Olympic Mountains
9 Day Backpacking Residency with the University of WA, ENVR 380 Course
In July 2022 I had the privilege of joining a University of Washington class for their nine day backpacking trip in the Olympics as their artist in residence. Led by Tim Billo, the course - Wilderness in the Anthropocene - explores landscape changes from the last ice age to our recent experiences of industrialization and climate change. From lessons on the trail to conversations in camp, Tim led us trough discussions of “what these recent changes mean for our future, from ecological, psychological, and philosophical standpoints..” In addition, he challenged us to reflect on and lean about “the idea of wilderness itself: how the concept of wilderness came to be, who it serves and who it doesn’t, and what value it offers society in the Anthropocene, at this critical juncture in Earth’s history.” The backpacking trip that I joined was the culmination of the group’s class, and it was a privilege to spend so many days in the field and to be part of the group.
In those nine days we hiked nearly 50 miles with 13,400 feet of elevation gain and loss as we wandered in a loop through some of the most spectacular, rugged, an remote places I have ever been. At one point were were over 30 miles from the nearest road in one of the most hard to access areas of Olympic National Park. Our route took us from alpine meadows to river valleys covered in moss and airy ridgelines surrounded by peaks rising from cloud filled valleys. Until the last day we saw more bears (12) than other hikers.
Each day I created a story sketch page of paintings, notes, and observations. In the page below, I share photos, art, and snippets of my field journal from the trip, along with some of the paintings I created in the studio after the trip. With limited time to paint, I focused on creating a story page each day, which you can see at the bottom of the gallery.
“The sun is disappearing behind a ridge all too quickly, and a cold breeze foreshadows the impending cooler temperatures of evening. I watch the shadows from the ridge above me move across the snow and the aquamarine water of the tarn. I swear I can see the interminable progression of the shadow, one ridged sun cup after another disappearing into a wash of deep cobalt blue. Within minutes, there are just a few slivers of glowing crystalline water in the last of the sunlight.
I enjoy the last few moments of warmth with my puffy jackets in a pile beside me. As I write these notes on my page, I realize that my paper is perfectly placed in the liminal space between shadow and light; I can see the edge of shadow sway on my page as the tree casting it shivers in the windy dusk.
I always forget how incredibly fast the light changed up here, at nearly 6,000 feet and tucked into a still snowy alpine basin. I finish my last sketch quickly, now hungry and cold. But, In moments like this, I relish the simplicity of life while backpacking.”
- Field Journal, Day 3
The large painting below (30x20 inches) was made based on the small field sketch I created while exploring the alpine meadows above camp on a layover day.
“7,310 feet. I had 30 minutes on a ridgeline to sketch, and I immediately knew I would be sketching the craggy peak framed by trees. In the mid-afternoon light, the shadows reach ever further across the snowfields and still-buried glaciers. Every time I look up, the mountain looks slightly different. My painting is a frozen sundial of these fleeting moments.
After leaving the windy ridge we hiked through the meadow in silence, in awe. I tried to stop on every knoll and meandering turn of the creek to take it all in. The lingering snow adorns the meadows in rolling ribbons of white contrasted with the bright yellow-greens of an alpine meadow waking up after a long winter. “
- Field journal, day 6
