Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

The air was crisp, and a biting wind swept across the mountains as we trudged through freshly fallen snow. Six of us marched in single file, heads bowed against the gusts, making our way toward Arapaho Saddle. Our goal was to catch a glimpse of the Arapaho Glacier, said to be the largest and possibly the last alpine glacier in Colorado, nestled in a cirque between two formidable peaks.

A seasoned team led by Ted Scambos, a senior research scientist at the University of Colorado Boulder, accompanied me. Among them were Mike MacFerrin, a glaciologist specializing in the Greenland Ice Sheet; Gabi Collao Barrios, who researches snowpack changes; Naomi Ochwat, a geology PhD student; and Jorge Cañardo, an engineer.

As we reached the pass, Scambos adjusted his polarized sunglasses and peered into the cloudy expanse. "Look at it!" he declared, a hint of irony in his voice. All we could see was a thick shroud of silver clouds, obscuring our view of the glacier.

We took refuge under an overhanging granite slab while Ochwat shared espresso candies and cheese tortillas. "It's nearly noon," Scambos remarked, checking his phone. "Let's wait a bit to see if the weather clears."

His calm demeanor reflected years of experience in harsh conditions, from the icy rivers of Greenland to the glaciers of Antarctica. For over two decades, he has focused on the Arapaho Glacier, studying how climate change impacts the cryosphere—the icy regions of Earth.

Alpine glaciers like Arapaho serve as "sensitive indicators of climate," as noted in a 2010 study published in Arctic, Antarctic, and Alpine Research. The paper warned that if current trends continued, Arapaho Glacier could vanish in as little as 65 years.

Arapaho Glacier is crucial for the local ecosystem, feeding into the Silver Lake watershed, which supplies 40% of Boulder's water. Without it, residents would face severe water shortages, especially as Boulder’s climate is projected to warm significantly by 2070.

After about an hour, Scambos announced, "We might have a view of the glacier now." We hiked a short distance east along the ridge to where the glacier should have been visible. But as we strained our eyes, the reality was jarring.

"Where is it?" someone finally asked.

Video Title: Losing Our Religion

This video delves into the cultural and ecological significance of the Arapaho Glacier and the broader implications of its disappearance.

Chapter 2: The Fragility of Glaciers

The absence of the glacier was disheartening. Glaciologists have been witnessing the rapid dissolution of ice masses worldwide, and Arapaho Glacier has long been recognized as particularly vulnerable. Historical accounts reveal that even back in 1897, scientists noted its fragile state.

Herbert N. Wheeler and Darwin M. Andrews, two botanists, first explored the area in search of botanical specimens. Upon discovering the glacier, they were struck by its dramatic beauty, even as it had already shrunk considerably. The glacier's movements carved the valley, leaving behind blue lakes and remnants of its past grandeur.

Since the Pleistocene era, approximately 2.5 million years ago, Colorado has been shaped by glaciers. These slow-moving ice rivers carved valleys and deposited massive boulders across the landscape. At the peak of the last Ice Age, Arapaho Glacier stretched nearly nine miles.

The end of this glacial epoch began around 18,000 years ago, leading to significant melting. By the time Wheeler and Andrews arrived, Arapaho Glacier was a shadow of its former self.

In 1900, it was officially "discovered" by pharmacist Eben G. Fine. Even then, its size was diminishing. Wheeler's accounts described terrifying crevasses that hinted at the glacier's instability.

Video Title: Cheyenne and Arapaho Productions Podcast E13 C&A MMIP Chapter

This podcast discusses the cultural and environmental implications of the melting glaciers in Colorado, including the Arapaho Glacier.

Chapter 3: The Impact of Climate Change

Fast forward 124 years, and the glacier was barely visible. Earlier that day, I had joined Scambos and a team of 15 researchers from various institutions to assess the glacier's status. Equipped with an array of gear, we were eager to gather data on the glacier’s size and melting rate.

The expedition aimed to contribute to Scambos's ongoing research, revealing how climate change is reshaping alpine glaciers across Colorado. Historically, the state has boasted 16 glaciers, but only Arapaho remains sizable enough to be classified as a true glacier.

In the mid-1980s, the USGS identified Arapaho Glacier as one of the few glaciers still meeting the criteria for size and movement. However, in recent years, glaciologists have noted that others have vanished entirely.

Wheeler and Andrews's observations echoed through the years, as concerns about the glacier's rapid decline were raised as early as 1902. By 1999, Arapaho Glacier had lost 52% of its area, with significant annual reductions in thickness.

Scambos and his team are now utilizing modern technology to provide precise measurements of the glacier's size and movement. Unfortunately, their findings suggest that Arapaho may not survive much longer.

As we hiked up the Fourth of July Trail, surrounded by the beauty of nature, we were also acutely aware of the changing climate. The recent Marshall Fire highlighted the dangers of extreme weather exacerbated by climate change.

I posed a question to Scambos: "What if Arapaho were to vanish completely? How would that affect Boulder's water supply?"

While the glacier isn’t the sole source of water for Boulder, its disappearance could have dire implications. With ongoing climate change, the risk of water shortages looms large for the region.

The Arapaho Glacier's fate is a reflection of a global crisis affecting billions of people reliant on snow and ice for freshwater. Projections indicate that Colorado could see a temperature rise of 2.5 to 5 degrees Fahrenheit by 2050, leading to a significant decline in the snowpack.

At the saddle, our initial awe turned to sadness as we observed the glacier’s diminished state.

After a day filled with exploration and reflection, we made our way back down, contemplating the lessons learned from the glacier's plight. As we exited the alpine landscape, it was evident that the changes occurring here are not isolated events but part of a larger environmental narrative affecting communities worldwide.

In conclusion, while the Arapaho Glacier may not be a true glacier anymore, its story continues to resonate as a powerful reminder of the impacts of climate change.