beautiful) slog from Camp 17 to Camp 10, we discussed geophysics and research in Antarctica in between favorite books and widespread dislike of Twizzlers (personally, I stand by them). I have talked about the struggles of chemistry and academia at colleges around the country, trail etiquette on East and West Coasts, and how the natural world is amazingly interconnected with every aspect of our lives, linking us to each other in more ways than seem possible. Admittedly, most of these conversations were sandwiched between more poop stories than I have ever heard in my life. However, conversations always come back to the glacier, and how it connects us as humans from different cultures and interests.

The glacier links us as students to staff and faculty, and every way in between as we learn together about the new surprises of the changing landscape. The trail conversations we strike up connect us JIRPers as humans outside of the Juneau Icefield (which, although it is hard to believe right now, does still exist) as we discuss our homes and schools, how we ended up here and where we came from, and where we want to go. These stories also connect us as scientists, as we come out of our own small worlds to see how our own relationships to glaciers are completely different from those of others. These realizations are becoming increasingly important as our world changes rapidly, with the environment driving upheaval in all disciplines. Changes in climate on the east coast cannot be divorced from events happening to glaciers here in Alaska. If we are to investigate changes in the environment with an aim to make society better, we must work with people from a variety of locations and experiences and integrate the struggles and opportunities from all parts of the world.

Tiny camps on islands of rock in fields of snow. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography.

In my view, the key here is people. People ask the questions, do the research, and take the hit from changes in climate and miscommunication. But as we learned in elementary school, every person is different. We are all prone to different thoughts and actions based on our unique experiences. It is important that JIRP brings people together from different backgrounds and experiences, but there is still more to be done, both at JIRP and elsewhere. Differences are important and useful, and the questions that come from those differences meeting in a common space, scientific and otherwise, must be honored and cultivated for lasting change. Learning about your research partner’s background is important to the work we do, because it brings context to the study. Why do we ask the questions we ask? Why are they different from our neighbor’s? The long trail conversations count, even those involving poop stories.

The author, in yellow with cup in hand, sharing stories in camp with fellow JIRPers. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography.

Plant Succession Along the Lemon Creek Trail

Plant Succession Along the Lemon Creek Trail

Mo Michels, University of Alaska Southeast

In our first daylong hike of the summer traverse, we JIRPers experience a transition of plant succession that in other places may spread across entire regions. What may take days to traverse in other parts of the world we hike through in a matter of hours, traveling from where coastal estuaries meet the ocean through mature forests, on through young forest, up into the wet vertical swampy stands that in turn bring us to tree line, and on and on into alpine meadows and only recently vegetated landscape of lichen and mosses. The uniqueness of this journey through time is due in part to the landscape of Southeast Alaska. Magnificent moving masses of ice excavated the landscape not long ago in the geologic past. Moving away from the coastline fjords and channels that harbor coastal towns, the ice crept back into the mountains leaving in its wake a succession of plant life. With the hike that JIRPers take up the Lemon Creek Trail to approach Camp 17 we were fortunate enough to see an abbreviated history of this process within a span of mere hours.

Driving to the trailhead was truly the beginning of this journey. Looking out the windows of the van, we saw a tidal estuary full of ducks, tideland plants, and grasses.

Having arrived at the trailhead, we marched through older and established coastal temperate rainforest. The over story of Sitka Spruce and Hemlock loomed above us, their towering trunks reaching over a hundred feet into the sky. The canopy filtered out the majority of the light, but Devil’s Club and other mid layer plants intermingled with the giants. In the gaps left by the fallen trees, the underbrush prospered, reaching up from mother logs to take advantage of these small breaks in the otherwise shading canopy. Passing through the mature forest, we made our way along a section of the riparian zone next to Lemon Creek. Here we went through a stand of alders, much younger and more uniform in diameter and spacing, their branches ending all around the same height and a layer of moss coating the smooth bark of their trunks. The only other obvious foliage were hemlock seedlings interspersed among the alders. In time, as this forest matures, the hemlocks may grow and dominate the upper canopy, shading out the alders.

As we left the riverbank, we skirted the edges of an active gravel quarry. The alien presence of trucks and heavy equipment was unavoidable and the anthropogenic influences on the morphology of the river were apparent where we walked. The edges of the stream were barren, recently excavated and flattened, and there was a manufactured hillside that was green with some recently sprayed fertilizing agent.

Crossing back out of the riparian zone, we passed through the mature forest before our journey took us into an area of wet soil pockets and swampy ground. Here the sedges, orchids and skunk cabbage prospered. This part of the trail went up for a couple kilometers before flattening briefly into meadows spotted with muskeg ponds and mud pits. All kinds of blueberry bushes flourished along the edges of the trail, heavy with fat juicy berries. Only after picking a few hundred did we began to notice the subtle differences between the two species, the blue and red huckleberries.

We traveled onward, delayed by berry picking only long enough to wish we had a bucket to save them. Each bush we passed taunted us with its burden, until we finally found ourselves leaving tree line to enter an alpine meadow. The tall trunks of spruce and hemlock and the trill of birds were replaced by the buzzing of fat bumblebees as they flitted between grasses to wild geranium, to alpine lupine, to dwarf fireweed.

As we hiked ever higher, the greenery changed once more. This time the darker green of mosses and lichens replaced the lighter green alpine grasses. These mosses and lichens mark the first succession of plant life onto a glacially carved landscape. Small primary successional plants break down rock, adding limiting nutrients like nitrogen to the ecologic system and allowing for later successional plants like the ones in the alpine meadow to come in and take root.

Eventually, as we climbed even higher, this low lying, hardy, vegetation gave way in some places to exposed, barren rock, and then to actual ice. At this point Camp 17 emerged from the clouds and the Lemon Creek and Ptarmigan Glaciers marked the end of successional vegetation changes. As the glaciers continue their retreat and the ice melts away to expose more bare rock,  the lichens and mosses will begin to take hold and continue the upward march of plant life towards the ridge line.

Author Mo Michels on the ski traverse from Camp 17 to Camp 10. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography

Berry Picking in the Tongass

Berry Picking in the Tongass

Shawnee Reynoso, Sonoma State University

On the morning of June 30th the seven of us in trail party number three set out to hike to the Juneau Icefield. Little did I know this hike would be filled with laughs, challenges, empowering moments, and a sense of accomplishment. In our ten hour journey to camp we found ourselves pulled away from the trail by the lush wild blueberry bushes that ran alongside. Mo and Stan are the two members of our trail party that took advantage of these lush bushes.  They even began to collect the blueberries in a water bottle to save for the next couple of days on the Icefield. These blueberry adventures added about an hour or two extra to our trip, but we knew with every accomplishment along the trail came the promise of more blueberries. From this point on our group quickly became known as BAA (Blueberry Addicts  Anonymous).

This addiction became progressively pronounced as we trekked through the vertical swamp. The swamp appeared as we gained in elevation. It seemed the higher we went, the deeper it got. They continued to pick berries as I wrestled with trees in an attempt to free myself from the quicksand-like patches of mud. The swamp was unforgiving and allowed little room for error. With one overly confident step I found myself two feet into the mud. As I freed my foot I realized that only a sock remained where my shoe once was. In an attempt to regain my balance I stepped beside my stuck shoe and watched as the mud began to swallow my shoe. After a vicious tug of war with the mud my boot finally came out.

That night we slept about a two hour hike away from our final destination. As we made our journey up the snowy slopes the next morning I was robbed of my breath and overcome with emotion. As I trekked up this steep snowy mountain side I took a moment to take in the view. Snow topped mountains rising above a glacier, various waterfalls, and a lake. At the bottom of the mountain lay another lake, and beyond that green meadows with beautiful wildflowers and a river. As I looked up I saw the flag to our final destination atop the mountainside. Then I flashed back to every decision I had made leading up to this moment. Every TV show, every movie I had seen, every talk I had listened to, or inspiring person I had met and thought “Wow. I want to do that. Someday I will do that.” That moment was now. At this very moment I was that person in the movie or giving the talk that would inspire people to get out of their comfort zone and never stop striving to experience life, regardless of how out of reach those wants may seem. I am a reminder to myself and others to never deem experiences impossible but instead to hold onto them and never stop working towards them. Exhausted but not defeated I was proud. I had hiked over ten miles, gained 4600 feet in elevation, survived the vertical swamp, picked berries and exhausted every muscle in my body to get here. I was the person who could inspire others through my experience. I had made it. I was here, where I had told myself since I was a child I would be someday. I held back tears of joy as my heart skipped a beat. With the widest grin on my face I continued my traverse up the mountain. I had made it, we had made it, and it’s only the beginning. 

Author Shawnee Reynoso heading out on the Camp 17 to Camp 10 traverse. Photo courtesy of PBJ Photography.

The Oozy Flats

The Oozy Flats

by Cezanna Semancher (Principia College) and Alex Burkhart (Willamette University)

While learning how to ascend ropes using prusiks in the Rock Dump Climbing Gym in Juneau, Matt Beedle, our Academic Director, pulled us aside (Alex, C, Olivia, and Evan) and asked us if we would be interested in taking an excursion to the Taku terminus for GPS Surveying. Now you may ask, what is the Taku Terminus? Well, the Taku Glacier is one of the few advancing glaciers, however, in recent years GPS surveying has identified it to be stagnant, and perhaps receding. If you can imagine glaciers as rivers, gradually meandering through and carving out valleys, the terminus of a glacier is equivalent to the delta, or end of the river.

Stemming from the Taku Glacier, Hole-in-the-Wall Glacier appears below us as we flew above in the float plane. Here you can see the river like characteristic of the glacier as it flows through the valley surrounding it.

Our reaction to this offer from Matt was of course thrilled, yet we didn’t quite know what was in store for our upcoming three-day adventure. From staffers who had gone on the trip in years past we were told four things – 1) bring extra food, 2) there is no coffee, pack your own, 3) there will be superfluous amounts of mud to trudge through, and 4) there will be more spam than you would ever want or need. Knowing all of this, of course we took the offer. The next day, we found ourselves packing bear capsules into our packs and then loading onto a float plane in Gastineau Channel near downtown Juneau. Our pilot Al, a longtime JIRPer, flew us over expansive glaciers and other extraordinary topographic features before making our way to the Taku Lodge. From there, we took a flat bottomed river boat downriver to our rugged wilderness campsite that was only a few minutes’ walk away from the Taku terminus. We set up camp and ducked into our tents away from the swarm of mosquitoes and no-see-ums.

The glacier’s complex hydrology system displays a waterfall emerging near the terminus.

The next day we oriented ourselves with our GPS units and proceeded to the terminus through a patch of lupins. Upon arrival, we split up into two teams: Alex and Evan went with Scott McGee (a former JIRP student and one of the faculty for the Taku Surveying Project) and Cézanna and Olivia surveyed with Uwe. Throughout the day, we took GPS waypoints and collected data (see blog by Evan and Olivia titled “Taku Turmoil”) of the location of the terminus. However, the majority of our time was spent on route-finding through the complex labyrinth of the Taku Glacier’s terminal moraines of quicksand-like glacial silt and deceiving glacial runoff streams. These tricky areas are better known as the Oozy Flats. This was likely the most challenging and thus, most exciting part of the trip. It really brought about a lot of camaraderie and lightheartedness to our group dynamic. Are you at all stuck on the word “moraine”? If you’re not familiar with the term, a moraine is the deposit of rock and dirt from the glacier that forms piles at the terminus of an advancing glacier.

The Taku terminus lies to the left as Olivia and Uwe navigate across the terminal moraine.

When we had completed our surveying, we awaited our boats’ arrival. Once loaded up and about 15 feet away from the shore, our boat got stuck in the shallow, muddy waters. Enthusiastically, we rolled up our pants and jumped into the glacial runoff water (which is quite cold) to reduce this insupportable displacement of the boat so it could float out to the main channel. After a successful second departure, we motored upriver to the Taku Lodge where we would pitch our tents for the night. Welcomed with a warm dinner, ginger snap cookies, a cozy fireplace, and a mellow bear, we reminisced and laughed over our newfound experiences and were grateful to take part in such a rare endeavor.

Taku Turmoil

Taku Turmoil

by Evan Koncewicz (St. Lawrence University) and Olivia Truax (Amherst College)

Over the past 50 years, glaciers around the world have been in sustained retreat in response to climatic warming. However, a small number of glaciers are advancing. At first glance this may seem like a contradiction, but this is because glacial dynamics are affected by an interplay of factors in addition to climate (glacial geometry, nature of the landscape they are in, among others). In 1946 JIRP was founded in part to study a particularly complex glacier in Southeast Alaska, the Taku Glacier, which was steadily advancing even as most other Alaskan Glaciers were in retreat. During the first week of JIRP 2016 we spent two days mapping the terminus of Taku Glacier with high precision GPS but, before we get in to what we found, a quick word on how glaciers work.

Glaciers, whether they are advancing or retreating, are always flowing downhill. Glaciers are formed when snow falls in the winter and doesn’t melt in the summer – the weight of this accumulation adds up each year and compacts the underlying snow into ice. This ice grows in mass, responds to gravity and begins to flow downhill. The area where the winter snow persists year round and adds to the overall mass of the glacier is called the accumulation zone. Downslope, where all of the snow and some of the underlying ice that has flowed down from a higher elevation melts in the summer, this section of the glacier is called the ablation zone. If the amount of melt lost in the summer in the ablation zone is equal to the amount of snow gained in the accumulation zone during the winter the glacier will remain the same size. If the amount of snow that falls in the accumulation zone is larger than the amount lost in the summer the glacier terminus will advance. On the other hand, if ice melt outpaces the accumulation and downhill flow of ice, the glacier will retreat.

Olivia Truax and Cézy Semnacher taking a GPS point at the boundary between ice and sediment at the terminus of the Taku Glacier.

The Taku is unique because it has an unusually large accumulation zone: most glaciers in equilibrium are comprised of about 60% accumulation zone and 40% ablation zone. By contrast, the Taku has about 80% accumulation zone and 20% ablation zone, helping to drive ongoing advance despite the warming climate However, conditions at the terminus of the Taku make rapid retreat a possibility in the near term. Because the base of the Taku is grounded below sea level, if the Taku begins to retreat, water may be able to slip between the glacial ice and the sediment. This would trigger a rapid retreat as the ice melted due to contact with the warmer water.

The Taku has advanced seven kilometers since 1850, but in the last few years it appears to be holding steady at its current position. We went out to survey the terminus of the Taku glacier to investigate if a retreat like this may begin in the near future. At the terminus we used GPS accurate to +/- one centimeter to map points along the glacier front. Wading through streams of meltwater, clambering over piles of sediment, and walking over sections of ice, we collected data points to mark where the exact end of the Taku glacier is this year. When processed, these points will give us a map of the terminus of the Taku Glacier in 2016. From past years we then have a sequence of maps of where the Taku has been year to year.

Our preliminary results suggest that parts of the Taku have retreated from its location in 2015 by roughly 10-20 feet (or approximately 5 meters) in certain locations. This, combined with the data from 2013-2015 that showed no change in the terminus extent after decades of advance of as much as 300 feet (approximately 100 meters) per year may indicate that the Taku is at the beginning stages of retreat. However, a year of melting at the terminus does not necessarily mean that the glacier is receding: these trends must be present for perhaps a decade before we can rely on them to make definitive conclusions.

Our survey data from the glacier helps contribute to JIRP’s long-term dataset of the Taku, which is one of the largest of its kind in the world. What makes our survey of the Taku special is that we very well could be witnesses to the beginning of the retreat of one of the last advancing glaciers in the world. Time will tell.

Olivia Truax, Alex Burkhart, Evan Koncewicz, and Cézy Semnacher on top of the ablation zone of the Taku Glacier.

Assumptions

Assumptions

Kate Bartell, Wittenberg University

When my professor first told me about JIRP, I didn’t quite have a picture in my mind of what it could be. After looking at the website a few hundred times, I could determine that it would be a “cool” experience and even something interesting to tell loved ones about afterwards. You don’t quite get the actual picture of what exactly JIRP is until you get to experience it all first hand.

Camp 17

I may have been told what climbing a mountain may be like, for instance, “challenging”, requires “lots of physical effort”, or even that “you don’t have to be an Olympian to climb it”. That all may be true, but facing it with your own sweat and your almost-tears truly changes everything.

I may have been told what living at a camp would be like, but until you get your twenty roommates, your layer of grime (that doesn’t even seem to come off in a snow bath), and the beautiful view that will probably be covered up with clouds half the time, you have no idea.

I may have been told what eating on the Icefield is like, with the canned foods and the SPAM. But until you actually experience what SPAM really means to JIRPers, you have no idea.

So now, when I look to what being a part of JIRP means to me, I see a lot of hard work, sweat, and more “almost-tears” in my future. I see waking up at 7 ‘o’clock by a knock or yell at the door and getting ready for the day in clothes I’ve already worn for the last four days. I see a lecture straight after breakfast, followed by six hours of ski and risk management practice, and then followed by two more lectures. What I see in JIRP now is an opportunity to challenge my body, learn, and make connections with people sharing the same experience as me. Because, at the end of the day, I will have the opportunity to learn from the professors who volunteer their time here, from the staff who use their experience to guide me, from my colleagues who come from different backgrounds, and from the cold and slightly unforgiving Icefield we will eventually cross. I am looking forward to the rest of this journey with my eyes a little wider, my fears a little smaller, and my stomach a lot more full with SPAM.

Meet the 2016 JIRP Field & Logistics Staff!

The volunteer efforts of the JIRP Field Staff are the heart and soul of running this successful, safe, and inspiring field program. These folks support the JIRP mission all season by spearheading the safety training, overseeing the operations of each camp, and supporting JIRP students and faculty in research efforts (along with so much more!). The 2016 crew begin to arrive in Juneau this week for pre-season skills and emergency medical training at Camp 17. This year's crew is thrilled to kick off another fantastic season on the Juneau Icefield!

NEWT KRUMDIECK - Operations Manager

Originally a student in 2008, I knew immediately that the icefield was a place to which I would return. I have been working on the staff side of life since 2010, and have filled roles from safety staff to carpenter to operations manager. I have a BA in geology from Colby College, and although I worked and taught in the sciences for several years, I am now working as a finish carpenter/woodworker.The environment and community that combine to make the JIRP experience are totally unique and inspiring, and getting to share these things with a whole new group of folks every year is incredibly exciting and satisfying!

TRISTAN AMARAL - Field Staff

Soooooooooooooo my name is Tristan and I'm hailing from the forest of Warner, New Hampshire. I was a student on JIRP in 2014 and despite all the sunburns and ski wipe-outs and the (occasionally) abysmal Icefield weather, I was so inspired by the Icefield grandeur and the incredible people I met that I returned in 2015 as a JIRP safety staff member. I graduated from the University of New Hampshire in 2015 with a hard won degree in Earth Science- Climate and plans to return to graduate school in a few years to study the melting parts of the planet. My worst fear is getting attacked by a water snake so I try to avoid dark murky water at all costs. I enjoy watching sunsets, eating cheese, and skiing uphill. JIRP has inspired me to embrace cold, rainy weather and to experience the high and cold landscapes of Earth beyond the textbooks. This summer as staff again I am most looking forward to seeing the helicopters do aerial tricks after they bring supplies up to the Icefield.

KIRSTEN ARNELL- Field Staff

I am very excited to be returning to JIRP for the third time this summer! I was a student in the summer of 2014, and a junior safety staff member in the summer of 2015, during which I had a blast leading JIRP's longstanding mass balance program with fellow staffer Annika Ord. I was born and raised in Western Canada, but am currently in my 5th and final year at Columbia University in NYC. I will be graduating in May with undergraduate degrees in Earth Science and Mechanical Engineering. I'm planning to take time off to travel next year, then eventually work in aviation mechanics before pursuing my helicopter's license. I love helicopters, and love having the chance to talk to the helicopter pilots who support JIRP! This summer I am most looking forward to meeting another great group of inspirational students. A lot of cool changes are continuously being made in the program thanks to its dedicated higher-ups, and I never stop being proud to be able to associate myself with a program that has had such a positive, lasting influence on so many people!

ANNIE BOUCHER - Field Staff & Science Communications Lead

My name is Annie Boucher. I first came to JIRP as a student in 2012. I've been involved with the program since then, working as field staff, helping out with academics, and doing research for my master's thesis on glacial erosion. I grew up in Brooklyn, NY, graduated from Carleton College in 2011 with a B.A. in Geology, and I'm finishing up my M.Sc. at the University of Maine.

This summer I'm going to be active both on the day-to-day logistics/operations side of the program, and on the academic side. I'm excited to work with Kristin Timm to teach science communication and literacy. After graduate school I hope to find a job as a high school science teacher; I'm passionate about exploring the common ground between teaching science and teaching scientists how to communicate their research. JIRP has been instrumental in showing me the advantages of place-based, experiential education. I'm thrilled to be able to help continue that mission and to introduce a new group of students to a part of the world that has inspired so many people.

My list of favorite things about JIRP is long and varied, but I always look forward to the jaw-dropping sunsets on the icefield. There's nothing more satisfying than a bunch of tired JIRPers drinking hot chocolate together and watching a the sun go down over the Taku Glacier. Other than that, I'm always excited for pancake breakfasts looking out over the Gilkey Trench, trying to conduct synchronized dance routines on skis, and sleeping outside under the northern lights at the end of the summer.

LARA HUGHES-ALLEN - Field Staff & GPS Survey Lead

Lara Hughes-Allen is a recent graduate in Geographic Information Systems Technology Master’s Program at the University of Southern California. She graduated from Pitzer College in 2011 with a double major in Environmental Biology and Geology. In the summer of 2015, she participated in the Juneau Icefield Research Program where her passion for glaciology and arctic climate research was solidified. Previously, Lara was a researcher for the Institute for Bird Populations, studying the foraging habits of Black-backed Woodpeckers, a contender for the Endangered Species List. She also worked as a researcher for Under the Trees, a privately owned forest research firm, which conducts carbon inventories and forest management inventories for private and public landowners. A level two PSIA certified ski instructor, she is currently a ski instructor and training assistant at Northstar Ski Resort in Lake Tahoe, CA. Lara is interested in using GIS to analyze the effects of recent anthropogenic climate change on the condition and extent of glaciers and the long-term implication of these changes on surrounding watersheds.

RACHEL MEDAUGH - Juneau-based Logistics Lead

I first participated in JIRP as a student the summer of 2015, my focus was mass balance research, one of the many ongoing projects on the Icefield. This upcoming summer I will be working alongside Deb Gregoire as a main logistics lead down in Juneau, this means that I will be helping coordinate various aspects of off field necessities, anything from loading helicopter shipments or shopping for food to send up to the camps, the list goes on, but my main goal is to help ensure on field success. I am currently finishing my second year of undergrad at the University of Miami, where I am a double major in Ecosystem Science and Policy as well as International Studies. My ultimate goal as far as education goes is to end up in law school, focusing on environmental law.

   It may seem that JIRP is not applicable to my specific area of interest, but after my experience in the field last summer I can confirm that this program teaches you so much more than the various aspects of glaciers. During JIRP you learn how to both mentally and physically push yourself past any limits you previously had; the personal growth I went through because of JIRP has forever shaped me and made me a better person, and not only did I grow as a person, but academically my growth was astronomical. Actually being in the field and applying the concepts you learn in the classroom to the real thing changed my entire thinking process, I learned that there are so many different ways to approach your research and that none of those ways are right or wrong, they are just another layer of data collection on something as mysterious yet intriguing as a glacier. I believe that anyone can grow from this experience and I hope that this upcoming season the incoming students really get that amazing experience of personal and academic growth. I know that this season is going to be awesome and I can't wait to see how much everyone grows together as a team from Juneau to Atlin.

ANNIKA ORD - Field Staff

Annika grew up in a commercial fishing family, floating between Juneau and their remote cabin on the Chilkat Peninsula in Southeast Alaska. Since graduating from Carleton College in 2014 with a degree in biology, Annika has returned to her Southeast homeland to walk the outer coast, snorkel in kelp forests, and make art about this wildly inspiring place. This past year, she spent at the Island Institute in Sitka developing a place-based documentary film program for young Alaskans and organizing a ferry tour that explored links between climate change and culture in Southeast. Annika is excited to return to JIRP for her third summer, and cannot wait to dig some burly snow pits and share the magic of the icefield with the next bunch of JIRPers.

MATT PICKART - Field Staff

My name is Matt Pickart. I first came to JIRP as a student in 2011, and came back as field staff in 2013 and 2014. After a one-year hiatus, I’m excited to return for another icefield summer in 2016.

I majored in Earth Sciences at Dartmouth College, and participated in glaciological research both as a student on JIRP and for my senior project. After graduating, however, I have mostly pursued other interests; I have spent the last year and a half in Europe for postgraduate study in French and Spanish. One of my favorite parts about JIRP is turning off my computer and phone for two months!

ALLIE STREL - Field Staff

Hello!  I'm Allie Strel, hailing from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.  I am currently a master's student in Munich, Germany where I'm studying cartography, GIS and remote sensing.  I'm a total map geek but I still get most excited about glaciers, mountains and cold places, so I'm always looking for ways to connect cartography with polar/alpine sciences.  

My experiences as a JIRP student last year were so amazing that I couldn't stay away! This summer, I'm looking forward to disconnecting (from emails, smartphones, laptops, and daily showering) and reconnecting (with the great energy and people of JIRP)!

From the Archives: JIRP 1953 Forecasts Mild Winter in 2053

Recent communication between George Argus (JIRP '52) and JIRP surveyor Scott McGee (JIRP '88) has brought to light a short piece on JIRP in Popular Science - "Scientists Probe Glaciers for Tomorrow's Weather" - from November 1953. Most enlightening, perhaps, are the aspects of JIRP that have not changed in the 60+ years since this article was published.

As we prepare for JIRP 2016, it is these commonalities that are striking. Dr. Calvin Heusser was one of the on-ice leaders in the early 1950s, and his quotes on botany, ecology, glacier surface color and the riddle of the advancing Taku Glaicer resonate and continue as areas of study today. And with humanity continuing to grapple with the challenges of climate change, it's with more than a bit of awe to read about some of the early understanding and indeed forecasts of a warming Earth. 

Look forward to announcements of JIRP 2016 details in the coming weeks, including core research areas, participating faculty and the fantastic group of students we look forward to welcoming to the JIRP family in 2016.

As you wait, enjoy this short article and delight in what has made JIRP a phenomenal experience, and vital scientific endeavor for 70 years. In the words of Dr. Heusser:

"It makes you feel all's right with the world, and is a big reason you go up there aside from the scientific purposes."

Access the November 1953 Popular Science article here.