Anthony Arendt is a glaciologist in the Geophysical Institute at the University of Alaska. His work is part of a new wave of glacial research. By combining cutting-edge technologies, including satellite gravimetry and airborne laser altimetry with old-fashioned drilling for ice core samples, Arendt is changing our understanding of how glaciers work, why they matter and how they are affected by our warming climate.
Arendt’s research often puts him at great personal risk. He was recently stranded on a glacier when his helicopter crashed during a winter storm. Last year, one of Arendt’s colleagues fell 75 feet into a crevasse while snowmobiling across a remote glacier. Forget all of the stereotypes of scientists isolated in underground laboratories. Picture instead the X Games with older athletes, less safety equipment and more math.
We didn’t contact Dr. Arendt to discuss climate change or any of his important work. We asked him about cocktail ice.
Arendt’s research often puts him at great personal risk. He was recently stranded on a glacier when his helicopter crashed during a winter storm. Last year, one of Arendt’s colleagues fell 75 feet into a crevasse while snowmobiling across a remote glacier. Forget all of the stereotypes of scientists isolated in underground laboratories. Picture instead the X Games with older athletes, less safety equipment and more math.
We didn’t contact Dr. Arendt to discuss climate change or any of his important work. We asked him about cocktail ice.
Last year, we travelled to Alaska. We hiked and kayaked around a remote lodge near the city of Homer. We visited friends in Fairbanks (one of whom is the aforementioned glaciologist). We then hopped a small cruise ship into and around Glacier Bay where we discovered that we have, for our entire lives, underestimated the importance of ice.
Fact: Some things go unnoticed until they go terribly wrong. Sewers are an obvious example. We are blind to them right up to the moment that we flush a toilet and, rather than vanishing its contents into the unknown, it begins to overfill. Suddenly, modern sanitation stops being taken for granted and its actual importance comes into sharp relief.
Ice in a cocktail is the opposite. As long as it meets the minimum standard of not tasting fishy, ice goes entirely unnoticed. Would people tolerate a maraschino cherry as cloudy and misshapen as most commercial ice cubes? We think not. We endure mediocre ice because it barely registers. Ice only stands out when it is truly remarkable.
Alaska’s Inside Passage, like many areas where glaciers meet the sea, is littered with small icebergs. Sailing up to Daws Glacier was a little like navigating the waters inside a highball glass. At times, our boat had to push blocks of ice out of the way in order to keep moving. We now have a good idea of what it sounded like when the Titanic hit the iceberg.
Listening to all of that ice clatter against the ship’s hull gave Andrea an idea:
Andrea: We should collect an iceberg for happy hour cocktails.
Steven: Is glacier water safe to drink? It could contain viruses from the Ice Age.
Andrea: Have you ever heard of anyone dying from glacier poisoning?
Steven: I don’t want to be patient zero in some new plague.
Andrea: Just repeat after me: “I love this plan. I’m excited to be part of it.”
Glacier ice is perfectly clear and shatters into jagged shards when struck with a blunt object. It is absolutely flavorless. It is by far the purest ice either of us has ever seen or tasted.
“I’m not an ice physics expert.” Dr. Arendt began with this disclaimer when we asked him for the science behind our ice. “I can tell you some general facts that might help.”
He then estimated that the ice we collected was at least 100 years old. It began as snow that was then buried in subsequent winters. The pressure from accumulating snow eventually turned our snow into a type of ice glaciologists call “firn.” Firn is a Swiss-German term for snow that has been compressed, removing most of the airspace between the individual snowflakes.
“As that ice gets buried deeper and deeper,” Dr. Arendt explained, “the pressure goes up and forces those air bubbles out, effectively creating larger ice crystals.” It is these large crystals that are the hallmark of glacial ice.
Floating in a drink, the history, science and aesthetics come together to form something greater than all three. The only word we can find to describe the experience is perfect. Until we discovered the crystal clear ice formed under high pressure in the heart of a glacier, we never fully understood the potential for ice to define a cocktail. As far as we are concerned now, the ice is as important as what you chose to pour over it.
“I’m not an ice physics expert.” Dr. Arendt began with this disclaimer when we asked him for the science behind our ice. “I can tell you some general facts that might help.”
He then estimated that the ice we collected was at least 100 years old. It began as snow that was then buried in subsequent winters. The pressure from accumulating snow eventually turned our snow into a type of ice glaciologists call “firn.” Firn is a Swiss-German term for snow that has been compressed, removing most of the airspace between the individual snowflakes.
“As that ice gets buried deeper and deeper,” Dr. Arendt explained, “the pressure goes up and forces those air bubbles out, effectively creating larger ice crystals.” It is these large crystals that are the hallmark of glacial ice.
Floating in a drink, the history, science and aesthetics come together to form something greater than all three. The only word we can find to describe the experience is perfect. Until we discovered the crystal clear ice formed under high pressure in the heart of a glacier, we never fully understood the potential for ice to define a cocktail. As far as we are concerned now, the ice is as important as what you chose to pour over it.
Fact: After we returned home, we learned two things; first that we’re not the only ones espousing the virtues of the perfection of glacial ice and second, that consuming glacial ice is not entirely without risk. Last year, a man in Patagonia was arrested for stealing 11,453 pounds of ice from Chile’s Jorge Montt Glacier. His plan was to sell the ice to upscale bars and restaurants in the capital city, Santiago. He currently awaits trial on charges that include stealing Chile’s cultural heritage.
In our defense, no one, including the onboard park ranger, accused us of doing anything untoward. That said, we are still considering printing up bumper stickers that read, “Drinking America’s Cultural Heritage Since 2013.”
