Glacier :: Nature Wildlife Geography Essays

Icy mass The frosty run off stream was colder than ice, so cool it resembled a downpour of broken glass against the skin. The water itself is somewhat blue white, the shade of skim milk. On the bank of the chilly stream, a hundred dead and spoiling fish lay spread around like setbacks of an ongoing fight. The bodies lay in each phase of rot, from new, as though just pulled from the water, to unadulterated white skeletons stripped by foragers. The odor resembles a tremendous petroleum gas spill. The stream itself is so packed with bringing forth silver salmon, that it takes after a mammoth jar of sardines. The daylight sparkling off their silver backs glimmers like cleaned chrome. These stunning fish are swimming upstream against the current, hopping frequently with the force and deftness of an Olympic acrobat. The landscape encompassing the waterway is solidified tundra. It has disgusting green and earthy colored waste on top because of the curiously warm summer, however burrow down an inch and you will experience ground as hard as concrete. The huge tundra is in sharp difference to the moving slopes far out there. The withdrawing ice sheet truly carve its way through the scene, voiding this stretch of place that is known for everything except for hard ground and cold grass. A great many long stretches of frigid development had cut an unmistakable scar that could peruse history just as any sedimentary stone. Out yonder you could plainly observe the limits of the old ice sheet. Slopes out of nowhere show up out of the solidified no man's land. Tall evergreens sticking into the sky, appear as though mammoths, even a ways off, contrasted with the evenness of the tundra. Thick dark mists hang forebodingly over head, as though further undermining any one who may set out this rough nation. The mountains far away have rings around them like radiances, and one can see that they are exhausting their overwhelming weight upon the green mountain inclines. When looking into the waterway, you can tail it west and follow it to its source. There, stands a glorious heap of ice, known as portage icy mass. The ice sheet emphatically takes after a genuine mountain, one that has persevered through a snowstorm of exceptional extent. Rather than being an earthy colored soil slant with patches of white day off ice, it is the inverse. An entirely white incline scarred with patches of earthy colored. The finish of the icy mass, which is about as distant as the eye can see, is squeezed against the ground, similar to a relentless power neutralizing a steadfast article.