Abraham Lake's frozen bubbles are swamp gas. Bacteria on the lakebed feed on plants that drowned when the North Saskatchewan River was dammed in 1972, and the methane they give off rises in steady streams that never reach the air. The surface freezes first, and as the ice front creeps downward through the winter it catches each new crop of bubbles, stacking them into white discs that shrink away into the dark. What makes them visible is wind. The lake sits in a rain shadow, and gales run down the valley for days at a time, sweeping the snow off and polishing the surface into dark, transparent glass while other frozen lakes disappear under white.
You walk out on cleats over ice that groans and cracks under your boots, past pressure ridges that run for hundreds of metres, and look straight down through the stacked discs. At first light the peaks along the shore turn copper and the low sun enters the ice from the side, lighting the bubbles from within. The reservoir is still a working machine, and that shapes the danger: TransAlta draws it down all winter, so the ice can end up bridging air pockets where the water has dropped away beneath it. The lake carries a harder history as well. The Bighorn Dam flooded the Kootenay Plains, home of the Bighorn band of the Stoney Nakoda, taking cabins, pastures and grave sites with no public hearings held beforehand. What resulted is the largest reservoir in Alberta, thirty-two kilometres of water below the front range. By late spring it is open water again, pale turquoise, and the bubbles are gone until the cold comes back.