http://www.alternet.org/story.html?StoryID=16963My husband and I traveled to the Pacific Northwest last month, and one day found ourselves standing on top of a huge mountain of frozen cold, the Athabasca Glacier. Underneath our feet was a 1,000-foot-high pile of pressurized crystal, just one of many glaciers stretching out, like solid rivers of white, from the vast Columbia Icefield in Alberta, Canada.
What were we hearing as we stood on that ice roof? The sound of melting, as the purest substance known to humankind transformed from ice to liquid in rivulets all around us. We wandered along a luminescent blue creek that had formed right there on the glacier and tasted its waters. The sun was bright, despite the cold that emanated off the ice field, and the whole scene had an unworldly, make-believe quality to it, like something straight out of J.R.R. Tolkien's elf village of Rivendell.
But the melting was not make-believe. It was real and was not supposed to happening like that. Not at that rate. Not then and not for a very long time. Still, there it was taking place before our own eyes.
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Part of me wanted to come home and tell people what I'd seen on that glacier. I wanted to urge people to buy clean cars and use their consumer clout to convince automakers to sell vehicles that get decent gas mileage. I wanted to shake the politicians by the shoulders and tell them to wake up, get smart and attack this problem. I wanted to go around quoting two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning scientist E.O. Wilson, who has said that the forces that are destroying the Earth and the people who can save it "have arrived together at this crossroads in history."
I wanted to believe something could halt the warming. I wanted to believe it wasn't too late.
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It's too late