Peter M.
Yelp
The new highway carved its way through the valley - smooth asphalt, gleaming guardrails, a new artery for the restless who needs to travel. It's 1936 and the new highway broke ground as it passed through and the day it opened, people came in waves, chasing postcards of blue ice and rugged peaks - chasing the myth of the North, that used to mean something. But the old-timers saw it, and we're seeing it now for what it was: the beginning of the end.
The Athabaskan Icefields once breathed life into this valley -- a slow, grinding pulse of ancient water, stretching out like time itself. Decades ago, you could feel the power of it. One look at it, you can hear it tell you to shut the hell up for a minute - and take in the majesty that carried history under every creeping inch of ice. Now, it's retreating, inch by brutal inch, pulled back into the mountains like your crypto-folio crashing about. Hundreds of yards, definitely more, gone since the highway came through. A couple of generations from now, there won't be anything left but a plaques that indicated where the glacier was before man decided it needed a short cut through the mountains and build a camp around the base.
They still sell the dream, of course. Buses groaning under tourist weight, snowcats crawling up the last surviving frozen waves of ice. If you've got the money, you can still touch it -- still tell yourself you've "seen" a glacier. But it's not the same. It's like watching a dying legend from behind the hospital curtain.
You stand there, wind biting your face, and realize you're not looking at a wonder anymore -- you're looking at a eulogy written about our brief time in existence and how millions of years of glacial life is coming to an end. The Earth is moving on, and we're the ones who stayed too long at the bar.
I'm not a huge environmentalist, or a tree-hugging, birk and socks, bearded hippy. BUT after struggling to get to the end of the walkway and barriers, AND still be 100's of yards away from touching history is disappointing. I may have ticked this off the bucket-list, but I may need to do that SnowCat tourist thing before I kick the bucket.
Cheers.