I set my notepad on the weathered bench at Joffre Lakes Provincial Park, watching hikers pause for photos as they reached the iconic glacier viewpoint. But today, my eyes kept drifting to where the ice should be—where it used to stretch much farther just decades ago.
“We come here every summer,” whispered Gwen Nakamura, a 62-year-old schoolteacher from Surrey who’s been visiting since the 1980s. “My grandchildren will never know how magnificent it once was. It used to feel eternal.”
Those words lingered as I reviewed the devastating new research released yesterday by an international team of glaciologists: nearly 40% of the world’s glaciers are already past the point of no return, regardless of our future climate actions.
The comprehensive study, published in Nature Climate Science, analyzed 215,000 glaciers across six continents using advanced satellite imagery and climate modeling techniques. Their conclusion is sobering—many iconic ice formations are functionally “doomed” even if humanity achieves its most ambitious climate targets.
“We’re talking about committed loss,” explained Dr. Heidi Severson, the study’s lead author from the University of British Columbia’s Climate Action Research Centre. “These glaciers will continue melting for decades or centuries, even if we stopped all emissions tomorrow.”
For British Columbia’s Coast Mountains, where I’m sitting now, the projections show 28% of glacier volume is already fated to disappear. The Rocky Mountains face even steeper losses at 42%. But the most alarming findings concern the Hindu Kush-Himalayan region, where 51% of glacier ice is committed to melt, threatening water security for nearly two billion people.
Water scarcity isn’t the only concern. Rising sea levels from melting ice will impact coastal communities globally, with the study predicting a minimum 9.4 centimeters of sea level rise from doomed glaciers alone—enough to permanently alter coastlines and worsen flooding during storms.
At Lower Joffre Lake, I spoke with climate scientist Dr. Maya Williams, who wasn’t involved in the study but calls its methodology “exceptionally robust.”
“What makes this research groundbreaking is its precision,” Williams explained as we watched sunlight glint off the receding glacier. “Previous models gave us general trends, but this team mapped individual glaciers with unprecedented detail, showing exactly which formations have passed critical thresholds.”
The study distinguishes between “committed loss” and “projected loss.” Committed loss refers to ice that will inevitably melt based on climate conditions we’ve already created, while projected loss depends on our future emissions choices.
“The committed losses are disheartening, but the projected losses—that’s where we still have agency,” Williams emphasized. “Under high-emission scenarios, we could lose 74% of global glacier volume by 2100. Under low-emission pathways, we might limit total losses to around 50%.”
For Indigenous communities that have lived alongside these ice formations for millennia, the loss extends beyond physical impacts to profound cultural and spiritual dimensions.
“Our people have always considered the glaciers as ancestors, as living beings,” shared Darrell Williams, an environmental coordinator with the Lil’wat Nation. “Their disappearance isn’t just an environmental change; it’s the loss of a relative, a teacher, a keeper of knowledge.”
Williams has been working with elders to document traditional knowledge about glaciers before both the ice and the elders who remember it are gone. “There are ceremonies, stories, and teachings connected to these places that young people may never experience firsthand.”
Tourism-dependent communities are also bracing for impacts. In small mountain towns across British Columbia, glacier-adjacent businesses are already adapting their marketing and operations.
“We used to advertise ‘glacier hikes’ but now we call them ‘alpine experiences,'” admitted Jordan Chen, who runs an outdoor guiding company in Squamish. “The glacier retreat is so visible that it became misleading to promise close encounters with ice that’s rapidly disappearing.”
The economic implications extend far beyond tourism. Hydroelectric power generation, agriculture, and industrial water use all face disruption as glacial meltwater patterns change. The initial melt often creates a temporary surplus of water, followed by permanent shortages once glaciers shrink beyond critical mass.
Health consequences loom as well. Glacial retreat often releases centuries-worth of stored pollutants into downstream ecosystems, including heavy metals and persistent organic pollutants that accumulated during the industrial era.
Standing at Upper Joffre Lake as the afternoon light fades, I watch families taking what may become historical photos. Many will return in coming years to find the glacier further diminished or gone entirely.
Dr. Severson’s parting thoughts from our interview resonate: “The glaciers we’re losing have recorded Earth’s climate history for thousands of years. They’re time capsules we’ll never get back, and their disappearance represents not just environmental loss but a profound narrowing of human experience.”
As night falls over the mountains, I’m left wondering how we’ll describe these places to future generations. Will we speak of glaciers in the past tense, as vanished wonders from a cooler world? Or will today’s devastating projections serve as the wake-up call that finally motivates transformative climate action?
The answer may determine whether the remaining 60% of Earth’s glaciers—those not yet doomed—might still be saved.
