A cold rainforest helped me escape global warming. Then the glacier melted.

In Alaska, I thought I was protected from climate change. Then my friends’ homes were washed into the river.

As a noob who suffers from asthma, Southern California had become increasingly hostile to my lungs come wildfire season. With the world on fire, a cold rainforest in Alaska seemed the optimal place to put down roots.

Thirteen years ago, I returned to my hometown of Juneau, Alaska. Nestled in North America’s largest rainforest, I could drink delicious water from the tap and breathe deeply in the pristine air. If all hell broke loose, we were surrounded by plenty of natural resources to fill our jars and freezers and warm our homes. 

In an ever-warming world, Juneau is damp and cold. There are no wildfires, hurricanes, and tornadoes; due to the island's breakup, no tsunamis. Here I felt safe.

That is until the glacier began to melt. Specifically, this one:

Mendenhall Glacier, photographed from a Beaver De Haviland floatplane

Same glacier, but make it closer

Almost one year ago exactly, ice melt accumulated in a Mendenhall Glacier basin crested. This sent a raging current down the river, sweeping the home into the river where two friends and teaching colleagues lived, and devouring the bank near my sister-in-law’s home. By some estimations, the flood eroded more than 150 acres of the riverbank.

The historic flood was featured on the covers of major international publications, including the New York Times and a viral TikTok video. Comments poured in, including: “That’s what you get for building so close to the river,” and “Keep voting Republican, Alaska, and enjoy the environmental price you pay.”

In response, I published an article with the Independent titled “I saw houses being washed away in Alaska. Stop the victim blaming.” 

“I understand the urge to victim blame as a way to justify needless human suffering,” I wrote, “but such overgeneralizations are unhelpful and inaccurate. Although some might think Alaskans use sled dogs in lieu of email, Alaskans are very connected to the environment – economically, culturally, spiritually, and ancestrally. In Southeast Alaska, where the flood occurred, most voters believe climate change is real.”

On Monday night, August 6, 2024, Suicide Basin crested again. This time, the flood was much more devastating. The water level surpassed the forecasted “worst-case scenario” at one foot higher than last year’s flood. Some streets filled up with 4+ feet of water. It’s estimated that hundreds of homes were affected. 

Here’s a photo for reference. All that gray you see? It’s water.

Mendenhall Valley in Juneau, Alaska, the morning after the flood. Source unknown.

Several friends’ homes flooded. One guy I talked to said his friend had been stuck in his car overnight as the ice-cold flood waters entered his car.

Another story reported by local news source KTOO described a family who saw water rushing into their home so fast they put their child on top of the refrigerator, which was now floating. In the quick escape, they left their ducks, a cat, a lizard, and a beloved pet dog behind. When they arrived at the city’s emergency shelter at Floyd Dryden Middle School, they were soaked with freezing glacial water.  

Debris from a home that partially fell into the Mendenhall River (AP)

It felt incongruous flying in a floatplane over the Mendenhall Glacier yesterday, hours after the second historic flood.

Also, terrifying. My friend’s mom died in a small plane. My father-in-law crashed his floatplane in the wilderness. But my mom had arranged the tickets before the flood occurred because her cousin was in town, and my son wanted to go. If the plane went down, at least we’d all die together.

So, onto the da Haviland Beaver floatplane we went, into the skies choked with smoke from the Canadian wildfires, and over what looked to be a disappearing glacier and ice field.

Here’s a video:

I saw how the rock had been exposed by the shrinking glacier. Our pilot confirmed this after our flight, mentioning how the tourist dog sledding camp had to be moved up higher due to melting ice.

The air grew smokier as we flew over the ice fields. We saw Suicide Basin, recently emptied of water that had just hours before damaged hundreds of homes and destroyed cars. As we came toward town, people had emptied homes all contents, their entire lives laid out on their lawns, drying in the sun.

All around, I saw signs of a warming planet. I thought that in an Alaskan rainforest, I’d be safer from the effects of climate change. But the signs were even here.

Two summers back, I participated in a Climate Fair for a Cool Planet. I danced a silly little number. But what stuck most with me was the climate expert who spoke. 

“Sure, you can bring your reusable grocery bags to the store,” he said, “but that’s not going to make much of a difference in the big picture. What will really make a difference is voting in leaders who will work to introduce legislation to combat climate change.” 

His words have stuck with me even now. If you’re still reading, by all means, keep driving those electric cars. But most importantly, help elect leaders who will commit to addressing climate change. If the flood was ten times worse this year, surpassing “worst-case scenario” levels, we can’t even imagine what the future will look like if we don’t take action now.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Summer

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