Tag Archives: rising sea levels

Water May Wipe Away Trail Tubman Blazed, Swamp Blackwater

By MEGAN KOWALSKI
Capital News Service

CHURCH CREEK – Harriet Tubman led slaves to freedom through the thick reeds and marshes of her hometown here on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay.

And in an effort to preserve that history, President Barack Obama recently designated the area the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Monument.

But even a presidential proclamation can’t halt natural forces.

Sea levels have been rising in the Chesapeake Bay at more than twice the global rate — and one of the most important stops on the Underground Railroad likely will be largely underwater within the next 50 years.

This bleak fact wasn’t mentioned in the celebratory pronouncements for the monument, nor in the National Park Service study, directed by Congress, that supported the designation and federal funding.

Rising waters are expected to claim much of the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, where some of the monument’s most important landmarks lie. Blackwater also contains the largest contiguous tidal marsh in the Northeast United States — where the peregrine falcon, American bald eagle and Delmarva fox squirrel thrive.

Cultural, historical and ecological sites all along the Maryland’s 7,700-mile shoreline are threatened, from the cobblestoned streets of Baltimore’s Fells Point to Fort McHenry, the birthplace of the National Anthem, to Eastern Neck, a winter habitat for tundra swans. Also in peril are the old crabbing town of Crisfield; Assateague Island, a haven for wild horses; and St. Mary’s City, the state’s colonial capital.

Sea-level rise is a global phenomenon, tied to gradual changes in climate and melting polar ice caps. But its effects are more pronounced in the Chesapeake Bay region, where the land is sinking. Studies show the Chesapeake Bay rose more than a foot in the 20th century and very likely will rise another 2 to 5 feet over this century.

More intense storms also are predicted.

CNS analyzed the potential impact, using land elevation data from the U.S. Geological Survey and population survey data from the census. The effect of local man-made structures such as seawalls is difficult to determine and not included in the calculations.

A rise of 2 feet would put another 800 square miles of Maryland underwater, a Capital News Service analysis found.

The affected land includes more than 200 Maryland sites on The National Register of Historic Places. Even though federal and state agencies have identified many landmarks likely to be swamped, they don’t have the means or money to protect them all.

At the statewide level we can’t really save everything, said Jen Chadwick-Moore, historic preservation research specialist at the Maryland Historical Trust, a state agency.

“We need to document everything and then decide what we can save.”

Since 2001, the Geologic Resources Division of the National Park Service has worked with the U.S. Geological Survey to assess the coastal vulnerability of 22 sites on the 7,500 miles of shoreline that the park service is responsible for. The only Maryland site assessed was Assateague Island National Seashore, and tens of millions of dollars are being expended to protect it.

A combination of state and federal agencies manages the new Tubman monument and the Blackwater wetlands, which are located in Dorchester County, one of the poorest counties in the state and one of the most vulnerable to rising sea levels.

Blackwater is critical to the local economy. The economic benefit from Blackwater is valued at almost $28 million dollars annually, and local business expects an estimated boost of $4 million to $6 million annually in tourism revenue from the Tubman monument alone.

Even if the government takes steps to protect it, Blackwater eventually will succumb, said Inga Clark, co-author of a 2002 U.S. Geological Survey study that predicts Blackwater will be underwater by 2050.

“The sea is coming,” she said. “In that particular area, I think we can win a few years — but not a substantial amount of time.”
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The National Register of Historic Places lists 80,000 properties. Only 3 percent of them specifically commemorate the accomplishments of minorities and women.

A century after Tubman’s death, the lands on which she was born and raised are receiving monument status, granting the wishes of advocates who have been pushing for federal recognition of the area for over a decade.

Before she escaped to freedom at age 27, Tubman worked as a slave on the lands of Dorchester County. Tubman returned to her birthplace about a dozen times to lead slaves to the North.

Obama’s proclamation in March designating the Tubman monument was cause for celebration, with press releases from the U.S. Department of the Interior, The Conservation Fund, Chesapeake Conservancy and the Sierra Club applauding the move.

An environmental assessment of the land done before its historic designation notes that the land “is subject to seasonal flooding” — but there is no mention of predictions that some of the area will be permanently covered by water within several decades.

Allen Cooper, chief of park planning and special studies at the National Park Service, said that, to his knowledge, sea-level rise was not considered in the monument planning process, and hasn’t been discussed since his appointment in 2011. It likely will be taken into consideration in future planning. he said.

The threat is no secret to the state, which broke ground on the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad State Park and visitor center two weeks before the presidential designation of the monument. The center, located within the monument’s boundaries but managed by the Maryland Department of Natural Resources, will be built on higher ground and elevated in deference to rising sea levels.

Even if the new visitor center will be able to withstand the future effects of sea-level rise, there is no simple way to save some of the historical sites where the heart of Tubman’s story lies.

One such example is the Jacob Jackson home site, mentioned by President Obama in his proclamation.

Jackson was a free black man who assisted Tubman in rescuing her brothers from slavery. In 1854, Jackson decoded a message from Tubman to her brothers, letting them know she was coming to help them escape from being sold as slaves.

Jackson’s home was one of the first safe houses on the Underground Railroad, and the 480-acre home site of forested area, farmland and wetland, sits adjacent to the Little Choptank River. It was donated to the National Park Service by The Conservation Fund.

Also sitting on the water are the Anthony Thompson home site, where Tubman was born, and the James Cook site, where Tubman was hired out as a slave when she was a child.

Sen. Ben Cardin, D-Md., who supported the Tubman monument, also has advocated for protection of local communities from the effects of rising sea levels, said Sue Walitsky , his spokeswoman. But his efforts on that initiative and the Tubman monument were on “parallel tracks,” she said.

“Everyone in the process realizes it’s a risk,” Walitsky said of sea-level rise.
***

Inundation of the land in this area is more than a risk, scientists say. It is not a question of if, but rather by how much. And beyond the important historical landmarks, Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge is a giant ecosystem, vital to the health of the Chesapeake Bay, that fish, birds and humans depend on.

The land that Harriet Tubman once called home has been the 25,000-acre Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge since the 1930s. Often referred to as the “Everglades of the North,” Blackwater contains one-third of Maryland’s tidal wetlands.

These wetlands play a critical role in filtering water pollution before it reaches the already stressed Chesapeake Bay, the largest estuary system in the United States and cornerstone of the ecological and economic vitality of Maryland.

Migratory birds traveling along the East Coast depend on Blackwater as a stop on the migration highway, and the refuge serves as habitat for the endangered Delmarva fox squirrel and two once-endangered bird species – the peregrine falcon and the American bald eagle.

It’s a bird watchers’ paradise for marsh fowl. The Audubon Society describes the marsh bird populations at Blackwater as globally important. Rising sea levels at Blackwater are pushing the salt marsh sparrow, black rail and seaside sparrow dangerously close to the endangered species list, said David Curson, director of bird conservation at the Maryland-DC chapter of the Audubon Society.

These birds are known as “marsh obligate” species, meaning they thrive and survive only in marsh habitats such as Blackwater. As sea levels rise and the land sinks, open water overtakes, and the birds can’t survive.

Curson said scientists predict a catastrophic loss of marsh habitats for these birds in the next few decades.

Wintering waterfowl also depend on Blackwater, not for permanent habitat, but as a stop on the critical migratory highway along the East Coast. At the peak of fall migration — usually in November — Blackwater and the surrounding lands see about 25,000 Canada geese, 5,000 snow geese, 500 tundra swan and 15,000 ducks. If marsh habitat in Blackwater is lost, the nearest alternatives — such as North Carolina — won’t help. They face rising sea levels too, Curson said.

“It could well be that we see a big population decline in these waterfowl if they don’t have wintering habitat,” he said.

Rising sea levels are not necessarily bad news for all birds. Blackwater is home to the largest breeding population of American bald eagles on the East Coast, north of Florida. As sea levels rise and marsh converts to open water, the eagles could have more opportunities to hunt fish without the cover of the reeds.

But fish populations could diminish, a problem for eagles and humans. Two-thirds of the commercial fish species of the Chesapeake Bay use salt marsh creeks as habitat where their young can avoid being eaten by larger fish. If the salt marsh disappears, this safe haven will be lost, leaving younger fish defenseless and preyed upon before they have a chance to mature and be sold for the fishery industry in Dorchester County.
***

“If we lose those marsh habitats, those are vital components of the bay,” said Zoe Johnson, of the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. “The other issue is that the area provides an ecotourism industry, and Dorchester County really needs that kind of business to be there.”

Local ecotourism and recreation revenue brings in almost $28 million annually to Dorchester County, with one-fifth of jobs in the county related to tourism in 2010.

The wetlands act as a storm buffer for nearby communities, absorbing the energy from wind and waves associated with strong storm surges that are predicted to become stronger and more frequent in the future. The loss of Blackwater’s wetlands means the loss of critical protection from these storms for southern Dorchester County, including the 12,000-plus residents of the county seat of Cambridge.

Roughly 30,000 people live in Dorchester County neighborhoods that would be affected if the Chesapeake Bay rose 2 to 5 feet, the Capital News Service analysis found.

One way in which marsh plants stay above sea level is by building volume in their roots through accumulation of sediment. But marshes that kept pace with sea level for thousands of years now cannot.

In 2003, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and the state funded a $530,000 demonstration dredging project to rebuild the lost marsh at some of Blackwater’s islands.

There had been discussion of large-scale efforts to restore marsh at Blackwater. Plans for a larger dredging project never got beyond preliminary planning stages, due to lack of funding and lack of a sediment source. Wetland managers have now shifted their focus to more cost-efficient, smaller-scale projects.

William Giese Jr. is a Dorchester County native who has lived a mile from Blackwater his entire life and worked on the refuge for 40 years. More people in the area need to take notice of the changes taking place, he said.

“The average person … they’re so kind of tied up in their day-to-day life, they don’t recognize what’s going on around them, but it’s happening — and it’s happening tremendously fast.”

Capital News Service reporter Lauren Loricchio also contributed to this article.

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Flooded, Unproductive Farms Likely Future for Chesapeake Shores

By MANDY DOMINELLI, RASHEE RAJ KUMAR and KRYSTAL NANCOO-RUSSELL
Capital News Service

ROCK HALL — Steve Mason had just planted a fresh crop of strawberries when Tropical Storm Isabel flooded his Kent Island farm in 2003. The storm wiped out $7,000 worth of crops and rendered the land unusable for years.

“I planted strawberries the following year, they didn’t grow at all, and I’ve been trying to plant things out there every year,” he said. “It’s starting to come back a little bit, but I really don’t get the production out of the ground that I should. That’s what Isabel did.”

For farmers like Mason who grow crops on the edge of the Chesapeake Bay, the proximity to the water makes them especially vulnerable to the impact of climate change.

By the end of the century, rising sea levels of 2 to 5 feet in the Chesapeake will submerge farms that have been passed down within families for generations.

Meanwhile, climate change is associated with an increase in the number and strength of hurricanes, increasing the likelihood of particularly damaging storms like Isabel. In September 2003, Isabel brought 6 to 8 feet of storm surge into the upper regions of the Chesapeake Bay and caused an estimated $410 million dollars in damage when it passed over Maryland.

When Chesapeake water floods a farm field, it kills crops like corn and soybeans by choking the supply of oxygen to the roots. But the brackish water — which is more saline than fresh water, but less saline than seawater — deposits salt and other chemicals that remain in the soil for years.

The water leaves behind sulfate, which oxygen-starved bacteria process into sulfide, a substance which can be toxic to many crops. It also leaves behind salt, which makes it harder for crops to absorb water and nutrients.

“Water radically changes the chemistry of soil.” said Philippe Hensel, a physical scientist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Geodetic Survey. “Farmers really suffer when they get a storm surge over the land because the salt tends to stay.”

Since 2003, the soil on the section of Mason’s property that was underwater has not been the same.

“I think it’s because of salinity in the water,” Mason said. “It spoiled the soil.”

Crops he planted in that area in the years following the storm have failed to produce satisfactory yields. It took about six years for the field to get back to the level of productivity it had before Hurricane Isabel, he said. Mason is now trying to grow spring crops on part of that patch — kale, spinach, beets, turnips and peas.

“I think the storms are definitely getting stronger and the tide is higher so it breaches our bulkhead more often. We’re bound to get hit with another Isabel again — it’s going to happen,” Mason said.

In nearby Kent County, farmer Trey Hill did not experience the kind of crop loss Mason did when Isabel hit, but he did face significant damage to his waterfront home.

When the storm surge flooded his home’s entire first floor with about 4 feet of water, Hill was forced to demolish it and rebuild. The new home was elevated several feet on stilts because of local zoning restrictions and insurance company requirements, he said.

Hill is a fourth generation farmer and the owner of Harborview Farms, which he inherited from his father, Herman Hill. The company farms land in three Maryland counties.

On a 100-acre property in Rock Hall, Hill and 12 employees grow corn, wheat and soybeans and supply them to such large food producers as Perdue Farms Inc. Hill estimated that his farmland and fixtures, including a 60-year-old grain elevator, is valued at about $1.8 million.

Hill has also installed solar panels at Harborview Farms, reducing his dependence on fossil fuels, which are a prime driver of climate change.

“Our goal is to kind of become less energy dependent. We’ve put in solar panels and done minor stuff. But as far as impact on the world, I don’t know that I will have any,” he said.

Almost all of Hill’s property in Rock Hall will be inundated if sea level rises by 5 feet, a Capital News Service analysis found. About half of it would be underwater if sea level rises by 3 feet.

“If most of my land was underwater, it would probably have an impact on … my house, my income, my farm, pretty much everything that I live and breathe,” Hill said.

For Hill, sea-level rise is not an immediate enough threat to warrant building a seawall or to take other steps to protect his land.

“I would be proactive, but it would have to become more severe than it is now,” he said of the long-term climate model predictions. “I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe move or something.”

In Kent County, Tot Strong’s family has owned large tracts of land in this county for more than 400 years. Their original land grants were issued by the King of England.

Today, Strong, 55, grows corn and soybeans on more than 2,000 acres of land, including on his mother’s property. Mildred Strong, 93, lives alone at Trumpington Manor, a farmhouse that overlooks a large salt marsh along the bay.

The brick home sits atop a hill surrounded by outbuildings and barns. A family of osprey makes its home on a nesting platform at the end of the driveway. A small cemetery lies to the left of the porch, with gravestones of Strong’s ancestors going back generations.

Strong’s husband, a Navy pilot, was the last person buried here in 2004. Strong maintains the property with help from her son.

Someday her children will inherit Trumpington Manor, but portions of the property are at risk from climate change.

“I can’t say I’m not concerned, but I don’t know what I can do about it,” Tot Strong said. “You know, it’s going to happen from time to time. You’ve got your 100-year storms and your 500-year storms. When they’re due, they’re due, I suppose.”

But at the moment, long-term sea level rise is still a dot on the horizon.

“But I don’t know what any of us can really do about it.”

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Rising Seas, Sinking Land Put Maryland’s Waterfront Communities At Risk

By BRANDON GOLDNER

CRISFIELD, MD – Noah Bradshaw knows what the rising waters of the Chesapeake Bay can do to a community.

The 68-year-old city inspector grew up in a house in town that had been moved from nearby Holland Island a century ago.

“Holland Island is gone,” Bradshaw said. “It’s underwater.”

The last house disappeared into the bay two years ago, marking the demise of an island once 5 miles long and home to a fishing community of 300 residents.

Now, rising sea levels and sinking land, the same forces that doomed the island, threaten Crisfield, its seafood industry and its 2,710 residents. And a newly discovered tidal pattern puts them in greater peril than previously known.

“This is our home, and eventually, this will be underwater,” said Bradshaw, a bespectacled, balding man with a white beard. “We know that, because the sea level is rising.”

Scientists say sea levels around the world are rising, that storms are intensifying due to climate change, and that policymakers need to make tough decisions on where to spend limited resources to protect the shoreline and what to let go.

Maryland’s leaders may need to make those difficult choices sooner than other regions.

In his state-of-the-state address this year, Gov. Martin O’Malley warned that Maryland is one of the most vulnerable states in the country to rising sea levels.

Studies show he is right. The Chesapeake Bay is rising at two to three times the rate of worldwide sea levels. It rose more than a foot over the past 100 years and is expected to rise 2 to 5 feet within this century.

Property all along Maryland’s meandering shoreline is at risk, from the seaside mansions of Anne Arundel and Talbot counties to the modest cottages of Somerset and Dorchester counties.

Industrial powerhouses like the Port of Baltimore, ecological treasures like Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge and historic sites like the Harriet Tubman monument all lie in the path of rising sea levels.

Lawmakers say they want to protect Maryland’s waterside. But the coastline is 7,700 miles long, according to updated measurements by the Maryland Geological Survey. That’s twice previous estimates, because of improved aerial imagery and more complete accounting of coastal inlets.

Not all can be saved. And that is a touchy issue in a state where an estimated 900,000 people — a sixth of the state’s population — live in neighborhoods likely to be affected, a CNS analysis of census and U.S. Geological Survey data found.

The state has adopted measures to protect its own property but ceded the tough decisions about the fate of coastal communities to local officials — questions such as whether and when to build sea barriers, elevate land and buildings, or retreat inland.

Yet when researchers interviewed local officials all along the shoreline for a 2010 study, they found “no explicit plan for the fate of most low-lying coast lands as sea level rises.”

While significant resources are likely to be poured into saving property in some of the bigger cities, such as Baltimore and Annapolis, shore protection is unlikely along 60 percent of the Eastern Shore, said the study, which was done for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.

That Eastern Shore stretch is dotted with rural, poorer and less-populated areas. The Maryland Department of Natural Resources offers communities financial assistance for sea-level rise planning through its federally funded CoastSmart Communities program. Just four of 16 coastal counties and the city of Annapolis have taken advantage of the program in the past five years to develop plans or guidance documents.

Dorchester County, just north of Crisfield, is among the few. Yet local planners “anticipate that most of the county will not be protected from sea level rise” due to “economic difficulties that the county and its residents are experiencing,” the study said.

“Some of the solutions are very costly or very delicate in terms of making decisions about what areas you’re going to protect and what areas you may not be able to protect,” said Zoe Johnson, climate change director for the Maryland Department of Natural Resources.

“There’s a lot of public and social issues with making those decisions. Not many politicians are ready to take that on.”
***

Maryland’s predicament is due to a troublesome combination of rising water and sinking land.

The land in the Chesapeake region has been sinking over the past 1,000 to 2,000 years, said Raymond G. Najjar Jr., a Pennsylvania State University oceanographer who has studied the impact of climate change on the mid-Atlantic coast.

Called subsidence, the land has sunk 1.3 millimeters each year on average — a trend scientists say is likely to continue at its current rate.

The rise in sea levels is a relatively new phenomenon and part of a global trend. As the earth warms, polar ice caps melt, the volume of water in the oceans expands, and sea levels rise.

Sea levels worldwide rose on average 4 to 8 inches during the 20th century — but more than a foot in the Chesapeake region.

The rate that sea levels are rising appears to be accelerating, Najjar said. The bay is very likely to rise 2 to 5 feet more by the end of this century, according to his and others’ studies. They also predict more intense storms, bigger water surges during storms, and higher high tides.

CNS analyzed the potential impact, using land elevation data from U.S. Geological Survey and population survey data from the U.S. Census. The effect of local man-made structures, such as seawalls, is difficult to determine and not included in the calculations.

The analysis found that if sea levels rose just 2 feet, water would cover roughly 800 square miles, a 12th of the state, inundating part or all of neighborhoods where nearly 900,000 people live.

At an increase of 5 feet, roughly 1,900 square miles would be underwater, reaching into neighborhoods with about 960,000 people and 440,000 homes worth more than $200 million. An estimated 3,700 miles of roads would be underwater.

Already, more than 13 islands in the bay have disappeared.

On the mainland, high tides alone are enough to prevent charter fishing boats from clearing Fishing Creek Bridge on the western shore — and fill roadside ditches in low-lying areas across the bay, such as Somerset County, where Crisfield is located.

“They have this tradition of working with nature and being able to adapt,” said William Nuckols, who co-authored the 2010 EPA report. “Whether they’re able to work with the increased rate that we’re expecting in terms of the changes they may see, that’s a little more of an uncertainty.”
***

Crisfield was founded as a fishing village in the mid-1660’s on a finger of land that juts out onto the Chesapeake Bay. It’s the southernmost city in Maryland, just a few miles from the Virginia border.

In the 1800s, large beds of oysters were discovered in surrounding waters. Oysters were so plentiful that much of downtown near the shoreline was built on an oyster shell foundation.

Residents would dredge for oysters in the winter and fish for crabs in the summer.

Recognizing a business opportunity, the town’s namesake and a former congressman, John W. Crisfield, brought the railroad into town, and by the beginning of the 20th century, Crisfield was shipping so many oysters and crabs that the city attracted workers from as far away as New England and the Midwest, briefly becoming Maryland’s second-largest city, behind Baltimore.

“I remember as a kid having 40 or 50 seafood houses along the waterfront,” said Carl Emely, 68, a retired waterman and seafood broker as well as a long-time city resident. “All of them going full-steam ahead with oysters and crabs and trainloads of seafood going out of Crisfield daily.”

To this day, the city refers to itself as “the seafood capital of the world.”

But today Crisfield’s main drag is dotted with empty storefronts dwarfed by new, bright, luxury, waterfront condo developments. Some condos sell for nearly $400,000. They dominate the skyline, towering over the old seafood boats.

The oyster catch began to decline due to overfishing, disease and bay pollution by the 1950s, said Tim Howard, museum director for the J. Millard Tawes Museum in Crisfield. Crisfield sustained itself by switching to hard-shell, crab-meat production and processing, he said.

But the pollution also hurt the hard-shell crab industry, as did regulations and competition from Asian markets, he said. So the city shifted to soft-shell crabs.

Now two of Crisfield’s main sources for soft-shell crabs — Tangier Island, Va., and Smith Island — are sinking into the bay. Tangier is expected to disappear in 50 to 100 years. Smith Island could be gone as soon as 2025.

Crisfield itself is surrounded by water on three sides. The community rests just 3 feet above sea level — a problem if the bay rises another 2 to 5 feet. The CNS analysis found the entire city and its surrounding neighborhoods would be partially underwater at 2 feet; most would be underwater at 5.

Over the past half century, Crisfield has been declared a federal disaster area at least four times because of hurricanes and tropical storms.

In total, Crisfield drew more than $200,000 in aid from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, money used for emergency repairs. That doesn’t account for the millions spent on long-term repairs for individual Crisfield residents, including almost $5 million to city residents just for Hurricane Sandy.

Crisfield was the hardest hit town in Maryland during Hurricane Sandy and among the worst on the East Coast.

The storm’s intense winds and devastating waves flooded the entire town in 5 feet of water, damaging 585 homes of the city’s 2,300 housing units — with 71 of those homes suffering major water damage.

About 100 residents were forced to move out of their homes because of serious damage to the structures.

The storm was so damaging that the floodwater lifted a pair of coffins in a local cemetery from their graves they were discovered when floodwaters receded — on Halloween.

After Sandy, oceanologists discovered a complex tidal pattern in the bay that not only changed how scientists study the Chesapeake Bay but may explain why Crisfield has been hit so hard.

Water is being pushed from the mouth of the Potomac on the western portion of the bay to the bay’s Eastern Shore, creating a bulge that splashes into Crisfield. That bulge forces floodwaters deeper into Crisfield.

“The impact in terms of damage is going to be substantial because 1 foot makes a huge difference,” said Dr. William Boicourt, an oceanologist who is studying the tidal pattern. “The average extreme event like Hurricane Sandy will make it far worse….All you do is go up a little bit, and it spreads a lot further inland.”
***

Federal, state and local governments share responsibility for addressing the threat of sea level rise, said Ken Mallette, director of the Maryland Emergency Management Agency.

He said his office assists with funding and guidance and could do better at communicating with local governments. But the choice of when and how to address sea-level rise is a local one, he said.

“It’s not a state decision. It’s a local decision. It’s an individual decision because it not only impacts the individual, it impacts the economic viability of that local community.”

Crisfield Mayor Percy Purnell, 72, said Crisfield sought funding from Mallette’s agency for two years to install 24 tidal gates. Tide gates are structures placed in storm drainage pipes to stop water from flowing in but to allow it to flow out, preventing some flooding.

But the city didn’t receive the $125,000 grant until last October — a week before Hurricane Sandy. The tidal gates would have had a major impact during Sandy and will reduce flooding in future storms, Purnell said.

Mallette said a high volume of project requests as a result of hurricanes Irene and Lee partly contributed to the delay.

Since Sandy, city officials have scrambled to find additional ways to protect Crisfield, Purnell said.

“We never had a flood like this before,” he said. “We had water in places we never had before.”

He is working with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers on a proposal to install a series of pilings, known as breakwaters, into the shoreline. The breakwater measure is in the initial assessment phase and could cost $6.75 million or more. The corps would cover most of the cost with federal funds that Congress set aside for recovery from Hurricane Sandy.

The city also passed a new law requiring that the first floor of all new structures be elevated 2 feet above the base flood elevation level — or 6 feet above ground in Crisfield.

The base flood elevation level is what the National Flood Insurance Program predicts will be the worst possible flooding an area could see in 100 years. But it is based on historical data and does not take into account climate change.

And while the tide gates and shoreline measures may alleviate flooding and erosion in the short run, they can’t stop the sea from rising or the land from sinking.

Purnell said he has “no idea” what to do about that.

“You’re talking about something that’s going to happen 25 to 30 years from now,” he said. He has more immediate concerns.

“The only thing is to bite into the problem and fight to survive.”
***

Sitting at the countertop of Gordon’s Confectionery, a Crisfield cafe established in 1924, customers can’t help but notice a small photo taped to the mirrored wall.

The photo is the exterior of Gordon’s when it was swallowed by the floodwaters of Sandy.

The picture is a reminder of the community’s resilience. But that only goes so far when the bay’s lapping at three sides of town.

“There’s only a certain amount that you can do in a town like Crisfield. You can’t be oblivious to it. It’s going to happen,” said Emely, one of the town’s longtime residents, as he sat at a table in the confectionery. “People try not to dwell on it. You’ve got to carry on.”

Donna Parks, a visitor waiting for lunch at the counter, said, “Everybody is so friendly and so willing to help each other that it would be a shame to lose this community.”

“We’ll leave it in the Lord’s hands,” Emely said. “Let him take care of it.”

Capital News Service reporter Sydney Paul contributed to this story.

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