After nine days of exploring the glaciated landscape of Iceland, with its broad, glacial valleys, deep fjords, winding moraines, glacial lakes and residual ice sheets, we departed for the U.S. yesterday afternoon. En route, we skimmed the southern tip of Greenland (which, unfortunately, was obscured by clouds) but, an hour later, crossed the coast of Labrador, a Canadian Province studded with glacial lakes of all size and shape; some fill long depressions that were scoured from the surface, many have resulted from the damming of streams by glacial debris and many others, perhaps most, are kettle lakes, the result of ice chucks that break from the underside of retreating glaciers. The highly dissected coastline of the province is also a consequence of the melting glaciers, as sea level rose and higher segments of terrain became islands or peninsulas.
Further along, we crossed the broad mouth of the St. Lawrence Seaway, created by intense flow from the Great Lakes as the retreating ice opened a new drainage route to the east. The terrain of the Gaspe Peninsula, Nova Scotia and New England is also a reflection of glacial advance and retreat; the Pleistocene Ice sheets eroded the mountains, produced most of the lakes and, as above, altered the coastline, including the deposition of Cape Cod, Long Island and their smaller, associated islands. Drumlins, mounds of glacial till, are common across southern New England and, as the sea rose, some became the islands of Boston Bay.
While details are hard to pick out from 33,000 feet, such a broad view of the glacial handiwork is compelling indeed. As I have expressed in the past, air travel is the best way to truly appreciate the spectacular and varied geography of our home planet. Whenever possible, children should be afforded this opportunity; for many it will produce lasting, positive effects.
