Early spring in the North Cascades  is a time of transition. Snow still covers the high peaks, but lower forests are already shifting into vibrant greens. Waterfalls grow stronger with snowmelt, rivers run high, and the trails feel quieter than in peak summer season. It’s a mix of winter and spring happening all at once, and that combination makes this a great time to explore.

Highway 20 Closure: What to Plan For

Before heading out, it’s important to know that State Route 20 (North Cascades Highway) is currently closed from Ross Dam Trailhead (near milepost 134) on the west side to Porcupine Creek (near milepost 156) on the east side, according to Washington State Department of Transportation (WSDOT). They are currently estimating a full reopening around June 25. 

This means, right now,  you cannot cross the park via Highway 20 right now, and eastern destinations like Rainy Pass and Washington Pass are not accessible from the west. As a result, early spring hiking is focused on the western side of the North Cascades National Park Service Complex.

The good news is that this area still offers a wide variety of trails, from accessible forest walks to scenic viewpoints near Diablo Lake.

North Cascades Institute Environmental Learning Center

One of the best places to start is the North Cascades Environmental Learning Center, located on the shore of Diablo Lake. Surrounded by steep forested slopes and glacier-fed water, it’s both a learning space and a peaceful base for exploring the surrounding area.

In early spring, the setting feels especially fresh. Mosses are bright, streams are full, and bird activity increases throughout the forest. Several trails around the campus provide easy access to the landscape, and some are ADA-accessible, making it possible for more visitors to experience the lake and forest environment comfortably.

If you’re looking for a quiet forest walk, the Deer Creek Loop is a good option. Listen for spring bird song as you go. If you want a bit more effort, continue uphill and you’ll reach a small early-season waterfall. For something longer, the Diablo Lake Trail runs from the parking area along the shoreline and eventually reaches Ross Dam. 

After your hike, rest your legs on the beaches of the glacier fed Diablo Lake and take in the views of Pyramid and Colonial peaks. 

ADA-Friendly Trails in the Area

Even in a rugged mountain landscape like the North Cascades, there are several accessible trails that work well in early spring.

In Newhalem, the River Loop Trail offers another accessible option. This easy path follows the Skagit River through old-growth forest. During spring, the river is especially powerful as snowmelt increases water flow, creating a dramatic but accessible riverside experience.

The Sterling Munro Boardwalk, located behind the Newhalem Visitor Center, is fully ADA-accessible and winds through shady Douglas fir and huckleberry before opening to a sweeping view of the Picket Range. 

The Trail of the Cedars is another gentle walk, featuring large cedar and Douglas fir trees covered in moss and lichens. The forest here feels quiet and shaded, with soft ground that contains a history of logging, damming and fire.

The Happy Creek Forest Walk is a short ADA-accessible boardwalk trail near the Environmental Learning Center area (near Ross Dam trail head, make sure to check road closures). It passes through dense, mossy old-growth forest with interpretive signs that highlight the surrounding ecology. The creek nearby adds a steady natural soundtrack, especially during spring runoff.

Thunder Creek: A Classic Spring Hike

Thunder Creek is one of the standout hiking areas on the western side of the park complex. The lower Thunder Creek Trail is often accessible earlier in the season and offers a straightforward route into a broad glacial valley.

In spring, Thunder Creek is at its peak flow, fueled by melting snow from surrounding mountains. The sound of rushing water stays with you for much of the hike, and the surrounding old growth forest feels especially lush during this time of year. Many hikers turn around at the Thunder Creek bridge, but the trail continues much farther for those who want a longer outing.

Thunder Arm and Thunder Knob Views

The Thunder Arm area near Diablo Lake is another strong choice for early spring hiking. While higher elevation routes may still be snow-covered, lower trails offer clear access to forest and lake views.

The Thunder Knob Trail is the highlight here. It climbs gradually through forest before opening to views of Diablo Lake’s bright blue-green water, framed by steep, snow-dusted peaks. In early spring, cloud cover often moves through the mountains, adding that classic Pacific Northwest moodiness to the views throughout the hike.

Why Early Spring Is Worth It

Early spring is one of the most interesting times to visit the North Cascades. Snow is still present at higher elevations, while lower elevations are quickly greening up. Waterfalls are strong, wildlife is more active, and the trails are generally quieter.

Conditions can change quickly, so hikers should be prepared for mud, lingering snow, and cool, wet weather. Waterproof gear and layered clothing make a big difference this time of year.

Even with the Highway 20 closure between Colonial Creek Campground (near milepost 130) and Porcupine Creek (near milepost 156), the western North Cascades still offer plenty of rewarding early spring hikes. From ADA-accessible forest walks to riverside trails and lake viewpoints, it’s a season that highlights the park’s quieter, more subtle beauty.

The post From the Trail: Spring Hiking in the North Cascades first appeared on North Cascades Institute.

Mark your calendars & RSVP today!

Thurs, May 21: Tom and Saul at Seattle’s Third Place Books, Seward Park (and happy hour at Chuck’s Hop Shop): Info and RSVP

Sat, May 23: Tom and Saul at Bellingham’s Village Books (and happy hour at Kulshan Trackside): Info and RSVP

Here is a short video we made for the Institute’s 25th anniversary on the origin story behind the creation of our organization:

And here is another video with Tom remembering the early inspirations and partnerships that helped to create the Institute, the power of the North Cascades ecosystem and other musings:

Booklist review of Astonished By Beauty: A Field Guide to the Practice of Paying Attention 

In this engaging book, Fleischner recounts a lifetime spent immersed in the wonders of the natural world. In evocative prose, Fleischner encourages readers, whether they reside in cities or areas that are more remote, to participate in what he describes as “the practice of mindful attentiveness to our remarkable world.” As a naturalist and conservation biologist, he shares his own practice of studying natural history, from the jungles of the Amazon to the Galapagos Islands to the deserts of Arizona. His awe and passion for the natural world are threaded throughout this highly personal text, providing many firsthand examples of a naturalist actively observing, asking questions, and interpreting. Multiple chapters are devoted to describing the elements of the practice of natural history, including but not limited to “Attentiveness and Receptivity,” “Passion,” and “Humility.” The fundamental principles of natural history are highlighted throughout, offering suggestions on how readers might repair their broken relationship with nature. Whether new to the field or seasoned naturalists, readers will delight in and be inspired by this ode to the marvels of natural history.

— Maren Ostergard

The post Tom Fleischner with Saul Weisberg 40th anniversary events this week first appeared on North Cascades Institute.

A Bird Highway Through the Mountains

The North Cascades sit along the Pacific Flyway, a major migratory route that connects South America to the Arctic. As temperatures rise, birds begin moving north from wintering grounds in places like Mexico and Central America, heading toward breeding areas in the Pacific Northwest, Canada, and Alaska.

Because of the rugged terrain, the Cascades act as both a barrier and a guide. Valleys funnel birds through lower passes, while some species soar over ridgelines using favorable winds. Timing varies by species, but early migrants like waterfowl and raptors may appear as early as March, while songbirds arrive in waves through April and May with peak movement mid April-mid May. 

Meet the Migrators

A huge variety of birds pass through the North Cascades each spring. Some are just stopping to rest, while others stay to breed. You can see and hear many of these spring migrators at our Environmental Learning Center along the many trails and on the shores of Diablo Lake. 

If visiting the Environmental Learning Center is on your list make sure you take a walk to Diablo Dam and look for the fast aerial acrobatics of violet-green swallows near the dam. Take a walk along Deer Creek where you might be able to see brightly colored warblers like the yellow-rumped warbler. Move farther into the forest and you may hear a variety of thrushes like the Swainson’s thrush known for its ethereal flute-like song or a Varied thrush song that reminds us of a referee’s whistle and thus we nicknamed the referee of the forest. 

Continue exploring scenic Highway 20 and as you drive you may be able to see hawks and osprey riding the thermal currents along both Diablo and Ross lakes. Each species times its journey to match food availability. Insects, budding plants, and open water all play a role in when birds arrive.

The Night Shift: Migration After Dark

Most songbirds migrate at night. Flying in cooler, calmer air helps them conserve energy and avoid predators. While we sleep, millions of birds take to the sky to continue their long arduous journey.

A great tool and scientific project using weather radar to track bird migration in real time is BirdCast. By analyzing radar data, BirdCast can estimate how many birds are in the air, how fast they’re traveling, and where they’re headed.

According to BirdCast, during peak migration nights in the western US millions of birds can pass over a single region. Their migration forecast maps can label nights as “low,” “medium,” or “high” intensity, giving birders a heads-up for when to expect a surge in activity.

It’s a reminder that even when the sky looks empty, it’s anything but.

Why Migration Matters

Migration isn’t just an impressive journey, it’s essential to ecosystems. Migratory birds help control insect populations, pollinate plants, and spread seeds across vast distances. Their movements link ecosystems across continents.

But migration is also dangerous. Birds face storms, habitat loss, and collisions with buildings along the way. That’s where people can make a real difference.

How You Can Help Migrating Birds

Even small actions can have a big impact on birds passing through your area:

• Turn off lights at night: Artificial light disorients migrating birds, especially during cloudy conditions. Dimming or turning off non-essential lights during peak migration helps prevent collisions.
• Make windows bird-safe: Use decals or patterns to reduce reflections that birds might mistake for open sky.
• Keep cats indoors: Outdoor cats are a major threat to resting and feeding birds.
• Plant native species: Native plants provide food and shelter for migrating birds needing a refueling stop.
• Check BirdCast forecasts: If a “high migration” night is predicted, it’s a perfect time to reduce lighting and be extra mindful.

A Hidden Wonder Overhead

Spring migration through the North Cascades is a reminder that nature is always in motion, even when we don’t see it. So the next time you step outside on a spring evening, look up. Above the peaks and forests, thousands or even millions of birds may be passing silently overhead, each one on a journey that spans continents and every small action we take can help them along the way.

Photo credits: swans: Tim Leach; Birdcast radar: Cornell Lab Ornithology; all others: North Cascades Institute.

The post The Secret Skyway: Spring Bird Migration in the North Cascades first appeared on North Cascades Institute.

The second section, “Elements of the Practice,” considers both the practicalities and the spirit of how and why we practice natural history. It is, in essence, a field guide to connection: how to look, see, and let yourself feel about landscapes and their inhabitants.

— Tom Fleischner

Two weeks into a summer-long field exploration of Alaska and the Canadian northwest, we approach summer solstice in the far north. Despite the twenty-four-hour daylight, the sky darkens this afternoon. As our field course group—ten hardy students, a teaching assistant, and I—prepare to hike into the immense montane valley of this heaving glacial river, a major storm approaches. As we exit our van at the base of these enormous mountains—whose summits are four thousand feet higher than anything in the lower 48—the first drizzle appears, dampening our backpacks. We already knew this area had one of the densest grizzly bear populations in the world and were prepared for that danger. We stay in groups of six or larger whenever possible, making noise before rounding blind corners, and to be cautious, I carry a cannister of pepper spray on my side. But this new threat—cold rain and wind, exactly the recipe for hypothermia, was unexpected. When I visited here two years earlier with a different group of students it was sunny and warm enough for short sleeves each day.

We leave the road-end behind, following the trail into dense spruce forest. Five miles ahead is our intended camp, where we plan to base ourselves for the next four days of natural history exploration. Within the first hour, the drizzle shifts into full-on hard rain. When we leave the relative protection of the forest as our route crosses a glacial outwash plain, the wind rakes through us, like sharp fingertips through our wet clothes. At another opening, the trail braids and we lose the route. A couple students step onto what appears to be solid ground but sink thigh-deep into a near-frozen bog. We pull them up and out, but they’re now drenched. The temperature is dropping, and none of us are dry. The group’s mood, typically upbeat, becomes noticeably subdued.

I notice that one young woman, usually laughing and tending others, has become silent as a stone. This—a sure warning sign of hypothermia—is really troubling. My teaching assistant and I start scanning for possible campsites, as it has become critical to get warm and dry and out of the biting wind. The spruce forest offers no camping prospects, but we eventually find a plausible opening in the broken woodland on the mountain’s shoulder. One thing, at least, we won’t have to worry about here, north of sixty degrees latitude, is darkness falling, but at the back of all our minds is the awareness of our vulnerability—cold, wet, and in the heart of grizzly country. We scramble into action, setting up tents, and shooing the coldest, quietest group members inside, with a companion to help them get soaking clothes off, and dry attire on. I encourage them to get inside sleeping bags and snuggle together. One student does jumping jacks to warm up and, betrayed by her stiff muscles, slips and twists her ankle badly; she needs to be supported into her tent.

After everyone has settled into their tents, I do the same myself. Within an hour or so, I begin to hear the reassuring soft mumble of conversations and laughter. I know we need to get food inside all these bodies to stoke internal heat, but it would be foolhardy to allow food inside tents in bear country. A couple of us clamber out of our dry cocoons and fight the wind to set up a tarp that is barely large enough for us all to cram under. We crank up several camp stoves, start heating water for tea and noodles, and we all reconvene. I’m immensely relieved to see each face, most smiling, all safe.

Rejuvenated by food and good company, we all retreat back to our tents, weary from the long day’s exertions. After a few hours of fitful sleep beneath the never-dark sky, I awake in the yet-quiet camp and unzip my tent door. Our tents and the slopes above us are white, dusted by fresh snow while we slumbered. Low-angle golden light begins to emerge between the breaking cloud cover. And just then, I see it: a large grizzly, its fur colored like chocolate and caramel, moves steadily across the slope right above our camp and, after a couple never-ending minutes, disappears behind the next ridge.

The summer snow, the bear, and our vulnerability. The pulsing throb of the massive glacial river just out of sight, the tang-like chill off the edge of the ice. In this tingling moment I cross the threshold, back into the Pleistocene.

Purchase from bookshop.org >>

Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash

The post “Crossing the Threshold” with Tom Fleischner first appeared on North Cascades Institute.

Congratulations! After surviving the dark and rainy days that is Washington winter, Spring is finally here in the North Cascades! Snow still clings to the high peaks, but meadows, rivers, and forests are bustling with new life. Longer days bring more sunlight, warmer air, and plants and animals are noticing.

If you take a walk along a lower elevation forest trail or peek into a river valley, you can see buds swelling on trees, the first wildflowers pushing through thawing soil, and birds returning from migration. But let’s not forget one of the best indicators of Spring in Washington, the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival! Spring is not coming, it’s here!

What Is Phenology?

These seasonal signals have a name: phenology.

Phenology is the study of recurring natural events,  when flowers bloom, birds return, or salmon swim upstream, and how those events respond to climate and seasonal changes. You can think of it as nature’s calendar. 

In this interconnected ecosystem, timing matters. Snowmelt cues wildflowers, wildflowers feed pollinators, insects feed birds, and rivers carry life from mountains to valleys. Every species plays its part as we move through spring and seasonal transition.

Keep your eyes peeled! Some plants in the North Cascades bloom just days after the snow melts! Keep an eye out for glacier lilies or red columbine popping up in mid-elevation meadows.

Longer Days and Brighter Sun

April brings noticeably longer days. The sun lingers in the sky, warming soils and water, and triggering bursts of growth across the landscape. Rivers are flowing faster from snow melt, and wetlands are alive with early amphibian calls.

Historically, these patterns happened predictably. Snowpack insulates the soil in winter and releases water gradually. In spring, warming temperatures feed rivers at just the right time for fish, insects, and plants. Now, due to climate change, these events are happening earlier and faster than they did a few decades ago.

Nature’s Timing Shifts

Some species are already adjusting to the new shift. Flowers bloom earlier, insects hatch sooner, and migratory birds may arrive to find insect hatches already underway. These timing differences, known as phenological mismatches, can affect the whole food chain, but the North Cascades are resilient and adaptive.

Even with small changes, the landscape signals spring, snowfields recede, meadows are dotted with early blooms, and streams come alive with tiny hatchlings.

Just like some wildflowers bloom days after the snowmelt, some insects do the same. For example, some insects like stoneflies and caddisflies hatch within days of snowmelt. If the timing is off even slightly, birds relying on them for food may miss an important food source. meal.

Even small changes can ripple through the ecosystem.

Snowpack and Water Flow

Snowpack still plays a role, even as spring arrives. It continues to release water slowly into rivers and streams, sustaining forests, wetlands, and aquatic life.

Warmer winters have caused snow to melt earlier as well as glaciers to recede at an accelerated rate, and rain is becoming more frequent at lower elevations. This shift affects everything from fish habitat to soil moisture. Watching phenological changes, like when flowers bloom, when birds arrive, helps scientists track how climate change is altering these natural rhythms.

One place to really see this is in alpine meadows. Alpine meadows bloom in waves, starting low and moving upward. Earlier snowmelt can speed this process up, changing how plants, insects and birds interact. 

That’s why tracking phenology is so important. Noticing when flowers bloom or when birds return helps scientists understand how climate change is reshaping these natural cycles.

Take a moment to notice

Spring is already in motion. Buds are opening, flowers are blooming, and birdsong is back. Each phenological milestone is a reminder that life in the North Cascades continues, even as climate patterns shift.

Paying attention to these small moments, first blooms, first sightings, first songs can actually contribute to real scientific research. Community science projects make it easy to record what you see while you’re out enjoying the season.

Want to get involved? You can join community science programs through organizations like Conservation Northwest or Cascades Butterfly Project to track bloom dates or wildlife sightings, turning your spring adventures into meaningful science!

Spring Is in Full Swing

Phenology shows us that climate change is not just about temperature averages or projections, it’s about timing. When snow melts, when flowers bloom, when insects hatch, and when birds arrive, all of it matters.

Right now, in April, the North Cascades are alive with these events. Longer days, warmer sun, and active ecosystems remind us that spring is not just coming, it’s already here.

By paying attention, we can better understand and protect these seasonal rhythms for the wildlife and communities that depend on them.

Springtime at Diablo Lake: Phenology in Action

As springtime arrives in the northern hemisphere, the upper reaches of the Skagit Valley are slowly waking up.

Diablo Lake is nestled into the North Cascades – the ancestral homelands of the Upper Skagit, the Nlaka’pamux, the Sauk-Suiattle, and the Swinomish peoples. It is an area of immense cultural and ecological significance, managed in part by the North Cascades National Park, and the present location of the North Cascades Environmental Learning Center.

photo credits:
Tulips: Pascal van de Vendel
Tiger and Mariposa lilies: Hanna Black
All others by North Cascades Institute

The post From the Trail: Phenology and Climate Change in the North Cascades first appeared on North Cascades Institute.

Over the past several months, Institute staff put that commitment into action in diverse and deeply meaningful ways. Their service took place in forests and fairgrounds, on shorelines and islands, in shelters and warehouses, behind the scenes in committee meetings, and out in the public eye—each experience reflecting a shared ethic of care, stewardship, and engagement.

Supporting Wildlife and Ecological Research

“Being part of long-term wildlife monitoring reminds me how much careful, behind-the-scenes work goes into protecting species over time.”
— Eva Araujo

Several staff members used their Service Days to directly support wildlife monitoring and conservation science.

Eva volunteered with the Skagit Land Trust on the annual March Point Heronry nest count, carefully documenting nest numbers and tree use while minimizing disturbance to the birds. Working in teams through dense underbrush, Eva helped gather long-term data that supports understanding heron population trends and how habitats shift over time.

Victoria contributed her professional wildlife biology skills to bat monitoring efforts in the San Juan Islands, volunteering alongside biologists from North Cascades National Park, USGS, and Fish & Wildlife. Over two overnight field sessions, Victoria assisted with bat captures and health assessments to monitor for white-nose syndrome—a devastating fungal disease affecting bat populations. The work provided encouraging signs of colony health while reinforcing the importance of continued monitoring for these ecologically vital insect-eaters.

Climate Action and Conservation Education

“Climate work can feel abstract—being part of a net-zero project made the progress feel tangible and real.”
— Britt

Service Days also supported climate solutions and environmental education.

Britt volunteered with the Mountaineers’ Carbon Footprint Reduction Committee, contributing to a blog post and creating data visualizations documenting progress toward a net-zero facility at the Mountaineers Tacoma Program Center. Her work helped communicate complex climate goals clearly and accessibly, supporting broader efforts to reduce organizational carbon emissions.

Kim supported environmental education and future leadership through her role as Chair of the Skagit Audubon Society’s Scholarship Committee. She reviewed student essays, helped select scholarship recipients, updated committee records, and wrote a summary article for the organization’s newsletter—helping connect young scholars with opportunities to pursue environmental studies and stewardship.

Caring for Community in Times of Need

“Food access is about dignity, connection, and community—not just meals.”
— Christian Martin

Several Service Day experiences centered on immediate community care and human well-being.

During a prolonged period of extreme winter cold, Hannah volunteered extensively at the Kingston Severe Weather Shelter, working across nearly every shift type—from evening intake to overnight support and early-morning cleanup. Her service helped ensure that community members had access to warmth, food, showers, and a safe place to rest during dangerous conditions.

Christian volunteered weekly with the Bellingham Food Bank, delivering food boxes to homes across Bellingham and assisting with sorting and packing food in the warehouse. His efforts supported an organization that provides more than 50,000 meals each month to families throughout Whatcom County—work that underscores how food security is deeply connected to community health and resilience.

Kim also volunteered with the Anacortes Pride Parade, helping line up participants and break down event infrastructure. Her service supported a welcoming, inclusive community celebration—another reminder that service includes helping create spaces where people feel seen, safe, and celebrated.

Youth Mentorship and Access to the Outdoors

“Helping more people feel confident and welcome in outdoor spaces is deeply aligned with why I do this work.”
— Kate

Service Days also highlighted the power of mentorship, youth engagement and inclusive recreation.

Kate volunteered with Shifting Gears, an outdoor recreation nonprofit in Whatcom County dedicated to expanding access to outdoor sports for women. As a member of the Programs Committee, she supported seasonal program planning, recruitment, and enrollment—bringing experience from the North Cascades Institute to help a growing organization connect more people with outdoor adventure. During Wild Women Week, Kate helped host a film screening about women in adventure sports, tabled and recruited instructors at an event at Loam Equipment, and co-hosted a craft night fundraiser at Structures Brewing that welcomed about 50 participants.

Jason volunteered at Burlington–Edison High School, teaching an introductory lesson on Buddhism for a World Literature class. He engaged students in discussion about compassion, wisdom, and resilience, and offered meditation instruction that allowed students to experience mindfulness practices firsthand.

Few stories illustrate long-term commitment more clearly than Darcie’s service with 4-H at the Skagit County Fair. As Superintendent of the Cat Barn, Darcie devoted months to planning and preparation, followed by long fair days centered on animal care, youth mentorship, and public education. She supported young people across multiple age groups and project areas, helping them build responsibility, resilience, and pride in their work—often behind the scenes, and always with heart.

“Watching young people grow in confidence and responsibility is the most rewarding part of volunteering.”

—  Darcie Lloyd

A Shared Thread

Taken together, these Service Day stories reveal the many ways Institute staff live out our mission beyond our formal roles. Whether tracking wildlife, mentoring youth, supporting climate action, feeding neighbors, or helping communities gather safely, each act of service reflects a shared belief: that learning, care, and stewardship are inseparable.

Service Days remind us that the skills we use at work—observation, organization, creativity, empathy, and leadership—can ripple outward in powerful ways. We’re proud of our staff for showing up with generosity and intention, and grateful to the partner organizations and communities who welcomed their time and talents.

This is what service looks like at NCI: grounded, relational, and deeply connected to the places and people we care about.

The post Service Days in Action: How Institute Staff Are Showing Up for Community, Conservation, and Care first appeared on North Cascades Institute.

Living close to the Skagit River over the years and watching fall slip into winter can be a magical grounding time, especially after a fresh snowfall. The world feels completely still, no wind, no birds, just the muffled quiet that comes with deep cold. The river can look dark and empty beneath a skin of ice along the edges, but just beneath the water, a whole other world exists. Aquatic animals don’t hibernate like bears, they adapt, slow down, and keep living in clever ways.

So what really happens underwater when winter takes over?

Cold Water Changes Everything

Water in the North Cascades rarely freezes solid, even during the coldest months. Flowing water stays just above freezing, which is good news for aquatic life. Fish and aquatic insects are cold-blooded, so cold water slows their bodies down. Their hearts beat more slowly, they move less, and they don’t need as much to eat.

Diablo Lake, Lake Chelan, Skagit River and the Stehekin River share many, but not all of the same fish species such as, rainbow trout, eastern brook trout and dolly varden. These fish switch into energy-saving mode during winter, instead of swimming fast or chasing food, they settle into deeper pools, lake bottoms, or calm areas behind rocks and fallen logs. In these areas the water temperature is steadier and the current is gentle and ideal for resting through winter.

Ice Isn’t Always on Top

One of winter’s strangest and fascinating underwater features is anchor ice. Anchor ice can occur in the North Cascades cold, glacial fed streams and lakes, especially at higher elevations or during deep freezes. This ice forms on rocks at the bottom of streams when super cold water freezes from below. Anchor ice can lift rocks, trap tiny animals and sometimes break loose all at once, which seems dangerous, but the animals of the North Cascades waters are built for it. Over thousands of years, they’ve evolved ways to survive icy surprises.

Macroinvertebrates: Tiny But Mighty

Macroinvertebrates are small aquatic animals without backbones, like mayfly, stonefly, and caddisfly larvae. Even though they’re tiny, they’re incredibly important and surprisingly tough.

Many macroinvertebrates cling tightly to rocks using hooks, suction, or silk threads while others flatten their bodies and tuck themselves under stones where the current is slower and ice is less likely to form. Caddisfly larvae build protective cases from sand, pebbles, or plant bits, creating tiny winter shelters.

Stoneflies are winter specialists. Some species grow best in cold water and even emerge as adults during snowy months. If you ever see a small insect crawling across snow near a stream, you’ve probably spotted a winter stonefly using natural antifreeze chemicals to stay active.

Life Under Frozen Lakes

In lakes, winter brings a different vibe. Ice often forms on the surface, but it acts like an insulating blanket, keeping the water underneath from freezing solid. Fish move into deeper water where temperatures stay more stable. They swim slowly, eat very little, and conserve energy until spring.

Microscopic plants and animals continue to float beneath the ice, quietly supporting the lake food web, even when sunlight is limited.

Why Winter Underwater Life Matters

Winter is not a break, it’s a preparation. Fish that survive winter go on to spawn. Macroinvertebrates emerge in spring, feeding birds, bats, and fish. Leaves and nutrients continue to be recycled, keeping streams healthy year-round.

So the next time you cross a snowy bridge or pass a frozen stream in the North Cascades, remember the hidden world below. Under the ice and snow, life is still moving, slowly, quietly and patiently, waiting for warmer days ahead.

Top photo by Angela Burlile

Marissa Bluestein is a naturalist, writer, former ranger and environmental educator with a deep affection for Pacific Northwest landscapes. She has spent many seasons sharing her love for public lands and environmental education with visitors from around the world in roles with the National Park Service – including North Cascades, Olympic, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. Marissa enjoys sharing naturalist-inspired stories and answers to everyday outdoor recreation and exploration questions. Leave your in the comments below!⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀​​​​​​​​

The post From the Trail: The Secret Winter World Underwater in the North Cascades first appeared on North Cascades Institute.

When I’m downvalley and strangers ask me about my job and Youth Leadership Adventures, I’ve always had a response ready to go: “I organize canoeing and backpacking trips for local high school students in the North Cascades.” But lately, I’ve been thinking about how far that description feels from my day-to-day work and all the wonderful and hard problems that crop up when working with high-school students in remote places. For example, it leaves out the wonderful parts of YLA that live in the off season. In winter, like so many migratory animals, the full-time YLA team (Eva, Neal, and I) head downvalley for a season full of meetings with teachers, community members, and students. The work of building connections with other organizations, educators, and students is more difficult to photograph than a teenager in a canoe on Ross Lake, but it’s just as essential to getting kids into the backcountry.

In every new year, the YLA work grows again as we start heading into schools to recruit students and spreading the word to find backcountry instructors. The instructors need to have strong backcountry skills, good decision-making under stress, Spanish language skills, and the ability to teach a varied curriculum. You can’t Google what you should do while you’re in the backcountry, you’re relying on your experience and communication with your team. Every bit of communication between me and the instructors on a trip gets channeled through the format of 250-character messages on a Garmin, sent back and forth in a process that takes time and where errors can have big consequences.

In summer, the bulk of my role is supervising this team of instructors. In 2024, my first year as the Youth Leadership Coordinator, I felt like I had a lot to learn. My years at the ELC had given me experience supervising staff, problem-solving weather emergencies, power outages, illness, and injury. I had detailed knowledge of the logistics of every other program that NCI runs, but lacked a window into the experience of instructors disappearing into the backcountry for a week at a time. But over the course of the summer, I would learn how much I could lean on the rest of the team. Everyone was bringing their own varied interests and experiences to the table.

After hiring the incredible instructor teams that we had last summer, Neal, Eva, and I sat down to discuss our specific goals for training and broader goals for the summer. Beyond the obvious objective of nine successful trips with students, we wanted instructors to feel supported, be able to trust us and each other, and be challenged to grow.

During staff training, we practiced communicating succinctly and clearly during a canoe capsize scenario. On one side of the beach, Eva and I wrote “Garmin” messages on slips of paper to respond to the instructors, who were doing a patient assessment of a couple of wet and shivering “students.” Meanwhile, canoes rolled on breaking waves against rocks, the wind howled, and gear floated downwind on Ross Lake. The manufactured chaos was a helpful reminder of what could happen on a trip and how to quickly and calmly manage stressful situations as a team. It also underscored how important trust is when instructors take students into the backcountry. We rely on their good judgement in the field and with students, and they rely on us in sharing information, weather conditions, and advice.

The YLA instructors from summer 2024 took to calling Neal, Eva, and I the “tiny Garmin people,” like we had shrunk down to live in the handheld device and were with them the entire time. This limited channel of communication is one of the most challenging aspects of working YLA. It’s not always possible to communicate all of the nuances of a situation in 250 characters. I instead tried to accept that I wouldn’t always have direct experience with a situation, but could trust the instructors to ask me for what they needed.

Over time, I got better at anticipating problems that they might face, and I look forward to the end of every trip, when they return and tell me everything else about their trip, the friendships formed, wildlife seen, and the group dynamic formed.

Every summer brings different challenges. As a team, we’ve faced trials like wildfire smoke, illness, injury, strong winds, and language barriers. At the end of summer 2024, instructors shared that it was hard to keep bringing the same excitement and energy to teaching their fourth and fifth trips of the season, but it didn’t feel fair to slow down with students who had looked forward to this trip all summer long.

We workshopped strategies to prepare for the rest of the season and energize the instructors. We looked for big and small ways to embrace novelty on the trail and keep things balanced, from re-assigning who was teaching each lesson, sillier shake-ups like loaning out my heart-eye sunglasses for extra pizzazz, and finding individual solutions that worked for each instructor.

At the end of that ninth trip, a few instructors asked me to write a reflection on their season. I compiled each of the sets of notes that I had from our check-ins, trip debriefs, and goal-setting conversations and shared a summary with them. It was wonderful to close the season by reminding instructors of what they’d accomplished in such a short time. It also helped me reflect on the ways I’d grown as a supervisor, and the places where I need to learn more and improve. We left the warm weather behind with the knowledge that instructors had done what they set out to do. They ran nine successful and safe trips, built a strong relationship with their co-instructors, and guided many students to a deeper relationship with nature.

In the fall, as students return to school and instructors move on to new roles, I also enter another season. For me, the fall is all about taking all of that gathered feedback from instructors into account, building skills that can help me support the next team, and finding the places we can strengthen the program.

I’ll also be getting some rest over the winter so I can get ready for next year, when I’ll shrink back down and live in a Garmin all over again!

Kate grew up on the Kitsap Peninsula before heading east to earn degrees in Environmental Studies and English at Oberlin College in Ohio. After graduation, Kate accepted a two-year Shansi Fellowship and moved to Madurai, India. There she worked with college students in an International Studies center, worked on her conversational Tamil and hiked in the Nilgiris. One pandemic evacuation and several seasonal jobs later, Kate made the move back to Washington in 2021 and enjoyed getting to know the Skagit Valley in all its seasons as Learning Center Manager. In 2023, Kate transitioned to a role in one of her favorite Institute programs: Youth Leadership Adventures! In her free time you can usually find her biking around upriver, knitting up a sweater or swimming in the Skagit.

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Celebrate the beauty and diversity of our oceans as author Mary Boone presents her latest work Unfathomable: Twenty Wild (But True) Stories of the Ocean, alongside Nora Nickum, sharing her new book Twelve Daring Grays, during our Nature of Writing Speaker Series on Thursday, March 19, at 6PM at Third Place Books, Ravenna.

In my new book Unfathomable: Twenty Wild (But True) Stories of the Ocean, I take young readers beneath the waves to explore the science, mystery, and urgent challenges facing our oceans. Each chapter centers on real people and real events, blending research with narrative so kids can see how discovery happens and how ordinary individuals can make an extraordinary difference. There are stories about underwater cities, octopus wrestling, expensive whale poo, and more. My goal with this book was not just to share fascinating facts, but to help young readers understand that science is deeply human. It is driven by curiosity and powered by compassion.

I believe children are ready for stories that are both honest and hopeful. When they encounter the realities facing endangered species, they also deserve to see resilience, collaboration, and the possibility of change. The story of one grieving orca captured international attention and sparked difficult conversations about extinction, responsibility, and empathy. It’s a story with which those of us in the Pacific Northwest are intimately familiar. It’s also a powerful example of how a single animal’s story can move millions and why it’s so important to share these stories with the next generation.

Grieving A Loss

An orca known as J35 gave birth on July 24, 2018. Her calf lived less than an hour. It’s sad, but it happens. A lot. In fact, researchers from the University of Washington recently found that only three out of every ten southern resident orca pregnancies result in a healthy baby.

The southern residents are the smallest of the resident orca populations. Resident orcas live in large pods and stay within their family groups their entire lives. They eat fish, as opposed to Bigg’s orcas, which eat marine mammals. The southern resident orcas include the J, K, and L pods – seventy to seventy-five members in total. These orcas, with their distinctive black and white coloring, are members of the oceanic dolphin family. That’s right: The creatures known as the southern resident killer whales or toothed whales, are the largest members of the dolphin family. Females can weigh up to 8,000 pounds and males weigh up to 10,000 pounds. They may live 30 to 100 years.

Perhaps the most important fact about southern resident orcas, though, is that they are an endangered species. When J35’s baby died in 2018, the orca community had not had a surviving calf in three years.

The losses take an emotional toll on orcas and those who love them – and J35, also known as Tahlequah, was no exception. The twenty-year-old whale experienced a sadness so deep that the world grieved with her. When Tahlequah’s calf died, she kept it afloat for 17 days. She balanced the baby’s 400-pound body on her head or gently gripped it in her teeth as she followed her pod. They swam continuously, day after day in the waters between Vancouver, Canada, and the San Juan Islands in northwest Washington State. This 1,000-mile journey became known as Tahlequah’s grief tour.

Over the course of the two and a half weeks, the calf’s body would occasionally dip below the water’s surface. Each time, the weary mother orca would dive down and pick it up to prevent it from sinking. Over and over again. When it appeared Tahlequah’s own health was at risk because she wasn’t eating, other orcas from her pod stepped in to help keep the calf’s body afloat.

At first, scientists thought all this behavior was normal. Orcas are matrilineal – they spend almost their entire lives with their mothers. The bond is tight, perhaps because their pregnancies last 18 months (twice that of humans).

Prior to the death of Tahlequah’s calf, orca mothers had been seen propping their dead calves onto their foreheads in an apparent attempt to keep them with the pod. They’d been known to nudge their babies’ bodies along for a few days or even a week. Tahlequah’s devotion to her baby took things to a whole new level. And people took notice.

About the author

Mary Boone has written 70+ nonfiction books for young readers, most recently Unfathomable: 20 (Wild But True) Stories of the Ocean (a Junior Library Gold selection), Flying Feminist, Pedal Pusher, School of Fish, and Bugs for Breakfast. Mary and her family live in Tacoma, Washington. Visit Mary’s website to learn more about her and her work.

Excerpted and adapted from UNFATHOMABLE: 20 WILD (BUT TRUE) STORIES ABOUT THE OCEAN by Mary Boone, art by Max Temescu (February 2026). Published by Bright Matter Books/Penguin Random House. All rights reserved. Used with permission from the publisher.

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When most people think of snow, they imagine blanketed forests, towering mountain peaks, snowball fights, or cozy winter days by the fire. But snow does more than create beautiful winter scenery. In the North Cascades, snow plays an important role in protecting plants and animals from harsh winter conditions. Snowpack helps living things survive the cold months and supports the ecosystem long after winter is over.

What is Snow Pack?

Snowpack refers to the layer of snow that builds up over the winter months. Some areas of the North Cascades can get up to 600 inches or 50 feet of snow each year. The snow doesn’t just sit on the ground, it actually becomes an important part of the ecosystem, especially as it melts in the spring. During the winter months, snow has a very special job, it works as an insulating blanket playing a major role in keeping the environment alive and thriving during the colder months.

Snow: Nature’s Insulation Blanket

Snow acts like a warm blanket for the plants and animals in the North Cascades. When snow falls, it creates layers that trap air in between the snowflakes. This trapped air acts as insulation, just like how a winter jacket keeps you warm by trapping heat close to your body. This insulating effect means the snow on the ground maintains a constant temperature beneath it, often staying just a few degrees above freezing, even when the outside air is much colder.

For plants, this is a game changer. Some plants in the North Cascades, like wildflowers and shrubs, depend on snowpack to survive the winter. Without snow acting as insulation, the ground could get so cold that the roots would freeze, killing the plant. Thanks to snow, these plants can stay alive under the white blanket, ready to bloom when the weather warms up.

Snow’s Role for Animals in the North Cascades

Snow isn’t just for plants, animals in the North Cascades also rely on snow to stay warm and safe. Snow helps many animals adapt to tough winter conditions. Here are some North Cascade animals that are snow adapted. 

Snowshoe Hares are masters of camouflage. They are covered in thick, white fur during the winter months, which helps them blend perfectly into the snowy landscape. This white coat makes it harder for predators, like lynx and coyotes, to spot them. Snow isn’t just for camouflage, it also helps animals move around. Snowshoe hares have large, wide feet that help them glide over deep snow without sinking, much like how a snowshoe helps a person walk on soft snow.

Wolverines use snow to keep their food hidden and for shelter. Like snowshoe hares, wolverines have wide fur covered paws that act like natural snowshoes. This allows them to travel efficiently across deep snow while hunting or scavenging. Wolverines rely on their excellent sense of smell to locate food they have stored beneath the snow to keep it safe from other predators. Wolverines rely on snowpack for shelter when they give birth to their kits. They will den feet below the snow to keep their kits safe until they are old enough to venture out. 

Wolverines aren’t the only animals who use snow for shelter. Moles, voles, and other small mammals dig tunnels under the snow, where the temperature stays relatively warm. These snow tunnels, called “subnivean” tunnels (meaning “under the snow”), act like underground highways for these animals. The tunnels provide a safe haven from predators and a cozy place to nest, hunt, and rest.

How Snow Supports the Ecosystem Year-Round

While snow’s main job is protecting life during the winter, its role extends well into the warmer months. Snowpack is a vital source of water for the North Cascades ecosystem. While it keeps plants and animals safe in the winter, it also stores water for later. As the snow melts in the spring, it slowly releases moisture into the soil, rivers, and lakes. This gradual release is essential for keeping the environment healthy through the dry summer months. 

Snow: A Lifesaver for the North Cascades Ecosystem

Snow is much more than a winter decoration. Snowpack plays a critical role in the survival of the plants and animals that call this mountainous region home.  The snowpack of the North Cascades plays a crucial role in keeping the ecosystem healthy and balanced. By acting like an insulating blanket it protects plant roots, provides shelter for animals big and small and helps ecosystems stay alive and thriving through the harshest months of the year. It’s one of nature’s many gifts and one that makes the winter months in the North Cascades a little warmer and a lot more magical.

Top photo by Hwei Ling

Marissa Bluestein is a naturalist, writer, former ranger and environmental educator with a deep affection for Pacific Northwest landscapes. She has spent many seasons sharing her love for public lands and environmental education with visitors from around the world in roles with the National Park Service – including North Cascades, Olympic, Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. Marissa enjoys sharing naturalist-inspired stories and answers to everyday outdoor recreation and exploration questions. Leave your in the comments below!⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀​​​​​​​​

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