Most people outside of Denmark know about hygge these days, but the term janteloven is less familiar. For British readers the most appropriate translation would be tall poppy syndrome.
Anyway, I’ve hesitated a bit to write this post a bit, but at the same time I am delighted and proud and actually a bit surprised to have been awarded an honorary Professorship at Aarhus University.
My very kind and extremely smart former boss at DMI, Professor Peter Langen, now leads the Environmental Science Department at Aarhus University (actually based at Risø near Roskilde and not in Aarhus). He put me and my amazing and very talented colleague Shuting Yang forward to the University for this honour earlier this year and we heard just before the summer break it had been accepted.
It’s a purely honorary position, so I don’t get paid by the University, on the other hand it doesn’t come with any obligations either and it lasts for 5 years. I’m hopeful though that it will lead to new and exciting collaborations and maybe even new studentships and other programmes. I’ve always enjoyed working with students, so if you’re at Aarhus University and looking for a thesis supervisor working on polar climaet and ice sheets, give me a shout.
I already co-supervise one PhD with the Environmental Science department and I’m extremely impressed with the calibre of research there. The universe moving, as it does, in mysterious ways, a few days ago we also got good news about Horizon Europe funding that will also facilitate closer working with AU so watch this space for more on that front.
Now I guess it’s time to start thinking about an inaugural lecture or something and I’m looking forward to exploring the rather beautiful fjordside campus of Risø when I get chance.
I very rarely have time to write a proper field diary, our time in the field is usually extremely hectic and filled with 12-18 hour working days that blend seamlessly together. I suspect this week is also going to be busy, but Nature has offered an olive branch in the shape of an early break-up of the sea ice, so I’m taking a moment to write a few things down. Updates will be posted at the top so scroll down to read the first day.
And finally…
I’m writing this on the metro home, I’ll spare you the flight delays, the packing up dramas, the last minute, “just one more snow pit”…
Melville Bugt from the air
It was a good tour. Enormous amount of work done, perhaps more importantly, it has also been foundational work, on both data and field site management, it will be much easier for colleagues to help us maintain this and to build up a long term data set of all the observations (and more that I haven’t written about here) in future. That should reduce costs and field time in the future but also give others the opportunity to visit and do their own research up here.
The traditional hunters gloves turn out to be by far the best thing to work in when programming outside. You can put your hands in and out very fast and they are super warm.
I think streamlining the storage of data is extremely important. There is far too much data in the world on hard drives and in field notebooks, doing no good to anyone. This system will be much easier for other colleagues to use what we have collected and we will be able to publish them outside of DMI soon too. I remain committed to FAIR publishing, but I often feel the barriers are practical rather than psychological.
I’ve also introduced my new(ish) colleague Abraham to the Arctic. Given he grew up in a place without snow it has been a delight to watch him discover the processes and problems that I’ve been working on the last 20 years and that we’ve been discussing together the last 18 months. I believe it’s extremely important for climate modellers to understand and see the system they’re trying to model. This trip has definitely confirmed me in that. This was not just a field campaign but also a pedagogical field trip in some ways too. We have also had the opportunity to brainstorm a lot of new research ideas along the way, there is rarely such time in the office, so plenty more to work on in coming years..
The DMI geophysical facility, newly painted!
As ever massive thanks to many colleagues, especially Aksel our DMI station manager without whom this work would be close to impossible given he is both interpreter and collaborator on the practical observations; Qillaq Danielsen for taking us out on to the sea ice with his sled. Steffen for running an extremely valuable long-term programme, Andrea for helpful and practical discussions and of course Abraham for making it a very good week. Glad we got to do this.
I should also say a large thankyou to my husband for keeping the home front running smoothly along whilst I am travelling. None of this would work otherwise.
Tak for denne gang Qaanaaq!
Day 6: Last day
It’s amazing how fast the tine goes, our last full day in the field (we’d originally planned for 9 days, but that was partly because last year we planned a week and it got cut to 3 days due to flight weather problems, I learned and left a safety margin this year). Nonetheless, a busy day. As we’re really interested in lots of different processes that combine in what we call the Arctic Earth System our focus for today was twofold, looking at the atmosphere and the subsurface, both of which are partly other scientists projects, but giving data we really want to use with our climate model, both for evaluation and development.
Aksel and Abraham giving the site a few last tweaks
The main aim was to finalise the snow site ready for observations over the next year. We finally reinstalled the remaining FC4 and new logger, this has been ticking over and being tested in our station kitchen for the last couple of days. I’m rather pleased with myself in managing to get these 2 talking to each other, I was envisaging a bigger struggle, but the Campbell Scientific software is very easy to use with good user guides.
The installation was the last element for the snow site and after Aksel and Abraham’s sterling work in building our new logger station, it was trivially easy.
Et voilá! We have a fully functional snow site…
The experience with the new Campbell system proved invaluable in the next task, downloading a whole bunch of data from colleagues’ weather stations for shipping back to Denmark. Normally, we would have been a bigger crew to handle work on the sea ice as well as at the station, but as the sea ice broke up so early (see Day 1), our local hunter friends had taken them down and brought them in to Qaanaaq for us. They needed a bit of repacking, data downloads and checks and we set up a skin temperature calibration station for the satellite group, which I think will also be quite interesting for us in polar regional climate modelling to use. This we left overnight for longest possible calibration.
As we have many collaborations we also spent an hour trying to collect some data from the subsurface permafrost sensors installed by our colleagues at the University of Copenhagen. Unfortunately, it appears they need rather more maintenance than we can provide, so that will need a full team. I am extremely keen to see the data though, ten years + of permafrost and temperature measurements is a seldom dataset and will be super interesting to use in the further development of our surface scheme. Qaanaaq is somewhat vulnerable to permafrost disturbance as it is built on sediments, so monitoring this in a warming climate is pretty important.
A long day, but made even longer by the excitement of narwhals in the bay! We headed out to the ice edge at 11pm, (the polar day plays havoc with your body clock), where quite a few hunters had gathered and were busy slicing up a freshly caught narwhal, eagerly filmed by at least one of the several film crews and photographers there appear to be in the town right now. We have noticed increasing numbers of film crews visiting this part of the world. It can be surprisingly busy.
Greenland does have a strictly regulated quota on narwhals, it’s an important part of the culture, but it is a bit brutal to watch if you’re not used to seeing animals sliced up. Personally, I think everyone should see where the meat they eat comes from. It would make us all more honest about agriculture. But I digress, I was actually more excited to see live ones out in the bay. We’re immensely fortunate to see them, this is only the 2nd time in 5 years I have seen live narwhal here, and it’s only really because the ice has shrunk so early allowing them in. I have immense respect for the hunters who go out in flimsy lightweight kayaks to harpoon them. That must take some courage.
It’s such a peaceful scene, hard to imagine the life and death struggle implied here.
UPDATE: And as an aside, our ace colleagues and collaborators at the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources have a wonderful series of videos exploring all kinds of research in Greenland, including this brilliant one featuring Malene Simon Hegelund and my DMI colleague Steffen Olsen, together with Qillaq Danielsen who we were also out with this year, which really gives a flavour of fieldwork in Qaanaaq and just how important our collaborations with the local community and Greenlandic scientists are.
Day 5: Glacier Day!
As an unrepentant glaciologist, I always look forward to glacier day, when we get up onto the land ice. In this case it’s only a tiny outlet glacier from a rather small local ice cap (well I say small, in the Alps it’d be considered quite large, but by Greenland standards it’s small but well studied). It’s easily accessible and the point about today was to take surface snow measurements and density profiles, so accessible is good.
The deep soft snow that has been a bit of a bane everywhere this year was also a problem. It was very heavy going, there isn’t really a path, just very loose rocks in a (at this time of year dry) riverbed, which is bad enough in summer but when covered in 30cm of snow was quite heavy going. Nonetheless we made a decent pace and got quite high up. By the time we came down again, the outwash river was starting to show signs of life again. It was a cold day, between -3 and -5C but the blazing sunshine alone is enough to start to generate melt and we saw plenty of signs of radiation driven melt going on under the surface snow crust, especially where there were dust layers to accelerate the process.
The snow pits proved indeed how cold the snow has been, typically around -10C at the bottom of the pits, but in one we also found signs of refrozen melt water, perhaps from the brief March warm period?
Ice layers in the snow, surprisingly difficult to photograph, you’re going to have to trust us on this one!
We did a transect down with our borrowed infrasnow, made several density profiles and had quite an efficient time. The idea is to repeat this transect at different times of the year so we can see how the snow properties change. In particular, I’m interested in surface albedo (how much incoming light is reflected by a surface). The reflectivity of the snow and ice surface is extremely important for the energy budget, which in turn controls how fast the snow (and ice) melt as well as being important for satellite data retrievals of surface temperature.
The Infrasnow is a very neat device that measures density and specific surface area. It’s not quite the same thing as albedo but it will help us to develop our albedo scheme in the model as it is based on grain size. Unfortunately it does not work on glacier ice, which is some places we also saw peeking out the top where wind has scoured the surface snow away. The movement of snow by wind is the subject of our final full day in the field.
We continued the observations off the glacier all the way to the road so we have a nice base transect that can be repeated to assess how conditions change through the year.
Although we only hiked 10km, it was quite tough, so next year we’ll bring snow shoes…
Tomorrow is our final full day. Lots more to do.
Day 4
Day 4 was pretty typical of the highs and lows of fieldwork. We finished (or I should say my colleagues finished) a new mounting for the snow site logger box so hopefully the icing problem will be reduced, we (re-)installed all the instruments except for the new loggers and generally tidied up. It’s looking pretty nice now. This was a high.
Part way through the reinstallation at the snow site
Then, I struggled and failed for about 4 hours to try and get the snow drift sensors to talk to the new logger. That was frustrating low. low. However, a walk around on the fast ice in the bay to try and take a new sea ice core was some valuable breathing space – a little bit of rewiring later and the first numbers started ticking in as planned…. Hurray! That was a high!
It’s immensely satisfying solving these kind of problems. And it was the first time I’ve programmed one of these loggers – new skills are also always rewarding to learn, even if the process is frustrating. I’ve learnt a lot about SDI-12 interfaces and how the instruments actually work too. I need to remember to give myself more deep work time back in the office too. It’s much more personally rewarding and advances the science much more than endless emails and meetings.
While the attempt to get an ice core was interesting, ultimately we failed due to very broken and uneven ice that made access to the part of the sea ice we wanted to get to with our kit too difficult – that was a low. I am simply counting the attempt as my evening walk, in which case maybe it counts as a high? I’ve often thought of Caspar David Friedrich’s famous Arctic painting The Sea of Ice in the coastal part of the fast ice. It’s spectacularly fractured and churned up, though FReidrich’s ice blocks are a little too angular – the real sea ice flakes are a bit more rounded.
Where the fast ice meets the land…
We also did lots of preparation for day 5’s trip to the local glacier, planned a final UAV structure-from-motion mapping campaign on land and got software working to download data on permafrost from sub-surface loggers for colleagues at the University of Copenhagen – that will all however have to wait until tomorrow, our last full day in the field. Today, we have a date with a tiny local glacier.
Day 3
I’d originally assigned only one day in the fieldwork plan for the snow site work, but given we missed our prep day to go directly into the field, we have missed a few crucial steps, so we have been busy today trying to catch up, but mostly in the workshop here at the DMI geophysical facility in Qaanaaq with a couple of visits out to the snow site.
I realised I haven’t introduced the snow site.
View over towards the south west from the old ionospheric research station on the edge of Qaanaaq. Our snow site in the foreground. It has a great view, if you ignore the town dump at the coast!
It is a small area on the edge of the village (unfortunately near the town dump, but otherwise perfect) where we are conducting a long-term (hopefully) series of observations – we’re currently only at the end of the first year so there are a few teething troubles to sort out. We’re installing a new logger for our snow drift sensors, adding a new snow cam and downloading data from the current one. We also have a standardised set of measurements of snow properties (density, temperature, reflectivity) that we carry out whenever time and opportunity permits, that we will hopefully use to better understand how the snowpack evolves through time. The land based side is a kind of complement to a longer set of observations I have from throughout the region – all point measurements made at rather random times and locations, so the constant monitoring site will hopefully help us to understand the wider context in space and time of those point data. In fact I have a student workign on digitising that data now, so I hope to soon make available the whoel dataset for research purposes.
Snow is incredibly important in the Arctic: it forms an insulating layer over sea ice that prevents futher formation in the winter, but also helps to stop or delay surface melt in the spring and summer. On land, the insulating properties of snow also help to preserve vegetation, insects and mammals through the winter, with specific vegetation assemblages being very much determined by the local snow patterns. And that’s without even discussing the importance of snow to glaciers and ice sheets.
Do you want to do a snow pit? (I asked) Yes! said my colleague. It’s always good to get the modellers to understand just how hard observations can be.
However, it turns out to be difficult to measure when it falls, difficult to work out how much blows around, challenging to model when it melts and when it refreezes and generally a larger than we’d hope uncertainty in weather and climate models. Much of the work developing parameterisations that describe snow properties has been done at lower latitudes too. High Arctic snow is certainly different in many respects to more southerly locations and that needs to be accounted for.
Hence the establishment of our snow programme. Which sounds rather big and impressive, but we’re hoping to set it up sufficiently smoothly this year that it will almost run itself with minimal input from us and assistance from colleagues. Let’s see, there are still some teething troubles to sort out.
The sea ice has now cleared out of a huge part of the bay in front of Qaanaaq and the hunters have been busy taking boats out from the edge of the ice so there are clearly narwhals expected soon. Although, we’ve spent most of the last two days indoors, I keep looking outside, hoping to see some of the marine mammals that visit here. There are already masses of sea birds arriving. Yesterday managed to spot a rather handsome snow goose couple on my evening walk at 11pm.
On my evening walk today I went to the very eastern edge of the town to get a look at the sea ice in the fjord – it’s quite clearly retreating rapidly now; much of the area we travelled over on Friday has gone.
View down Inglefield Fjord with the sea ice breaking up in the distance
Day 2
After Day 1’s rather hectic and busy time, Day 2 was assigned post-processing status. We had a slightly later than the 6am start yesterday, and put some serious effort into assessing our results from the previous day. That means downloading data, clearing up wet kit to dry it off properly, repacking stuff we don’t need further. Then there is the computer work, doing some initial processing, backing up files, writing field notes and doing some measurements (of salinity) on the sea ice cores we collected.
Conductivity/salinity measurements of a melted sea ice core in the workshop, fieldwork is very diverse. And fun.
We also made time to visit our snow site to download data from the instruments there. Unfortunately, it was clear that we need to somewhat reorganise the site, the logger box was completely snowed in, and I was a bit sceptical there would be any data at all. So we collected in some of the instruments for testing and further data downloads in the workshop instead of trying it out in the field. In fact, fieldwork means a lot of tidying up and computer work! I used the opportunity to reorganise and standardise the way we archive all our data, including the UAV images as well as the meteorology instruments, which will also hopefully mean we have an easier time to find and use it in the future.
It wasn’t all laptop work though, we did a few snow pits and some further testing of the Infrasnow system we have borrowed. I’m actually quite impressed with it – very straightforward to use and very consistent data produced.
It’s also always fun to check our snowcam – this takes a photo of a stake every 3 hours to monitor the depth of the snow pack, and quite often we get beautiful views and some cheeky ravens hopping past too – I live in hope for an Arctic fox, or even a bear.
Two ravens in the snow, exploring some leftovers apparently.
On the subject of bears, I had heard there were rumours of one near the snow site, but sure enough there were the footprints – rather small and filled in with snow but quite distinctive and heading up towards the ice cap. We shall be extra careful when we go up on to the glacier later this week.
Day 1
We had originally planned terrestrial, glacier and sea ice work, primarily focused on snow processes. The sea ice part though was altered and expanded when the rapid break up in April and again this month was observed. Normally, we’d have a preparation day between arrival and going into the field, but the threat of winds and high temperatures meant we decided not to risk it and we went out straight away on the first full day. Our instincts to just go yesterday turned out to be correct, we had perfect weather and with the help of Qillaq, one of the local hunters we still made it out on to the sea ice. So all is not lost. I woke up this morning to see a wide blue sea just off the last pieces of fast ice on Qaanaaq, so I’m very happy with that decision. Sentinel-2 captured this yesterday while we were out in fact.
It probably looks more dangerous than it is. We were working on the stable fast ice to the east of the big flake, that stretches right into the fjord. The local topography make it very stable and our measurements yesterday confirmed it’s pretty typical for the time of year in thickness, though there was a surprising amount of snow on top, which can actually help to protect the ice from melt at this time of year.
Getting around the coast was surprisingly straightforward, the fast ice has a very stable platform, though some large churned up part of the ice with cracks made for some slightly bumpy manoeuvres to get on and off the stable parts.
Manoeuvring the sled through the coastal zone
The dogs were I think happy when it was over. But in fact it was much more straightforward than I’d feared. The large crack we noticed earlier in the week that opened into a wide lead further extended while we were out, see below, and I woke up this morning to a wide open lagoon. It’s an extraordinarily beautiful place to work and I feel so privileged, especially on days like today when the weather is also being extra nice.
Happy dogs on the way home. Note the large area of open water behind that opened up while we were out.
Work wise it was a successful day, we managed 2 stations, where we did very extensive work. I’d have liked a third but the deep snow made it very heavy and slow going to travel on and in spite of the early start we basically ran out of time and had to return home.
Qillaq and Abraham taking a manual measurement of snow depth and ice thickness next to target for the UAV calibration flights.
We flew the UAV for surface properties, did a lot of snow pits and snow surface properties work, drilled some ice cores (which I will be working on this morning) and even got our loaned EM31 working to do automated ice thickness mapping. We will hopefully start to look at the data later on today to make sure it makes sense before we leave on Thursday.
Our first sea ice core of the season
The reduction in ice means we can actually concentrate on the terrestrial part of the work plan for the rest of the week. And there’s a lot to do!
Last year I set up a semi-permanent snow site to monitor conditions on land through the year. It is going to get a bit of an upgrade this week with some new instruments and of course we need to get the rest of the data downloaded and processed from here too.
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…
There is currently some discussion in the Danish media about sea level rise hazards and the risk of rapid changes that may or may not be on the horizon. Some of the discussion is about IPCC estimates. That’s a little unfortunate and in fact a bit unfair as the IPCC report has not been updated since 2021, nor was it intended to have been. In the mean time there has been a lot of additional science to clear up some of the ambiguities and questions left from the last report.
I’ve been working quite a bit on the cryosphere part of the sea level question of late, so thought I’d share some insights from the latest research into the debate at this point. And I have a pretty specific viewpoint here, because I’ve been working with the datasets, models, climate outputs etc that will likely go into the next IPCC report as part of a couple of EU funded projects. As part of that, we have prepared a policy briefing that will be presented to the European Parliament in June this year, but it’s already online now and will no doubt cross your socials later this week. I’m going to put in some highlights into this post too.
Now, I want to be really clear that everything I say in this post can be backed up with peer reviewed science, most of which has been published in the last 2 to 3 years. Let’s start with the summary:.:
The sea is rising. And the rate of rise is currently accelerating.
The sea will continue to rise long into the future. The rate of that sea level rise is largely in our society’s hands, given that it is strongly related to greenhouse gas emissions.
We have already committed to at least 2m of sea level rise by 2300.
By the end of 2100 most small glaciers and ice caps will be gone, mountain glaciers will contribute 20-24% of total sea-level rise under varying emission scenarios.
Antarctic and Greenland ice sheet mass loss will contribute significantly to sea-level rise for centuries, even under low emissions scenarios
Abrupt sea level rise on the order of metres in a few decades is not credible given new understanding of key ice fracture and iceberg calving processes.
By the end of this century we expect on the order of a half to one metre of sea level rise around Denmark, depending on emissions pathway. (If you want to get really specific: the low-likelihood high impact sea level rise scenario corresponds to about 0.9 m (on average), or at the 83rd percentile, about 1.6 m of sea level rise).
Your local sea level rise is not the same as the global average and some areas, primarily those at lower latitudes will experience higher total sea level rise and earlier than in regions at higher latitudes.
Sea level rise now is ~5mm per year averaged over the last 5 years, 10 years ago it was about 3 mm per year). Much of that sea level rise comes from melting ice, particularly the small glaciers and ice caps that are melting very fast indeed right now. Even under lower levels of emissions, those losses will increase. There won’t be many left by the end of this century.
Greenland is the largest single contributor and adds just less than a millimetre of sea level rise per year, with Antarctica contributing around a third of Greenland, primarily from the Amundsen Sea sector. The remaining sea level rise comes from thermal expansion of the oceans. Our work shows very clearly that the emissions pathway we follow as a human society will determine the ultimate sea level rise, but also how fast that will be achieved. The less we burn, the lower and slower the rise. But even under a low-end Paris scenario, we expect around 1 metre of sea level by 2300.
The long tail of sea level rise will come from Antarctica, where the ocean is accelerating melt of, in particular, West Antarctica. However, our recent work and that of other ice sheet groups shows that the risk of multi-metre sea level rise within a few decades is unrealistic. Again, to be very clear: We can’t rule out multiple metres of sea level rise, but it will happen on a timescale of centuries rather than years. High emissions pathways make multiple metres of sea level rise more likely. In fact, our results show that even under low emissions pathways, we may still be committed to losing some parts of especially West Antarctica, but it will still take a long-time for the Antarctic ice sheet to disintegrate. We have time to prepare our coastlines.
There’s so much more I could write, but that’s supposed to be the high level summary. Feel free to shoot me questions in the comment feeds. I’ll do my best to answer them.
Five years ago, a small group of European scientists got together to do something really ambitious: work out how quickly and how far the sea will rise, both locally and on average worldwide, from the melting of glaciers and ice sheets. The PROTECT project was the first EU funded project in 10 years to really grapple with the state-of-the-art in ice sheet and glacier melt and the implications for sea level rise and to really seek to understand what is the problem, what are the uncertainties, what can we do about it.
We were and are a group of climate scientists, glaciologists, remote sensors, ice sheet modellers, atmospheric and ocean physicists, professors, statisticians, students, coastal adaptation specialists, social scientists and geodesists, stakeholders and policymakers. We’ve produced more than 155 scientific papers in the last 5 years (with more on the way) and now our findings are summarised in our new policy briefing for the European Parliament.
It’s been a formative, exhilarating and occasionally tough experience doing big science in the Horizon 2020 framework, but we’ve genuinely made some big steps forward, including new estimates of rates of ice sheet and glacier loss, a better understanding of some key processes, particularly calving and the influence of the ocean on the loss of ice shelves. More importantly for human societies, by integrating the social scientists into the project, we have had a very clear focus on how to consider sea level rise, not just as a scientific ice sheet process problem, but also how to integrate the findings into usable and workable information. In Denmark, we will start to use these inputs already in updating the Danish Climate Atlas. If you are elsewhere in the world, you may want to check out our sea level rise tool, that shows how the emissions pathway we follow, will affect your local sea level rise.
Our final recommendations?
Accelerate emission reductions to follow the lower emission scenario to limit cryosphere loss and associated sea-level rise
Enhance monitoring of glaciers and ice sheets to refine models and predictions
Support the long-term development of ice sheet models, their integration into climate models, and the coupling of glacier models with hydrological models, while promoting education and training to build expertise in these areas
Invest in flexible and localized coastal management that incorporates uncertainty and long-term projections
Foster international collaboration to share knowledge, resources, and strategies for mitigating and adapting to global impacts
Over on Blue sky I found a link to this piece by Daniel Nettle – a reflection on life as a researcher, the race for the glittering prizes of high profile publications and how to “succeed” in academia, where succeed has the simple metric of ‘in ten years.. to have remained alive, and ideally continued doing some research.’
Ten years ago in Greenland, I did not imagine I’d still be doing this job-
I found myself very much nodding along with the sentiments of the piece, the conceit that
“Our seduction was by the primary research process: the idea that you could find a question; hit on your own approach; perform and manufacture the work; and finally, see it there in print, with your name attached, a thread woven in to the tapestry of human knowledge. A thread of memory.”
that also motivates me and apparently others in the research world. I still think that idea of building something bigger, no matter how tiny the contribution, the sum total of knowledge is a motivating factor. As Daniel writes, it’s a seduction, but it is also one that resonates and lasts, even through those years when the grind gets you down…
This part also made me laugh in recognition about what makes people persevere in research:
“If she [a student interviewing professors about success in academia] knew how narrowly I have hung on, I thought, she might have chosen someone else for her assignment.”
It’s not always easy keeping going, much of our work requires intrinsic motivation and it too often dissolves into something self-destructive. Famously, science and research in general is prone to mental health problems and I rather liked the characterisation here:
“Periodic demoralization and depression are not rare amongst researchers. It’s not not caring any more, or not being able to be bothered, as depression is often and erroneously characterized. It is caring so much, being so bothered, that one cannot advance on any front. One drowns in one’s own disorganized and gradually souring passion. This feeling is probably near-ubiquitous too.”
But persevere we do and persevere we must and where I thought this piece gets really interesting is where he points to the techniques and lessons that lead us to surviving the academic environment. As the essay is rather long, and a pdf, I thought I would summarise his main lessons here. The first one is I think the most important and while he calls it every day has to count for something (where every day means every *working* day, time off is still essential). I prefer to summarise it as just one thing.
Lesson 1. Every day has to count for something
“I try to start each working day with a period of uninterrupted work. Work, for me, is: collecting data, analysing data, writing code, drafting a paper, writing ideas in a notebook, or just thinking. Things that do not qualify as work are: background reading, literature searches, answering correspondence, marking students’ assignments, peer-reviewing a paper, sorting out my website, correcting proofs, filling in forms, tidying datasheets, having meetings, and so on.”
This goes back to paying yourself first. I’m not always very good at doing it, but I also try to do something meaningful and deep work like each day. Part of the reason I have found the last few months quite hard at work is a surfeit of meetings, workshops and travels, which have been in general quite destructive and distracting from the main work of the day, which could probably be summed up as, learn how the icy bits of the world work. My #AcWriMo efforts as well as #30dayMapChallenge in November were in effect just the kick start I needed to get back into the real scientific work of research, because as Daniel Nettle so eloquently put it:
Daily deep work keeps the black dog away, for there is nothing worse for mood than the sense that one is not progressing. And it can spiral in a bad way: the more you feel you are not progressing, the worse you feel; the worse you feel the more your hours become non-deep junk; and the more exhausted you are by non-deep junk hours, the less you progress.
Not all black dogs are bad.
Lesson 2. Cultivate modest expectations
This was a curiously freeing part to read and I absolutely agree with it. Too often what John Kennedy calls Natureorscience papers are seen as the gold standard. And yet as Daniel Nettle eloquently points out:
the glittering prizes we academics strive for are positional goods kept deliberately scarce by bureaucratic or commercial interests, and allocated in ways whose relationship to long-term value is probably quite weak. For example, Nature is a for-profit enterprise that rejects nearly everything in order to defend its exclusive market position. If we all send everything there, the rejection rate goes up. If we all increase the quality of our science, it still nearly all gets rejected, by the very design of the institution. The idea that all good papers can be in Nature or Science is as ludicrous as the idea that all Olympic athletes can get gold medals, but without the strong link between actual ability and finishing position that obtains in the Olympics.
It’s absolutely true that a natureorscience paper on the CV is seen as a big thing, the ultimate to strive far. And it is. Getting through the review process is in itself an achievement. But it’s also worth bearing in mind that many natureorscience landmark studies don’t stand the test of time. They rarely shift paradigms, though they can focus attention on new subjects, and sometimes that’s a new and important field. And sometimes it’s a distraction. I can think of several notable examples published since I started working in glaciology (but no, I’m not going to call them out here). The text in these journals is often far too compressed to get important details in, I recall an old mentor suggesting that the natureorscience paper is the advert, the starter that reels you in. The good stuff, the actual filler that makes you look at the world anew with its insights, new methodologies and the rest, is very often in a very different journal. So go for natureorscience if you get the opportunity, and if you have the results, but aiming for there from the start is not necessarily the right way to position your research career. Though as this post is now veering dangerously towards giving advice rather than simply expressing my usual slightly scrambled thoughts, take this one with a dollop of Atlantic brine..
For what it’s worth though, I do believe this:
Great art often begins on the fringe. Similarly, valuable future paradigms and innovative ideas start life in obscure places. Journal editors cannot yet see their potential, and the authors themselves are tentatively feeling their way into something new. So by focussing on capturing the established indicators of prestige, you distort the process away from answering the question that interests you in an authentic way, and into a kind of grubby strategizing. Or so I tell myself, admittedly through clenched teeth at times.
Lesson 3. Publish steadily
Is back to just one thing in a way.
the mistake a lot of people make is focussing too much on getting the big shot, the single career-establishing paper in a top journal, and therefore not quietly building up a solid, progressive portfolio of sound work.
Doing the work is the best advice I can give and the advice I would give myself back in the early days of what has become (almost by accident) a research career. Now, I would hesitate to say publish something every year. I know scientists who insist on one first author paper a year, and some who strive for 3. Both seem arbitrary and potentially dangerous in terms of motivation, particularly for a young ECR just making their first steps and unsure of how to do it. Nevertheless it’s certainly true that, regardless of publish or perish, just the feeling of making forward progress, however incremental, is so important. Keep the momentum going. It’s part of what makes the traditional british PhD ending with a big book so hard, there’s no feedback on the way. Just an hour a day (or even an hour a week in busy times) is enough to keep me moving forward, and it’s often enough to produce a decent paper, eventually. And don’t worry, science is highly collaborative, I wouldn’t be able to do it without all my colleagues to remind me on, nudge me to get on with something and keep the wheels turning. I love you all for it too…
So if you are worrying about staying the game, rather than planning your next Science publication, I would ask yourself where your 1-2 solid papers each year are going to come from. Just as you should not go a single day without proper work, you should not go a single year without publishing anything, as one year rapidly becomes three.
Lesson 4: Get your hands dirty
This is why I do field work. But it’s also why I’ve embraced the opportunity to learn more about deep learning and AI/ML methods. Learning new stuff is exciting, it keeps you fresh and helps make new connections. It’s when disciplines cross-connect that the exciting stuff happens and the sparks fly in the brain.
“Keeping your hands dirty also means learning how to do new things. And this is a good thing: the skills I picked up in graduate school could not possibly have sustained me this long. Learning new skills has always paid dividends of one kind or another; and stepping back from doing primary research myself has always been the point at which things have started to go less well.”
I have written one too many white paper style articles recently, it’s time to go back to the field, and back to the code to see if we can make things better by integrating the data and the models.
Learning to fly a drone and to process the data is something I’ve been working on the last few years. I have a really exciting dataset now but little time to work on it. Ifyou’re looking for an interesting MSC thesis project get in touch!
A note of caution though, it’s always easier to start something new than finish an old project. The best colleagues will help you stay on track and make sure you finish what you started!
I’m going to add one more point, which isn’t expressly mentioned in the original piece that started this ramble:
Lesson 5: Cultivate outside interests.
Far too many of us put families, friends, sports, hobbies and anything else that doesn’t taste of work to one side, in pursuit of the all-consuming. It’s not only not healthy, it’s also limiting. The brain needs time off to churn away by itself. You can’t force that unconscious process. Better to take a long walk to admire the flowers than try to twist your brain in knots when you hit a wall. A good night’s sleep is an amazingly effective part of the research process too.
So there we have it, some thoughts on being a (mid-career) scientist and how I have managed to stay in the game. YMMV as the Americans say.
Finally, all that I have said relies on having a supportive employer and good colleagues. The sometimes horrifying stories (take for example this one) of people being pushed out by bullying colleagues, or structural discrimination is a whole other story. And not one I’m going to take on here, but I would point out that without organisation, labour inevitably gets crushed by capital, so organise, join a union, find out what your rights are and make sure that you have a supportive hinterland to help you get through the bad times.
And everyday, do just one thing to help you advance.
This is the first in a two-parter. At this time of year, posts making bold statements about what happened last year and what we plan to do this year start to become prominent. The last few years I have spent a few hours in the first week of January reviewing what worked, what was fun and what was cool, what was awful and what definitely was a waste of time. I’m not honestly sure that any of this is of interest to anyone except me, so read on, but you have been warned..
2024: Themes of this year: Greenland, Machine Learning, people, and big data…
Working with scientists from the Greenland natural resources institute and local hunters on the sea ice.
The final trip was in October for a workshop with scientists in Greenland about climate change impacts in Greenland, the subpolar gyre and AMOC for the UN Ocean decade. It was a memorable meeting for the sheer range and quality of science presented as well as for being stranded in Nuuk by a broken aeroplane in quite ridiculously beautiful weather (I mostly stayed in my hotel room to write the aforementioned paper, sadly. In 2025 I will work on my priorities) .
Apart from fieldwork I have really tried hard on publications this year. I have (like many scientists I suspect), far more data sitting around on hard drives than I have published. It’s a waste and it’s also fun to work on actual data instead of endless emails. This is something I intend to continue focusing on the next few years as well. There is gold in them thar computers…
We had a couple of writing retreats were very successful. These I plan to continue also and the PRECISE project grant is happily flexible enough to do this. I probably achieve as much in terms of data processing and paper writing in 3 focused days as I would in 3 months in the office. It paid off too. I managed to co-author 8 papers published this year (including my first 1st-author paper in ages – a workshop report, but nevertheless it counts.). Some of these are still preprints, so will change, and there are a couple more that have been submitted but are not yet available as preprints. I will submit two more papers in the next 3 weeks as well (1 first author), so January 2025 is going to be the 13th month of 2024 in my mind.
Bootcamps have been a theme the last 3 years, I organised the first in 2022 and so far there have been 4 publications from that first effort. There was another this year in June, ( I have attended them in 2023 and 2024 but was not organising) where we really got going on a project for ESA that I have had my eye on for a while – I hope the publication from that will be ready in the Spring this coming year.
Machine Learning: This was the year I really got machine learning. I’ve been following a graduate course online, and learning from my colleagues and students about implementations. I understand a lot more about the architecture and how to in practice apply neural networks and other techniques like random forests now. This is not before time, as we intend to implement these to contribute to CMIP7 and the next IPCC report. We still have a lot of work to do, but the foundation is laid. And it’s been fun to learn something that, if not exactly new, is a new application of something. In fact the biggest barrier has really been learning new terminology. We have also been fortunate that Eumetsat and the ECMWF have been very helpful in providing us with ML-optimised computer resources to test much of these new models out on. We’re actually running out of resources a bit though, so it’s time to start investigating Lumi, Leonardo and the new Danish centre Gefion to see what we can get out of these.
People: This year our research group has grown with another 2 PhD students, and at the end of the year we also employed a new post-doc. I think it’s large enough now. I’m very aware that if I don’t do my job properly, then not only the research but the people will suffer, so developing people management skills is really important. In any case it’s extremely stimulating to work with such talented young people and I’m really excited to see where the science will take us, given the skills in the team. I hope I have been good enough at managing such a large and young team, but I have my doubts. A focus for 2025 for sure.
Data: This has been the year of big data, not necessarily just for ML purposes but also in the PolarRES project the production and management of an enormous set of future climate projections at very high resolution. More on this anon. Suffice to say, it has taken a lot of my time and mental energy and it’s probably not the most exciting thing to talk about, but we now have 800 Tb of climate simulation data to dig into. I suspect that rewards of this will be coming for years. There has also been a lot of digging into satellite datasets and the bringing together of the two has been very rewarding already. It’s a rich seam, to continue the metaphor, that will be producing scientific gold for many years.
Projects: we have gone in the final year of two projects, PROTECT and PolarRES, both of which will finally end in 2025. We also arrived at the half way point of OCEAN:ICE. So rather than being a year of starts, it has been a year where we have started to prepare for endings – actually this is a fun part of many projects where a lot of the grunt work is out the way and we can start to see what we have actually found out. It can also be a slog of confusing data, writing and editing papers and dealing with h co-author comments. I’ve definitely been in that process this year, hopefully with some of the outputs to come next year…
Proposals: I started 2024 writing a proposal. Colleagues were in 3 different consortia for the same call, alas ours didn’t get funded, but 2 of the others did and will start this year. That is a good result for DMI and our group. I wrote another proposal in the Autumn and contributed to a 4th and finally at the end of the year I heard that both will *likely* be funded (but are currently embargoed and in negotiation, so no more will be said now). It sometimes feels that spending so much time and energy on proposal writing is putting the cart before the horse, but in fact I find proposal writing something akin to brainstorming. It’s essential of course to ensure we can continue to do the science we want, but it can also help us to clarify our ideas and make sure we’re not on the wrong track. It’s also a good way to keep track of what the funders are actually wanting to know and to help us focus on policy relevance.
There was also an incredible number of meetings, reports, milestones and deliverables, but you probably don’t want to hear about that…
Also missing from this summary is personal life, and, well that is not for sharing publically, but suffice to say, I learnt about raising teenagers, I also had some very good times with friends and family, to all of whom I immensely grateful for being a part of my voyages around the sun.
Anyway, reading all that back, I’m not surprised I ended the year exhausted! I am not planning on quite such a slog in future. I should probably pace myself a bit more this year, the plans for which will be the subject of next week’s post.
Yesterday in 30 Day Map Challenge I rather hurriedly made a map showing the density of street trees in Copenhagen shown as hexagons. However, there is a big gap in the overall map, because the dataset I used only covered Copenhagen Kommune (local authority) area and Frederiksberg is a separate local authority area where I could not find the data. This was, to put it mildly a little irritating.
A fellow mastodon user (@tlohde) suggested using the outputs from openstreetmap to fill out the gaps. (And even helpfully provided some code to do so, which should tell you a lot about why I like mastodon so much). A very hurried 10 minutes reprocessing gives the revised map on the below, which has happily filled in much of the Frederiksberg gap. However, a closer comparison with the previous version above shows that, it’s not nearly the same…
The first thing to note is that the maximum number of trees in a polygon from the OSM data is 454, almost twice the 230 from the Copenhagen city council data set. The second thing is that I’m unsure exactly what time periods the Copenhagen data is from. It’s possible there has been a wholesale planting since the original data was collected, but there is no date on the opendata.dk page to indicate when it was sampled, so I can’t know how up to date it is. Openstreetmap may also be missing data of course (and a small remaining gap in northern Frederiksberg suggests it might be). However, the whole central axis of the plot has changed too.
I overlaid the individual trees on the map plot, the two are quite similar, and the long lines suggest tat plantings are following major roads in the city. I wonder however if the main difference is one of definition. Perhaps street trees from the Copenhagen kommune dataset does not include parks and of course those on private property, compared to those in OSM?
Does it really matter? Well maybe. Street trees provide a valuable service in communities: they shade the streets in hot summer days (and can lead to substantial cooling). They also soak up rainwater and their flowers and fruit feed city ecosystems, quite apart from their aesthetic properties. How to protect, conserve and expand the numbers if we don’t know where they are? Or are not for that matter?
I don’t really have time to dig down into this mystery further. 30 Day Map challenge is really about the tools but either way it’s a lesson. No matter how clever the tool, if the underlying data is missing, wrong or otherwise biased in someway, the map will also be wrong.
I’m tempted to add, that all maps are wrong, but some of them are useful..
The personal finance community have an important concept of “paying yourself first”*, by which they mean, that when your salary or other form of payment comes in, the first thing you should do is put a given percentage, 10% is commonly used, into a savings account. Only then should you consider spending the rest of your income.
I kind of like this as a concept, and I think it could very usefully be applied to other areas of my life, notably, which is where of course it comes into this blog, science. As I’ve got more senior I’ve found I’m spending more and more time on managerial tasks, meetings, emails, reports, proposals, supervision and less and less on actual science. This is probably fine, it’s the way of the world, but it’s also a pity when part of (most of?) the joy of science is really in the doing. That’s why we put up with paltry wages, high workloads, social media hostility and the rest.
Actually doing science is so much fun.
Admittedly, some of it is more type 2 fun (best enjoyed retrospectively, as anyone who has spent a month CMORising model output or digging snow pits in freezing driving snow conditions can tell you), than type 1 fun (enjoyed in the moment). Nonetheless, I occasionally feel I’m in danger of losing the thread of why I started in this career in the first place.
Type 2 fun: It took us 4 hours to locate and dig that lot out in wind and occasional blizzard conditions.
Autumn was absolutely and ridiculously hectic, many project meetings, as well as technical conferences and symposia, proposal deadlines, deliverable deadlines and one-off workshops. I welcome November with open arms. Finally time to do some actual work again! And in the way of paying myself forward, I have started two different but related tracks to get back into the groove this month.
The first, #30DayMapChallenge you can already see some entries for here on a dedicated page. The idea is a new map, according to the prompts from the website 30DayMapChallenge , every day. I’m certainly not going to make all 30. I will be doing well if I manage 10, but already after only 2 days, I can feel my geospatial mojo coming back. There’s nothing like practicing your GIS skills to make you want to do more of them
The second is #AcWriMo, academic writing month. I have 3 papers I’d really like to submit before the end of this year. I’m very close with one, fairly close with the second and to be entirely honest I’m not really sure where I am with the third… Now it may seem unwise to commit to 2 daily activities in November, while recovering from September and October, but in fact they’re pretty complementary. I plan to post maps that are relevant to, or even actually from the papers, and just the process of looking at data is a motivation to get the work done.
I will have the first 2 papers submitted by end November
I will write at least 20 minutes per day – every day!
I will write at least 8 hours per week
I will rediscover the joy of science.
Let’s call it paying myself first…
*Far be it from me to offer financial advice, but if I was a young graduate student, I’d be saving up pretty hard on whatever meagre wages I have. The research field can be fickle with contracts, even permanent jobs have to continue raising money and we can’t keep up the pace for ever. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t swap it for another job…
Way back in the mists of time, that is, early April, I and colleagues deployed some instruments on the sea ice in front of a number of glaciers in Northern Greenland, which I wrote a little bit about here.
Trusted global GPS tracker buoy
Open met buoy
Since then I’ve mostly been letting them get on with reporting their data back and occasionally checking on the satellite imagery to see how it’s looking in their surroundings.
It was about -30C and very cold when I left them out, so it’s sometimes quite hard to visualise just how much things will change over only a few months and to remember that at some point, they’ll need collecting
After a fairly melty start (yes, that is actually a technical term) to July, particularly in the northern part of the ice sheet (which you can see on the polarportal, see also below right) it’s time to start anticipating their collection.
We have a lot of advantages when it comes to coordinating this kind of project now, compared to the bad old days when imagery and communication were both scarce and expensive
For starters, there is Sentinel Hub’s EO browser, a course in which should be a requirement for every earth science adjacent subject in my opinion. EO Browser produces superb pre-processed imagery for free, such as this one, from the European Space Agency’s Sentinel-2 satellite yesterday
As you can see, the sea ice is still there but fracturing and patches of open water (in blue green) are now becoming visible.
Sentinel 2 satellite image processed on EO browser showing sea ice and ice bergs in front of Tracy and Farquhar glaciers.
If you’re out and about and only have your phone, there is also the excellent snapplanet.io app on your smartphone, with which you can create instagram ready snapshots of the planet or even animated gifs, with high resolution imagery a link away…
Now that’s what I call a fun social media* application…
Animated gif of satellite images showing the front of Heilprin glacier with icebergs and landfast sea ice.
Anyway, back to the break up. Every year, the sea ice forms in the fjord from October/November onwards, by December it’s often thick enough to travel on and then from April it starts to thin and melt and by late June large cracks are starting to form, allowing the surface meltwater to drain through. For a look at what happens if you get a large amount of melt from, say, a foehn wind, before the cracks start to open up, see this iconic photo taken by my colleague Steffen Olsen in 2019.
An extremely rare event, that nevertheless went viral
The other advantage we have working in this fjord is our collaboration with the local hunters and fishers. In winter they use dog sleds for hunting and accessing fishing sites, and to take us and our equipment out on to the ice. In summer, they are primarily using boats for fishing, hunting narwhal and, hopefully, collecting our equipment! Our brilliant DMI colleague Aksel who lives and works in the local settlement is also a huge help in assisting with communication and generally being able to get hold of things and people when asked.
Winter travel
We offer a reward for each buoy that is found and brought back to our base in Qaanaaq, so many of them in fact make their own way home. But we also work with our friends on a kind of remote treasure hunt, challenge Anneka style, with someone at home watching their positions come in via the satellite transmissions and sending updated information via sms to an iridium phone to the hunters on the boat…
I’m told it’s tremendous fun, with sharp eyes required, as even a bright orange plastic globe can be challenging to spot.
A floating trusted buoy in 2022.
I’ve never participated in this treasure hunt myself sadly, on land we generally see something like a spaghetti of arrows and spots via the Trusted global web api:
GPS positions from a trusted buoy.
We then have to try and superimpose these movements on the latest satellite images to work out if the buoy is floating or not, and then check to see if there is sufficient open water for a collection. Naturally working with local knowledge for this part is also absolutely vital.
One of our buoys is found…
The latest satellite images look like the ice has already broken up into large flakes close to Qaanaaq. I’ve annotated the Sentinel-1 image below as it is from a radar satellite that can see through clouds and the images can be a bit confusing if you’re not used to looking at them.
The scale of the massive melt on the ice sheet from the last few days is clearly visible in the dark grey rim on the glaciers. The open sea water is black and the sea ice shows up as geometric greys. This one is downloaded from the automatic archive my colleagues at DMI maintain around the whole coast of Greenland. It can be a handy quick check too.
Annotated satellite image of Kangerlussuaq/Inglefield Bredning (Gulf of Inglefield) fjord. The orange box shows where our study glaciers are located.
So, although the ice is starting to break up it’s at the tricky stage where it’s far from navigable by dog sled and certainly too difficult for boats, so it’s not quite the time to send out hunting parties for GNSS buoys.
It also means that when I go on holiday next week, I will not be quite leaving all this behind. I and my colleague in this project will be monitoring the movements of the buoys and the satellite pictures, as well as relying on our friends in the local community to let us know how the ice is looking and if they can get out to rescue our brave little sensors.
In the mean time I have plenty of data to start analysing and writing up. As ever massive thanks to the people of Qaanaaq and my cool colleagues for putting up with me and our GPS buoys. We hope to submit our first paper pretty soon..
Hopefully I’ll soon be able to look at a map like this one to see where they are (note that the precision on these buoy positions isn’t great, probabaly because they were thenbeing stored in a metal container).
*Yes, I’m probably a nerd. I’m a lot of fun** at parties too though.
Icebergs in Ilulissat drift around the bay, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes they don’t move at all. They are drenched in the beautiful but sometimes stark light of the polar day. It’s scientifically interesting to watch them and speculate on their past trajectory and their likely future. It’s also extremely beautiful.
I’m once more on my way north to Qaanaaq, but this time I’ve been lucky enough to be able to enjoy some days off in Ilulissat. It’s an astonishing beautiful place, famous for the icebergs that come pouring out of the Ilulissat ice fjord just round the corner.
Normally, we’re only in town for one night as we have to switch planes to get to our field sites and this requires an overnight stay so it has been brilliant to be able to use a little holiday here.
Panorama over the bay in Ilulissat on a sunny evening
I have been using the time to work on some papers and try to clear some of the back log of reports and emails, but there has at least been some time for a couple of hikes in the back country nearby. I could post several hundred photos of icebergs and other magnificent views, but I was struck by the movement of icebergs in the bay outside my window while I was working yesterday.
Sometimes the big bergs seemed to move more, sometimes they seem stuck. I wanted to check this so I set up a time lapse on my tablet in the window of the guest house I’m staying in overnight (bearing in mind it’s the Polar Day so doesn’t actually get dark). I think it actually ran out of power before covering the full six hours I set it up for, so I’m now trying a full day. However, it was enough to show my perception was basically right and I have come to the conclusion the changing movement is related to the tides.
This is also a bit of an excuse to play around with video editing a little, in this case I’m trying out canva, and to advertise my peertube account @icesheets_climate on TILvids.com.
As I’ve alluded to before, I’m trying out the non-corporate social media fediverse and it’s actually quite fun, though the videos are a bit time-consuming so I’m not quite sure how regularly I will manage to post these on my channel, but the clue is in the name on what most of them are about I guess…
Another iceberg near Ilulissat, this time one we visited by boat…
But I have gratuitously many photos on my pixelfed account and no doubt more to come. I’m also planning some icebreaker shorts describing different elements of the environment that I’m working on. We’ll have to see how much time I have to actually get those finished, they typically take a while!
Of course, these are not just pretty pictures – I have a professional interest in icebergs – my PhD was about ice fracture and applying models of crevasse formation to describe a new parameterisation of calving. One of the projects I’m working on in northern Greenland, (funded by the danish state through the National Centre for Climate Research, NCKF) is also focused on calving processes, and specifically the role of ice melange in the system. In fact, one of the papers I’ve been working on this week analyses those iceberg related datasets. It’s immensely valuable and rare that I have the opportunity to be able to focus on the process in the field at the same time as writing the paper.
I have 2 more days in Ilulissat, so no doubt there will be more walks around town and more iceberg photos, but I have sent the iceberg paper back to my co-authors now, so it’s time to focus on a new paper – and the climate of the polar regions in the future.
Sterna Paradisaea 