On Jasper, Climate Change, and Geographic Grief

Last Thursday Jasper, Alberta suffered a tragic wildfire that destroyed one out of every three buildings in town. The National Park surrounding the area still burns…an all too common occurrence these days.

Any rationale examination shows that the probabilities and impacts of global warming greatly exacerbated the situation. If climate change did not cause this fire, it made it worse.

We live in a probabilistic world, and the climate dice are getting more and more loaded against us.

I have never been to Jasper, but it was on my short list. I had intended to visit a number of times, with concrete reservations and vacation plans lined up at least twice. In 2021 I was all set to go with an epic road trip planned from Portland through Banff and on to Jasper. I had campsites reserved, itineraries booked, vacation days scheduled.

In the end, I had to cancel.

Why?

Wildfires, of course. That year was another series of bad wildfires that blanketed the Canadian Rockies with smoke and made travel insufferable.

Again and again, year after year, I would make plans to visit Jasper…but fate and climate change intervened.

Now, the town and who knows how much of the National Park are devastated. I missed my window. And there is a tangible sense of pain and loss in my soul.

Let me be clear - my vacation plans are not the tragedy here. The people of Jasper have lost their homes, businesses, and livelihoods. They are suffering and face difficult times. They need our help and support more than anything. I do not deserve or want your pity - give it to those who lost something real.

But still…

I have to share this feeling that is hitting me more and more these days. This guilt, sense of loss - an unsettling mix of nostalgia, sadness, and regret. Even though I never have been there, I sense an emptiness, a missed opportunity that I cannot recover.

Jasper represented a place in my imagination that I very much wanted to soak up, to visit, enjoy, and partake of the natural beauty. A place of anticipation, hope, and adventure. Now it’s gone - at least at some level. It’s a place that no longer exists.

And we’re losing these places at an accelerated rate.

Many of my favorite places have also suffered the impacts of climate change - mostly due to wildfires.

In 2017 an idiot with fireworks set off an unprecedented fire in the Columbia River Gorge. Made worse by drought conditions brought on by climate change, the fire irrevocably altered the area and warped some of the most scenic landscapes in the Country. The Eagle Creek Trail - one of my Top 10 trails I’ve ever hiked in my life - was scalded beyond recognition. Sure, you can still hike it today - and it is recovering - as nature does. But it’s a scarred place, the magic diminished.

In 2020, the North Umpqua River area - a glorious mix of whitewater, old growth forests, and waterfalls - was scorched by yet another wildfire. One of my favorite campgrounds in the world - Susan Creek - barely survived. But stumps and burned trees now circle the place, casting an existential gloom.

The place I loved is gone.

Lahaina, Maui in 2023. Never been there, now burned.

Evia, Greece. Never been there, burning right now.

There needs to be a word for this new feeling that I think many of us feel. That sense of loss when a location that you admire - whether you have been there or not - goes up in smoke. Perhaps the Germans have a phrase.

But I am 53 years old and am bone tired of this feeling. Every year, I dread the summer at some molecular level, wondering “When will the smoke come?” “What campsite, trail, or quaint mountain town will be lost next?”

Worse, I hate the newly hemorrhaging instinct within me to “See it before it’s gone.”

I feel for the locals most directly impacted by the Jasper fire. But I also feel for those of us who loved the place - whether having been there or not. I feel for my children, who may not even know what they missed.

I may still go to Jasper one day. But it will be a different place, a different experience.

I fear, a broken one.

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UPDATE:

Literally as I was working on this post, a wildfire started about 15 miles from my house. The Alexander Mountain Fire, near Loveland, CO, has closed down highways and forced evacuations. The next day, the Stone Canyon Fire ignited in Lyons, CO, a place we scouted during our recent house hunt. It remains an open question as to how bad these will get, and what will be lost.

The Alexander Mountain Fire is threatening the Devil’s Backbone Open Space, which I highlighted just last week in my “Five Picture Friday” post:

I can see the smoke from my office window.

It’s not even August yet…

Farewell photo

A little slice of life, until next time…

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Disclaimer:

All content and opinions are solely those of the author (Jack), and not representative of my employer, former employers, clients, anyone in Congress, my family, former college roommates, Baptists, the good citizens of Oregon, or my dog Mabel.