Yiu Sum Tam
Hong Kong
2024, Senior, Creative Writing

“Field Journal

Friday, August 14, 2023

Today I travelled to the Arctic to conduct my monthly surveys of the local seal and walrus populations. What I witnessed was deeply concerning. The ice cover has retreated significantly compared to even last month, with numerous large cracks and fissures forming across the surface.

Many of the seals’ preferred haul-out sites are now underwater, forcing the animals to assemble on the remaining unstable ice. The walruses fared little better, their massive bulk hindering them from finding suitable resting areas. And the whales, whose haunting songs once filled the air, grew steadily more silent, their populations decimated by the cascading effects of climate change.

These are animals perfectly adapted to thrive in this frozen environment. Seeing them so clearly stressed and imperiled, even at the heart of their domain, may just mark the beginning of the end. The ominous signs are all around, and I fear the apocalyptic trumpet has already begun to sound for these desperate populations.”

–

Dr. Elise Lavoie closed her journal, the weight of her observations settling heavily upon her. A weary sigh escaped her lips as she peered through the hazy window of the Alert Research Station in Nunavut, Canada—the base from which she had been monitoring the gradual decline of the ice shelves on Ellesmere Island for the last decade.

As a child, Elise had been spellbound by the Arctic’s breathtaking splendour—the blinding blues and whites of the sky and earth; the glistening glaciers that stretched out beyond the horizon; the frosty morning sun that bedecked the ice in gold. The crackle of shifting sea ice and the haunting calls of migrating birds had lulled her to sleep, these very rhythms defining her existence.

But now, the magical world of her youth was disappearing, surrendering to the ruthless talons of climate change. Where there had once been an endless expanse of frozen grandeur, there was now only shadow, a pale imitation of the Arctic she had known and loved. The familiar icy vistas she fondly recalled were melting away, the glaciers receding before her eyes. The symphony of natural sounds that once filled the air had been reduced to a foreboding silence, broken only by the fervent lapping of waves against a shore that was steadily encroaching.

Elise’s brow furrowed with frustration and sorrow as she reviewed the latest climate data from the Arctic research station. The numbers were irrefutable—an unmistakable death knell for the winter wonderland she had dedicated her life to studying. Sea ice had declined yet again to record low levels, glaciers were retreating at an accelerating rate, and the domino effect on local wildlife populations was becoming increasingly dire, their very existence hanging by a thread.

If carbon emissions remain unchecked, the world was hurtling towards a catastrophic warming of 2.8°C by the end of the century, and global sea levels a staggering increase of 3.3 meters (World Economic Forum, 2023), flooding low-lying coastal cities and endangering close to 900 million local residents (United Nations). As massive amounts of cold glacial water come rushing into the warmer ocean waters, the intensity of storms would increase detrimentally, fueled by the relentless rise in ocean temperatures (World Wildlife Fund).

Over the years, Elise had sounded the alarm, her reports and presentations documenting the slow, agonizing death of the Arctic with meticulous, dispassionate detail—laying bare the devastating reality unfolding before their eyes. Yet her warnings seemed to fall on willfully deaf ears, humanity content to sleepwalk towards a reckoning of unimaginable proportions.

Before panels of politicians and industry leaders Elise had stood, passionately articulating the scientific consensus and advocating for change. The Arctic, she urged, was the canary in the coal mine—a harbinger of the catastrophes to come if humankind failed to heed the lessons written in the ice. But her pleas were, once again, met with equivocation, denial, or simply indifference. Some dismissed her findings as the exaggerated ravings of an overzealous environmentalist; others cynically argued that economic growth must take precedence over ecological concerns.

Even among Elise’s scientific colleagues was there frustrating resistance to the implications of their own data. Renowned glaciologists would nod sagely as she presented her field observations, only to then publish op-eds urging “cautious optimism” and “measured responses”—an intentional denial of the gathering storm. The funding bodies that controlled the purse strings of Arctic research remained stubbornly resistant to redirecting resources towards solutions-oriented work. The very people with the means to enact transformative change were intent on fiddling as Rome burned.

A morass of despair and cynicism seemed to loom over Elise, threatening to cave in, as the indifference towards a climate catastrophe piled on. She had once been resolute in understanding and preserving this fragile ecosystem, desperate in using her meticulously gathered data and impassioned pleas to those in power to save the planet. Yet, her warnings were lost in the thin, warming Arctic air, not even denting the wall of willful blindness that stood unwavering.

The fate of the Arctic—and the fate of the entire planet—now teetered at the edge of a cliff, ready to fall if it continued to chip away. By the time the world’s leaders finally removed their rose-tinted glasses and mustered the courage to act, it would be too late. The ice, Elise mused bitterly, would have already slipped through their fingers.

Elise stood at the edge of the research station’s dock, her empty gaze fixed onto the endless expanse of shimmering water that stretched out before her. The midnight sun cast a sombre, almost mournful glow over the scene, but there was no beauty to be found in the bleak, unforgiving landscape devoid of life. Her eyes shifted upwards to the wall of ice that towered over her, a mere dwarf against the mighty forces of nature. For a long, agonizing moment, the ice seemed to defy gravity, a titan stubbornly clinging onto the shoreline. Then, with a deep, groaning rumble, it began to calve, great fissures snaking across its surface.

Elise’s breath froze in the icy air as the process unfolded in slow motion. Chunk by chunk, the ice shelf crumbled away, tumbling into the churning waters of the Arctic Ocean below and, with a deafening roar, sending up plumes of spray, seawater flashing in the perpetual daylight.

With each new shard that broke free, it felt as if a piece of herself disintegrated with it. Years spent studying and fighting to preserve this frozen wilderness had led to this fateful end. Her desperate warnings had fallen on deaf ears, drowned out by the din of political expediency and the siren call of corporate self-interest. The ice and the planet were succumbing to the relentless march of climate change and global warming, an ecosystem that had sustained life for millennia now taking its dying breaths. Yet humanity had willfully turned away, content to enjoy the veneer of normality just a little longer, even as the foundations of the earth crumbled beneath their feet.

As the final vestiges of the ice shelf disappeared beneath the waves, only sorrow remained: the remorseful, soul-crushing sorrow of failure and acceptance. This was no mere data point, no abstract scientific measurement. It was a visceral, heartbreaking loss—the tragic passing of an ancient wonder, now reduced to nothing more than lifeless pools of displaced water. An irreplaceable part of the natural order, now erased from existence. All that remained was emptiness.

With a heavy sigh, Elise turned and trudged back towards the research station. Her work would continue; her fight would go on, but the battle had already been lost. This was the end of an era, the death of a friend, a family member, a world she called home. The ice, and the history and life it represented, was gone forever, unfrozen in the dark abyss below.

Works Cited

“Why are glaciers and sea ice melting” World Wildlife Fund, https://www.worldwildlife.org/pages/why-are-glaciers-and-sea-ice-melting#:~:text=Human%20activities%20are%20at%20the,sea%20and%20retreating%20on%20land.

Daniel Glick, “The Big Thaw”, National Geographic
“The Antarctic ice sheet is melting. And this is bad news for humanity” World Economic Forum, https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2023/03/antarctic-ice-sheet-is-melting-humanity-climate/

“Ice Sheets | Vital Signs—Climate Change” NASA, https://climate.nasa.gov/vital-signs/ice-sheets/?intent=121#:~:text=Key%20Takeaway%3A,adding%20to%20sea%20level%20rise.

“UN chief: Rising seas risk ‘death sentence’ for some nations” AP News, https://apnews.com/article/politics-climate-and-environment-united-nations-security-council-antonio-guterres-5df7986b2b27989acb729d4da17155f8

“Blinded by the Light? Ideology, Ignorance and the Denial of Global Warming” Oreskes, University of California, San Diego, https://www.wilsoncenter.org/sites/default/files/media/documents/event/Oreskes%20Presentation.pdf

“Why People Aren’t Motivated to Address Climate Change” Markman, Harvard Business Review, https://hbr.org/2018/10/why-people-arent-motivated-to-address-climate-change

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