When we posted the giant map of the western United States in late November 2021, to plan our trip, we had a giant void for our loop in Canada simply because the map didn’t go that far.  Nonetheless, our time in the Canadian Rockies was the most tightly planned part of our journey because we had to book the campsites in Banff and Jasper National Parks six months in advance. Thus began the first part of a trip: the planning. We didn’t really get to enjoy sinking into this phase because both of Carrie’s parents passed and she was still working her difficult final year in education, while I was busy getting the house ready for listing to sell in two short months. I’d been excited for this trip for myriad reasons. A chance to spend high-quality time together with Carrie in exploration of the magnificent western North America, and a chance to dive into our notion of following wonder. The opportunity to visit places that I’d never been like Mesa Verde, and revisit places with too short a stay previously, like Death Valley.  

I’d heard people rave about the Canadian Rockies, so it was on my must-visit list. It was simple: instead of heading east across Washington into Montana and down, we headed north across Washington into Canada. In exploring what was possible to do in Banff and Jasper I learned about the Columbia Icefield and discovered we’d be driving past it on the Icefields Highway. After our harried planning, frantic work on our house, and the grief of losing parents, it was great to be on the road, finally. We made our way rapidly through northern Washington and British Columbia. [Read Our First Week on the Road, and Knowing the Columbia for more on that section]. We spent a few days in the Lake Louise and Banff area and finally, headed north on the Icefields Highway.  That drive is the most beautiful drive I’ve ever taken, with breathtaking views of towering mountains, blue rivers from the rock flour ground by the glaciers. And glaciers, so many stunning glaciers, including the Athabasca Glacier which flows out of the Columbia Icefield. We breezed by the glacier as it lurked well off the road on our way to Jasper.  

The Athabasca is the most visited glacier in North America as a result of it’s easy proximity to a nice road. On our return south we camped just 30 minutes south of the visitor center near the Athabasca Glacier, and made plans to climb up the glacier to see what all the ruccus was about. It was a dreary day for the climb, and that meant there was no risk leaving Neo in the truck for a few hours, where he was able to catch up on his mid-day sleeping, which he’d had little time for the last few busy travel days.  A dog needs his beauty sleep! In the parking lot, we donned our winter clothing and headed up to the toe of the glacier. When we arrived at the meeting point and met our guide for the day, we put on our basic crampons, plastic affairs that strapped onto our boots. I was a little skeptical that such little things would work to keep me steady on relatively steep ice, but they worked beautifully. 

At this point we headed onto the glacier with our group of about 20 people, most who had never set foot on a glacier before. As we climbed up the glacier, we saw some university research equipment flanked by small solar panels. Glacialologists from an Alberta university were studying the effects of climate change on this particular glacier, and it’s bleak. They predict the entire Athabasca Glacier will be gone in 36 more years. The most impactful piece of equipment was a long aluminum pole that had been sunk in the glacier, and was becoming progressively more exposed as the glacier melted. The researchers had wrapped the pole in different colored stripes of duct tape to keep track of how long it had been since the pole was exposed by the melting ice. Our guide asked everyone on the tour to guess when the yellow stripe was exposed. Most of the guesses were decades before, and I thought I was pretty close with a guess just a few years prior. Turns out it was from May, just a couple of months prior. The ice was melting at a rate of 10cm (about 4”) a day. I was subdued the rest of the climb as I digested the sobering information. My thoughts ran to how much worse it was than even I imagined.

Our guide shared that most of the wine grapes grown in Canada are from southern British Columbia, which is irrigated from water from the Columbia River, which draws most of its water from the western slopes of the Rockies fed from the Columbia Icefield. Our guide explained that the situation with the glacial demise is going to threaten grapes production in a few decades, quipping “I don’t want to live in a country that doesn’t make wine.” This story is playing out all over the world. European grape harvests happened a month early and yield decrease was expected to be 15-20% as a result. A study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences predicts a 50% decrease of viable wine-growing regions with a temperature rise of 2 degrees Celsius, which is likely according to all but the most optimistic of the IPCC report on likelihood of possible scenarios.

I couldn’t tell if the guide’s impassioned speech about the seriousness of the climate crisis reached the others on the climb, but my sense was that it didn’t as much as I’d hoped. One of the great challenges with climate change activism is that the crisis isn’t immediately pressing in the way gas prices and inflation at the grocery store are. Coupled with the misinformation being peddled by those against a rapid transition to clean energy and it is difficult to imagine a scenario that results in improving progress. BP, Shell, and ExxonMobil alone had $270 Billion in gross profit in 2022, while Saudi Arabia’s Aramco, the world’s largest oil company, posted profits of $300 Billion alone. Four companies and half a trillion in profit in one year. It isn’t hard to see why big oil would fight leaving crude oil in the ground. 

I do now believe that addressing greenhouse gas emissions only by affecting demand via market forces, like the hope that rapidly decreasing cost of solar power installations will impact the use of fossil fuels, will not be fast enough. As of 2020, 60% of US electricity is still generated from the burning of fossil fuels. And while sales of electric cars has tripled in the last three years, they still only make up 6% of new car sales. Bleak. A simple carbon extraction tax on producers, mostly returned to the consumers who would undoubtedly bear the additional cost of fuel, would address the supply side. A slight tilt in cost of fossil fuels will accelerate momentum to switch to alternative energy solutions. Already, coal is by far the most expensive source of electricity generation as of 2020. Gas is losing ground to both solar and wind, but it is still cheaper. And if you want to understand the impact of misinformation peddling, just click any social media link to articles on electric cars and read the comments. You’ll see hundreds of comments from anti-EVers complaining about the ills of electric cars. EVs are far from perfect, but they do serve a huge number of consumers quite well. Who is rapid EV adoption bad for? It’s a short list, with only the oil & gas companies, and the folks in media and politics fighting on their behalf. 

Where do we go from here? Perhaps the stories of things that are under threat, like wine and the Athabasca Glacier will spur a shift in thinking. I think it takes direct experience for many humans to really get something hard to get like how rapidly glaciers are retreating. For me, seeing this happening in real time was like a punch to the gut. So, go out there and experience the impacts of the climate crisis. Feel the sinking feeling in your soul, as you realize just how bad it is. Tell stories to whoever will listen. Encourage them to go experience the impacts, and tell stories, too. Two things will happen: you’ll deepen your connection to our one and only planet, and you’re sure to brush up against some wonder along the way.