glacier melt climate change – From a Glaciers Perspective

The 2024 field season was our 41st, from the glaciers perspective it was the fourth consecutive year of exceptional mass loss, leading to thinning, retreat and glacier loss. Below are images from the field season and reflections on each from the varied perspectives of our field team and field partners.

**Coleman Glacier, Mount Baker at the golden hour as we just finished work.**

Jill Pelto: During the field season our typical day involves getting up with the sun and working out on a glacier until early evening. Going to Coleman Glacier on Mt. Baker this year was special because we got to work on it during golden hour, a rare thing to experience. We had the glacier to ourselves, and the nearby big camping area — despite this being a popular destination for ice climbers. This is only my third time in sixteen years working on this glacier, and its significant loss since we last saw it in 2019, when I sat and painted on it, was so apparent. But in spite of that, I was feeling joyful to be there — something about four of us out there on our own taking measurements as the summer sun set was so magical. I was so grateful to be there at that moment and experience this landscape as it is now.

**Saddle at top of Rainbow Glacier looking to summit of Kulshan (Mount Baker). Ben, Jill and Mauri Pelto a combined 70+ years of experience on these glaciers.**

Mauri Pelto: Climate change has led to increased glacier melting on all of the glaciers we have observed. A combined 70+ years of field experience that Ben, Jill and I have provides a context that is crucial. The increased melt is apparent in the streams flowing across the surface very few meters carrying meltwater to the rivers and then the sea. This summer we saw the beauty of the final stages of decay of a glacier melting away in the ice caves that transected the former Ice Worm Glacier (image below). The cave started at the top of the glacier and continued right to the bottom, by next summer that too will be gone. The colors and atmosphere in the cave were spell binding. The landscape remains beautiful, but is losing the glaciers that are a powerful, beautiful and dynamic part of this landscape.

Katie Hovind: Nestled along Ptarmigan Ridge, overlooking Kulshan’s glacier-flanked slopes, was our longest campsite of the field season. Unzipping my tent to an increasingly familiar skyline four mornings in a row, I found myself developing a relationship with this place. I noticed patterns and changes alike, discovering not just the place but a sense of home in it. We followed transects across the Sholes, probing up and down the glacier; we explored a collapsed ice cave near its terminus, blue ice towering over me, ancient wisdom frozen in the dripping layers I ran my hands along; we took water measurements from the stream it feeds, pausing for a break next to the fresh melt as I sketched the textures of rock and snow and ice. We commuted across it twice to the Rainbow Glacier, a trek familiarizing me with the Sholes’ sweeping slopes and views; and we screwed an ice auger deeper than we could see, dropping stakes 3-4 feet below the surface. 19 days later, I returned to the coordinates of those four stakes, which were now all exposed, one sticking up to just over 3 feet above the surface. Reeling as I walked across the glacier I’d gotten to know, the near-incomprehensible volume of loss I saw. A feeling of belonging is so integral to caring. And then comes the question of how to transmit that connection, to spread to others the same sense of responsibility to protect a place? Being lucky enough to experience even a handful of days taking in just a small degree of the Sholes’ nuances, I felt deeply just how wrong and quick the melt is. But from the outside looking in, without any prior reference points, the severity of the glacier shrinking could be overlooked. Through these comparison photos, I hope to share just a glimpse, beauty and grief and all, of what it means to understand and love a glacier.

Emma Murray: Just a few minutes into our hike from camp to the Easton glacier, Science Director Mauri Pelto pointed out the rock that marked the spot where he put his crampons on in 1990. Looking up the valley, the ice felt SO far away. This glacier has retreated almost 600m in my lifetime already. In response to the melting at each of the six glaciers I visited during my time with the Project, I added paint, pen, and thread to canvas. These flags are both white-flag surrenders to all the melting we cannot stop and blowing-in-the-wind prayers for us all to act in the ways we can. I hope these pieces help people to visualize and feel the difference between where the ice was and where it is now. I think feeling that loss is groundwork for our urgent conversations about climate solutions, which can be uplifting and cool and pragmatic and creative!

Shari Macy: Mauri Pelto, peers into the melting terminus of the Lower Curtis Glacier; located on the southern slopes of Mount Shuksan in the North Cascades of Washington State. As founder of the North Cascade Glacier Climate Project, he has been measuring these shrinking giants since 1984. This image, to me, shows a man and what he dedicated his life to studying. A passion that drove him to spend over 700 nights in tents, camped out next to the glaciers of the North Cascades. These glaciers could use a lot more people like Mauri. Does everyone need to backpack to remote glaciers every summer? No. He already does. However, we could all be a little more dedicated to the health of our planet, our home. Our one and only. Our children’s one and only.

Megan Pelto: To me, Mt. Baker represents the North Cascades. Camping next to its looming presence makes me aware of how impactful it is, its glaciers helping support the ecosystem and the wildlife that surround it. Getting to be present in this wilderness feels like a gift and a chance to both disconnect and reconnect. Everything you have is contained in one little tent and the experience of camping in this landscape is magical. I wanted to capture that with our colorful little tents tucked into grassy hills with Baker above us. I have been able to visit this landscape over the past 10 years, and while the glaciers change each year, many things have remained peacefully the same.

Ben Pelto: Disappearing glaciers remind me of grandparents—I’m saddened by their decline, yet deeply grateful for the time I still have with them. This year, being in the field was especially meaningful, surrounded by an incredible group of people, just experiencing the mountains and soaking it all in. What I find hardest about glaciers vanishing is not just the loss of ice, but the disappearance of their dynamism and beauty from the landscape. These ancient giants bring a sense of magic and power to the mountains, and it breaks my heart to think that my children or grandchildren might never witness them as I have.

Cal Waichler: This season I ask what it means to be a voice for glaciers. How can I transmit my gratitude that I can stand on this earth, breathe glaciers’ breezes, seep in icy blue and alpenglow rose, pop alpine huckleberries in my mouth, and notice the shrinking snow and dissolving ice, while also alerting people to their vulnerabilities? Glaciers are a throughline in my explorations and art. I am so utterly enchanted by them. The awe and creative inspiration they bring to my life is a great gift. As a voice for shrinking glaciers, what stories can I share that will enchant other people with them? What will make us care enough to enact climate change mitigation and adaptation, and vote for climate leaders? Here, a snapshot of those most transient and irreplaceable things.

For the last 31 years the first week of August has found me on the Columbia Glacier in the North Cascades of Washington. Annual pictures of the changing conditions from 1984 to 2014 are illustrated in the time lapse video below. This is the lowest elevation large glacier in the North Cascades. Columbia Glacier occupies a deep cirque above Blanca Lake and ranging in altitude from 1400 meters to 1700 meters. Kyes, Monte Cristo and Columbia Peak surround the glacier with summits 700 meters above the glacier. The glacier is the beneficiary of heavy orographic lifting over the surrounding peaks, and heavy avalanching off the same peaks. This winter has been the lowest year for snowpack in the North Cascades in the 32 years we have worked here. Below is a comparison from August 1, 2011 with Blanca Lake below the glacier still frozen and a beautiful scene on April 4, 2015 with the lake not frozen taken by Karen K. Wang. The winter in the region was unusually warm, but not as dry as in California; however, in the snowmelt and glacier fed river basins summer runoff will be low this year.

Blanca Lake Aug. 1, 2011 on left and April 4, 2015 on right (Karen K. Wang, www.karenkwang.com) — **Blanca Lake Aug. 1, 2011 on left, and April 4, 2015 on right (Karen K. Wang, www.karenkwang.com)**

Over the last 31 years the annual mass balance measurements indicate the glacier has lost 14 meters of thickness. Given the average thickness of the glacier of close to 75 meters in 1984 this represents a 20% loss in glacier volume. During the same period the glacier has retreated 135 meters, 8% of its length. Most of the loss of volume of this glacier has been through thinning not retreat. To survive a glacier must have a persistent and consistent accumulation zone (Pelto, 2010). On Columbia Glacier in 1998, 2001, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2009 and 2013 limited snowpack was retained, resulting in thinning even on upper part of the glacier. This thinning of the upper glacier indicates the lack of a persistent accumulation zone such as in 2005, note the exposed annual ice and firn layers green arrows, this indicates the lack of retained accumulation in recent years. This indicates the glacier is in disequilibrium and cannot survive. Mapping of the glacier from the terminus to the head indicates a similar thinning along the entire length of the glacier. The overall mass balance loss parallels that of the globe and other North Cascade glaciers in the last three decades.

2005 Accumulation zone of Columbia Glacier

On left cumulative mass balance of Columbia Glacier compared to the WGMS global record and other North Cascade glaciers. On right change in surface elevation along the glacier from terminus to head indicating a 14-15 m thinning on average.

A comparison of images from 1986, 2007 and 2013 photograph provide a view of glacier change at the terminus. The blue arrows indicate moraines that the glacier was in contact with in 1986, and now are 100 meters from the glacier. The green arrow indicates the glacier active ice margin in 1986 and again that same location in 2007 now well off the glacier. The red arrow indicates the same location in terms of GPS measurements, this had been in the midst of the glacier near the top of the first main slope in 1986. In 2007 this location is at the edge of the glacier in a swale. The changes are more pronounced in 2013 as the terminus slope continues to decrease. The low snowpack in 2015 on the glacier in March, 2-3 m versus 6-8 m, will lead to considerable changes in the terminus this summer, that we will assess.

1986 Terminus Columbia Glacier

2007 Terminus Columbia Glacier

2013 Terminus Columbia Glacier

Jill Pelto painted the glacier as it was in 2009 (top) and then what the area would like without the glacier in the future, at least 50 years in the future (middle), and Jill at the sketching location (bottom), turned 180 degrees to view Blanca Lake. The lake is colored by the glacier flour from Columbia Glacier to the gorgeous shade of jade.

Clearly the area will still be beautiful and we will gain two new alpine lakes with the loss of the glacier. After making over 200 measurements in 2010 we completed a mass balance map of the glacier as we do each year. This summer we will be back again for the 32nd annual checkup. There will be likely be record low snowpack, comparable to 2005 the worst year from 1984-2014.