May 23rd, 2023

I am standing at the heart of the Canadian Rockies, at the apex of the Columbia Icefield in Jasper National Park. The air is thin here, crisp and cold, as it mingles with the faint scent of glacial ice. It's a magnificent view, the kind that makes you feel insignificant and infinite all at once. The stark white of the icefield contrasts against the blue of the sky, making the scene look almost surreal.

Yet, as I look around, the grandeur of the scene is marked by an undeniable sense of loss. I can see the rate of retreat etched in the landscape, a harsh reminder of the rapidly changing climate. The Columbia Icefield, a majestic relic of the last Ice Age, is melting.

It's another record-breaking heatwave in the region, an unnerving reminder of the extent of global warming. I can feel the sun's intensity on my face, harsher than it should be at this altitude. I hear the occasional thunderous crack of ice breaking away, a disturbing symphony that accompanies the quiet whisper of the wind.

I take a moment to sit on a rock and soak in the reality of the situation. I'm here, in this moment, witnessing the slow demise of a natural wonder. It's a strange feeling, knowing that this landscape, so vast and seemingly eternal, is fading. I feel a pang of guilt mixed with sadness.

Climate change isn't just a concept or a statistic in a report.
It's real and tangible.
It's the receding line of the icefield
The softening crunch under my shoes
The increasing heat at this altitude.
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This journey has made it clear to me that climate change isn't a distant problem. It's here, now, changing the landscapes we've known and loved. The Columbia Icefield isn't just a tourist spot. It's a symbol, a glaring testament to the urgency of the climate crisis. The Columbia Icefield is a reminder of the fragility of our world. It's a wake-up call to all of us. The question is, will we answer it?