Intern Reflection: Independence Pass, Research at 12,080 ft

My second field day at AGCI began with a journey through City of Aspen and up meandering roads of mountain beauty laced with flowing streams and rivers. When Elise, AGCI’s Community Science Manager, and I arrived at our destination, I peered uphill to the Independence Pass Station. The tower high in the distance, a metal frame decorated with meteorological devices that collect live data. 

I shifted my gaze to the foreground, the unique ecosystem in front of us, called a fen, was alive with moving water. White blooms, Caltha leptosepala, decorated the spongy ground. Patches of snow floated over pools of running water.

Earlier in the car, Elise shared the title of a book, Research Is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods by Shawn Wilson. We spoke of other ways of knowing and having gratitude toward the Earth from which all elements of the tower and its devices are made. I mulled over the title of the book. How could research be ceremony?

We began our short trek to the station. The snow was deceiving as Elise and I gently meandered through the fen looking for drier, high spots to land our feet. I had faith that the snow, while potentially deep, would be drier than the wet, grassy pools nearby. I was wrong. My right foot submerged beneath the snow and into a pool of water. The puddled landscape, with newly leafing willow, was a better option, and we continued our journey up to the station with newfound knowledge of the terrain. 

Once we reached the station, we noticed groundwater bubbling up to the surface below the tower. “What impact could this have on the soil moisture readings?” I thought. The ground seemed to have shifted the tower base. Movement in the recently thawed soil could have caused the shift. I took a moment to be in the present, fascinated by the beautiful view of snow-frosted mountains and a cloudy blue sky with consistent winds that had me in a jacket during the entire visit. A thought crossed my mind that a ceremony is a repeated set of actions practiced with continuity over many years. The long-term research I am a part of follows the same rules.

At the station, we tightened the guy wires to correct the tower’s positioning. Elise got her gear ready to climb the tower to check on why the logger box wasn’t transmitting data. All the battery lights were on and the snow sensor made its data-collecting sound every few minutes. Elise began to troubleshoot while I wrote down information to share with the equipment manufacturer. Providing long-term data is an important, yet challenging affair. Station maintenance requires a unique skill set and demands flexibility and ingenuity. It was a moment of concentration, another moment to be present and learn. Providing data over many years is a ceremony of science.

I was the lead for the next task of the day. My job was to collect soil moisture data with a handheld sensor to determine the variability of soil moisture over the landscape. By performing this task, I am joining the alumni of AGCI interns who have collected soil moisture data over the years to better understand how much water from snowmelt is absorbed by the soil before it returns to streams and rivers in the spring. This information can be used to better understand how soil moisture varies across a landscape, in comparison to modeled or in situ soil moisture data for that area. Creating a better picture of soil moisture can help improve the ability of scientific models to predict the future availability of water supplies, critical to responsible water management. Essentially, I am following the ceremonial rules and procedures to allow humanity to understand the Earth and its systems on a deeper level and steward our water resources wisely.

This late spring data was particularly exciting because there was a patch of snow with frozen ground underneath. This meant that no measurements could be taken. Once we moved above the snow, the readings I took by probing two metal tines into the soil ranged from 50% to 60% Volumetric Water Content (VWC), meaning fully saturated soil. A reading like this would usually indicate an error, but this soil held so much standing water that the reading seemed reasonable. 

As we made our way downhill, we spoke about the exciting results and prepared to take readings below the tower, where a groundwater upwelling was gurgling away. The readings across the landscape below the tower went from the point of saturation to much drier as I entered a stand of Arctic willows. The high variation in soil moisture we witnessed echoed what previous interns and scientists had found. Many more ceremonies of science will be required over the years to understand the mysteries of the water cycle.

Upslope, after passing the snow, the soils were drier, but at times there was a wetter reading at full saturation, yet water wasn’t visible. What caused these intermittently wet spots? Was there an underground water source we couldn’t see? Was it from ground squirrels’ burrowed holes filling with water? The varied readings were so fascinating to us that we continued onwards until we reached the top of the hill. Elise and I enjoyed the beautiful ridgeline. I gawked at all the wildflowers coming up from the thawed ground with their unique shapes and colors. How lucky we are to continually meet with these incredible beings who can survive a hostile, high-altitude environment. 

Once we collected all of the readings, we packed up our gear and headed back to the car. I meandered down the puddles of the fen taking pictures of the awakening landscape full of trickling water from the springtime runoff: an end to a field day that awakened a sense of ceremony that would continue through the weeks ahead.

Reflecting on my internship, months after this wondrous trip up to Independence Pass, I thought of all of the moments of ceremony I witnessed. Others might say what I witnessed were tasks that needed to be completed, but I saw ceremony. I have had the privilege of helping organizations like the US Geological Survey (USGS) collect soil samples, the Independence Pass Foundation complete phenology surveys, and the Center for Western Weather and Water Extremes (CW3E) install a new soil moisture station in the Yampa Basin. Every time, I witnessed deep concentration and practiced performances to be repeated. For me, every field day is a formal occasion to understand the natural environment and the processes that allow all life to flourish on this planet with respect and gratitude.

Fallon Santander is an undergraduate student at Colorado Mountain College studying sustainability. She was the AGCI-CW3E intern for the summer of 2024.