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СпутникиРНSpaceXРоскосмосNASA"Stranger Things" in the 2026 Arctic
The continuation of cool and stormy conditions over the Arctic Ocean during September bookends the strange summer of 2026. While global air temperatures were at or near record highs for June, July, and August, the summer was cool and stormy over the Arctic Ocean. The Arctic sea ice minimum extent tied for tenth lowest on the satellite record with 2008, 2010, and 2025, with a loose ice pack on the Atlantic side extending to the pole. However, the post-minimum freeze up has been rapid. Antarctic sea ice extent, which reached its maximum on September 14, dropped sharply through September, hitting record low daily extents since October 2.Overview of conditionsArctic sea ice extent for September 2026 averaged 4.81 million square kilometers (1.86 million square miles), thirteenth lowest in the satellite record (Figure 1a). This monthly average extent was 1.6 million square kilometers (618,000 square miles) below the 1981 to 2010 average (Figure 1b). Since the seasonal sea ice minimum that occurred on September 12, tying for tenth lowest in the satellite record, extent as of early October remains below average along the Eurasian coast, especially in the Kara and Barents Seas. While the Northern Sea route appears to be largely free of ice, significant ice remains in the southern (Amundsen’s) route of the Northwest Passage. Heavy ice cover blocks M’Clure Strait, the west end of the deepwater northern route. While a loose icepack in over the Atlantic side of the Arctic Ocean allowed the Swedish icebreaker Oden to reach the North Pole, open water areas quickly refroze after the seasonal sea ice minimum, and as of early October, extent had risen to the lower interdecile range of extents in the satellite record.
Figure 1a. Arctic sea ice extent for September 2026 was 4.81 million square kilometers (1.86 million square miles). The magenta line shows the 1981 to 2010 average extent for that month. Sea Ice Index data. About the data — Credit: National Snow and Ice Data CenterFigure 1b. This graph shows Arctic sea ice extent as of October 5, 2026, along with daily ice extent data for four previous years and the record low year. 2026 is shown in blue, 2025 in green, 2024 in orange, 2023 in brown, 2022 in magenta, and 2012 in dashed brown. The 1981 to 2010 median is in dark gray. The gray areas around the median line show the interquartile and interdecile ranges of the data. Sea Ice Index data. — Credit: National Snow and Ice Data CenterConditions in contextAs was the case for all of summer (see summer summary below), low sea level pressure dominated the Arctic Ocean during September, accompanied by below-average temperatures that fostered rapid ice growth (Figure 2a). Air temperatures at the 925 hPa level (about 2,500 feet above the surface) were 0 to 1 degree Celsius (0 to 2 degrees Fahrenheit) below average over much of the Arctic Ocean, but strongly above average over northern Eurasia (Figure 2b).
Figure 2a. This plot shows average sea level pressure in the Arctic in hectopascals for September 2026. Yellows and reds indicate high air pressure; blues and purples indicate low pressure. — Credit: NSIDC courtesy NOAA Earth System Research Laboratory Physical Sciences LaboratoryFigure 2b. This plot shows the departure from average air temperature in the Arctic at the 925 hPa level, in degrees Celsius, for September 2026. Yellows and reds indicate above average temperatures; blues and purples indicate below average temperatures. — Credit: NSIDC courtesy NOAA Earth System Research Laboratory Physical Sciences LaboratorySeptember 2026 compared to previous yearsThe downward linear trend in September Arctic sea ice extent through 2026 is 74,100 square kilometers (28,600 square miles) per year or 11.6 percent per decade relative to the 1981 to 2010 average (Figure 3). Based on the linear trend, since 1979, September has lost 3.24 million square kilometers (1.25 million square miles) of sea ice. This is equivalent to twice the size of Alaska.
Figure 3. Monthly September ice extent for 1979 to 2026 shows a decline of 11.6 percent per decade.
— Credit:
National Snow and Ice Data Center
Regional contributions to September extentFor this monthly post, we present a time series of September monthly ice extents in a new format (Figure 4). The black line depicts the overall trend. Regional differences from average for each year are shown as colored bars for each sector of the Arctic. This presents the data in a way that allows some insight into the contributions to the overall positive or negative September extent difference from average. Since 2007, with few exceptions, differences from average have been negative in all sectors; in the last century, regional differences were more varied. Since 2007, negative differences from average in the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas and in the East Siberian and Laptev Seas have remained prominent, but their magnitudes have shifted from year to year largely in response to shifting summer weather patterns.
Figure 4. This time series shows Arctic sea ice extent for the month of September as a whole (black line) along with regional differences from the 1981 to 2010 average for every year since 1979.
— Credit:
J. Stroeve, National Snow and Ice Data Center
Spring in the AntarcticAfter reaching its maximum extent on September 14, Antarctic sea ice extent sharply declined, and as of October 6, was close to the record low for the date set in 2023. As was done for the Arctic, a graph presents the September Antarctic sea ice extent time series along with differences from average for each year (Figure 5). While the low extents since 2022 stand out clearly, in each of these low years, extent was above average in some sectors. This stands in sharp contrast to the Arctic. Note how in 2022, extent was above average in the Ross Sea, shifting to below average in 2023. However, during the record maximum extents of 2012 to 2015, nearly all regions showed a positive difference from average.
Figure 5. This time series shows Antarctic sea ice extent for the month of September as a whole (black line) along with regional differences from the 1981 to 2010 average for each year since 1979.
— Credit:
J. Stroeve, National Snow and Ice Data Center
The 2026 summer melt season in summaryThe 2026 melt season in the Arctic was unusual in the extreme. Through most of May, extent was tracking at near record low levels. Starting in June, the pace of ice loss substantially slowed, and the minimum extent, which occurred on September 12, ended up as tenth lowest in the satellite record, tying with 2008, 2010, and 2025. Nevertheless, the loose ice pack on the Atlantic side of the Arctic Ocean, extending nearly to the North Pole, eased the voyage of the Swedish icebreaker Oden to the pole, carrying scientists along with tourists.A highly stormy atmospheric pattern over the central Arctic Ocean attended by cool and cloudy conditions inhibited sea ice melt. A pronounced average low pressure centered near the North Pole lingered in June, July, and August (Figure 6a). While cyclone activity over the central Arctic Ocean tends to be maximized in summer, the persistence of this cyclonic pattern was remarkable. In summer, in “free drift” conditions, where there is little floe-to-floe interaction, cyclonic (counterclockwise) winds promote the spreading of the sea ice cover, which likely accounts for the loose ice conditions just noted. Past research shows that summer cyclones that enter the Arctic Ocean, especially from Eurasia and mature in their passage, develop a cold-cored structure. Each cyclone moving into the region reinforces the persistent cold-cored, low structure, which extends into the tropopause much like a vertical stack. Interestingly, based on the ERA5 reanalysis, despite all the cyclones, summer precipitation over the Arctic Ocean as a whole was not notably above average. The attendant pattern of summer air temperature as a difference from average at the 925 millibar level (about 2,500 feet above the surface) was equally unusual (Figure 6b). When sea ice cover is melting, air temperatures will hover around the freezing point. However, over much of the ocean, temperatures remained below average. This was especially clear in June when melt started late. While temperatures over the ocean reflected the cold-cored nature of cyclone maximum and extensive cloud cover, temperatures on Arctic land were far above average over the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, western Europe, and central Eurasia.
Figure 6a. This plot shows average sea level pressure in the Arctic in millibars for June, July, and August. Yellows and reds indicate high air pressure; blues and purples indicate low pressure. — Credit: NSIDC courtesy NOAA Earth System Research Laboratory Physical Sciences LaboratoryFigure 6b. This plot shows the departure from average air temperature in the Arctic at the 925 hPa level, in degrees Celsius, for the months of June, July, and August. Yellows and reds indicate above average temperatures; blues and purples indicate below average temperatures. — Credit: NSIDC courtesy NOAA Earth System Research Laboratory Physical Sciences LaboratoryThe cyclonic pattern persisted through September. After reaching its sea ice minimum on September 12, autumn freeze up was rapid, and as of this post, extent had reached the lowest decile in the satellite record.This cyclonic pattern also played a role in the late melt out of the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas. Unusual compared to recent years, sea ice remained near the Alaskan coast into August, which is near the location of the 1981 to 2010 average. However, the ice melted rapidly and by the end of August, the region was largely ice free in the passive microwave data (though operational ice charts indicated low concentration ice).Relatively cool conditions and cyclonic pressure contributed to the late ice loss. The reason that the ice eventually did melt was because the area was dominated by first-year ice, which is thinner and more susceptible to melt out completely (Figure 6c). Overall, the Arctic sea ice cover has much less multiyear ice and thus is thinner than it was during the 1980s. Since 2007, at the end of the summer melt season, the multiyear extent has varied between 1.3 million and 1.9 million square kilometers (502,000 square miles and 734,000 square miles), significantly lower than the roughly 3.5 million square kilometers (1.35 million square miles) during the 1980s. And since 2012, the oldest, thickest ice (greater than 4-years old) has nearly disappeared, with 250,000 square kilometers (97,000 square miles) or less each year compared to the approximate 1.5 million square kilometers (579,000 square miles) before 2005. While this summer was relatively cool over the Arctic Ocean, the long-term warming trend has resulted in more melt and faster distribution of sea ice, which means that ice is not surviving nearly as long as it used to.
Figure 6c. The top left map shows Arctic sea ice age during the week of March 12 to 18, 2026, the week of the maximum extent; a larger swath of first-year ice extends into the Beaufort Sea, though older ice is found near the coast. The top right map shows Arctic sea ice age during the week of September 3 to 9, 2026, just before the minimum extent; most of the ice in the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas has melted out. The bottom time series shows extent of multiyear ice in black and ice greater than 4-years old in red at the seasonal minimum for 1985 to 2026. The oldest ice (in red) shows substantial decline.
— Credit:
Tschudi et al., 2019a and 2019b
Sea ice in the Antarctic remained below the lowest interdecile range since the beginning of the austral growth season that started in late March 2026, but above the record low of 2023 (Figure 6d). The maximum extent, reached on September 14, was the third lowest in the satellite record, repeating a recent pattern of low maximum extents discussed in more detail above. Since October 2, extent has fallen to record low daily values, surpassing 2023’s records. The post-maximum areas of loss are in the Ross and Amundsen seas, and the Indian Ocean sector (Figure 6e).
Figure 6d. The graph above shows Antarctic sea ice extent as of October 6, 2026, along with daily ice extent data for four previous years and the record 2014 year. 2026 is shown in blue, 2025 in green, 2024 in orange, 2023 in brown, 2022 in magenta, and 2014 in dashed brown. The 1981 to 2010 median is in dark gray. The gray areas around the median line show the interquartile and interdecile ranges of the data. Sea Ice Index data. — Credit: National Snow and Ice Data CenterFigure 6e. Antarctic sea ice extent for September 2026 was 17.32 million square kilometers (6.69 million square miles). The magenta line shows the 1981 to 2010 average extent for that month. Sea Ice Index data. About the data — Credit: National Snow and Ice Data Center
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Wed, 10/07/2026 - 14:00
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Wed, 10/07/2026 - 12:00
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Feature Story
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2026
By Agnieszka Gautier
Alaskan Native Tamura Paul asked a news reporter if she knew what it sounded like to be on a boat during a storm. “It sounded like that,” Paul said, referring to the sound of violent waves battering her home, which had ripped off its foundation and drifted downriver when remnants of Typhoon Halong hit western Alaska on October 12, 2025. Paul was sleeping when the storm hit. She woke up to water pouring into her home. Up to 2 meters (7 feet) of water flooded the town of Kipnuk in just a few hours. “The flood doesn’t usually hit us,” she told the reporter. Paul’s home sat away from the riverbed and had not been prone to flooding. But, this storm was different.
The Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta in Alaska was the hardest hit. One of the world’s largest river deltas, this vast region of flat wetland tundra and meandering rivers drains into the Bering Sea. This remote portion of southwestern Alaska is also one of the state’s most populated rural areas, home to more than 50 Indigenous Yup'ik, Cup'ik, and Deg Xit'an communities. Hurricane-force winds slammed the coastline. The devasting storm surge triggered massive evacuations, displacing over 1,600 residents and permanently altering the towns of Kipnuk and Kwigillingok.
This map of Alaska shows some of the towns where Typhoon Halong had caused severe flooding and evacuation. — Credit: National Snow and Ice Data CenterAccording to the Alaska Climate Research Center, warming oceans help tropical cyclones retain dangerous intensities farther north than in the past. In western Alaska, several long-term environmental changes have amplified its recent storms: warmer ocean waters, declining sea ice, and thawing permafrost. Earth-observing satellites and missions help monitor these environmental changes, offering critical insight as to why this storm was different. The National Snow and Ice Data Center (NSIDC), along with its NASA and National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) programs, holds pertinent sea ice and soil data that help explain what has changed and what communities may expect in the future.
Data are not simply a means to monitor change, but an objective method to prepare for not only different storms, but as sea levels rise, a different topography. With that in mind, communities and governments around the globe may increasingly need to plan for relocation rather than assume rebuilding in place is viable. But Alaska’s threatened communities demonstrate the challenges of relocation.
Why Halong's impact was so severeThe North Pacific Ocean has warmed faster than any other global ocean basin since 2013. Since then, sea surface temperatures have spiked 0.59°C (1.06°F) above the 1990-to-2020 average, outpacing climate-model predictions. Globally, a warmer ocean is responsible for about 40 percent of sea level rise because of thermal expansion, where water expands as it warms. The other 60 percent comes from melting land ice like glaciers and ice sheets. “We’re dealing with a different ocean than we did in the past, where flooding goes places it didn’t before, causing different kinds of damage and inundation of freshwater that couldn’t be reached before,” said senior NSIDC research scientist Twila Moon. But in the Arctic, flooding and storm surges are not just the result of a higher sea level.
As the Arctic warms at three to four times the global average, sea ice loss in places like the Bering Sea has left the coastline exposed to waves and water surges. Though Arctic sea ice fluctuates from year to year, the long-term downward decline is undeniable. Across the Arctic Ocean as a whole, NSIDC data show that freeze-up is occurring about a week later per decade, meaning it now starts approximately one month later than when satellite observations of sea ice began in 1979. In western Alaska, that delay increasingly overlaps with a typhoon season that lasts well into mid-November.
These graphs depict the downward trend of sea ice in the Bering Sea for the months of November, on the left, and December, on the right. Weather, winds, and currents heavily impact sea ice cover in the Bering Sea. For instance, the winters of 2017/2018 and 2018/2019 had unprecedented ice loss, but they were preceded by relatively high years in 2007/2008 and 2012/2013. — Credit: National Snow and Ice Data CenterWith less sea ice to buffer incoming waves, Alaska’s coastline is increasingly exposed to erosion, particularly where the ground itself is also thawing. Permafrost, or ground that remains frozen for at least two consecutive years, is the glue that holds the coastal sediment in place. As permafrost thaws, the “glue” drains into the sea and the soil’s stability weakens. Then, the ground lacks its structural integrity to uphold building in villages like Kipnuk, rendering coastlines more vulnerable to erosion.
Severe storms compound that vulnerability. In September 2022, for example, remnants of Typhoon Merbok drove unprecedented surge heights and waves exceeding 14 meters (46 feet) into western Alaska. Water surges in the Bering Sea vary by storm, but significant wave heights have increased by 1 meter from 2003 to 2023; storm surge flooding that happened once-a-century now occurs much more frequently and farther inland, as far as 23 miles inland in some locations.
The cost of not knowingKipnuk’s root problem, however, began over 100 years ago when the US Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) made decisions about a land they did not fully understand. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, BIA and the federal Office of Education implemented policies to assimilate historically nomadic and semi-nomadic communities by settling them into permanent villages. For thousands of years, Indigenous peoples understood how the delta shifted seasonally. As such, they moved with it. In winter, families moved off the coast, returning in the spring for seal hunting. Alaskan anthropologist and scholar Ann Fienup-Riordan said, “In the past, villages relocated. You can see the same name on maps very close together. That’s because the riverbank changed, so the communities moved a bit here, and a bit more, and in the past when houses were sod houses and there weren’t airports, or schools, it was relatively easy to move—not complicated and hugely expensive like now.”
BIA required that Indigenous children attend school, so it set up 56 sites, not based on where families traditionally spent the winter, but where lumber could be easily transported—close to the coasts. With no trees in the tundra, lumber arrived by barge, favoring sites closer to navigable coastal waters. “That was 100 years ago, and nobody could anticipate this,” said Fienup-Riordan. “The government was responsible for picking these places, maybe they should be responsible for relocating people now. But it’s been a long time and it’s hard to know where we could get the money to relocate communities to keep them safe.”
Before Halong hit, Kwigillingok was already pursuing relocation. Lack of centralized coordination and funding stalled any progress, and these challenges, along with where to move, continue to hinder progress for many communities. A 2024 report from the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium found that flooding, erosion, permafrost thaw, or some combination of the three threatens 144 Alaskan Native communities. The report estimates that protecting these communities requires either reinforcing current infrastructure, building better homes higher, or relocation with a bill of $4.3 billion over 50 years. Dozens, however, need immediate relocation. Some communities like Newtok have already been through this process.
A new frontier: Newtok and the path to relocationIt took Newtok residents decades to achieve relocation, costing $160 million for shifting roughly 300 residents nine miles to their new home of Mertarvik, on top of volcanic bedrock on Nelson Island. In 1983, the Newtok Traditional Council surveyed erosion along the Ninglick River, concluding that the river was carving up to 88 feet of land a year. Nothing could impede this severity of river erosion. Relocation was the only option.
A decade later, the community identified Mertarvik as the best option, and in 1996 the village voted to move, but finding a safer site was only the beginning. Alaska’s complex patchwork of federal, state, Native corporation, tribal, and other land ownership can make acquiring land for an entire community extraordinarily difficult. “Finding land that communities can use is a big question,” Fienup-Riordan said. “All the land is owned.” For instance, much of the Yukon-Kuskokwim coastal region falls within the federally managed Yukon Delta National Wildlife Refuge.
Only in 2003 did the federal government transfer 12,000 acres of land on Nelson Island to Newtok Native Corporation. Then, from 2006 to 2017, building infrastructure commenced on the Island. In 2019, the first families moved and the last families left Newtok in 2024.
Now imagine thisIt took three decades to move Newtok, a town of 300 people, nine miles. Now consider the challenge at the scale of a major city like Jakarta, Indonesia, with its greater metropolitan area home to roughly 42 million people. As early as 2050, half the city could be submerged. Jakarta is the fastest sinking city in the world by an average of 1 to 15 centimeters (0.4 to 6 inches) per year, while its northern coasts are dipping up to 25 centimeters (10 inches) annually. “When you think about local sea level rise, you need to also consider what the land is doing,” Moon said. Rampant groundwater drilling because of a lack of clean water infrastructure compacts the soil beneath Jakarta, amplifying its sinking. That, compounded with sea level rise, has led the Indonesian government to construct a new capital, Nusantara, on the island of Borneo. The success of the new city hinges on private investment as the total bill is estimated to cost between $32 to $35 billion with the Indonesian government only covering 20 percent. If private money does not arrive, the new city could become a ghost city.
Floodwaters ranging from 50 to 150 centimeters (20 to 59 inches) deep inundated Cipinang Melayu Urban Village, East Jakarta, on February 20, 2017. Heavy rain, 18 centimeters (7 inches) within 24 hours poured over Jakarta, flooding 54 areas in the city. The Sunter River overflowed, flooding Cipinang Melayu, where water was reported to be as deep as 2.5 meters (8.2 feet). — Credit: Kompas/Hendra A Setyawan/FlickrAnother critical factor in identifying vulnerable areas is to understand that rising waters present differently based on geology. Miami, Florida, for instance, sits on porous limestone bedrock, allowing seawater to seep in from underground. Here, sea walls and structural support will be ineffective as streets flood from the ground up, not just from wave surges. Also, when the ocean drains into coastal aquifers, its salt contaminates drinking water. “You need to also consider where ocean currents and air circulation are piling up water,” Moon said. Winds push water up. Higher air temperatures transfer heat to the ocean, causing water to expand and take up more space. On top of that, since Miami’s groundwater sits high, there is little room for the ground to absorb rainfall. So, flooding bookends Miami from above and below.
Coastal communities are not all the same. Relative sea level does not rise uniformly around the globe. In some places near Greenland, local sea level is actually falling as the ice sheet loses mass, triggering a change in gravitational pull. So, the water that the island once pulled toward itself is now piling up elsewhere. “Parts of Greenland are surrounded by lowering seas,” Moon said, “which is also an issue. If boats can no longer access their bays, that’s a problem.” While sea level is dropping around Greenland, sea level next to the US East and Gulf Coasts is rising at some of the fastest rates.
The cost of knowingIt is becoming clearer that staying in place is not sustainable. The cost of disaster responses is rising. According to the US Geology Survey, since 1980, weather disasters have cost over $1.5 trillion from tropical cyclones alone. The number of billion-dollar disasters has more than doubled, jumping from an average of nine per year between 1980 and 2024 to 23 per year in recent years. Typhoon Halong’s total damage runs at about $125 million, according to a federal assessment, with a long and costly recovery ahead—an additional $60 million. Typhoon Merbok that hit in 2022 cost the state roughly $170 million in damage. Disaster relief, however, goes beyond the ticket price.
The impact these disasters have on communities is substantial. Displacement, trauma, lost lives, and the cost of healing all need to be considered. “People want to go home, but they have had an unforgettable traumatic experience. They don’t want their children to go through that again, but they also don’t want their children to be denied the life that is familiar to them,” said Fienup-Riordan. When Typhoon Halong hit, military aircraft transported entire communities— something Fienup-Riordan had never witnessed before—spreading them out into Bethel and Anchorage. Though safe, people had been separated from their community. Their ability to speak their Indigenous language and be a community—living close together—continues to be a huge hurdle. “It is a challenge to keep the integrity of a community together through the evacuation,” Fineup-Riordan said. “You are out of your place, out of your connection to the land, to the food.” Communities tried to stay connected through church activities, big feasts, and social gatherings, but for those living in hotel rooms, reconnecting was not easy.
Amidst the tragedy, however, good also persisted. The Alaska Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Management worked with the Alaska Organized Militia, the US Coast Guard, and veterans to coordinate a group response to the disaster. The federal and state response impressed Fineup-Riordan. Within a week of the storm upheaving communities, children were back in school. The state tried to keep the children and their communities together. “They didn’t spread them out. They tried to keep them together as much as possible,” she added. The immediate response impressed Fineup-Riordan, but the probability that this would happen again is all too real for her.
Fineup-Riordan highlights a critical limitation within the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA): its focus on rebuilding rather than relocation. “That is problematic,” she said, noting Alaska’s rapidly shifting climate. Fall storms are strengthening, permafrost is thawing, seasons are changing, and coastal sea ice freezes later. Ultimately, the landscape is changing, and while federal and state agencies excel at immediate disaster relief, they struggle to support long-term adaptation.
Grounded hopeAs a glaciologist, Moon has a front row seat as to how quickly glacial systems are speeding up. “These systems are dynamic. There are so many mechanisms in place for the Greenland and Antarctic Ice Sheets to respond in very short time scales because of human-caused climate change,” she added. Better observations cannot prevent these changes, but they can help communities and policymakers make more informed decisions about them. New satellites and other observing systems can improve projections of where and how quickly ice loss, land motion, erosion, and water levels are changing. Those observations feed models that can help inform flood-risk maps, infrastructure planning, adaptation investments, and, where necessary, decisions about relocation.
Referring to Typhoon Halong, Fienup-Riordan said, “People are no longer saying if, but when, another storm like this will happen.” Where we go from here is dependent on funding and coordination between communities and government. “Communities want to go home, but how that can happen and if, are difficult to see clearly right now,” she added.
The reality is that the physical geography communities have built their lives around is transforming. Adaptation therefore has to account not only for physical constraints, but for financial and emotional realities as well. As Moon puts it, “What you commonly see is people hoping for a future that looks like the past, and that is not physically possible. We need to take some time for deep grief, sadness, anger, and loss. Then, serious reflection about what’s possible because when you look to the future, there is a range of what arrives. And we need to work and hope towards the best possible outcome, but that hope must be grounded in possible realities.”
Access data through the NASA NSIDC DAACNASA’s NSIDC DAAC manages, distributes, and supports a variety of cryospheric and climate-related datasets as one of the discipline-specific Earth Science Data and Information System (ESDIS) data centers within NASA’s Earth Science Data Systems (ESDS) Program. These observations help scientists understand changing conditions across the cryosphere, including sea ice and snow cover. User Resources include data documentation, help articles, data tools, training, and on-demand user support. Learn more about NSIDC DAAC services.
The Near-real-time Ice and Snow Extent (NISE) data set provides daily, global maps of sea ice concentrations and snow extent, offering a best estimate of current ice and snow conditions based on information and algorithms available at the time the data are acquired.
NOAA@NSIDC data highlighted in this articleThe Sea Ice Index provides a quick look at Arctic- and Antarctic-wide changes in sea ice. It is a source for consistent, up-to-date sea ice extent and concentration images, in PNG format, and data values, in GeoTIFF and ASCII text files, from November 1978 to the present.
Permafrost DataCircumpolar Active Layer Monitoring (CALM) Program Network
The CALM network includes 168 active sites in both hemispheres with 15 participating countries. This network represents the only coordinated and standardized program of observations using standard measurement protocols designed to observe and detect decadal changes in the dynamics of seasonal thawing and freezing in high-latitude soils.
| # | Наименование новости | Тональность | Информативность | Дата публикации |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Selected publications by NSIDC researchers | 0 | 9.92 | 12-09-2026 |
| 2 | Arctic sea ice record low maximum strikes again | 0 | 9.3 | 26-03-2026 |
| 3 | Fifty years of change in the cryosphere | 0 | 9.5 | 19-08-2026 |
| 4 | NSIDC turns 50 | 0 | 11.4 | 14-09-2026 |
| 5 | Navigating New Ways of Arctic Research | 0 | 9.71 | 10-09-2026 |
| 6 | Arctic sea ice has reached minimum extent for 2026; Antarctic sea ice maximum most likely reached as well | 0 | 9.59 | 22-09-2026 |
| 7 | Antarctic sea ice extent arrives at a near-average minimum | 0 | 9.8 | 07-03-2026 |
| 8 | Arctic Report Card: A Close Watch on a Warming Region | 0 | 9.5 | 01-04-2026 |
| 9 | Arctic permafrost is thawing and leaking heat-trapping gas into the atmosphere | 0 | 7 | 01-10-2026 |
| 10 | Длительность сезона таяния в Арктике стабилизировалась | 0 | 20.5 | 25-09-2026 |