If you can see Mt. Baker, you are part of The Experience
environment

From snowflake to sea swell, water has a cycle. A circulatory system whose seasonal heartbeat pumps snowmelt into this green and gracious land so many of us have come to call home. Yet any …

For most hobby anglers, getting out on the water and casting a line is a way to decompress, enjoy nature and maybe even grab lunch. For a select group of hardcore anglers on the Columbia and …

The pilot stood on the open bow of the pilot boat, legs spread, gripping a stanchion to steady himself in the rolling sea. Supported by a deckhand, he prepared to grab the rope ladder dangling down …

In one of the most surefire signs of the incoming winter, Washington State Department of Transportation (WSDOT) announced crews will be closing State Route 20 (North Cascades Highway) at 6 p.m. on Thursday, November 30.

It’s no secret the glaciers and the alpine environment are changing, yet despite extensive media coverage, it remains an issue that’s tough to fully comprehend. Those who are lucky enough to live in the shadow of big, glaciated mountains can only see so much change from down below. From Bellingham, it’s easy to spot the difference in Mt. Baker’s soft, snowy winter coat and its rocky summer skeleton, but it’s hard to notice how increasingly famished it become each summer.

If there’s one person who can illustrate the tumultuous history of the initial incorporation of the park, the inception of its caretaker, North Cascades Institute, and the ongoing efforts to educate and share the pristine wilderness with all, it would be John C. Miles.