Stormy Weather

Sunday night’s wind blew sand off the beach and into the streets of Plum Island

In the fine tradition of big-ass North Atlantic storms around Halloween (see: the so-called “perfect storm” of 1991; hurricane Sandy, 2012), New England got hit by a doozy of a tempest this past Sunday night, Oct. 29. Spawned by the atmospheric marriage of the remains of tropical storm Phillipe and a cold front moving off the mid-Atlantic coast of the U.S., Sunday’s night storm brought ferocious winds and heavy rains to the northeastern part of the country — including my snug-and-cozy domicile on the quaint little sand dune known as Plum Island.

Oh, baby! Did it blow Sunday night! We had a storm back in March — a standard winter nor’easter — that delivered official winds as high as 77 mph and was as impressive as any I’d ever seen at Plum Island, but Sunday night’s storm was different. For starters, in this storm the wind came out of the east-southeast. That may not seem like a big deal but my home is aligned northeast-to-southwest, so the wider side of of the house bore the brunt of Sunday night’s winds. And those winds, while less than March’s winds — highest velocities were in the 60s — were sustained for several hours, prompting me to actually start to wonder if something major was going to happen to the house. I had fears of the solar panels getting yanked off and taking the roof with it, or the decks (which my brother is currently rebuilding) blowing down, or windows caving in, or…

Monday morning broke sunny and beautiful, but the ocean was a little worked up…

In the end, we had it pretty easy. The extent of the damage was limited to leaks on the windward side of the house and a bunch of shingles on the newly repaired roof being torn off. The former occurred in areas my brother and I had earlier this autumn identified as needing replacement so there was no surprise there, while the latter is covered by the manufacturer since they were just installed a month ago. So…no big deal. Hell, our electricity didn’t even blink.

But driving around the following evening (Monday being hockey night, after all), the damage was pretty amazing. Heading into Newburyport, the opposite side of the Merrimack River was eerily dark as Salisbury remained without power. And several other towns in Essex County were not only still dark but trees were down everywhere, several roads remained closed and crews were still at work clearing debris off power lines. Hockey went on as scheduled (whew!) but two days later there remains a lot of work to be done. Apparently, some 300,000 people in Massachusetts were without power for various lengths of time (some remain without power through Wednesday). Up in Maine, many places are also still without power. And there is plenty of damage to both property and forest throughout New England.

And another thought occurred to me as I lay awake Sunday night between 3 and 4 a.m. during the peak winds: our winds, while certainly fierce, were less than half what Barbuda, St. Martin, Dominica, the BVIs and Puerto Rico (and other places) endured during hurricanes Irma and Maria — and those places had those incomprehensible winds for the better part of a day, not just a few hours. (Our storm was moving at 50+ mph when it hit New England so it blew right through; those hurricanes took their damned sweet time as they obliterated those islands.) So while I was feeling humbled as I listened to the wind and felt the house shake, I knew I had it pretty damned easy. (And one other, somewhat related thought occurred to me also: the thought of being at sea in such winds — an uncommon though not rare event — was frightening. But that’s something I’ll have to worry about later.)

This photo was posted to Facebook on Monday. I wonder who that “lone loco surfer” could be? Hmm…

Of course, I did get to enjoy some benefits of the storm. The waves kicked up Sunday night were quite large on Monday — too large to venture into until Monday afternoon, and even then it was 100 percent ludicrous as the winds, now blowing westerly or offshore, were still steady in the high 30s, so the currents were crazy and getting into a wave was damned near impossible. But venture out I did, and I stayed for two whole waves before I pulled the chute. Tuesday saw much smaller but still fun longboard waves, which I enjoyed for a couple of chilly hours. The Atlantic is cooling down…

Just another autumn in New England.

Getting in Shape is Easy!

Luke H. Smith 2008 Fireweed 200 in Alaska

It doesn’t look like it but I was actually in shape in this photo taken during the 2008 Fireweed 200 in Alaska. I made it, finishing in 11 hours, 35 minutes. That was then, this is now…

It’s been a half-assed effort, but I am slowly getting my whole ass — and the rest of my bloated form — back into shape. The good news is that the workouts are easy. It’s getting to the workouts that’s hard.

Take today for instance…

I rode my bicycle off Plum Island and into Newburyport for the Tuesday evening group ride. I got there about 10 minutes ahead of the ride’s scheduled departure and grabbed a spot on the little wall outside the bike shop that hosts the ride. I removed my helmet, pulled off my gloves and reached into the pocket on the back of my shirt for my iPhone.

Only it wasn’t there. It was gone, along with my driver’s license (ID in case I get smooshed by a truck) and a $20 bill (for emergency rations). @#$#! The only thing I could think of was that it had jumped out of the pocket when I hit a bump. And since I didn’t want to lose a second phone in a matter of a couple of months, let alone my driver’s license, I hopped on my bike and started back to the island, keeping my eyes peeled on the far side of the road for a small, black rectangle.

As I rode, it occurred to me that the likelihood of me not noticing the phone jumping out of my pocket was pretty slim, and that’s when the hopeful thought that I might have left the phone at home crawled into my head. And after a 10-minute ride, there was my phone: right on the stairs by the driveway where I’d left it. Whew!

But hey! It’s only 6:01 and that group ride NEVER starts on time, right? Let’s go for it…maybe you can cut them off at the town green, about a mile or so into the ride. You can make it, right?

So I hopped back onto the bike and made my third trip in 30 minutes over the causeway linking the island and the mainland, this time really pouring the coals on (for me), hoping to link up with the group. I made it to the town green, pulled out my still-there iPhone and checked the time. 6:11. Hmm, not likely but maybe…

After waiting a few minutes, it was clear I’d missed the group. So I took off on a shorter solo ride. And truth be told: I probably got a better workout than I’d have gotten with the group. For starters, there was no one for me to draft. I had to do all the work. And as those of you who know me are aware, I’m too hardheaded NOT to pedal full-tilt — especially with no bike computer to tell me my speed — rather than be smart and pace myself for the long haul. I just go till I fade, cruise for a bit, then go some more. For an enchanting finish, I had a nice seabreeze for a headwind on the return trip home, when I was already pretty tired (oh, and it was snow-covered and uphill both ways, too).

In any case, the half-assed effort continues. When I got home, I installed the bike computer I’d bought a few weeks ago when I last did the group ride so now I can pace myself, right? At least on those days I get to the workout, that is.

Reality Check: Plum Island

I posted this on a Facebook page (it’s public; you don’t need a Facebook account to see the photos and videos) dedicated to life on my home island: Plum Island, Massachusetts. As some of you may know, Plum Island took a beating this winter, with a series of storms starting in October that eroded the beach dramatically, culminating with a nor’easter earlier this month that claimed six homes.

The political fallout continues with surviving homes being fortified with rocks, concrete blocks and other illegal hard barriers. The town of Newbury (where the damage took place) has been openly complicit with the illegal action and the state Department of Environmental Protection has basically wimped out of enforcing its own rules. The tragedy is that these fortifications, while well intentioned, will actually accelerate erosion on Plum Island and hasten the time when all the island’s residents — not just those who suffered so much this winter — will be chased back to the mainland.

Anyway, I posted the following note/column on the Facebook page, under the same title I’ve used for this blog post, on March 12:

It’s impossible for anyone with the slightest shred of human decency not to be moved by the destruction that took place on Plum Island recently. Seeing people lose their homes and their cherished possessions tears at everyone’s hearts, and realizing that so much that one holds dear can be at the mercy of forces larger than us is humbling to all who live in an uncertain world.

But in the rush to try to remedy the situation that has befallen Plum Island, people need to keep reason and perspective in place so as to not make things worse. And the first step in taking a reasoned approach to Plum Island is to remember a few facts.

Fact: All who live on Plum Island — from oceanfront to the high dunes along the spine of the island to those on the marsh — know that one day their property will be taken by the Atlantic Ocean. Anyone who thinks differently is either in denial or doesn’t know the basic mechanics of a barrier-beach island. Certainly no one expected current homes to be damaged anytime soon, but the fact remains that one day what currently constitutes “Plum Island” will be gone.

Barrier-beach islands are designed by Mother Nature to migrate in their role as protector of the mainland. And what humans refer to as “Plum Island” is really nothing more than the above-water segment of a much larger, dynamic sand structure that, in order to protect the mainland, extends well out to sea. The offshore sand bars that migrate with storm and season are in fact part of the overall structure that is the whole of Plum Island. And like those offshore (and underwater) segments, the above-sea-level segment migrates. To expect the above-sea-level segment to be static is to deny reality. Plum Island is really more of an ongoing process than a static entity, and anyone who would live for any amount of time on the island has to acknowledge that fact.

Fact: Houses on Plum Island have been falling into the sea since there have been houses on Plum Island. The first home to wind up on the beach in this storm did the exact same thing in 1976. No, not during the legendary Blizzard of ’78 but rather during a run-of-the-mill nor’easter two years prior to that famous storm. Storms in previous decades wiped out cottages, dance halls and other buildings, so the loss of property on Plum Island is nothing new. Current losses are unprecedented only in their volume.

Fact: All attempts to use rigid structure to protect human property are doomed to failure, and in all likelihood exacerbate the problem. There are countless photos on this Facebook page that document clearly the ineffectiveness of concrete blocks, huge boulders, coir bags and other human defenses against the ocean. Photos show perfectly intact defenses surrounded by greater erosion than might have occurred if the sand had been allowed to move freely. Indeed, it can also be argued that some of the structures and actions contributed to erosion by diverting and adding wave action to places that wouldn’t have sustained such activity otherwise, thus costing neighbors their property.

Some experts are adamant that the beach scraping done over the course of the fall and winter actually contributed to the erosion along Annapolis Way. “When the bulldozers had scraped the beach they had left a football-field-sized strip of depressed beach below the high tide mark,” wrote award-winning science author William Sargent in the Newburyport Current on Feb. 1. “This had simply channeled the 15-foot-high waves directly toward the houses, scouring out an additional 10 feet of former beach from beneath their foundations. The beach scraping had actually caused 10 vertical feet of erosion.”

Sargent was writing about the post-Christmas storm and his column makes clear the result of such intervention. “The fact that such damage had not happened anywhere else in Massachusetts was prima facia evidence that the scraping had actually caused the erosion. It had not been a natural disaster, but a manmade tragedy — a manmade tragedy long in the making.”

So now, in the post-storm rush to erect walls of rock and concrete, and to create manmade sand dunes with sand from below the tide line, people are likely dooming what little beach remains to further erosion. And with it, accelerating the erosion of their neighbors’ property on Plum Island.

Expect to hear calls for a sea wall or some other semi-permanent protection on Plum Island. To see what sea walls do to a beach, drive a few miles north to Hampton, N.H., where there is no beach except at low tide and where the stones that line the sea wall were tossed by the recent storm like so much confetti over the wall, onto Ocean Boulevard and into people’s yards. With every additional barrier, Plum Island’s beach erosion worsens, to the detriment of those still living there and those who would visit.

Fact: Blame is being tossed in several directions except where it belongs. Various scapegoats are being cited, especially the usual suspects: the state and federal governments. Depending upon who’s doing the talking, it’s either the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ fault for not maintaining the jetty at the mouth of the Merrimack River, or it’s the state Department of Environmental Protection’s fault with their onerous regulations regarding human activity on beaches. In reality, the real culprit is obvious and is the only one to whom there is no recourse: the Atlantic Ocean. Whether the jetties are maintained and whether or not humans can do whatever they want on the beach, the ocean and her storms are beyond the reach of all attempts to tame her.

And expect things to get worse. Politicians will argue whether global warming is caused by man or is part of the natural cycle, but no one will dispute the fact that the Earth’s climate is warming, and with that warming will come sea-level rise. As sea level rises, property on Plum Island gets ever more in range of ocean storms, even without an increase in intensity.

Fact: The March nor’easter was not an unusually fierce nor’easter. In fact, the December and February storms were more intense, with higher winds and higher waves. And the March storm occurred at a time of relatively moderate astronomical tides. So this storm that did all the damage was nothing special, nothing unusual. What made it so devastating was that it came on the heels of those earlier storms. Starting with hurricane Sandy in late October, each successive storm has further weakened the island’s natural defenses. The March storm simply took advantage of those weakened defenses to reach further into the dunes than its predecessors — all natural processes for which there is no answer. It is to be hoped that no further nor’easters strike at the currently weakened island, but keep in mind that there was an impressive nor’easter in early June 2012. This is New England; harsh weather can happen at any time.

Fact: The beach will replenish itself over time. The sand that was below and around the foundations of homes did not just disappear in the recent storms. It now sits elsewhere in the entirety of the construct that is Plum Island: it sits underwater, in the sand bar complex just offshore. That sand will wind up back on the beach over the course of the benign weather periods that are the norm at Plum Island. That’s how the island works: built up during the calm times, scoured away during the storms. There are before-and-after photos from previous storms showing just that process taking place — and relatively quickly, too. Impeding the flow of sand through attempts to protect property will lessen that natural process and further endanger the very property people hope to protect.

Fact: The damage at Plum Island extends well beyond those who have lost their homes. Houses a full quarter-mile from the ocean and never endangered will now see their insurance rates go up, in some cases dramatically, and some residents have said insurance companies have already indicated they will be canceling their policies. And if insurance cannot be secured for a property, there’s no way a potential buyer can secure a loan, making it almost impossible for anyone to sell their property, whether threatened or not. And that’s not even taking into account the fact that property values just took a huge hit as the desire to live on Plum Island wanes. Who wants to buy a home in a place that could get demolished in the next storm or two? What will that loss in property values do to the tax base in Newbury? Will people in Byfield see their services cut because the town’s revenue decreases? And what about future development on the island? Earlier this winter the town of Newbury gave final approval to the remodel and expansion of an existing home on Fordham Way that is wedged between two homes that were devastated by the recent storm and are now unable to be occupied. Will that construction project on the primary dune go forward so the town can earn some tax revenue in the short term? Or will the town decide that the short-term gain isn’t worth the money it will spend when that home is under siege in a future storm, and that keeping the dune intact is of more value to the rest of the island?

These impacts are minor compared to losing one’s home, to be sure, but they are very real financial impacts and, as such, are of profound importance to those still living on Plum Island.

It’s ironic that the damage occurred in Newbury, a town with relatively low tax rates for the area and a town that cannot even pay for its own basic services. Three times Newbury residents have voted down a tax override that would support things like schools and a normal operating budget. So Newbury residents won’t pay for their own services, services typically provided by a town, yet they want people in Worcester or Kansas to help foot the bill so they can live in a place where houses have already wound up in the ocean?

Homeowners whose property is threatened have said they don’t need state or federal money for help, they just want those state and federal governments to get out of the way. But who pays for the Corps of Engineers to do the work on the jetty those people insist will save everything? Who pays for the state police and Massachusetts Army National Guard to be present when the inevitable happens and a storm threatens? And if homeowners’ efforts to save their property cause the destruction of others’ property, who is responsible? That’s one of the reasons regulations exist regarding beach alteration: to prevent expansion of damage.

It’s understandable in these first few days after such devastation that people are doing anything they can think of to save what’s left. These are indeed desperate times and so desperate measures are called for. But in the headlong rush to save what’s left, people may actually be dooming what isn’t currently threatened. That’s why reason and a broader perspective are required rather than just knee-jerk reactions. It’s too late to save a lot of the damaged properties on Plum Island. It’s not too late to make sure we don’t accelerate the island’s demise.