I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Last year, our friend, Roger, had checked this particular wolverine camera for us so we wouldn’t have to cross the gnarly Middle Fork Nooksack to access our site. Robert and I had been defeated by another raging stream earlier in the summer, while trying to hike the PCT from the North Cascades Highway to Stehekin—a 20-mile backpack through tough terrain.

A while back, I wrote an article about three species of mustelids (members of the weasel family) in Washington whose populations were decimated by trapping and poisoning a century ago. “A Tale of Three Weasels” describes scientific efforts to better understand the needs of wolverines, fishers, and the martens of the Olympic Peninsula as these animals strive to recover from a rocky past.

Last week, as part of my research for a magazine article about I-90 SPE, Robert and I had the opportunity to tour several of the 13 crossing structures that have been installed specifically for wildlife. We’ve slowly watched these structures come to fruition during our occasional travels on the highway…

In the North Cascades, it’s unusual for us to visit a remote camera station that HASN’T been visited by Pacific martens—smaller cousin to wolverines and every bit as charismatic. But not so in the Olympic Range, where martens are rarely sighted and may even be at risk of local extinction. Last week, Robert and I initiated our seasonal camera deployments for the Olympics’ missing martens, as part of Woodland Park Zoo’s ongoing collaboration with Olympic National Forest and Olympic National Park.

Skirting the sheer cliffs makes my knuckles tingle. My right hand grips the armrest while my dominant left coils around a cold bottle of ginger beer, which I release into the cup holder only long enough to nibble on one of the stomach-soothing saltines cached in my lap. Up-up-up we go—like we’re climbing a roller coaster, except I’m far from amused.

When we first checked this camera a year ago, Robert and I completed the trip in three days—allowing ourselves no cushion to explore the surrounding wildlands. Sometimes we’re so busy chasing photos of carnivores that we forget to stop and smell the lupine. We vowed to build in a little extra time this year…

Growing up in New England, I had two mental images of Washington. The first featured the Space Needle, a spaceship perched upon a tall, skinny building. The second consisted of lush green mountains that dropped dramatically to the sea. I never knew of the other Washington…

Field season. For most of the wildlife biologists I know, this term is packed with emotions, from worry and panic to excitement and pride. By the time we’re finished, the balance has tipped toward the latter. Otherwise, we wouldn’t keep doing what we do.