Small Acts or Sordid Consequences by Adena Saigh

I looked out across the vast landscape and saw the three remaining glaciers, each pouring into strong veins of water before converging. I sat and stared, admiring the beauty of these glacial rivers. But there was a lingering knot in my stomach.

It’s Week Four of my WRFI course and while backpacking in Jumbo Pass, British Columbia, I had the opportunity to walk across my first medial moraine. In the recent past, vast glaciers covered this area. Now, only small chunks survive. From the ridge, I could see where the glaciers had moved and how they had shaped the land in every direction.

As I hiked across the top, with steep drop-offs on either side of me, shockingly, my fear and awe resolved to form a newfound confidence. When I saw these rivers flowing out of the glacier, I stopped and realized that they owed their existence to something vanishing. The strength of the water reflects the rate of the glacial melting. I know how much that melting has been accelerated by our warming climate.

I know that moment will stay with me long after I leave this place and return to my everyday life. The contrast of serene natural surroundings with the knowledge that I am contributing to the climate crisis has been a common thought throughout my time with WRFI. I will be reminded of those melting glaciers when I fill up my gas tank, order something online, or throw away a plastic container. It’s a constant reminder of how intertwined I am with the systems contributing to the problem.

I try to make sustainable choices—biking when I can, cutting down on single-use items, repairing instead of rebuying—but even these efforts feel small in a world built for convenience and consumption.

This mindset has translated to how I move through the outdoors, too: I follow Leave-No-Trace principles, pack out what I pack in, stay on the trail, and only make flower crowns out of noxious weeds. 😉 I do all of this in an effort to reduce my impact, habits shaped by values my parents instilled in me from a young age.

I hold onto these small actions in the hope that they make a difference. But I’m also aware of the contradictions and paradoxes; I own a car, I flew to Missoula for this course, and I’ll fly back home at the end of it. That one round-trip flight likely outweighs many of my small efforts.

Does that mean it’s not worth trying? Not to me. It means I keep showing up. I will keep implementing small habits and using my voice. I will teach the younger generations and push for policy change in larger systems so that they don’t have to sacrifice for a healthy environment. I may never fully reconcile my part in the crisis I care so deeply about, but I can keep choosing to care, and to act, in all the ways I can.