Columnist Andrea Ayvazian: Weeping for Denali

By THE REV. ANDREA AYVAZIAN

Published: 04-22-2023 12:32 AM

I remember the stomach-churning jitters I felt on the flight from Seattle to Anchorage. And that was before I had laid eyes on the big mountain — before I saw how it dominated the landscape both vertically and horizontally, before I had stared down into a slim ice-blue crevasse on the glacier.

It was June 1983, and I was making a long-anticipated, rather epic trip to Alaska to join an expedition of 16 men and three women to climb Mount McKinley (as it was known then, now Denali).

Our crew of experienced climbers would spend the next month slowly ascending the mountain, living for over two weeks on the Muldrow Glacier, then moving on up to Karsten’s Ridge, and finally to High Camp. Then, on July 6, our successful summit attempt.

I feel very connected to Denali. I crossed the tundra and the raging McKinley River; slept on the mountain for weeks; boiled snow daily for water; picked a route zig-zagging around impressive crevasses; heard avalanches in the night; traversed an almost knife-edge ridge; and stood on the summit gasping for oxygen.

And so it is with considerable sorrow that I have read about the conditions on the current Denali — a majestic mountain that has been dramatically altered by global warming.

The first change I learned about was that the mountain has shrunk. The U.S. Geologic Survey listed Denali as 20,320 feet tall for many decades, but the mountain has now lost 20 feet due to snow melt on the summit. When I stood on the summit in 1983, it was completely snow covered; now it is a bare rock outcropping.

More profoundly, the mountain is different because of the changing quality of the snow. The snow on Denali is now grey and granular — not the thick, pristine, hard-packed white snow of our climb. This is what we used to call “rotten snow”— too mushy to support climbers on snowshoes or crampons.

Because of warming temperatures, the snow is soggy. And the edges of the glacier have receded from the canyon walls, revealing a wide margin of scree — an accumulation of loose stones and broken rock fragments that was buried under glacial ice when I climbed.

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The once ice-blue crevasses that dropped down steep and sharp are now yawning chasms — wide enough for train cars to drive through. And those massive crevasses have opened up throughout the glacier.

The route that I climbed, which started at sea level and went endlessly upward, is now impassable for climbers because of all these impediments. Mountaineers climbing Denali now take “air taxis” to the West Buttress, at over 7,000 feet, and ascend from there.

My love for Denali and the profound changes the mountain has undergone and continues to undergo due to climate change make my heart ache. The changes make me grieve for what once was and will not be again.

Many people have stories about a place in nature that they love — a place they think of as sacred — and how that place is changing or has been changed due to global warming. I am one of countless others who grieve the severe impacts of global warming on a very personal level, and weep with a deep sense of loss.

To find comfort and keep going in my environmental activism, I have looked back on the invaluable teachings of Joanna Macy. For decades, Macy has encouraged activists to feel the pain of how we have violated planet Earth, and to move from that despair to empowerment. Macy’s “Deep Ecology” work helps guide activists to feel the sorrow of the Earth’s desecration, expand our imaginations about what is possible, bring compassion and creativity to our work in caring for Mother Earth, and move forward with hope.

Macy stresses “choice-making” and calls for all of us to choose life, choose engagement, choose activism, choose grief and hope in the same breath; and choose to be bold, uncomfortable and visible as we advocate for a planet that is convulsing and groaning.

Today is Earth Day, which began in 1970. Once a revolutionary idea that galvanized young people across the country, Earth Day is now somewhat overlooked and forgotten. But let us not forget its significance. Let us reflect on all the profound and sorrowful changes “modern man” has caused to this fragile planet. Let us mourn and organize, weep and act.

Each one of us who cares about the ways we are destroying our environment must continue to find our own path to make a difference, to raise our voices, to change our lifestyle, and to do more this year than we did last year. We must be relentless in our efforts to halt and reverse climate change and help heal this beautiful but broken world.

I grieve for a big mountain I love in Alaska. I worry about the world my granddaughter is inheriting. I shake my head when I hear about the droughts, floods, fires, tornadoes, atmospheric rivers, and once-in-a-century snowstorms that now ravage our land incessantly. Our commitment to environmental activism must not waver, and our efforts must not cease. Every day is Earth Day. God give us strength.

The Rev. Andrea Ayvazian, Ministerial Team, Alden Baptist Church, Springfield, is also founder and director of the Sojourner Truth School for Social Change Leadership.]]>