Islands Under Siege

By: Jason M Fehrer

The isolation and solitude of living in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay on Smith and Tangier Islands always intrigued me.  Day dreaming about living on the water, living your life not by the time but by the tide.  The freedom you would have living here is incredible.  Dreaming about this independent and free lifestyle while kayaking and socializing with the island locals is deeply intriguing.

About 300 years ago settlers made this dream a reality.  They must have been a hardy group.  Completely isolated by miles of unforgivable water they made their living.  The community had and has the best watermen in the bay.  Watermen are the backbone of Smith Island.  On the island they had cow pastures, orchards, horses, hog pens and vegetable farms.  Today, the island’s features bear the names of such locations.  Satellite imagery shows the outline of pastures, old roads that connected various parts of the island, and ditches and ponds that provided fresh water to livestock.  Today, the topography of the island makes the ‘old way’ hard to fathom.

September 21st 2018

While I could write a short novel about this incredible experience, I will limit this blog to my observations and questions.   Some were answered, others not.

Smith and Tangier islands are very dynamic.  They could be the ‘canary in the coal mine’ of sea-level rise.  Close enough to Washington DC, they allow legislators an opportunity to witness how sea-level rise will impact society at large.  One of Upstream Alliance’s missions is to collaborate with people who live in such places.

My father, Joe Fehrer, and I ventured to Crisfield to meet some of Upstream Alliance’s leaders and friends.  We climbed aboard ‘Captain Jason II’, a ferry operated by Capt. Larry Laird, a Smith Island resident.  At Tylerton, one of smith island’s three communities, we unloaded our gear and prepared to kayak the island. We were greeted by several local people with big smiles and personalities.

We viewed the island from two-person kayaks. In some ways it was a heart-wrenching tour, as we passed abandoned boats, crab shanties, and stacks of pots. These were remnants of people’s lives. Why did they leave?  Why did their heirs not replace them when they grew to old? I was boiling with questions.  My poor father, patiently, answered as many as he could.

As we disembarked from the kayaks and toured the town of Ewell, I viewed several houses standing inches from the rising water.  The roads had tidal pools forming in them.  As we walked around the town, we had no choice but to walk in salt water.

In an art gallery and quilting studio, I spoke to several people.  They lived in Ewell for years.  The tidal water doesn’t bother them; they can recall times of high and low water throughout their lives.  One man said that when the water comes under his house, he turns on the fan and when the water recedes it dries the place out. He shrugged off the inconvenience.

The owner of the art studio, a talented quilter, had to time her trip home around the high tide, so she could negotiate the road in her golf cart.

Halfway around the island, we passed a sewage treatment plant and incinerator.  I had never thought about how the homes dealt with wastewater and trash. More questions came to mind.

Back in Tylerton, we put the kayaks on the grass next to the paved road, not more than two inches below its level.  The sun set across the marsh, accompanied by a cool breeze.  It was perfect, or so it seemed to me.

The group reconvened at the home of Mary Ada and Dwight Marshall, a Smith Island couple famous for crabbing and Smith Island cakes.  They spoke for about an hour.  It was a treat hearing their stories and memories.

They have seen the island change. Hearing stories about the lively community, where children played mostly unsupervised, was memorable.

But those days are gone. The island’s population has plummeted.  Once it had 800 residents; now it has fewer than 200. Tylerton has only about 40.  The island’s median age has crept up to about 58, while for Maryland as a whole it is 36. More and more it is an island of the old. But I understand why people like the Marshalls remain. It is home.

That evening, we enjoyed soft-shell crabs, crab imperial and several vegetable dishes—all made by Mary Ada.   For dessert, we were blessed with her famous homemade Smith Island cakes. Actually two—coconut and a fig chocolate. While breaking bread with friends and family, we discussed life on the island, past, present, and future.

Later in the evening we checked on the kayaks.  They were floating next to the street.  Don Baugh, Upstream Alliance’s president, coordinated the effort to lash them together so they don’t float away.

What will this island be like in another 15-20 years?

September 22nd 2018

‘Thrilled to wake up early’ is a thought that does not enter my mind often.  Seeing sunrise while touring Tylerton with my Dad, however, will be a lasting memory.

While walking around early Saturday morning we observed an unusual setting. The residents know the island is dying. The streets are quiet, the school is closed. And a dwindling number of the residents still work in the mainstay business, seafood.

The sun was rising as we walked down to the community dock.  We saw the iconic deadrise boats. Ducks quacked as we looked at old fishing gear strewn about.  It is hard to believe so much was left behind.

We talked about the logistics of living on an island.  Imagine a broken motor. Do you spend the time and money to cart it away?  And if you were to throw it away, you may need the parts some time to repair another motor.   So you leave it on the island—or so we reasoned.

As we made our way around town, I noticed salt water in people’s yards, under their homes, and encroaching on the street.  Some houses had wooden walkways to their front door.  One house had the walkway tied to the railing of the front steps so it wouldn’t float away.

Why would someone build here?  Was water an issue when they settled?

After breakfast, we departed for Tangier Island. It was a magical paddle.

Don Baugh provided a steady stream of knowledge about the area and its history.  We saw an earthen berm of a livestock pasture that hasn’t been used in centuries.   We observed how once freshwater ponds and ditches are now full of salt water.  Certainly, the colonizers didn’t expect that to happen. Currently, the ditch cannot be more than six inches above high tide.  Are sea level rise and land subsidence the culprits?   The locals will say erosion only.

We finished our 15-mile on Tangier Island.  We were treated to a question-and-answer session with Tangier waterman Lonnie Moore. Tangier Island is more resilient than Smith, and more resistant to the rising tide.  It will be interesting to see how it fares in the next 20 years.

When we returned to Tylerton, I noticed a family with two children grilling. All were wearing boots.  The grill was a few feet from their front door. They seemed used to high water, and ready for it.

What can we do for them?  Who should be saved?  What price are we willing to pay to save them? What do we do?

These are questions I can’t answer.