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Summer on an Icefield: A FIELD STORY
As a young girl growing up, I would often hear stories shared by my grandfather of his visit to Antarctica as a part of a transpolar commercial flight celebrating the 50th anniversary of polar explorer Admiral Byrd’s first flight over Antarctica in 1929. My grandfather’s story piqued my interest in polar exploration, and I was captivated by the romantic idea of some grand adventure in a pristine, icy, untamed environment. However, I was far from what you would describe as an “outdoorsy” type of person.
I did not grow up hiking, skiing, camping or anything else related and didn’t begin to do so until halfway through my college years. Thus, I had convinced myself that an expeditionary-type adventure was simply not attainable for me and subsequently abandoned the idea.
Fast forward several years later, I began to pursue a Bachelor’s degree in Earth and Climate Science, concentrating in Climate Sciences, at the University of Maine. During the third year of my studies, I learned of the Juneau Icefield Research Program ( JIRP) while searching for a capstone field experience. JIRP is an expedition-style educational research program based out of Juneau, Alaska, that has been taking students across the Juneau Icefield for over 60 years. JIRP is built around a 70 plus mile traverse across the Juneau Icefield, which students and staff cover mostly by ski. While traversing the icefield, students experience training in mountaineering skills and wilderness survival, in addition to learning about a wide variety of glaciology-related fields of research and science communication methods. As you could imagine, JIRP really grabbed my attention.
Learning more about JIRP from the Program Director, and my Glaciology professor at the time, Dr. Seth Campbell, I had regained hope that maybe I was capable of pursuing such an expedition like I had imagined before. I decided to go for it and I applied for the 2019 field season. Early in 2019, I learned that my application had been accepted and was fortunately able to pursue the opportunity to become, what the program affectionately calls their members, a “JIRPer.” Now, my story may not be as grand as those of the early polar explorers but to me, it was a life-defining experience defined by no showers, no phones, plenty of SPAM, and a little yet amazing community isolated on an Alaskan-Canadian icefield.
That summer, I closed the door to my parent’s vehicle, hugged them, picked up my bags, and walked through the gates of Logan Airport bound for Alaska. It was a truly bittersweet moment. I immediately felt lonely knowing that once I touch down in Juneau, I’d
have about one more week of limited communication during orientation before trekking up to the icefield. As one would expect, there is no cell service or internet on glaciers. However, the JIRP camps are resupplied by helicopters almost weekly (weather permitting) which also provided an opportunity to send and receive letters. This gave me some comfort but it was still worrisome to me that I would not be able to communicate with friends and family instantly. I had to convince myself of how silly I was being, being scared of not being able to communicate constantly or keep up on social media. In fact, it would be nice to step away from the constant bombardment of notifications, advertisements, spam mail and the general information overload that comes with constant internet connection. Time to reconnect with myself, find patience and focus on just experiencing life, just being free.
I was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. I had never been to the West coast, and my first experience there was about to be traversing an icefield in the Alaskan-Canadian wilderness with a research program! Additionally, I would not be completely alone on this journey as my long-term boyfriend Colby, who I met when he joined our major my second year, was fortunately also accepted to the program. We were both very happy that we were going to share the experience and saw it as an opportunity for individual growth and learning that we each could relate to one another with once we were home. My heart pounded with excitement about the adventures and teachings that were waiting for me, thus I pushed any negative thoughts out of my mind and headed for the airline gate.
After several hours of flying and a quick stop in Seattle, we finally landed in Juneau and headed towards the baggage claim. I stood by the window above the escalator leading to the baggage claim area, completely captivated by the towering snow-covered mountains right across the way from a small plane landing strip. I reminded myself that I was on a schedule and needed to meet the JIRP staff member
waiting to take arriving JIRPers to our Juneau camp. As I claimed my backpack and waited for my ski bag, I tried to pick out who may be a fellow JIRP student among the crowd. The bell, signaling the door to the oversized baggage claim was opening, rang out, followed by the thud of several ski bags sliding out. A few people around my age hurried over to pick up their ski bags, on a hot day, in the middle of June. Found the JIRPers. The JIRP staff member came up to our group to direct us towards the van, we proceeded to haul our bags over our shoulders and continue on with our introductory conversations.
Our van ride consisted of us now official “JIRPers” getting to know each other, sharing our excitement and admiring the beautiful landscape of the Tongass National Forest. We turned down a narrow dirt road that opened up to a field with a rustic brown community building, known as the Eagle Valley Center (EVC), sitting at the edge of it. As I exited the van, I was cheerfully greeted by fellow students who had arrived earlier in the day. I continued to meet my fellow JIRPers as the day went on and more people arrived. The student body ended up consisting of 33 people from around the U.S., as well as several international students. Academic and outdoor experience varied greatly among the group, from those enrolled in Master’s programs, to students at various stages in their undergraduate careers, to even a couple of highschool students. There were students who were passionate skiers and those who had never skied before. It was a great feeling to know that everyone had a different skill set, different experiences and perspectives. It presented a unique opportunity to learn a great deal from one another.
After we all settled in to our tents and went through an initial gear check, orientation began. Orientation, or “Juneau Week,” focused on getting all of us both physically, mentally and academically prepared before undertaking our traverse across the Juneau Icefield. After everyone arrived and settled in, JIRP staff members went over the basics with us, including discussing blister care, hydration and nutrition tips, health and hygiene on the icefield (including the favorite JIRP “shower” technique, a snow bath). Then, they proceeded to cover more technical aspects, such as familiarizing ourselves with our gear and discussing our route for the initial hike up to the icefield, which was described to us as no easy trek.
After the first day or two of Juneau week, the staff transitioned into familizaring students with basic mountaineering safety techniques such as “roping up” for glacier travel, a totally foreign idea to me
at the time. I joined a small group of my fellow JIRPers on a field next to EVC with a rope and my carabiners. One of the safety staff members explained how tying up with members of our trail party while out on the icefield was absolutely critical to our safety. Crevasses, which can be simply described as deep fractures or cracks in a glacier, are one of the biggest threats to our safety while out of camp. Due to the dynamic nature of a flowing glacial body, the locations of crevasses can change day-to-day. Additionally, snow bridges can cover the opening of a crevasse obscuring it from your sight. Thus, JIRP focused heavily on crevasse safety and rescue. Roping up was a way to prepare us and set us up for a crevasse rescue scenario if one of our team members were to fall through a snow bridge.
Though we were on grass and unable to practice the full technique, our safety staff member described that if a snow bridge collapsed under a member of the rope team and resulted in them falling into a crevasse, the rest of us on the rope would immediately “self-arrest” with our ice axes or skis to halt their fall. From there, we would work together to set up a pulley system to bring our friend up and out of the crevasse. I shivered at the idea of plunging through a snow bridge, yet in a matter of just a few weeks, we would be willingly throwing ourselves into crevasses for both practice and fun.
As Juneau Week continued, we listened to introductory lectures on a wide range of topics relating to glaciology and learned about the history of the program, as well as some classic JIRP icefield stories. My fellow students and I would continue to learn about a wide variety of glaciology-related disciplines, as well as exposure to several forms of science communication, throughout our time with JIRP. We were also given the opportunity to pick from multiple project offerings to focus on throughout JIRP and present to the community of Juneau and of Atlin, B.C., at the end of the program. After expressing my preferences, I joined the Climatology group which would focus on collecting surface snow samples and ice core samples to be sent off for geochemical analysis in an effort to understand the climate history of the Juneau Icefield. Additionally, my group and I would analyze data collected by meteorological stations across the icefield to observe the recent temperature history of the region.
Anticipation grew as us JIRPers got to know each other and the program better. The week quickly dwindled down to the last days before departing our now beloved Tent City for arguably one of the greatest adventures of our lives. Students and staff were broken into trail parties with set departure days and times. My trail party was to be one of the last groups to leave the EVC for the Juneau Icefield. I laid in my tent on the night before our trail party was set to leave, my feelings of excitement had become overtaken with anxious thoughts. I knew the hike up to our first camp on the edge of the icefield, known as Camp 17, was infamously grueling. Was I fit enough? I had found our warm up hikes over the past week to be difficult and my backpack was pretty light since it was not completely full with things such as my extra clothes and sleeping bag during those hikes. I had never hiked before with such a large, heavy backpack which the idea of kept me up the most. Was I strong enough? Will I be able to keep up?
Luckily, we would not have to carry our skis and ski boots up to Camp 17 as they were to be flown there via helicopter, which was both a comforting and crazy thought. The idea of a helicopter dropping supplies and gear at our camp seemed like something out of a movie to me. I could not wait to witness a helicopter resupply. The excitement of the helicopter faded and I could not help spending the night thinking how there was no turning back now, hoping I was ready enough to make it up to the icefield.
The first hike up to Camp 17 was brutal. It became close to a 14-hour day of pure elevation gain through narrow woods, “vertical swamps” (which I completely sank one of my boots in), all the way up until to the alpine zone. However, it was one of the most beautiful hikes I had ever been on which made it more bearable. The last leg of our trek involved hiking up the Ptarmigan Glacier to the mountain ridge where Camp 17 was situated. Our trail party took one last water break before embarking on our last push up the glacier, this was both the worst and best part of my day. We were the last trail party that still hadn’t reached camp and the sun was getting low. I was exhausted, everything ached and my sock was still wet from my tussle with the vertical swamp.
However, we were all in the same boat, so we just encouraged one another as we pushed upwards with the silhouette of Camp 17 now in our sight.
As our trail party slowly, but surely, made our way up, we began to hear the cheers of support coming from our fellow JIRPers who were in camp. The cheers and encouragement never stopped as we pushed onwards up to meet them. After about another hour, my trail party and I finally made it to Camp 17, to the Juneau Icefield. Everyone gathered around, congratulating, hugging, and offering to carry our bags to where we would be staying in camp. The sense of accomplishment and joy that I felt in that moment is indescribable. I had made it to the icefield and the encouragement I experienced along the way was incredible. In fact, I had quickly come to learn that the JIRP community was one of the most supportive, positive and “stoked” filled groups I will probably ever come across. As the summer progressed, it became tradition to drop what you were doing when a trail party came into camp to cheer them on and welcome them to their next icefield home. After greeting everyone, I popped my skis off and looked back across the breathtaking mountainous landscape we had just trekked across, then looked forward to the other side of the ridge where the rest of the Juneau Icefield waited for me.
I walked around Camp 17 one morning during the first week of our stay there to take all of it in, exploring every corner of the camp and trying to memorize every detail. The wood and aluminum sided buildings were scattered across the ridge between the Ptarmigan Glacier where we arrived at Camp 17, and the Lemon Creek Glacier, where we would leave Camp 17. In the center was a building known as the Cook Shack, the main building where we would all gather for meals and get to know one another. Outside of the Cook Shack rested a snow patch with a blue tarp set up like a funnel leading to a bin downhill. This served as our water supply and there were a few of them set up around the camp. Upkeeping them was one of the daily responsibilities of a JIRPer.
Further uphill was a helicopter landing area marked out by a circle of rocks. I was eager to see a helicopter land and take off. The excitement of helicopters arriving at our camps never died during the summer as they brought mail from home, the biggest treat on the icefield. The rest of the Camp 17 buildings served as sleeping lofts consisting of wooden bunks and foam pads nicknamed “foamies,” a small library which also doubled as a sleeping area, a tool shed and some of the most spectacularly located outhouses that I will probably ever see. The buildings all had character and were uniquely nicknamed, usually after inside jokes that were made at some point during the program’s history. Inside the buildings, the walls were covered with the names of the previous generations of JIRPers along with some memorabilia they had left behind, some of these objects included old skis dating back to the very early years of the program in the 1940’s. These walls seemed to just ooze with the memories and experiences of past JIRPers, which inspired me and gave me a sense of what this program has meant to people. It was so much more than a research program, but a community.
Later that morning, a plastic horn was blown by one of the student members of that day’s cook crew (students rotated being on cook crew daily), summoning everyone to breakfast. I got in line then sat down with my typical JIRP breakfast: fried Spam, boxed hash browns, pancakes and, of course, coffee. If you did not have at least a minor coffee addiction before JIRP, you certainly did by the end of it. Towards the end of breakfast, a staff member who took on responsibility as camp manager for Camp 17, called us outside for morning announcements and the plan of the day. I brought my tin mug filled with my second (maybe third) cup of coffee outside and found a space on a rock overlooking the Ptarmigan "Roping up was a way to prepare us & set us up for a crevasse rescue scenario if one of our team members were to fall through a snow bridge."
Glacier and the mountain range behind it. I’d admit, it was hard to pay attention at first with such a spectacular view in front of me. The camp manager walked us through our schedule for the day, reminded us that our goal while at Camp 17 was safety training, and then asked for volunteers for daily camp upkeeping tasks. As mentioned, our main objective for the next week was to prepare for safely traversing across the icefield to our next camp, where we would then begin to dive more into academic aspects of the program and venture out into the icefield for day trips assisting visiting researchers (flown in by helicopter) with their work.
A typical day at Camp 17 went like this: skiing lessons or a ski tour up a nearby peak depending on your experience level, lunch, then more ski practice or crevasse rescue training out on the Lemon Creek glacier before returning to camp for dinner. We would wrap up dinner with further announcements and a daily reflection given by a student. Then, we would attend a lecture in the small library by a faculty member, and, once that was finished, the rest of the night was left up to the JIRPers. Most JIRPers spent the nights at Camp 17, going for sunset ski runs down the Ptarmigan Glacier. Unfortunately, I felt like I did not have the skiing ability yet to join those going down the Ptarmigan, but watching them go down against some of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen always made my night. The days at Camp 17 passed by quickly and it became time for us to leave what felt like our first home on the icefield, where we had all already grown so much both individually and together as a group. However, it was time for my fellow JIRPers and I to apply the glacier travel techniques we have learned over the past week and start our journey across the Juneau Icefield, where we would be exposed to many more exciting and challenging experiences. The traverse to our next camp, Camp 10, was split up over two days and consisted of about 23 miles of boot packing up and over the Nugget Mountain Ridge, skiing down to and across a flat stretch, charmingly named “Death Valley.” From Death Valley, we were to navigate our way up the jagged Norris icefall, then ski just a bit further until we reached the Norris Cache, where we would camp for the night.
The second day of the traverse would be an all day ski down the Southwestern branch of the Taku glacier, then onto the Taku glacier itself before we reached the nunatak, a mountain that protrudes from the icefield, where Camp 10 awaited us. The trail parties that were set to leave first out of Camp 17 the next morning buzzed around the Cook Shack with anticipation while putting together their provisions for the two-day traverse. Everyone who was in the Cook Shack with them gave them a hug or pat on the back, wished them luck and left them with more words of encouragement before turning in for the night. The day came quickly when it was time for my trail party and I to depart for Camp 10. I packed up my sleeping bag, gathered my belongings and signed my name on the rafter above my bunk before bidding it farewell. It was a great feeling signing my name on that rafter. I felt like I was leaving a bit of me behind to reside on the icefield for long after I leave it. I met my trail party by the Cook Shack, went through one last gear check, grabbed my skis and was cheered on by the remaining JIRPers as we made our way out of Camp 17 and down to the Lemon Creek glacier. The traverse to Camp 10 was without a doubt the hardest one of the summer for me. I arrived at the Norris Cache camp after a long 12 plus hours of bootpacking and skiing with a hurt shoulder, raging blisters and borderline trench foot. Icefield – 1, Jackie – 0.
However, the landscape surrounding our tents situated in the middle of Taku glacier’s southwestern branch made me forget about any aches or pain. Stretches of white snow dominated the scenery, but was broken up by dark gray, jagged nunataks towering out of the ice. Truly captivating and truly silent, it was peaceful. Our trail party was joined by another party who arrived at the Norris Cache about an hour after us. We ate our dinner consisting of camp stove canned chili and tea together, shared our stories of the day and showed off any nasty blisters before turning in to our tents for the night. The next day was one of the many
traverses of the summer that would consist of a long, flat ski across a glacier until we could reach our destination. A few of us, including "I did it, I thought to myself, I actually traversed the Juneau Icefield." myself, were struggling with some minor injuries from the day before. I had hurt my shoulder and carrying my heavy bag the next day made it worse, it got to the point where I could not turn my head without feeling a terrible sharp pain. Fortunately, a few staff members stopped to help me and went above and beyond to find and there everyone was, eating cheeseburgers in trash bags against the a way to turn my bag into a makeshift sled to grand landscape of the Juneau Icefield: pure happiness. be dragged. They had even taken turns helping me drag the bag by dragging it themselves. An Our days at Camp 10 and Camp 18 seemed short, and the rest of our act of kindness and support that I will be altime on the icefield seemed shorter. Before I knew it, I was taking my skis ways incredibly grateful for. off for the last time before we hiked off the icefield and caught a small We continued our traverse to Camp 10, laughof Atlin, B.C. It was here we finished off our projects and presented our ing, joking and singing to keep spirits high. summer’s worth of work to the Atlin community. We spent the last nights Like I mentioned before, this group of JIRPers together sleeping out on the docks outside of the old hospital building were some of the most positive and encouragthat had been converted into a JIRP camp decades ago. It was our last ing people I have ever met. We finally reached night before we left Atlin for Juneau, and then home. Camp 10 and were, yet again, cheerfully greeted by our fellow JIRPers who had arrived the I looked up to the sky from my sleeping bag on the dock, listening to the day before. From this point on, the real icefield waves lap up against the wood. I did it, I thought to myself, I actually experience began. Crevasse rescue training betraversed the Juneau Icefield. It felt like a close one at times, close to not came more advanced; project work began; days making it, close to wanting to call it quits. I had experienced my highest of were filled with skiing, assisting a variety of highs and lowest of lows at JIRP. There were times when I was incredibly visiting researchers from numerous institutions proud of myself and times when I disappointed myself. The feeling of acwith their work, academic workshops, lectures, complishment when I completed a traverse, how they seemed to become a and a serious amount of JIRP stoke and fun bit easier as I became stronger was unmatched, but the disappointment in shenanigans. Camp life was one of my favorite myself when I was too slow or couldn’t carry my bag loomed in the back of aspects of JIRP, from the spontaneous dance my mind. All the choices I made during the program, all the opportunities parties, from playing cards in the cook shack I took and those I had missed, the things I wish I had said and wished I joking with one an another and sharing stories had done. I felt like I had still so much more to accomplish, more to prove from home, to our camp wide murder mystery but my time on the icefield was over. night and “fancy” dinner nights. Fancy dinner nights happened a few times my mind and remind myself that I did cross the Juneau Icefield, somethroughout the summer and started at our thing I should be proud of and grateful for. Myself and my fellow JIRPers third camp, Camp 18. Fancy dinner consisted had accomplished so much just by making it into Atlin. It did not matter of fresh food, or “freshies” as we came to call how we got there, help or no help, because we got there. Bumps along the them, that had been flown in and saved for the way do not diminish that achievement, I thought. I had done something occasion. The excitement in the air on the day and lived a dream I thought was impossible for me to obtain as a child. of a fancy dinner night was palpable, and our During the summer of 2019, I experienced incredible personal growth, first one became a highly talked about event faced tough challenges that seriously tested me both physically and emowhen it was learned that cheeseburgers were tionally, pushed myself out of my comfort zone, learned so many new on the menu for that night. When it got closer things from amazing people and felt free, totally free, out on that icefield. to dinner, JIRPers ran around camp looking for boat to our last destination before heading back to Juneau, the small town I listened to the waves for a bit longer, trying to get the negativity out of items they could turn into some elegant attire Jackie Bellefontaine suitable for the occasion. The outfit of choice Bachelor of Science for was a trash bag cut into a high end piece of Earth and Climate Sciences JIRP fashion. The horn was blown for dinner University of Maine
