There’s nothing like a glacier crumbling into the sea in front of your eyes to remind you that climate change is more than an abstract reason to recycle egg boxes and wine bottles.
Right now, I’m writing from a small ship’s cabin in one of the most isolated, desolate places on earth: the northern tip of Svalbard in the high Arctic, where I have come on an expedition, part of the point of which was to see what I’ve just seen. Which was a shelf of translucent blue ice the height of a house falling into the water like wet cake.
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