Mon. Dec 6th, 2021


A glass bottle of Arctic molten water on a countertop touches the base of the bottle with a ray of light.

Liquid death, move away.
Pictures: Brian Kane

I spend an uncomfortable amount of my life thinking about the death of the Arctic. Whether it is Study cover, Written about Tundra eruption, Or try to find the perfect photo to illustrate a story The sudden melting of the ice sheet in Greenland, The Arctic is a big part of my professional life.

Yet for all the coverage, I had zero contact with the world above 66 degrees north of the latitude of the Arctic Circle. That is, until last week when I was given a bottle of Greenland molten water while participating UN climate talks in Glasgow.

Water courtesy was brought into the discussion Arctic basecamp, A team of scientists who want to raise awareness about the Arctic collapse, which heats up almost three times faster than the rest of the world. Giving a bottle of water from Greenland, which is basically suffering the equivalent of a meat-eating disease planet, is a strange feeling. It is, quite literally, fluid death. (Apologies to him Liquid death.)

Yet bottled water is a ubiquitous aspect of American life Art number In 2020 alone the country is consuming an astonishing 15 billion gallons. There is nothing to say about the multiplicity of bottled water options in a given Bodega, higher market choices or what you will find in the water menu combined by the only one in the country. Aromatic water.

With these two excitements, I’ve done what any average American slash climate journalist can do. I dumped the water in a glass bottle in Scotland, made it Less environmentally harmful As a result, it is left in the fridge for a day and then cracked to get the last taste of the world. Seeing the glug of water from the bottle reminded me again of what was happening on a larger scale in Greenland.

There, The melting of the ice has accelerated And now six times faster than in 1980 Hit the ice sheet In recent years And It rained profusely for the first time Recorded at the top of an ice sheet about 2 miles (3 kilometers) above sea level. The ice sheet is also rolling Holes in the surface, And, well, the list goes on. The point is, what used to be difficult is slowly becoming liquid. And here I was watching the end result pour into a glass. (Technically two glasses since the fearless Arthur reporter Molly Taft joined me on this journey to the Arctic through bottled water.)

Glug, glug goes glacier.
GIF: Brian Kane

As soon as the water out of the bottle was finished, I tipped the glass, now concentrated on my lips. I don’t know what to expect. Maybe from a hint of hem Ink ice sheet at the end Courtesy of Extensive Fire. Where to kiss salt Glaciers meet the North Atlantic. Or maybe I’ll be knocked out Off-kilter Given how ice is changing the crust of the planet.

Instead, I tasted nothing. It was almost like distilled water. No pre- or aftertaste. A slush of crispy liquid and then emptiness, the only symptom of my slightly cold teeth that I even took a sip of.

The waters of the Arctic basecamp come with a tag and campaign that calls for halving the emissions of world leaders by the end of this decade. This will lead the world to limit global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius (2.7 degrees Fahrenheit). (Other assumptions have been made Even steeper cut.) The campaign further indicates that 17 million gallons of water per second are now being poured into the sea, sitting at the counter every second.

It was felt to contain the result of a century-plus incessant burning of fossil fuels to be able to raise a glass. And yet the lack of taste and seeing in every country only agrees after a few days Waterlogged climate agreement Feeling a little anticlimactic.

I have the pleasure (“pleasure”) of drinking another climate-inspired concoction, Burning earth beer with fat tires For the future. The beer was made using drought-resistant grains, inorganic dandelions and smoked malt to mimic water like wildfires. Tasting the sharp future of failure was a gut punch. The cold, hard death of the Arctic haunts me, and the state of the climate talks, though, I can’t stop thinking. How much more is still needed To prevent the planet from falling off a cliff – or more precisely, being pushed.



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