"I always throw Nome, Alaska, at anyone who expresses doubt about climate change around our place. Admittedly, Nome is a long way from Australia, but last summer my wife and I saw there a number of moored, well-rigged but unexceptional yachts that had come through the Northwest Passage. That is, they had made without drama a journey that defeated Cook in the 18th century and killed Sir John Franklin and all his expedition in the 19th century. Only Arctic melt made this possible.
Then, a month ago, my grandson and I went with others for a flight over the coast of Antarctica and the South Magnetic Pole. A scientist on board pointed out clearly discernible blue melt-pools on the surface of the tongue of an ice shelf, an utterly new and unprecedented symptom of increasing temperatures.
And in between, Australia with its long-term droughts and violent storms and awful catastrophes, its wonderful ancient bush inhabited by spirits utterly different from those of Europe, atmospheric as anyone could hope for; surpassing strange. And with fire on its breath."
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