In the far reaches of northwestern British Columbia, high above the tree line on the Kitsu Plateau, time has cracked open. As warming temperatures shrink ancient ice patches in Mount Edziza Provincial Park, long-frozen treasures are emerging, untouched for millennia.
These aren’t just remnants of ancient tools or bones typical of high-altitude digs; they’re perishable artifacts, remarkably well-preserved by the cold: birch bark baskets with intact stitching, a handcrafted hide boot dating back more than 6,000 years, and walking staffs smoothed by centuries of handling. For archaeologists and Indigenous communities alike, this is no ordinary find. It’s a revelation and a homecoming.
A Climate-Driven Revelation
Mount Edziza’s ice patches received historically low snowfall for the last two winters. Combined with sustained summer warming, meltwater trickled through ancient snow and ice layers, exposing what had long been entombed. Scientists estimate that British Columbia now loses an average of 22 cubic kilometers of ice yearly, enough to submerge a city like Toronto under more than 35 meters of water.
Satellite imagery first hinted at something extraordinary. Dark traces appeared across the Kitsu Plateau, areas where receding ice had revealed obsidian and organic material. In the summer of 2019, a team led by archaeologist Duncan McLaren followed those clues into the field. What they found would push back the timeline of alpine human activity in this region by thousands of years.
The Land of Fire and Glass
This discovery is inseparable from the land from which it emerged. The Tahltan Nation, which has occupied this volcanic territory for generations, calls it “Edziza” or “cinders” in their language. The name reflects the imposing mountain and its geological gift: volcanic glass.
Obsidian from Mount Edziza isn’t just sharp; it’s storied. “This stone has been moving farther than most people could imagine,” says Tahltan historian Charles Etzenlee. Traces of Edziza obsidian have turned up at archaeological sites from Alaska to northern Alberta, some more than 1,200 kilometers away, suggesting it flowed steadily for millennia through sophisticated Indigenous trade networks. Obsidian helped shape tools, weapons, and even ritual objects. But for the Tahltan, it’s more than a resource, it’s part of their heritage, etched into seasonal hunting routes and oral histories.
A Sacred Hunting Ground
Evidence from the plateau confirms what the Tahltan have long known: this rugged alpine terrain was not just passed through but lived in, worked in, and deeply known. The area stretches across more than 95,000 square kilometers, nearly 11 percent of British Columbia’s landmass, encompassing rivers, ridgelines, and now, the oldest known artifacts of alpine Indigenous life in Canada.
The Tahltan people, organized into Raven and Wolf moieties, practiced careful stewardship of these lands. Their territories extended from the Yukon border down to the Skeena River’s headwaters, offering caribou trails and obsidian quarries in equal measure. And now, as the earth warms and these environments change, glimpses of that stewardship are finally visible.
Here’s Where It Gets Interesting
In a single, intense season of excavation, McLaren’s team recovered 56 artifacts scattered across nine sites, an unusually rich trove spanning 7,000 years of occupation. Among them: a 6,200-year-old hide boot, ten walking sticks, birch bark containers, and an antler ice pick. These weren’t ceremonial items; they were everyday tools shaped by and for a life in the high country. “There was such a high density of artifacts,” McLaren told Archaeology Magazine. “We knew there was obsidian, but we didn’t realize… all these organic artifacts were preserved around it.”
Radiocarbon dating revealed the objects fell into three distinct pulses of activity: roughly 6,900–6,750 years ago, 6,200–5,300 years ago, and again between 3,000 and 1,150 years ago. More than seasonal forays, these findings suggest prolonged occupation, which contradicts earlier assumptions that alpine sites were too harsh for sustained habitation.
Rewriting the Map of Prehistoric Life
The discoveries reshape our understanding of life in British Columbia’s alpine zones. Previously, Canadian ice patches were mainly linked to caribou hunting. But at Mount Edziza, the evidence tells a different story, centered on obsidian quarrying, tool production, and long-distance exchange.
“This isn’t just about hunting,” explains Dr. Amy Gunter, a researcher with the University of Northern British Columbia. “It’s about industry. Specialized, alpine-based craft and trade activity. That changes the narrative of northern prehistory.” It also bolsters the cultural land claims of the Tahltan people, who live proof of an ancestral presence underfoot.
A Cultural Homecoming
For the Tahltan Central Government, the find is monumental. Sandra Marion, Director of Culture and Heritage, was clear: “This is not just archaeology. This is a homecoming for our history.” With the return of these artifacts to Indigenous hands, the community regained a tangible piece of its legacy. In 2023, the Tahltan Central Government secured repository status, meaning these objects would stay close to home, not tucked away in a distant institutional archive. This is part of a broader shift toward what advocates call consent-based archaeology.
Ursula Abramczyk, the Tahltan archivist who helped negotiate the agreement, calls the successes bittersweet. “We’re proud these things are coming back,” she said, “but we also know there’s more under the ice. And that ice is leaving.”
Protecting the Past, Legally and Ethically
The effort sits at the intersection of science and sovereignty. Under British Columbia law, all archaeological work requires permits under the Heritage Conservation Act. However, the 2023 decision to grant consent-based control under the Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act marks a turning point.
The agreement between BC and the Tahltan Central Government recognizes Indigenous jurisdiction over cultural heritage on ancestral land. It’s not just a legal form; it reshapes who decides how history is studied, stored, and shared. For the first time, Indigenous peoples’ spiritual, cultural, and practical needs are embedded in how these priceless time capsules are handled.
Nature’s Archive
The Mount Edziza artifacts’ survival is remarkable from a strict scientific perspective. Perishable items such as wood, bark, and hide are rarely retrieved in mountainous settings unless preserved in permafrost or ice. Their appearance demands a reassessment of long-held beliefs.
Among the most intriguing discoveries were a foreshaft from an atlatl dart, ancient projectile technology, and reinforced carrying baskets designed for endurance. This level of preservation suggests a lush period of alpine adaptation, not simply migration, but habitation, specialization, and technical innovation. Each artifact tells a layered story of invention and endurance.
Cold Races Against Time
And yet, there’s an urgency pressing in from all sides. Researchers and Indigenous leaders alike know this: time is running out.
With climate models predicting the loss of up to 80 percent of western Canada’s glaciers by 2075, ice patches like those on Mount Edziza may have only a few seasons left. As the ground once locked in ice begins to thaw in the sun, organic materials degrade and then vanish forever. “Every year we wait, we risk never seeing what’s hidden below,” McLaren cautions. “This is a disappearing archive.”
A New Model for the Future
Still, there’s hope that the Edziza model, a partnership grounded in mutual respect and knowledge exchange, will become the standard. The success of the Tahltan-led project demonstrates how traditional knowledge and academic science can collaborate effectively. It also underscores how Indigenous communities are not only stakeholders but also stewards.
As more high-altitude ice melts, similar findings are expected elsewhere. However, who will recover them and how they are interpreted depends on building relationships like these. “The landscape is speaking,” Sandra Marion says. “We just have to be ready to listen. And act before it’s too late.”
