A brief reminder that Extreme Ice, which was previewed on Hot Topic a few days ago, shows at 9.30 tonight on Sky’s National Geographic channel and a couple more times in subsequent hours.
Tag: Greenland
A coral room
Sea level rise is usually considered to be a relatively slow process, at least in human terms. Even a one metre rise over the next century (well within the bounds of possibility) is “only” one cm a year. It seems like a small number, even if when those small numbers start accumulating they bring big problems for coastal communities. Faster rates of rise are known from the past — up to a metre every 20 years during Meltwater Pulse 1A, a 5 metre sea level surge 14,000 years ago, as the great northern ice sheets broke up and the ice age ended. These sorts of rates are not generally considered likely for the near future, because we are in an interglacial and the most vulnerable ice melted a long time ago. However, a paper(*) in Nature this week suggests that a sea level surge of 2 – 3 metres 121,000 years ago, as the last interglacial was drawing to a close, could have taken place in as little as 50 years. Andy Revkin at the New York Times quotes from the study:
“The potential for sustained rapid ice loss and catastrophic sea-level rise in the near future is confirmed by our discovery of sea-level instability†in that period, the authors write.
The NYT is careful to point out that this new information is controversial, and will need confirmation before it’s accepted (see Revkin’s DotEarth blog post), but the most interesting feature of this sudden rise (if confirmed) is that it took place during an interglacial warmer than present, when sea level was higher, and when large parts of the Greenland and West Antarctic ice sheets are thought to have melted. In other words, melting ice sheets are prone to very rapid ice loss. The bounds of what’s possible in our future just took another step outwards.
(*) Rapid sea-level rise and reef back-stepping at the close of the last interglacial highstand, Paul Blanchon, Anton Eisenhauer, Jan Fietzke & Volker Liebetrau, Nature 458, 881-884 (16 April 2009) doi:10.1038/nature07933
Extreme Ice
“It’s a strange, evil, gorgeous, horrible, fantastic place,” calls out photojournalist James Balog as he abseils a short way down into a deep hole in the Greenland ice opened up by surface meltwater rushing down perhaps to bedrock hundreds of metres somewhere below. It’s understandable Balog should have mixed feelings. The view is stunning. But that rushing meltwater may be lubricating the great ice sheet at its base and hastening the movement of its glaciers to the sea.Â
The film which records this moment, Extreme Ice, is showing on the National Geographic channel on Sky on Wednesday 22 April at 9.30 pm and a couple of times more in succeeding hours. It will also be showing in Australia. I’ve had the opportunity to preview it. I recommend it highly.
Two Miles Down in Time
Richard Alley’s The Two-Mile Time Machine: Ice Cores, Abrupt Climate Change, and Our Future explains why ice cores are such a mine of information about past climates. He was right there when the ice cores from central Greenland were being extracted between 1989 and 1993. There had been earlier extractions in places easier of access, but ice sheet flow had affected the lower layers and it was not until drilling was set up in a more central location that good records were obtained for the past 110,000 years – and less reliable records for longer than that. His story of how the camps were established, how the drilling of the 5.2 inch (for the sake of his American readers he doesn’t use metric measurements) cores was done, how the core sections were transported and stored, is interesting in itself. But the riveting chapters of the book are his explanations of the annual layers of snow being compressed to ice and stretching and thinning over time as the ice flows (a cardinal fact, the flow of ice) and of the information those annual layers contain and how it is coaxed from them.
In broad terms he explains that snow is compressed into ice under the weight of more snowfall in the top 200 feet or so of the ice sheet over a century or two as most of the air is squeezed out of it (though a very important little bit remains). By the time that foot-thick layer of ice has buried half-way through the ice sheet the layer has been stretched and thinned to half a foot in thickness; by seven-eighths of the way down it is only one-eighth foot thick and so on. As the layers stretch the ends melt very near the coast or break off as icebergs. Layers near the bed of the ice sheet are very thin, stretch and thin only a little, and don’t move down much.
How are the annual layers distinguished from each other? There is a difference in appearance of winter and summer snow because of the transformation to coarser grained hoarfrost driven by the sun which only shines in summer. Readily observable in cores from shallow levels, the difference remains distinct even in the thinner annual ice layers where the remaining air has been trapped as bubbles. Complications arise in ice a mile deep, when bubbles are replaced by clathrates, but late-winter dusty layers of soil particles blown on to the ice sheet can aid observation – or observers can wait for a few months after the ice has reached the surface when the bubbles begin to reapppear as the clathrates break down. Apart from visible appearance there are other aids to dating the layers including volcanic fallout, electrical conductivity, and ice-isotopic ratios.
Once dated, what can we learn from the ice-cores? Past temperatures for one thing. The isotopic composition of water that fell as rain or snow gives a reliable indication of temperature at the time, and has been checked against temperatures measured in the borehole (in a more complicated way than this bald statement may suggest, which he explains with a fascinating kitchen analogy). We can also learn from the dust which the wind has deposited on the ice sheet (once dry and wet deposition have been teased apart) such things as how much sea salt and continental dust were blowing around, how many fires were occurring upwind, how well we were shielded from cosmic rays, how many meteorites were being dumped on earth, and much more. Finally, the level of atmospheric gases such as carbon dioxide and methane can be determined from the air bubbles trapped in the ice. These gases are normally mixed globally by the winds, and checking the Greenland record against Antartica and high mountain glaciers has revealed a high reliability – so high that ice-core gases can now be used to correlate cores.
At this nearly half-way point in the book Alley turns to illuminating discussions of past climates and some ideas as to why the changes happened. He announces his punch lines for the rest of the book. Past climate has been wildly variable with faster changes than anything agricultural industrial humans have ever faced. Climate can be rather stable if nothing is causing it to change, but when ‘pushed’ it often jumps suddenly to something different rather than changing gradually. Such ‘pushes’ in the past have included drifting continents, wiggles in Earth’s orbit, surges of great ice sheets, sudden reversals in ocean circulation, and others. Small ‘pushes’ have cause large changes because many processes amplify the pushes – greenhouse gases are pobably the most important of these amplifiers. We humans can foul our own nest – and we can clean it up.
I won’t follow this summary statement into the detail of the remaining chapters of the book. Suffice to say that he is a master of illuminating analogy, writes with admirable clarity and establishes a happy rapport with the reader. He doesn’t take background knowledge in his readers for granted, but supplies relevant explanation and information as he goes so that the book is readily accessible to the non-scientist prepared to make a reasonable effort to follow the acount. His discussions are moderate in tone and always acknowledge uncertainties.
The book was published some time back, in 2000. The science of climate change is advancing rapidly and the tentative nature of some of his prognostications has possibly firmed up somewhat since then. He has recently commented:
For me, the 2007 IPCC provided neither a best estimate nor an upper bound on sea-level rise because of lack of understanding of ice-sheet changes.
He made that comment to Andy Revkin of the New York Times who had contacted him after he was recently co-awarded the 2009 Tyler Prize for environmental achievement. He also said the following:
We know so much about climate science, and environmental science in general, and the gap between the knowledge of the scientific community and the general community is so large, and so much misinformation is in circulation, that the leading task now is probably education and outreach. We need to provide people, including policymakers, with the knowledge background that will allow them to do their jobs better.
Alley himself must be very well suited to that education and outreach task. I thought that on the basis of his book, but I find he has other communication skills as well. Song and dance no less!
Down down
New Scientist has posted this remarkable footage of a camera being lowered down a moulin in Greenland, and reveals that Konrad Steffen’s team, moulin explorers extraordinaire, are inventing a new extreme sport:
Later this year, the team will be boldly going where no researchers have gone before. Under the guidance of expert climbers, they plan to descend deep into a moulin in person. They will leave temperature and flow sensors along the way, so they can track how the tunnel changes throughout the year.
Steffen’s team also released hundreds of special rubber ducks into moulins, but none have yet appeared at the edge of the ice sheet. He fears they may have been ground to pieces by the moving ice. More at the Guardian.
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