during my time in alaska, i was in awe in many moments. but nothing felt as breathtaking — and unexpectedly alarming — as being in a sea of ice.

i always hear about the glaciers melting and that coastal areas will be underwater in a couple of decades. while that statement alone is terrifying, being in alaska raised some questions. what other visible changes can we see now due to climate change? how can we tell the story of climate change without words?

i learned more about the science and history of glaciers in alaska. for example, while they melt, they also tend to advance and retreat throughout the valley. so, when we went out into a fjord, i began connecting the dots — the glaciers leave imprints on the mountains, and that’s one of the ways scientists and environmental enthusiasts can study glaciers.

as i photographed ice and the mountains, i noticed some rusted terrain. these are called trimlines. as glaciers advance and retreat, they leave the rock bare, causing a line to form an iron-colored surface. what is alarming about this is how fast it’s occurring. tim martin, a lindblad expeditions naturalist aboard the national geographic sea lion, said some glaciers had advanced and retreated in the last five to 10 years.

before traveling to alaska, i would always note ongoing studies and research regarding climate change and the environment. yet, the clear visualization of trimlines brought me to realize that climate change doesn’t just exist in data but before our eyes.

––

editor’s note: lindblad expeditions, our planet forward storyfest competition partner, made this series possible by providing winners with an experiential learning opportunity aboard one of their ships. all editorial content is created independently. we thank lindblad expeditions for their continued support of our project. read all the stories from the expedition in our astonishing alaska series.

a successful day out on the water requires all the standard equipment — sunscreen, snacks and a literal boatload of mangrove saplings and fossilized shells.  

the sanibel-captiva conservation foundation (sccf), based on sanibel island, florida, has led regular trips to restore benedict key — a tiny uninhabited island in pine island sound — since early 2021. benedict’s canopy of coastal mangrove trees, which provide habitat for heron, osprey, ibis and egret birds, is gradually recovering after sustaining severe damage from hurricane charley in 2004. volunteers are helping accelerate the process by planting mangrove seedlings and saplings to promote regrowth. they are also depositing fossilized shells that provide a foundation for oyster attachment, aiming to build up an oyster reef to shield the fledgling mangroves from destructive waves. 

“the mangroves that we planted at the beginning of the restoration effort are, for the most part, still there and thriving,” said kealy mcneal, the conservation initiative coordinator at sccf. “so it’s a very good sign that we’re going to be successful with the restoration of benedict.”

elsewhere on sanibel island, however, mangrove restoration requires addressing systemic hydrological issues. high levels of nutrients in the water and developments that have altered the way water moves among the trees are threatening the health of mangrove forests and their ability to respond to climate stressors. researchers at the j.n. “ding” darling national wildlife refuge on sanibel island are analyzing the impacts of water quality and flow on the island’s mangroves to inform restoration projects and adaptation efforts.

the ecosystem services of the mangrove tree are as plentiful and intertwined as the network of roots at its base. these roots, which extend underwater, serve as a nursery for fish, while the branches provide a nesting site for birds. by supporting wildlife, the mangrove canopy at the j.n. “ding” darling national wildlife refuge is estimated to generate an average of $85 million per year in recreational viewing and fishing revenue, according to a provisional united states geological survey (usgs) ecosystem services assessment.

and by storing carbon dioxide, absorbed through photosynthesis, in their roots and trapping carbon-containing matter in their soil, mangroves are a highly productive carbon sequestration system. the approximately 2,500 acres of mangrove at “ding” darling store an estimated average of 364,000 metric tons of carbon, according to a 2021 study. that’s equivalent to the amount of carbon dioxide emitted from the gas tanks of almost 5,000 tanker trunks. maintaining this carbon stock yields an estimated economic value of over $55 million, according to the usgs assessment.  

mangroves can also form a buffer that protects the coast from surging water during storms. but as hurricane charley revealed, mangroves themselves can take a beating from the heavy winds. in the 2021 study, researchers analyzed the “ding” darling mangrove canopy and found that the trees that have not recovered from the hurricane are located in a tidally restricted area of the refuge.

in the 1960s, a dike was constructed on the refuge to concentrate standing water for mosquito control and was later used to manipulate the water level to create habitat for migratory waterfowl. despite these advantages, the disruption to the refuge’s natural hydrology has detrimentally impacted mangroves in “impounded” areas that are disconnected from the surrounding waterways. 

water exchange from incoming and outgoing tides is critical for healthy water quality — and mangroves. when bacteria break down algae and other organic matter in the water, they consume oxygen. if the oxygen level of the water drops too low, other bacteria use sulfur compounds instead of oxygen, producing hydrogen sulfide in the process. mangroves in impounded areas don’t experience sufficient tidal flushing, which can lead to a buildup of hydrogen sulfide that stresses the trees. 

“we’ve seen this all over southwest florida, where even small changes in the tidal hydrology that was original to the system can cause long-term stress,” said ken krauss, an ecologist at usgs. 

due to this stress, mangroves in impounded areas of the refuge struggle to produce seedlings. they also receive fewer seedlings from trees outside the impoundment, which are delivered through tidal flushing.  collectively, these factors can impede the regeneration of tidally restricted mangroves after a hurricane. 

tunnel-like culverts have been constructed to reconnect some of the water flow between the two sides of the dike, but they don’t fully restore the refuge’s natural hydrology. “it’s like breathing through a straw,” said jeremy conrad, an ecologist at the united states fish and wildlife service.

the dike is not the only example of altered hydrology on sanibel island. in a waterfront residential area, mangroves were cut off from tidal flushing by the construction of a road, which requires regular maintenance as the rising sea laps at its edges. debris from the roadwork combined with organic material to form a hard deposit along the coastal side of the canopy, further restricting water flow. 

the forest die-off was a case of “mangrove heart attack” — a seemingly overnight manifestation of underlying issues caused by reduced tidal flushing. the death of the mangroves has exacerbated shoreline erosion on this vulnerable part of the island, said bob gerwig, a wildlife refuge specialist at “ding” darling. “when these mangroves die off, all that root structure decays, and the soil subsides and it collapses. so then we’re losing that resiliency to sea level rise and climate change,” he said.

for mangroves growing in smaller bodies of water, simple concrete culverts have made a big difference in restoring hydrological connection. since a culvert linking a mosquito control ditch to the island’s tarpon bay was repaired three years ago, its mangroves have begun to show signs of recovery. “you may be breathing through a straw, but you’re breathing,” gerwig said. 

gerwig hopes to help larger swaths of impounded mangrove in the refuge breathe through bigger “straws” by breaking up the dike with raised boardwalks and bridges. “mangroves are a very slow grower and they respond to stressors and reliefs in a very slow manner. so these restorative actions are going to take time,” he said. “it’s so easy to break something, and it takes decades to put it back together.”

unfortunately, mangroves might be impacted by another anthropogenic factor: eutrophication, or the enrichment of nutrients such as nitrogen and phosphorous in the water. the water bodies surrounding sanibel island receive large amounts of agricultural and wastewater nutrients from discharges from lake okeechobee and the caloosahatchee river. “sanibel is right at the dumping point where everything flows right toward us, and it very much influences what happens on the ‘ding’ darling wildlife refuge,” said avery renshaw, a biological science technician at the refuge. 

just as nutrients in fertilizer help plants in a garden grow, nitrogen and phosphorous supplied by tidal flushing benefit mangroves in low-nutrient environments. “but what we’re finding is that when the system is under a high level of fertilization or eutrophication for long periods of time, it can actually become a detriment to the system,” conrad said.

to adapt to sea level rise, mangroves gain vertical elevation by accumulating leaf litter and sediment and growing their roots. when they are exposed to low levels of nutrients, mangroves develop extended root systems to forage for nitrogen and phosphorous, helping them build vertical elevation. but mangroves that are bombarded with nutrients may shift their energy to growing the aboveground portion of the tree at the expense of the roots, which could hinder the elevation process.

to evaluate the impact of nutrient loading on the mangroves at “ding” darling, conrad fertilized the soil with nitrogen or phosphorous and measured the growth of the tree above and below ground and any changes in the elevation of the soil over four years. while he observed some growth and metabolic shifts that hinted at adaptations to eutrophication, he did not find a significant difference in the soil elevation change in the phosphorous- or nitrogen-treated mangroves compared to the control plots. the minimal effect might be because “what we put in the ground was a drop in the bucket compared to what was already in the system,” conrad said. it’s also possible that the influence of the additional nitrogen and phosphorous could take more time to appear in a high-nutrient environment, krauss said.

with some experimental optimization, the team aims to incorporate the results into a model to forecast the effect of sea level rise on mangrove cover at the refuge over time. “in perpetuity, as we continue to get more data and a better understanding, we can begin to model and project what elevations look like in the forest versus what the elevations of the oceans are doing,” conrad said. “and then that gives us a model to predict what our lands will look like 30, 40, 50 years from now under these accelerated rates of sea level rise.” 

krauss hopes the project will help mangrove managers at the refuge and beyond prepare for and respond to climate-related disturbances. “this is a changing world, and we have to figure out how to adapt properly to it,” he said. 

rising sea levels and flooding are growing problems in virginia, and hurricane ida just showed us the devastating impacts. according to the national climate assessment (nca), increasing temperatures in virginia, sinking landforms, and changing ocean currents are causing sea levels to rise significantly higher than the global average. these extremely high levels have caused flooding all across the state. in my neighboring town of norfolk, “sea level rise has led to a fourfold increase in the probability of exceeding nws thresholds compared to the 1960s,” according to the nca.

virginia beach, alexandria, and richmond are especially prone to flooding because they are coastal cities. in my hometown of chantilly, virginia, we had two floods within the last month. it feels like it’s becoming a trend that every week we’ll face another natural disaster. according to the national climate report by the national centers for environmental information, some of the wettest locations this month included virginia, with precipitation totals 150% to 200% more than normal. virginia is becoming the new flood hotspot.  

the frequent road closures and risks to infrastructure, transportation and ecosystems are some of the immediate effects we’ve witnessed due to flooding, according to the nca. the nca said that the national oceanic and atmospheric administration (noaa) measured as much as “1 to 3 feet of local relative sea level rise in the past 100 years in low-lying areas of the southeast.” this causes “critical levels” of high tides and daily risk to all areas of life, including to businesses and neighborhoods. i can remember fear consuming my body as i got ready to drive, get on a bus, or even metro, because of how dangerous the weather conditions were. i remember having to find alternate routes because roads were closed and streets were evacuated. one too many times i have heard a tree fall in my sleep, only to wake up and realize it’s actually on the road. roaring winds are a default noise to my ears, though they make it sound like my house is on the verge of collapsing. it’s a normal day when i’m begging my windshield wipers to go faster to keep up with the torrential downpour.

according to the intergovernmental panel of climate change (ipcc), sea levels are forecasted to rise about 55 inches by the year 2100. to contextualize, a process that should have taken 400 years with natural levels of warming has now been accelerated to 79 years. according to the noaa, sea levels are currently rising “about one-eighth of an inch per year.” growing up an athlete, i remember waiting for the calls and emails announcing that after school activities were canceled due to inclement weather. by the year 2100, my grandkids may get that call nearly everyday. 

the nca projects that this flooding will become more serious, disruptive, and costly as its frequency, depth, and inland extent grow with time. but not all hope is lost. while norfolk is known for its floods, sealevelrise.org states that they have allocated over $1 billion of proposed projects to protect against flooding by 2035. similarly, virginia beach and hampton roads have set aside money for stormwater projects and sewage systems respectively.

there are other steps we should be taking now to prevent more flooding in the future. reducing carbon emissions would address the problem at the source, because fewer carbon emissions means less warming. protecting our wetlands is another step we should be taking. these wetlands provide natural areas for the water to be stored. maybe, if we take these steps and others—while taking climate change seriously—virginians won’t have to purchase a boat in the near future just to get around town.

—

editor’s note: check back each day during cop26 for more pieces in planet forward’s climate hits home series.

we watched waves pour over our front yard, our mailbox looking like it had been mistakenly plopped down in the middle of the ocean. waves hit the windows on our second-floor deck, water rushed past our windows, and i began to wonder if we might float away, too.

when the storm had mostly passed, the neighborhood began to come out of hiding to check on each other and fulfill our curious natures. the massive jersey barriers – made of concrete and bolted down with steel – had been pushed across the street onto our lawns. our backyard was covered in inches of sand, and there were starfish lying prone in the driveway. the ocean we all loved so dearly came closer than ever before to pay us a visit, and maybe to give us a warning.

the following year we evacuated for hurricane sandy and returned the following day to find that the sand beneath the state road had been washed away, leaving the road suspended in the air. the granite blocks in front of our house had dropped into the ground as it opened up, and i remember staring at the hole where my front yard used to be and feeling that we were in over our heads in more ways than one.

for me, growing up in a beach house in a town that comes alive in the summer was paradise. but it will soon be paradise submerged.

the seawall

at a neighborhood meeting in may 2018, i lingered at the back of the room, letting my parents and their neighbors contend with the reality of their disappearing property. familiar faces leaned over the map held by a state civil engineer who seemed too young to be in charge of saving a neighborhood.

the state of connecticut is building a $5.8 million seawall on the state road that stands between the long island sound and my neighborhood, which consists mostly of old beach cottages set back less than 50 feet from the place where land gives way to water. the state is aiming not to protect houses but to protect route 146, since it was severely undermined when hurricane sandy washed the land out from beneath it.

the u.s. army corps of engineers estimates the long island sound will rise 6.24 inches higher in the next 15 years; the road is only three feet above the current high tide mark, so it’s no wonder the state is starting to worry.

the people who built my house and others like it in the 1920s looked at an undeveloped beach and saw only opportunity. then the deadly hurricane of 1938 and countless other hurricanes and nor’easters hit the town with growing intensity, but beachfront houses continued to pop up on my street like elaborate sandcastles just waiting for the tide to come. perhaps unsurprisingly, the desire for beachfront property remains constant even as the beachfront creeps ever closer. 

we severely underestimate the power of the ocean, just as we underestimate the impacts of a changing climate. whether the year is 2018 or 2033, a category 3 hurricane like hurricane katrina or hurricane irma would flood my family’s entire property with a layer of 11 feet of water, while another category 1 storm like hurricane sandy would dump five feet of water on us. nor’easters and hurricanes become more extreme as they’re fueled by increasing ocean temperatures and they reach further onshore due to sea-level rise, meaning we can expect more starfish in the driveway every year.

climate change and the resultant sea-level rise is the most significant reason we need a seawall, but rarely was the phrase “climate change” uttered at that neighborhood meeting. there’s a major cognitive distance between sea-level rise as an abstract concept and a sea-level that could reach our driveways in less than a century.

but in 2019, the town of branford did something amazing — something that surprised me. the town invested $1 million in a new coastal resiliency fund as a way to save for the future climate costs like repairing washed-out roads and bridges. quietly, without any fanfare, branford made a commitment to its future and acknowledged the threat of climate change in a major way.

the sandcastles

i have this apocalyptic vision in my head of fish swimming by the stop sign where i once waited for the bus, of my childhood bed floating through sunlit water long after my parents have fled for higher ground. there’s no violent destruction or fear in my vision because i’ve grown up with this reality. maybe the next hurricane will knock the house down, but in my head, my childhood home stays in the same place as the ocean overtakes it, a symbolic reminder that the land was never ours to begin with, and that humans have majorly screwed up.

in some ways, i believe my drive to become an environmental journalist stems from my life experiences of reckoning with the rising sea. it’s hard to grow up with hurricanes as a character in your life story and not develop a curiosity about the climate. i’m not trying to save myself – seawall or not, i believe it may be too late for my neighborhood – but i want to help turn our trajectory around for other people, if i can, or at least help people adjust to the new world we’ll be living in.

i’m most concerned about people who are far less privileged than i am: people who live in places like the bahamas or puerto rico and have no way to escape the fury of a hurricane. people who have played little to no role in carbon emissions still must watch the sea approach them, suffering the crash of a wave that began on shores far away.

while i may one day lose my house and my neighborhood, other people will lose their jobs, families, and lives. entire countries will be wiped off the map. every island you’ve ever vacationed on could be just decades away from being a memory that geographers point to, identifying the spot where land and lives used to be. not all sea-level rise is equal in effect, and compared to other people in the world, my story is far from a tragedy.

people like my family and neighbors got lucky, living in the middle of a new england beach postcard, and then because of the choices we made, our luck ran out. but maybe we can prolong the daydream for a little longer…

and so we’re building a seawall, which will hold off the storms and seas for some time. but if there’s anything i’ve learned from playing in the sand, it’s that human constructions are trivial compared to the power of the ocean. we’ve seen that with the destruction of levees in new orleans, piers in new jersey, and entire towns in the bahamas. there is plenty we can do to become more resilient in the meantime, like building seawalls and lifting homes onto stilts, but the reality for places like branford is that people will one day have to move away.

high on a cliff over the branford river, there’s a big, sandy-colored mansion complete with turrets and crenellations that we jokingly refer to as “the sandcastle.” but the irony is that that house will survive far longer than the houses on my street. the real sandcastles are houses like mine; hastily constructed too close to the sea with the optimism of a child building sandcastles and believing they’ll be there forever. i long for the days when i, too, thought that the rising sea would never reach me.

while the florida keys government and environmental groups are bracing for sea level rise, what do residents think? this podcast episode examines residents’ opinions on sea level rise and the most concerning environmental issues facing the keys.

most people i spoke to acknowledge that sea level rise is an issue, but it isn’t their main concern. instead, they are most worried about protecting the reefs and reducing consumption of single-use plastics. one man says he doesn’t believe oceans are rising.

younger generations will likely be more directly affected by changes due to sea level rise. high school senior jillian duclo says she is already noticing the effects of rising oceans. hear from her and others in this final episode.

the first podcast episode in this series covers what sea level rise looks like in the keys. in the second episode, hear about the economic impacts of sea level rise in the keys. 

the florida keys are making changes as sea levels rise, and every change comes with an immense cost. for example, people are adapting to nuisance flooding by elevating the roads, which is an expensive process for the keys government. in fact, it can cost about $10 million to elevate a mile of road two feet, and the county has over 300 miles of roads.

residents face the expense of elevating their homes, as well. currently, regulations about raising homes are intended to prevent flooding from hurricane storm surges, but this will also help protect homes from the effects of sea level rise: higher storm surges and more permanent flooding in the future.

additionally, if sea level rise deters tourism to the keys, every level of the economy from the government to businesses to individuals would be affected. 

in this podcast episode, hear about economic impacts of sea level rise in the florida keys.

the previous episode covered what sea level rise looks like in the keys. next, in the third and final episode of this series, i talk to keys residents about their opinions on sea level rise. you can find that episode here.

“i’m not betting on the fact that we’re going to save any of this. i’m betting on the fact that this is all going to change.” – chris bergh, the nature conservancy

a chain of low-lying islands, the florida keys, are already affected by sea level rise. plant and animal species, such as south florida slash pines and key deer, are losing their habitats as oceans rise and saltwater encroaches on their territory.

 

keys residents are also impacted by sea level rise, which causes nuisance flooding and worse storm surges and threatens future permanent inundation of some areas of the islands. 

in this first episode, i investigate what sea level rise looks like in the keys and some ways in which people are preparing for ever rising levels.

next, hear about the economic impacts of sea level rise in the keys. you can find the second episode in the series here. the third and final episode, in which i talk to keys residents about their opinions on sea level rise, can be found here.