With a sigh, I relieved my raw shoulders of the pack and propped it against a boulder. I hobbled a few steps to the river, kneeled and splashed some glacial runoff on my face--the sweat stings. I turned my head to gaze up at Hood and her skeleton--glacial valleys empty, like ribs, as once mighty rivers turned creeks trickle down to quench Portland’s thirst. It’s only July and these crossings should be impassable due to runoff, but it’s all dust and flies now.
With the opportunity to take a break, I pulled out my book, ‘The Year of the Flood,’ to compliment the foreboding landscape.
For the past few months, I have been in the throws of the MaddAddam trilogy, by Margaret Atwood. It is a dystopic emblem of the 'cli-fi' genre, set in a not-too-distant world where private corporations invest in the downfall of humanity for a bottom-line. It is a gripping and eery read--a hallmark trait of Atwood’s writing.
Atwood’s most recent essay, “It’s not Climate Change, It’s Everything Change,” starts out with a series of climate-scenerios that will be realized in the not-too-distant future if we do not radically change not only our behaviors, but our value-systems. It is a commentary on peak oil, the breadth of our dependence, and what could foreseeably happen within the next few decades.
Reading her piece brought me back to the bosom of Oregon’s most celebrated peak. Mt. Hood--perhaps the boasts of year-round skiing will soon come to an end, and I will remember with fondness having seen her awe-inspiring glaciers first hand, before they dissolved into the sea.
Please read Atwood’s call to arms and be moved.
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