Jason Hummel is capturing hundreds of ice masses before they melt away.
Photographer and ski mountaineer Jason Hummel first walked on a glacier as a teetering two-year-old. It was the early 1980s, and the lower Paradise Glacier he stood atop in Washington State was home to about 8.5 miles of perennial ice caves, the longest mapped stretch in the world. But not for long: By the mid-1990s, both glacier and caves were gone.
It's a seemingly inevitable future for many masses of ice. With hundreds of officially and unofficially named glaciers within its borders, Washington contains 65 percent of the glacier area in the continental US. Every year, global warming shrinks their size and eventually, the masses disappear altogether.
Because he has no memory of the experience and since the lower Paradise Glacier is now extinct, Hummel’s toddler expedition lives on only through retelling. His desire to preserve these outings led him to pursue his aptly named Glacier Project, for which he’s traversing and photographing every glacier in his home state. He’s documented 199 glaciers so far, with 57 to go, though that number is always in flux as some masses melt and others are discovered through further research.
I think it's important to remember what was. Maybe someday looking back on these photos, people will recognize the importance of preservation.
“Growing up, I’ve seen these mountains in a certain way, and I want to capture those adventures via photos in a way that represents the time,” says Hummel, who’s based in Gig Harbor, Washington. “This project is like a time capsule. I think it’s important to remember what was. Maybe someday looking back on these photos, people will recognize the importance of preservation.”
Venturing into the unknown may sound romantic, but each traverse is a major feat requiring preparation and grit. Hummel often has to cross large lakes, hike dozens of miles of trails, bushwhack thousands of feet through uncharted forest, and climb the backsides of mountains before he even reaches a glacier. His expeditions have lasted up to 16 days.
His fitness is season-specific: Over the course of a year, he has months-long stints with climbing, hiking, canyoneering, mountain- and dirt-biking, kayaking, and of course, skiing. “By the time I get in really good shape for one sport, the seasons change and I have to get used to working different muscles for another one,” he says.
Sometimes when I'm bushwhacking up the side of some ridiculous mountain, I think, is what I'm doing worth it? Carrying 20 pounds of photography equipment on his body only adds to the physical demands of each expedition. “Sometimes when I’m bushwhacking up the side of some ridiculous mountain I think, is what I’m doing worth it?,” Hummel says. In the end, the answer is always yes. “When I’m done with this project, I’ll know I’ve put my stamp on my home mountains, and as I get older, I won’t feel that I missed something.”
Adding to his satisfaction is the fact that he’s unsponsored in his pursuit, pushing himself for the sake of the project. “I’m the singular driver behind it,” he says. “I print out maps and sketch what I think are the best routes, alternate routes, alternate-alternate routes, and oh-my-god-I’m-totally-screwed bail-out routes.”
The Glacier Project manifests primarily in pictures, but Hummel’s goal isn’t to capture the most Instagram-worthy shot. “A lot of photographers take classic photos of places while 20 others stand behind them,” he says. “They have tripods, nice warm coats, and maybe an RV right there. To me, there’s no story behind those images. The reason any photo has meaning for me isn’t that it’s perfect, it’s that each one, and especially all of them together, tell a really cool story.”
Of course, Hummel’s job has looked slightly different in the last few years. During the pandemic, with public lands closed, he spent all his time pouring over historical documents. His goals were two-pronged: First, to identify more glaciers not yet recognized by the U.S. Board on Geographic Names, the governing body in charge of naming glaciers; second, to begin working on two books he hopes to publish soon.
But, surprising no one, Hummel returned to the great outdoors as soon as possible to continue The Glacier Project. Below, he shares images from his favorites from his glacier-chasing expeditions.
Niner Project, Off the summit of Mount Shuksan (2011)
“In Washington State, there are ten non-volcanic peaks that rise over 9000 feet tall. Together with split boarder Kyle Miller, we set out to climb and ski each of them. In the process, we pioneered one new climbing route and five new ski descents. We weren't able to ski from the true summits of Logan, Bonanza, or Fernow; although very close. Along the way, I skied nearly a dozen glaciers, several hundred miles, and ended up only lost two or three times, at least allegedly.”
Picket Traverse (2001 to 2022)
“Over 21 years and two decades, I linked together a grand ski traverse of Washington State from Oregon to Canada. In this image, you can see me standing above the Columbia River, looking into Oregon. Several hundred thousand feet of effort lay behind me, as well as years and memories that can now be traced from one end of my home state to another. You can imagine, then, as my back faces you, the smile that crosses my face looking down on this great river of the west.”
The Circumnavigation Project (2007 to 2022)
“Rather than climb a mountain for the sake of merely reaching a summit, I decided to complete high ski circumnavigations of all the major volcanoes of Washington State (Rainier, Baker, Glacier, Adams, and St. Helens), as well as Mount Olympus.
Our goal was to understand these mountains from one side to the other and not just from the car to the summit. In this photo, you can see my view of my last volcano. What you're seeing is a lenticular, a cloud that's created as wet air off the Pacific Ocean rises over the mountain. It's quite the sight and one that I was happy to rise to on the third day of this solo adventure.”
Photography by Jason Hummel