Half a century of ice loss: the new IMBIE dataset

More publication news! This month I’ve actually had 3 co-authored publications come out and hot on the heels of the mélange paper, a rather different piece of work I’ve contributed to has just come out: the latest assessment from the Ice Sheet Mass Balance Inter-comparison Exercise known as IMBIE to its friends, has just been published in Scientific Data. The paper is open access here: Otosaka et al., 2026. It’s the third (at least) in a series of articles monitoring the health of the ice sheets.

Figure 2 from the IMBIE paper is the money shot, as it were. The changes in ice sheet mass budget since the 1970s…

This one is a bit different from my usual, as it’s a data paper — the whole point is the dataset itself, which is freely available for anyone to download and use. But the numbers in it are rather striking and here is already a bit of misinformation spreading, so I thought it worth a short post.

What is IMBIE?

For readers who haven’t come across it before: IMBIE is a big international collaboration, supported by ESA and NASA, that tries to answer a seemingly simple question: how much ice are Greenland and Antarctica actually losing?

The problem is that measuring the mass of an ice sheet from space is really hard, and there are several different ways to do it — satellites that measure changes in ice sheet height (altimetry), satellites that measure changes in Earth’s gravity field (gravimetry), and the input-output method, where you compare how much snow falls on the ice sheet with how much ice flows out to sea at the glacier fronts. Each method has its strengths and weaknesses, and no single one gives the whole picture, specific choices in analysing satellite datasets can also give quite different results, not to mention model estimates of SMB can have a wide divergence.

IMBIE’s remit is to bring all the different groups together, get everyone to compute their estimates in a common framework, and then combine them. When many independent measurements agree, we can be much more confident in the answer, and that answer feeds directly into things like the IPCC reports and projections of future sea level rise. It’s community science at its best, even if it probably feels like herding cats to the fantastic coordinator Ones Otosaka, and I’ve been proud to contribute estimates from our HIRHAM5 surface mass balance modelling for both ice sheets to several of the IMBIE assessments over the years.

What’s new this time?

This latest assessment is the most comprehensive yet. The team combined 42 independent satellite surveys from 27 satellite missions — and extended the record further back than ever before, all the way to 1972 for Greenland and 1979 for Antarctica, using the early Landsat archive. That gives us a half-century view of how the ice sheets have changed. Though admittedly the recent years are much better covered than the earlier ones.

So what does half a century of satellite data tell us? (Note: just me who finds it hard to understand the 1970s as half a century ago?)

The two ice sheets have lost 11,300 billion tonnes of ice since 1979, raising global sea level by 31.4 mm — about three centimetres. Greenland accounts for the larger share, with Antarctica contributing 13.3 mm. The ice sheets are now responsible for roughly a quarter of all global sea level rise. The remainder is mostly due to thermal expansion as the oceans warms..

Three centimetres may not sound like much, but as Andrew Shepherd put it in the press release, that puts another six to nine million people at risk of coastal flooding and erosion. And the trend is very much in the wrong direction. In low-lying  Denmark this gives us more extreme storm surges and coastal flooding as even a few centimetres

A headline and a nuance: it’s the ice dynamics, not the surface melt, or is it?

There’s an important part of the paper which partitions the mass budget between dynamical losses and SMB changes. This is highlighted and the reasoning seemed obvious to me but in conversation with others is perhaps less obvious, so I want to discuss it here.

Of all that ice loss, 84% came from ice dynamics, that is outlet glaciers speeding up and discharging more ice into the ocean, from both calving icebergs and submarine melt, but “only” 16% from enhanced surface melting.

Now, I have spent a large part of my career working on surface mass balance, how much snow falls on the ice sheet and how much melts off it. We track it in near real-time on the Polar Portal, I write annual updates about it, and it’s genuinely important as it is the only way an ice sheet can maintain itself, no snowfall, no ice sheet.

Melt is also an important driver of ice dynamics, especially for Greenland. So it maybe should be with some professional humility that I report that the long-term mass loss story is apparently mostly a dynamics story: the ice sheets are responding to a warming ocean by flowing faster into the sea. Greenland’s rate of loss went from around 60 billion tonnes per year in the 1980s to 264 billion tonnes per year in the 2010s; Antarctica’s went from 48 to 202 billion tonnes per year over the same period, driven overwhelmingly by ocean melting at the outlet glaciers — with West Antarctica’s Pine Island and Thwaites glaciers leading the charge.

But there’s an important nuance in that 84/16 split, and it’s worth being clear about what it does and doesn’t mean. Surface mass balance is a two-way term: it’s positive when snow accumulates and negative when ice melts and runs off. And a warming climate pushes on both sides of the equation, more melt, certainly, but also more precipitation, at first as snow and increasingly we can measure over Greenland at least, as rain. Dynamic mass loss, by contrast, can only ever be negative: glaciers can only discharge ice into the ocean, they can’t drag it back up again. So we honestly wouldn’t expect SMB to be the biggest term in the loss budget, both sides of the SMB equation are increasing, it is in a race with itself. The genuinely worrying scenario is the one where melt and runoff together becomes bigger than snowfall. We are a very long way from that scenario fortunately, particularly in Antarctica but we’ll be in big trouble if, or perhaps when, that happens.

(Calving glaciology colleagues will note this whole discussion connects rather nicely to the question of what controls calving rates, which was the subject of my last post on melange…)

And now for a note of caution on the recent slowdown

You might have seen headlines suggesting ice loss has slowed down recently. It’s true that the most recent years in the record (2020–2023) show a temporary slowdown. A run of milder Greenland summers roughly halved its surface melting, and record snowfall over East Antarctica has offset some of the glacier losses there.

In fact we as a community have been on it as that East Antarctic snowfall is a story in itself. In a paper led by Marlen Kolbe earlier this year (Kolbe et al., 2026), (that I didn’t quite get around to talking about then, but I will rectify that), we showed that the extra snow is being delivered by atmospheric rivers — those great corridors of moisture streaming from a much warmer ocean towards the continent. Since 2020 they’ve become more frequent and more intense, dumping enough snow over East Antarctica to tip the whole ice sheet’s mass budget briefly into positive territory.

Is that reversal in mass budget temporary or permanent? Honestly, we don’t know yet but it matters because atmospheric rivers are double-edged. They bring massive snowfall, but they’re also often accompanied by a lot of melt — warm, wet air is rather good at melting ice as well as adding it. So the balance between accumulated snowfall and melt becomes more critical to understand here too, and the existing balance may well tip in the future.

The long-term picture remains one of accelerating loss, and as the climate continues to warm, we expect the losses to pick up again, especially in Greenland which is much further south than Antarctica is north, if that makes sense?

Refrozen melt layers in an Antarctic shallow ice core. We found a lot more of these than we expected based on satellites. Our all-seeing eyes in the sky don’t always see everything..

The response of the ice sheets to a warming climate is the single largest source of uncertainty in projections of future sea level rise. High-end estimates of global sea level rise by 2150 increase by a factor of 2.6 once the risk of ice sheet instability is accounted for. A continuous, half-century record of what the ice sheets are actually doing is exactly what we need to test the models and narrow those uncertainties, which is precisely why this dataset is such a valuable community resource, and why sustaining the satellite missions (CryoSat-2 and the Sentinels among them) that make it possible matters so much.

The full dataset is freely available from the UK Polar Data Centre, and you can read more about the IMBIE project at imbie.org. My thanks to Inès, Andrew, Tyler and the whole IMBIE team for pulling it all together — these assessments are an enormous amount of work, and the credit for this one belongs firmly with them.

As always, comments and questions welcome, here or on mastodon or blue sky.

Otosaka, I. N., Shepherd, A., Amory, C., et al. (2026). Mass balance of the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets from the 1970s to 2023. Scientific Data, 13, 1301. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41597-026-08088-0

Falling Apart…

I’m writing this from a hotel room in Ilulissat, rather than Qaanaaq where I had intended to be arriving shortly, because our plane has been cancelled due to bad weather (at time of writing the airport was measuring gusts of 14 m/s, so I’m actually quite glad it was cancelled).

Weather and flight cancellations are an eternal hazard when doing fieldwork in Greenland, but in this case it also means an impact on our planned fieldwork, because the sea ice is falling apart. And rather earlier than usual (though we have not yet done a systematic review to prove this). In fact, part of the reason for coming here in May (instead of my usual March trip) was to investigate an interesting event that happened earlier this spring. In the animation of satellite pictures below you can see the sea ice rather dramatically falling apart in mid-April and then again at the end of April.

The March to May sea ice season from Sentinel 2 in NW Greenland

To understand what is happening and why it’s unusual, first a bit of background. As I have written before, my DMI colleagues have been working up in NW Greenland for about 15 years on a programme of ocean measurements in the fjord (see map below). I joined about 5 years ago, working in the melange zone of the glaciers at the head of Inglefield Bredning (PSA: a paper we recently submitted about this programme will hopefully be online soon). We use the sea ice as highway and stable platform for observations, so it’s pretty important for us and came to the conclusion it wa squite important for some parts of the glaciers too. The local community, with whom we work closely use it also for travelling, hunting and fishing from. It’s extremely important for them.

The region of North West Greenland we’re talking about

Normally there’s pretty thick (~1m) sea ice covering the whole of Inglefield Bredning (Gulf of Inglefield, also known as Kangerlussuaq, but not that one) out to the islands of Qeqertarsuaq and Kiatak. You can seen an example of what this looks like normally in the satellite animation from 2020, which happens to be when my first trip out on to the sea ice in Qaanaaq took place at the end of May and beginning of June. We were actually very lucky, we had great weather, got very close to the ice edge and watched narwhals swimming out in the North Water polynya. (Yes, sometimes I wonder how I managed to get this job too). The animation below is Sentinel-2 images as cloud free as I could find them from that first field season. As you can see, the sea ice already in March was much much more extensive than this year at the same time. And perhaps that is part of the answer.

It’s probably worth pointing out at this stage that although there were some pretty warm (unusually so) spikes in March and April, the sea ice breakup in April was probably largely driven by ocean swell, and perhaps some winds which were strong, though not excessively so as far as we can see in the observations. The latest break-up seems to be driven also by high winds.

Back to our current field season. We had in fact planned a brief trip up here already – I am currently setting up a project looking at snow processes with the team and we had planned to install and test some new instruments and protocol that we hope to use in Antarctica later this year (more on all of that later hopefully). However, as the soon to be published preprint shows, I and the team have developed pretty extensive sea ice interests recently, so this unusual behaviour rather piqued our curiosity.

We have a lot of questions:

Why did it happen this year? Is it really the earliest in the satellite record? What makes the ice vulnerable? Composition, thickness, temperature? Is the ocean driving it or the atmosphere or both (it’s usually both), and what makes this year so unusual? Further down the line, can we model it and use those simulations to understand if this is a single aberration or likely to be more common in the future? And what impact will the earlier breakups have on the ecosystem, the adjacent glaciers and the local community?

Or fieldtrip thus appeared an excellent opportunity to grab some real data on all of these points. Our colleague Henriette Skourup at DTU-Space was kind enough to lend us one of her instruments, which we shipped up last minute to allow us to do an add-on. It is all currently sitting there waiting for us.

Unfortunately the sea ice is not waiting for us, if the photos from my colleague in Qaanaaq, Aksel are anything to go by.

A large and widening crack in the sea ice in front of Qaanaaq. The small objects on the sea ice (fishing gear?) suggest we were not the only ones surprised). Credit: Aksel Ascanius, DMI

The high winds which grounded our plane have also been busy on the sea ice, which is falling apart in the bay with surprising speed as far as I can see. We are still waiting for today’s optical imagery but the quick look from radar based Sentinel-1 suggests cracks widening rapidly as the photo above confirms.

Temperature observations from Qaanaaq airport

With a bit of luck we will get to Qaanaaq on Thursday (immaqa) to see if our sea ice research plan can go ahead. At this stage I rather doubt it. But it will very much depend on the next few hours. The wind speeds are quite high still but the temperature which was well above freezing has now dropped down to just below.

Wind observations from Qaanaaq airport

We are fortunate that we work with local hunters on the sea ice who are immensely experienced. The first rule is always safety first. We do have *a lot* of other work to do and rather fewer days to do it all in, so either way we’ll be busy. Ffor now, it’s keep checking in with the weather, the satellite images and our friends in Qaanaaq and use the time in Ilulissat wisely – in our case, it’s time to write some papers. And one of them is all about sea ice.

To be continued…

All satellite imagery on this page is from the European Space Agency Sentinel-2 mission, processed on the Copernicus EO Browser – a FREE!! and easy to use entry point to use ESA data. Weather observations are from Qaanaaq airport, operated by Mittarfeqarfiit A/S – Grønlands Lufthavne (Greenland Airports) and processed by DMI. It’s actually pretty nice how much high quality data we have access to these days…

This fieldwork is undertaken as part of the PRECISE (Predicting Ice Sheets on Earth) project funded by the Novo Nordisk Foundation and by the ESA Climate Change Initiative for Sea Ice and the Climate Modelling Research Group