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The new face of flooding

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Monday, April 29, 2024

THEODORE, Ala.John Corideo drove the solitary two-lane highways of southern Alabama, eyeing the roadside ditches. It had been raining off and on for days and Corideo, chief of the Fowl River Fire District, knew that if it continued, his department could be outmatched by floodwaters.It kept raining. Water filled the ditches and climbed over roads, swallowing parts of a main highway. About 10 residents who needed to be rescued were brought back to the station in firetrucks. More remained stranded in floodwaters, out of the department’s reach. “That week … we just caught hell,” Corideo said.What the residents and rescuers of the Fowl River region faced on that day was part of a dangerous phenomenon reshaping the southern United States: Rapidly rising seas are combining with storms to generate epic floods, threatening lives, property and livelihoods.In the Fowl River’s case, unusually high tides slowed floodwaters as they went downstream to drain. This increased the water’s depth and flooded a wide expanse — even several miles upstream. The result was deluged roads, washed out cars and damaged houses from a flood that was larger, deeper and longer-lasting due to rising seas.These supercharged floods are one of the most pernicious impacts of an unexpected surge in sea levels across the U.S. Gulf and southeast coasts — with the ocean rising an average of 6 inches since 2010, one of the fastest such changes in the world, according to a Washington Post examination of how sea level rise is affecting the region.The Post’s analysis found that sea levels at a tide gauge near the Fowl River rose four times faster in 2010 to 2023 than over the previous four decades.Chart showing sea level rise at Dauphin Island, Alabama. The chart shows the rate of sea level rise from 1980 to 2009 which was 0.1 inches per year, and the rate from 2010 to 2023 which was 0.5 inches per year. The chart also compares these rates to the overall rates in the Gulf of Mexico, which in the former period were slower than and in the latter period were faster than the Gulf.The rapid burst of sea level rise has struck a region spanning from Brownsville, Tex., to Cape Hatteras, N.C., where coastal counties are home to 28 million people. Outdated infrastructure built to manage water, some of it over a century old, cannot keep up. As a result, the seas are swallowing coastal land, damaging property, submerging septic tanks and making key roads increasingly impassable.“Our canary in the coal mine for sea level rise is storm water flooding,” said Renee Collini, director of the Community Resilience Center at the Water Institute. “Each inch up of sea level rise reduces the effectiveness of our storm water to drain and the only place left for it to go is into our roads, yards, homes and businesses.”To explore sea level rise in the region, The Post analyzed trends at federal tide gauges and drew on satellite data to compare the Gulf of Mexico with the rest of the globe. The Post also worked with Bret Webb, a coastal engineer at the University of South Alabama, to closely study the 2023 flood in the Fowl River region. A sophisticated river simulation Webb produced showed how higher seas would have turbocharged the flood, making it worse — with deeper waters covering a larger area for a longer time — than if the same event had occurred in an era of lower seas.These analyses showed how much the ocean is rising and how it’s affecting flooding across this region, a preview of what other parts of the United States and the world that are affected by sea level rise will face in coming decades.Key findingsThe ocean off the U.S. Gulf and Southern Atlantic coasts has, since 2010, risen at about triple the rate experienced during the previous 30 years. In just the Gulf of Mexico, sea levels rose at twice the global rate over the past 14 years.There are now more dangerous rain-driven and flash floods reported within 10 miles of the coast in the region. Their numbers increased by 42 percent from 2007 to 2022 — a total of 2,800 events, according to a Post analysis of National Weather Service data.The Fowl River flood was caused by intense but not record-breaking thunderstorms that collided with high tides, according to Webb’s analysis. Working together, they caused the river to spill miles inland. The higher seas of today, compared with sea levels in 1967, would have increased the volume of the flood by nearly 10 percent of the river in its normal state, the analysis showed.Human-caused climate change is driving an acceleration of sea level rise globally, largely because of the faster melting of the globe’s giant sheets of ice. Scientists do not know for certain why this region is experiencing a surge in sea levels beyond the global average, but one theory is that naturally occurring ocean currents are moving ever-warmer ocean water deep into the Gulf. This warm water expands and causes seas to rise. This comes on top of sinking land, which has long exacerbated sea level rise in the region.“When I first moved here in 2007, the rule of thumb was a foot per century,” said Webb. “Well, looking back now in the last 20 years, we’ve gotten half of that in a fifth of the time.”Press Enter to skip to end of carouselThe Drowning SouthCarousel - $The Drowning South: use tab or arrows to navigateSeas are rising across the South faster than almost anywhere. The Post explores what that means on the ground.End of carouselThe Fowl River region is a quiet inland expanse of flat spaces and pine forests filled with large riverfront homes, more modest dwellings and a few mobile home parks. The wealthier inhabitants live along the wider stretches of the river and near the coast, and lower income residents generally populate rural areas upstream. The community is largely White, and the population swells in the summer, when people come to boat and fish in the river.The rainfall on June 19 was dramatic, but not necessarily record-breaking. And the tide at the end of the Fowl River barely qualified as a NOAA high tide flooding event. But it was the confluence of these factors, Webb said, that made the flood extreme — and highlights a phenomenon that is growing in frequency but has received little attention.Scientists in the United States have mostly focused on this type of collision of precipitation and tides — known as compound events — with hurricanes, not everyday rain events. But more local deluges are now attracting growing scientific attention. Webb’s analysis shows that the sea level acceleration since 2010 was substantial enough to have an impact in the Fowl River flood — a finding that breaks new ground as scientists grapple with rising oceans.A deeper, wider floodTo simulate the flow of the river, Webb used modeling software designed by the federal government. He then drew on three sources of regional data to show how sea level rise made the flood worse.Mapping the areaWebb mapped the river’s channel and the height of the surrounding land, and told the software how the river flows.Map showing elevation data in the area surrounding the Fowl River studied by Bret Webb, emphasizing the area that is below normal high tide.Measuring the river and oceanTo show the effect of rainfall on the river and the height of the ocean, Webb used two sources of data: a river gauge 10 miles upstream and a tide gauge where the river empties into Mobile Bay.Graphic showing river levels at the Fowl River at Half-Mile Road streamgage and sea levels at the tide gauge at East Fowl River Bridge.How deep the water got during the floodRiver levels swelled, filling the waterway as unusually high tides kept the excess rainfall from draining. As a result, the river leaped far beyond its banks.Map showing water depth from Bret Webb's flood modelIn some places, higher sea levels led to deeper floodsThe sea level — which includes both the rise of the ocean and sinking of land — was the analysis’ sole variable. “It’s the only thing that’s changing in the model from scenario to scenario,” Webb said.Map showing the change in depth between the 1967 and 2023 sea level scenarios in Bret Webb's model.The simulations found that last year’s flood would have more than doubled the total volume of water in the river, versus what it holds in normal high tide conditions.Webb ran the model with ocean heights characteristic of the past, including 1967, the first full year of data available, and higher levels projected in the future.He found that the 2023 flood was larger than the simulated 1967 version of the event due to higher sea levels, with most of the increase in floodwaters occurring between 2010 and 2023.Webb also found that last year’s flood would have lasted longer and flooded an additional 43 acres.The real-life flood was likely worse than what the model produced, Webb said, because the model would not have captured the full extent of rainfall or how a higher sea is pushing up the groundwater level, making flooding worse.The simulation does not fully reproduce the events of June 19. Experts who reviewed Webb’s analysis broadly agreed with its finding that today’s sea levels would have caused worse flooding. The main takeaway from the model, they said, was that it showed the impact of sea level rise across the entire flooded area, rather than in specific locations.Most of the individual stories in this story nonetheless took place in areas near the Fowl River where Webb’s model shows sea level rise impacted flooding. In some spots upstream, the model suggests its influence could emerge in the future.Awash in waterCorideo has worked in emergency response for nearly five decades. He was dispatched to Ground Zero on 9/11 while a firefighter in Mastic, N.Y. In 2005, he came to the Gulf Coast with FEMA as part of the emergency response to Hurricane Katrina, and stayed after meeting his wife.Today, Corideo responds to over 1,000 calls a year and operates his department on a $120,000 budget, which pays his salary, fuel and operating costs. He doesn’t have the money to repair the ceiling of the engine bay where the firetrucks park, from which streams of insulation dangle. Corideo’s department mostly scrapes by for house fires, health calls and brushfires — but an extreme flash flood is another matter.John Corideo, fire chief of the Fowl River Volunteer Fire Department, stands in the department's dilapidated engine bay. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)He remembers being “wet for most of the day” on June 19. When he thought his truck might get submerged he got out and waded. Floodwaters are often filled with hazards such as submerged wood and snakes. In this case, T.John Mayhall of Servpro of Mobile County, a cleaning and restoration company, said the waters were also “highly contaminated” due to runoff from agricultural land, chemicals and other substances.But Corideo had no protective equipment.“We’re a poor little fire department,” he said.Corideo had no boat, either, and needed to call in the Mobile Fire-Rescue Department, located about 20 miles to the north, to do the most harrowing work. The department has a team trained in water rescues and used a drone to locate stranded residents, said district chief J.P. Ballard, who led the response.“[The water] was rushing in certain places. It presents its own kind of challenges, you have got to have the right people and the right kind of gear to get into those places,” Ballard said.Two rescuers arrived at Debra Baber’s house by boat around 6 p.m. They navigated up to Baber’s porch while a drone buzzed overhead, steering the boat carefully between two vehicles with little more than their roofs visible.Debra Baber sits on the porch where she was rescued by boat during last year's flood. Baber owns property along the Fowl River that includes her home, a swimming hole and camping site. (Ricky Carioti/The Washington Post)The boat came “right up here to this ramp,” Baber said, gesturing outward from her deck. “I got on it … I said, man, I’m going to have me a drink, for 6 hours, I mean, I’ve been panicking.”The Mobile Fire-Rescue Department was not the only outside assistance Corideo had to call in — the nearby Theodore Dawes Fire Rescue department, Mobile County’s Road and Bridge division and others had to help conduct rescues and keep people off flooded roads.The Post talked to 15 people who experienced the deluge. They boated across fields, streets and front yards located miles inland, drove across flooded roads and rescued neighbors’ belongings that had floated downstream. Again and again, residents said that the storm was extreme, even in a rainy and flood-prone region.Kim Baxter Knight’s house sits nearly 12 feet off the ground on stilts, several hundred feet from the river. It was “unbelievable” how quickly the rains swelled the river and submerged both her cars, ruining them, she said.Knight, who lives with her ailing 77-year-old father and 10 cats, didn’t try to evacuate, but with how quickly the water moved, she didn’t think she could have.“It’s never flooded like that before,” she said. “We get flooded, but not like that.”While her insurance company covered her losses, Knight’s monthly payment more than doubled from $128 to $267.Mobile County spent about $150,000 responding to the flood, including putting up barricades and removing objects like toys and yard furniture from drainage systems, said Sharee Broussard, the county’s director of public affairs and community services. Road flooding was localized, she said, and the ground was heavily saturated from days of heavy rainfall.“The water rose quickly, and it receded quickly,” Broussard said.Mayhall’s company responded to at least a dozen homes after the waters receded. People had to treat or discard belongings or parts of their homes that got wet. The cost to remediate a damaged house started around $12,000, Mayhall said.“There’s no small, insignificant or mildly impactful situation for this, unless the water just barely made its entry,” he said. “If it actually came into the home, it’s going to create a significant impact.”Vanishing islandsWhen it rains hard enough or there’s a very high tide along the Fowl River, Sam St. John’s neighbor calls to let him know that his wharf has gone under. St. John drives down from his main residence in Mobile to lift his boats and secure his property.And over time, he said, it has become harder to find a dry road on his drive down.St. John drove by Baber’s house late in the afternoon of June 19, and saw a white pickup with water nearly up to the steering wheel. He later drove across a flooded Windsor Road.“All the routes were blocked,” said St. John, who founded a Mobile-area computer company in the 1980s and now sits on the board of Mobile Baykeeper, a local environmental group dedicated to preserving the region’s waterways. “Even places that I had never seen flood before.”St. John used to water ski on the river as a teenager in the 1970s and has owned a home in the region for decades. “You were just skiing around islands and spits and you never saw anybody, or any houses or anything,” he remembers. St. John later watched them lose plants, then soil.“I watched those islands disappear, year after year,” he said.Map showing detail of the Fowl River from a declassified spy satellite photo from 1976.Map showing aerial imagery of Fowl River from 2019. In comparison with the same view in 1976, two islands have disappeared and a long spit has shortened.The 1976 image is a declassified photograph taken from a spy satellite and obtained through the U.S. Geological Survey. The 2019 aerial image is from the National Agriculture Imagery Program.On the opposite bank of the river from St. John, Ted Henken watched the June 19 flood while standing knee-deep in water that submerged his dock.Henken’s family began vacationing along the Fowl River long before he and his wife Margaret retired here 11 years ago. Back then, there was an island a little offshore from the land they owned, which the family called Monkey Island. Trees and azaleas grew on it.“The kids used to, in order to be able to swim by themselves without their life jacket, they had to swim from there out to that island,” Henken said, gesturing from his boat as he motored downriver.Monkey Island has been swallowed by the river. Other submerged islands are marked by white poles, which warn boats not to drive over their remnants.Henken spent nearly 40 years working for Chevron and started a side hustle in retirement: He and two of his brothers raise neighbors’ lower “crabbing” docks — where people would once sit and lure crabs with just a net and a chicken bone. The higher tides have gotten so bad that water covers these docks so often that they become slimy and corroded. It takes the brothers two days’ work to lift each one.Henken also monitors the environment of the Fowl River by taking water samples at a calm tributary north of his home and is the host of “AL-MB-86,” the code for a rain gauge in his yard that reports daily data as part of a volunteer observers’ network.Henken’s station reported 10.94 inches of total precipitation on June 19 — high, but not extraordinary for rainy Mobile County. If the reading is correct, it amounts to about a one in 25 year storm event, according to Webb.A worsening problemWebb’s model suggests that events like the one in June will get worse as sea levels increase. By 2050, rising seas would produce a flood 17 percent larger by volume than what would have occurred in 1967; by 2100, that increase would be 44 percent.It also illustrates how places farther upstream, which were marginally affected by sea levels but still flooded last year due to rainfall, may feel the growing effects of the ocean in the coming decades. Heavy rains in many regions — including coastal Alabama — are also expected to get worse due to climate change, exacerbating the potential for extreme events.Broussard said Mobile County is “engaged in planning and implementation” to address the threat of sea level rise. The county “works within its purview to mitigate current issues and plan for the future,” she said. For instance, it funds the Mobile Bay National Estuary Program and helps implement its strategies — which take climate change into account. Last year the county approved a coastal restoration project that will help protect a vital road, the Dauphin Island Causeway, from flooding.At this point, Mobile County is not seeing more road maintenance because of flooding, or worsening storm water effects that it can quantify, Broussard said.Last year’s storm impacted much of Mobile County.David Rice, executive vice president of Master Boat Builders. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)Just outside of Mobile, waters swamped an on-ramp to Interstate 10 from the Mobile Causeway, lined with seafood restaurants. Along the coast at Bayou La Batre, two casino boats broke from their moorings and crashed into the dockside.Master Boat Builders, a family-run business, has been in the same Coden Bayou spot for more than 40 years. The storm shattered a wooden bulkhead, took out electrical equipment and caused part of the shipyard to go underwater, forcing the company to stop work for the day, said David Rice, the company’s executive vice president for corporate resources.Master Boat Builders is one of the area’s largest employers and just manufactured the first electric tugboat in the United States, powered by at least 1,100 batteries. The ship, the eWolf, was delivered to the Port of San Diego earlier this year and has just begun operations.Rice said part of the shipyard now floods during major high tides, something that never used to happen. When it does, the company moves workers out of that location and onto a different project until the seas relent. From his home on Dauphin Island, Rice said he’s seen the arrival of much higher tides.“I really don’t think people think about it,” Rice said. “They see it on TV and I think it’s some kind of liberal hoax. But it’s not. If you live on the water, you’re on the water, you can see that it’s actually justified.”Shipbuilders construct tug boats at the mouth of Coden Bayou in Bayou La Batre, Ala. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)About this storyBrady Dennis contributed to this report.Design and development by Emily Wright.Photo editing by Sandra M. Stevenson and Amanda Voisard. Video editing by John Farrell. Design editing by Joseph Moore.Editing by Katie Zezima, Monica Ulmanu and Anu Narayanswamy. Additional editing by Juliet Eilperin. Project editing by KC Schaper. Copy editing by Gaby Morera Di Núbila.Additional support from Jordan Melendrez, Erica Snow, Kathleen Floyd, Victoria Rossi and Ana Carano.MethodologyThe Washington Post used monthly tide gauge data from 127 gauges from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for relative mean sea levels in the United States. This is adjusted for seasonal signals for ocean temperature, currents and other marine and atmospheric variables.For its analysis The Post relied on dozens of tide gauges along the coasts of the United States, measurements which are affected both by the rising ocean and slow but persistent movement of land. It also took into account satellite data for global sea level rise, which measures ocean heights independent of land movement.Annual means for two time periods — 1980 to 2009 and 2010 through 2023 — were calculated. Only gauges which had at least eight months of data for a given year and 70 percent of the years were used. Three gauges used in this analysis are not currently in service but had sufficient data for the 1980 to 2023 time period to include in the analysis.A linear regression model was applied to the annual means for each gauge to determine the trends for each time period and calculate an annual rate of relative mean sea level rise. Because readings from tide gauges are also influenced by the rising or sinking of land, these findings are referred to as changes in relative mean sea level.To analyze changes in sea level around the globe, The Post used data based on satellite altimetry readings produced by NOAA. Annual means were calculated for 1993 through 2023 for the global data and for each ocean. The Post applied a linear regression model estimating the annual rates of change in mean sea level for each ocean and the global average. The data from the satellite altimeters are measures of ocean height independent of any land movement, or absolute means.Scientists, including Jianjun Yin and Sönke Dangendorf, have studied regional trends in sea level rise. The Post’s analysis builds on this body of work and compares trends for the 2010-2023 and 1980-2009 time periods to drive home the rate of acceleration in recent years. The Post also presents the trends for each tide gauge included.Flood eventsTo examine trends in reported flood events along the Gulf and Southeast Atlantic Coasts of the United States, The Post relied on the Storm Events Database compiled by the National Weather Service and maintained by the National Centers for Environmental Information. After consulting with data experts from the NWS and NCEI, The Post used the events data from 2007 to 2022 since reporting and data maintenance practices had been standardized by late 2006.The Post examined and geolocated all events classified as “flood” or “flash flood” for eight states: Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, South Carolina and North Carolina, removing events related to hurricanes and tropical storms. A shoreline shapefile from NOAA was used to calculate the distance to the coast for each event, focusing on events within 10 miles of the coast for the analysis.The simulation of the Fowl River floodFor the simulation of the Fowl River flood, The Post worked with an outside expert, Bret Webb. He assembled key data elements around elevation and tide levels from the two closest federal tide gauges.Webb fed the elevation data to the Sedimentation and River Hydraulics — Two-Dimensional model (SRH-2D model), a hydraulic model developed at the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation. Webb used the Surface-water Modeling System (SMS) software to deploy the model.Reporters from the Post also provided Webb with locations and details about how high the water was, which was used to tune the model.Webb developed six scenarios to test the impacts of different sea levels on the flood. The first is the baseline flood, using the data from June 18-21. Then, Webb changed the mean sea level variable at the mouth of the river to simulate the extent of the flood based on lower ocean levels from 1967, 1990 and 2010. Webb also projected sea levels forward to 2050 and 2100. For each scenario, the model produced time and spatially varying velocity (speed and direction), water depth and water surface elevation for the duration of the simulation.The Post showed Webb’s work to sea level rise experts who backed the analysis and findings. Reviewers included:Christopher Piecuch, a sea level scientist at Woods Hole Oceanographic InstitutionThomas Wahl, an expert on compound events at the University of Central FloridaRenee Collini, director of the Community Resilience Center at the Water Institute.The reviewers generally described Webb’s analysis as a thorough look at a single event, and said that it captured the likely role of sea level rise in making that event worse. They cautioned that while the research shows the broad impact of sea level rise on rain driven flooding in the Fowl River event, it is less reliable for inferring the exact flooding risk, or exact role of sea level rise, in a specific location.Click here for a detailed explanation of Webb’s work.

Alabama and the U.S. Gulf Coast region have seen a sudden burst of sea level rise, spurring flooding in low areas exacerbated by rainfall and high tides.

THEODORE, Ala.

John Corideo drove the solitary two-lane highways of southern Alabama, eyeing the roadside ditches. It had been raining off and on for days and Corideo, chief of the Fowl River Fire District, knew that if it continued, his department could be outmatched by floodwaters.

It kept raining. Water filled the ditches and climbed over roads, swallowing parts of a main highway. About 10 residents who needed to be rescued were brought back to the station in firetrucks. More remained stranded in floodwaters, out of the department’s reach. “That week … we just caught hell,” Corideo said.

What the residents and rescuers of the Fowl River region faced on that day was part of a dangerous phenomenon reshaping the southern United States: Rapidly rising seas are combining with storms to generate epic floods, threatening lives, property and livelihoods.

In the Fowl River’s case, unusually high tides slowed floodwaters as they went downstream to drain. This increased the water’s depth and flooded a wide expanse — even several miles upstream. The result was deluged roads, washed out cars and damaged houses from a flood that was larger, deeper and longer-lasting due to rising seas.

These supercharged floods are one of the most pernicious impacts of an unexpected surge in sea levels across the U.S. Gulf and southeast coasts — with the ocean rising an average of 6 inches since 2010, one of the fastest such changes in the world, according to a Washington Post examination of how sea level rise is affecting the region.

The Post’s analysis found that sea levels at a tide gauge near the Fowl River rose four times faster in 2010 to 2023 than over the previous four decades.

Chart showing sea level rise at Dauphin Island, Alabama. The chart shows the rate of sea level rise from 1980 to 2009 which was 0.1 inches per year, and the rate from 2010 to 2023 which was 0.5 inches per year. The chart also compares these rates to the overall rates in the Gulf of Mexico, which in the former period were slower than and in the latter period were faster than the Gulf.

The rapid burst of sea level rise has struck a region spanning from Brownsville, Tex., to Cape Hatteras, N.C., where coastal counties are home to 28 million people. Outdated infrastructure built to manage water, some of it over a century old, cannot keep up. As a result, the seas are swallowing coastal land, damaging property, submerging septic tanks and making key roads increasingly impassable.

“Our canary in the coal mine for sea level rise is storm water flooding,” said Renee Collini, director of the Community Resilience Center at the Water Institute. “Each inch up of sea level rise reduces the effectiveness of our storm water to drain and the only place left for it to go is into our roads, yards, homes and businesses.”

To explore sea level rise in the region, The Post analyzed trends at federal tide gauges and drew on satellite data to compare the Gulf of Mexico with the rest of the globe. The Post also worked with Bret Webb, a coastal engineer at the University of South Alabama, to closely study the 2023 flood in the Fowl River region. A sophisticated river simulation Webb produced showed how higher seas would have turbocharged the flood, making it worse — with deeper waters covering a larger area for a longer time — than if the same event had occurred in an era of lower seas.

These analyses showed how much the ocean is rising and how it’s affecting flooding across this region, a preview of what other parts of the United States and the world that are affected by sea level rise will face in coming decades.

Key findings
  • The ocean off the U.S. Gulf and Southern Atlantic coasts has, since 2010, risen at about triple the rate experienced during the previous 30 years. In just the Gulf of Mexico, sea levels rose at twice the global rate over the past 14 years.
  • There are now more dangerous rain-driven and flash floods reported within 10 miles of the coast in the region. Their numbers increased by 42 percent from 2007 to 2022 — a total of 2,800 events, according to a Post analysis of National Weather Service data.
  • The Fowl River flood was caused by intense but not record-breaking thunderstorms that collided with high tides, according to Webb’s analysis. Working together, they caused the river to spill miles inland. The higher seas of today, compared with sea levels in 1967, would have increased the volume of the flood by nearly 10 percent of the river in its normal state, the analysis showed.

Human-caused climate change is driving an acceleration of sea level rise globally, largely because of the faster melting of the globe’s giant sheets of ice. Scientists do not know for certain why this region is experiencing a surge in sea levels beyond the global average, but one theory is that naturally occurring ocean currents are moving ever-warmer ocean water deep into the Gulf. This warm water expands and causes seas to rise. This comes on top of sinking land, which has long exacerbated sea level rise in the region.

“When I first moved here in 2007, the rule of thumb was a foot per century,” said Webb. “Well, looking back now in the last 20 years, we’ve gotten half of that in a fifth of the time.”

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The Drowning South

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Seas are rising across the South faster than almost anywhere. The Post explores what that means on the ground.

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The Fowl River region is a quiet inland expanse of flat spaces and pine forests filled with large riverfront homes, more modest dwellings and a few mobile home parks. The wealthier inhabitants live along the wider stretches of the river and near the coast, and lower income residents generally populate rural areas upstream. The community is largely White, and the population swells in the summer, when people come to boat and fish in the river.

The rainfall on June 19 was dramatic, but not necessarily record-breaking. And the tide at the end of the Fowl River barely qualified as a NOAA high tide flooding event. But it was the confluence of these factors, Webb said, that made the flood extreme — and highlights a phenomenon that is growing in frequency but has received little attention.

Scientists in the United States have mostly focused on this type of collision of precipitation and tides — known as compound events — with hurricanes, not everyday rain events. But more local deluges are now attracting growing scientific attention. Webb’s analysis shows that the sea level acceleration since 2010 was substantial enough to have an impact in the Fowl River flood — a finding that breaks new ground as scientists grapple with rising oceans.

A deeper, wider flood

To simulate the flow of the river, Webb used modeling software designed by the federal government. He then drew on three sources of regional data to show how sea level rise made the flood worse.

Mapping the area

Webb mapped the river’s channel and the height of the surrounding land, and told the software how the river flows.

Map showing elevation data in the area surrounding the Fowl River studied by Bret Webb, emphasizing the area that is below normal high tide.

Measuring the river and ocean

To show the effect of rainfall on the river and the height of the ocean, Webb used two sources of data: a river gauge 10 miles upstream and a tide gauge where the river empties into Mobile Bay.

Graphic showing river levels at the Fowl River at Half-Mile Road streamgage and sea levels at the tide gauge at East Fowl River Bridge.

How deep the water got during the flood

River levels swelled, filling the waterway as unusually high tides kept the excess rainfall from draining. As a result, the river leaped far beyond its banks.

Map showing water depth from Bret Webb's flood model

In some places, higher sea levels led to deeper floods

The sea level — which includes both the rise of the ocean and sinking of landwas the analysis’ sole variable. “It’s the only thing that’s changing in the model from scenario to scenario,” Webb said.

Map showing the change in depth between the 1967 and 2023 sea level scenarios in Bret Webb's model.

The simulations found that last year’s flood would have more than doubled the total volume of water in the river, versus what it holds in normal high tide conditions.

Webb ran the model with ocean heights characteristic of the past, including 1967, the first full year of data available, and higher levels projected in the future.

He found that the 2023 flood was larger than the simulated 1967 version of the event due to higher sea levels, with most of the increase in floodwaters occurring between 2010 and 2023.

Webb also found that last year’s flood would have lasted longer and flooded an additional 43 acres.

The real-life flood was likely worse than what the model produced, Webb said, because the model would not have captured the full extent of rainfall or how a higher sea is pushing up the groundwater level, making flooding worse.

The simulation does not fully reproduce the events of June 19. Experts who reviewed Webb’s analysis broadly agreed with its finding that today’s sea levels would have caused worse flooding. The main takeaway from the model, they said, was that it showed the impact of sea level rise across the entire flooded area, rather than in specific locations.

Most of the individual stories in this story nonetheless took place in areas near the Fowl River where Webb’s model shows sea level rise impacted flooding. In some spots upstream, the model suggests its influence could emerge in the future.

Awash in water

Corideo has worked in emergency response for nearly five decades. He was dispatched to Ground Zero on 9/11 while a firefighter in Mastic, N.Y. In 2005, he came to the Gulf Coast with FEMA as part of the emergency response to Hurricane Katrina, and stayed after meeting his wife.

Today, Corideo responds to over 1,000 calls a year and operates his department on a $120,000 budget, which pays his salary, fuel and operating costs. He doesn’t have the money to repair the ceiling of the engine bay where the firetrucks park, from which streams of insulation dangle. Corideo’s department mostly scrapes by for house fires, health calls and brushfires — but an extreme flash flood is another matter.

John Corideo, fire chief of the Fowl River Volunteer Fire Department, stands in the department's dilapidated engine bay. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)

He remembers being “wet for most of the day” on June 19. When he thought his truck might get submerged he got out and waded. Floodwaters are often filled with hazards such as submerged wood and snakes. In this case, T.John Mayhall of Servpro of Mobile County, a cleaning and restoration company, said the waters were also “highly contaminated” due to runoff from agricultural land, chemicals and other substances.

But Corideo had no protective equipment.

“We’re a poor little fire department,” he said.

Corideo had no boat, either, and needed to call in the Mobile Fire-Rescue Department, located about 20 miles to the north, to do the most harrowing work. The department has a team trained in water rescues and used a drone to locate stranded residents, said district chief J.P. Ballard, who led the response.

“[The water] was rushing in certain places. It presents its own kind of challenges, you have got to have the right people and the right kind of gear to get into those places,” Ballard said.

Two rescuers arrived at Debra Baber’s house by boat around 6 p.m. They navigated up to Baber’s porch while a drone buzzed overhead, steering the boat carefully between two vehicles with little more than their roofs visible.

Debra Baber sits on the porch where she was rescued by boat during last year's flood. Baber owns property along the Fowl River that includes her home, a swimming hole and camping site. (Ricky Carioti/The Washington Post)

The boat came “right up here to this ramp,” Baber said, gesturing outward from her deck. “I got on it … I said, man, I’m going to have me a drink, for 6 hours, I mean, I’ve been panicking.”

The Mobile Fire-Rescue Department was not the only outside assistance Corideo had to call in — the nearby Theodore Dawes Fire Rescue department, Mobile County’s Road and Bridge division and others had to help conduct rescues and keep people off flooded roads.

The Post talked to 15 people who experienced the deluge. They boated across fields, streets and front yards located miles inland, drove across flooded roads and rescued neighbors’ belongings that had floated downstream. Again and again, residents said that the storm was extreme, even in a rainy and flood-prone region.

Kim Baxter Knight’s house sits nearly 12 feet off the ground on stilts, several hundred feet from the river. It was “unbelievable” how quickly the rains swelled the river and submerged both her cars, ruining them, she said.

Knight, who lives with her ailing 77-year-old father and 10 cats, didn’t try to evacuate, but with how quickly the water moved, she didn’t think she could have.

“It’s never flooded like that before,” she said. “We get flooded, but not like that.”

While her insurance company covered her losses, Knight’s monthly payment more than doubled from $128 to $267.

Mobile County spent about $150,000 responding to the flood, including putting up barricades and removing objects like toys and yard furniture from drainage systems, said Sharee Broussard, the county’s director of public affairs and community services. Road flooding was localized, she said, and the ground was heavily saturated from days of heavy rainfall.

“The water rose quickly, and it receded quickly,” Broussard said.

Mayhall’s company responded to at least a dozen homes after the waters receded. People had to treat or discard belongings or parts of their homes that got wet. The cost to remediate a damaged house started around $12,000, Mayhall said.

“There’s no small, insignificant or mildly impactful situation for this, unless the water just barely made its entry,” he said. “If it actually came into the home, it’s going to create a significant impact.”

Vanishing islands

When it rains hard enough or there’s a very high tide along the Fowl River, Sam St. John’s neighbor calls to let him know that his wharf has gone under. St. John drives down from his main residence in Mobile to lift his boats and secure his property.

And over time, he said, it has become harder to find a dry road on his drive down.

St. John drove by Baber’s house late in the afternoon of June 19, and saw a white pickup with water nearly up to the steering wheel. He later drove across a flooded Windsor Road.

“All the routes were blocked,” said St. John, who founded a Mobile-area computer company in the 1980s and now sits on the board of Mobile Baykeeper, a local environmental group dedicated to preserving the region’s waterways. “Even places that I had never seen flood before.”

St. John used to water ski on the river as a teenager in the 1970s and has owned a home in the region for decades. “You were just skiing around islands and spits and you never saw anybody, or any houses or anything,” he remembers. St. John later watched them lose plants, then soil.

“I watched those islands disappear, year after year,” he said.

Map showing detail of the Fowl River from a declassified spy satellite photo from 1976.

Map showing aerial imagery of Fowl River from 2019. In comparison with the same view in 1976, two islands have disappeared and a long spit has shortened.

The 1976 image is a declassified photograph taken from a spy satellite and obtained through the U.S. Geological Survey. The 2019 aerial image is from the National Agriculture Imagery Program.

On the opposite bank of the river from St. John, Ted Henken watched the June 19 flood while standing knee-deep in water that submerged his dock.

Henken’s family began vacationing along the Fowl River long before he and his wife Margaret retired here 11 years ago. Back then, there was an island a little offshore from the land they owned, which the family called Monkey Island. Trees and azaleas grew on it.

“The kids used to, in order to be able to swim by themselves without their life jacket, they had to swim from there out to that island,” Henken said, gesturing from his boat as he motored downriver.

Monkey Island has been swallowed by the river. Other submerged islands are marked by white poles, which warn boats not to drive over their remnants.

Henken spent nearly 40 years working for Chevron and started a side hustle in retirement: He and two of his brothers raise neighbors’ lower “crabbing” docks — where people would once sit and lure crabs with just a net and a chicken bone. The higher tides have gotten so bad that water covers these docks so often that they become slimy and corroded. It takes the brothers two days’ work to lift each one.

Henken also monitors the environment of the Fowl River by taking water samples at a calm tributary north of his home and is the host of “AL-MB-86,” the code for a rain gauge in his yard that reports daily data as part of a volunteer observers’ network.

Henken’s station reported 10.94 inches of total precipitation on June 19 — high, but not extraordinary for rainy Mobile County. If the reading is correct, it amounts to about a one in 25 year storm event, according to Webb.

A worsening problem

Webb’s model suggests that events like the one in June will get worse as sea levels increase. By 2050, rising seas would produce a flood 17 percent larger by volume than what would have occurred in 1967; by 2100, that increase would be 44 percent.

It also illustrates how places farther upstream, which were marginally affected by sea levels but still flooded last year due to rainfall, may feel the growing effects of the ocean in the coming decades. Heavy rains in many regions — including coastal Alabama — are also expected to get worse due to climate change, exacerbating the potential for extreme events.

Broussard said Mobile County is “engaged in planning and implementation” to address the threat of sea level rise. The county “works within its purview to mitigate current issues and plan for the future,” she said. For instance, it funds the Mobile Bay National Estuary Program and helps implement its strategies — which take climate change into account. Last year the county approved a coastal restoration project that will help protect a vital road, the Dauphin Island Causeway, from flooding.

At this point, Mobile County is not seeing more road maintenance because of flooding, or worsening storm water effects that it can quantify, Broussard said.

Last year’s storm impacted much of Mobile County.

David Rice, executive vice president of Master Boat Builders. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)

Just outside of Mobile, waters swamped an on-ramp to Interstate 10 from the Mobile Causeway, lined with seafood restaurants. Along the coast at Bayou La Batre, two casino boats broke from their moorings and crashed into the dockside.

Master Boat Builders, a family-run business, has been in the same Coden Bayou spot for more than 40 years. The storm shattered a wooden bulkhead, took out electrical equipment and caused part of the shipyard to go underwater, forcing the company to stop work for the day, said David Rice, the company’s executive vice president for corporate resources.

Master Boat Builders is one of the area’s largest employers and just manufactured the first electric tugboat in the United States, powered by at least 1,100 batteries. The ship, the eWolf, was delivered to the Port of San Diego earlier this year and has just begun operations.

Rice said part of the shipyard now floods during major high tides, something that never used to happen. When it does, the company moves workers out of that location and onto a different project until the seas relent. From his home on Dauphin Island, Rice said he’s seen the arrival of much higher tides.

“I really don’t think people think about it,” Rice said. “They see it on TV and I think it’s some kind of liberal hoax. But it’s not. If you live on the water, you’re on the water, you can see that it’s actually justified.”

Shipbuilders construct tug boats at the mouth of Coden Bayou in Bayou La Batre, Ala. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)
About this story

Brady Dennis contributed to this report.

Design and development by Emily Wright.

Photo editing by Sandra M. Stevenson and Amanda Voisard. Video editing by John Farrell. Design editing by Joseph Moore.

Editing by Katie Zezima, Monica Ulmanu and Anu Narayanswamy. Additional editing by Juliet Eilperin. Project editing by KC Schaper. Copy editing by Gaby Morera Di Núbila.

Additional support from Jordan Melendrez, Erica Snow, Kathleen Floyd, Victoria Rossi and Ana Carano.

Methodology

The Washington Post used monthly tide gauge data from 127 gauges from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for relative mean sea levels in the United States. This is adjusted for seasonal signals for ocean temperature, currents and other marine and atmospheric variables.

For its analysis The Post relied on dozens of tide gauges along the coasts of the United States, measurements which are affected both by the rising ocean and slow but persistent movement of land. It also took into account satellite data for global sea level rise, which measures ocean heights independent of land movement.

Annual means for two time periods — 1980 to 2009 and 2010 through 2023 — were calculated. Only gauges which had at least eight months of data for a given year and 70 percent of the years were used. Three gauges used in this analysis are not currently in service but had sufficient data for the 1980 to 2023 time period to include in the analysis.

A linear regression model was applied to the annual means for each gauge to determine the trends for each time period and calculate an annual rate of relative mean sea level rise. Because readings from tide gauges are also influenced by the rising or sinking of land, these findings are referred to as changes in relative mean sea level.

To analyze changes in sea level around the globe, The Post used data based on satellite altimetry readings produced by NOAA. Annual means were calculated for 1993 through 2023 for the global data and for each ocean. The Post applied a linear regression model estimating the annual rates of change in mean sea level for each ocean and the global average. The data from the satellite altimeters are measures of ocean height independent of any land movement, or absolute means.

Scientists, including Jianjun Yin and Sönke Dangendorf, have studied regional trends in sea level rise. The Post’s analysis builds on this body of work and compares trends for the 2010-2023 and 1980-2009 time periods to drive home the rate of acceleration in recent years. The Post also presents the trends for each tide gauge included.

Flood events

To examine trends in reported flood events along the Gulf and Southeast Atlantic Coasts of the United States, The Post relied on the Storm Events Database compiled by the National Weather Service and maintained by the National Centers for Environmental Information. After consulting with data experts from the NWS and NCEI, The Post used the events data from 2007 to 2022 since reporting and data maintenance practices had been standardized by late 2006.

The Post examined and geolocated all events classified as “flood” or “flash flood” for eight states: Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, South Carolina and North Carolina, removing events related to hurricanes and tropical storms. A shoreline shapefile from NOAA was used to calculate the distance to the coast for each event, focusing on events within 10 miles of the coast for the analysis.

The simulation of the Fowl River flood

For the simulation of the Fowl River flood, The Post worked with an outside expert, Bret Webb. He assembled key data elements around elevation and tide levels from the two closest federal tide gauges.

Webb fed the elevation data to the Sedimentation and River Hydraulics — Two-Dimensional model (SRH-2D model), a hydraulic model developed at the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation. Webb used the Surface-water Modeling System (SMS) software to deploy the model.

Reporters from the Post also provided Webb with locations and details about how high the water was, which was used to tune the model.

Webb developed six scenarios to test the impacts of different sea levels on the flood. The first is the baseline flood, using the data from June 18-21. Then, Webb changed the mean sea level variable at the mouth of the river to simulate the extent of the flood based on lower ocean levels from 1967, 1990 and 2010. Webb also projected sea levels forward to 2050 and 2100. For each scenario, the model produced time and spatially varying velocity (speed and direction), water depth and water surface elevation for the duration of the simulation.

The Post showed Webb’s work to sea level rise experts who backed the analysis and findings. Reviewers included:

  • Christopher Piecuch, a sea level scientist at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution
  • Thomas Wahl, an expert on compound events at the University of Central Florida
  • Renee Collini, director of the Community Resilience Center at the Water Institute.

The reviewers generally described Webb’s analysis as a thorough look at a single event, and said that it captured the likely role of sea level rise in making that event worse. They cautioned that while the research shows the broad impact of sea level rise on rain driven flooding in the Fowl River event, it is less reliable for inferring the exact flooding risk, or exact role of sea level rise, in a specific location.

Click here for a detailed explanation of Webb’s work.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Chesapeake Bay’s oysters make a steady comeback

The Maryland mollusks have survived decades of overharvesting, disease and drought.

For the fifth year in a row, the oyster population in the Chesapeake Bay is doing well after decades of combating drought, disease, loss of habitat and overharvesting.The Maryland Department of Natural Resources said in March that its annual fall oyster survey showed that the “spatfall intensity index” — a measure of how well oysters reproduced and their potential population growth — again hit above a 40-year median.“We seem to be making some headway,” said Lynn Waller Fegley, director of fishing and boating services for the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. “With the work we’ve done to help restore oysters, and combined with the fact that we’ve been gifted with some really favorable environmental conditions, we’ve seen the oyster population trend upward.”Oyster-processing companies, oystermen, conservation groups and local fish and wildlife departments in the region have spent years trying to boost the population of oysters, which serve an important role as “filter feeders,” sifting sediment and pollutants such as nitrogen out of the water.The cleaner water in turn spurs underwater grasses to grow, while oyster reefs create habitats for fish, crabs and dozens of other species. Adult oysters can filter up to two gallons of water per hour, making them the bay’s “most effective water filtration system,” according to experts at the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, a nonprofit organization that advocates for the health of the bay.Oysters thrive in brackish water — a mix of saltwater and freshwater. They attach and grow on hard surfaces such as rocks, piers or old shells. Too much rain lowers the salinity, while drought makes water too salty. Both situations can create conditions in which oysters can become vulnerable to disease or unable to reproduce as well.Before the 1880s, the oyster population was so healthy it could filter in a week a volume of water equal to that of the entire bay — about 19 trillion gallons — according to the bay foundation. But now it would take the vastly smaller oyster population more than a year to do the same amount.This fall, biologists in Maryland collected more than 300 oyster samples from the bay and tributaries, including the Potomac River, for their annual survey. The results were promising, experts said, given that 2023 was an unusual year for oysters because drought conditions raised the salinity in the bay.There are several other encouraging signs, experts said. The mortality rate of oysters has stabilized, their “biomass index,” which shows how oyster populations are doing over time, has been increasing for the past 14 years, and an analysis of their habitat showed continued improvements.“They’ve been hit by a pretty severe drought, then got pretty decimated by disease,” Fegley said. “They’ve been cycling back, and we’re now in a state of grace.”Another sign oysters are doing better is their “spat sets” — the process of the tiny larvae (spat) attaching to a hard surface so they can grow into mature oysters. A high number of spat equals successful reproduction. A low number means there are fewer young oysters that will grow into adults.Fegley said last year, the bay’s oysters had “epic, generational spat sets.”“Not only were there a lot of young oysters, which is a good sign of health, but they were distributed through the bay in a way that we had not seen in many years where they were farther up tributaries,” Fegley said. “We’ve had years where the conditions in the bay were just right — with a good balance of salinity levels, no disease and good reproduction.”The success of oysters is also due in part to Maryland and Virginia working over the past few years to build more oyster reefs along the bottom of the bay so oysters could grow successfully, according to Allison Colden, executive director of Maryland for the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. In recent years, she said, more than 1,300 acres of oyster reefs have been replenished in both states.In the past decade, Virginia has also tried to boost its oyster population with aquaculture farms that raise oysters in cages and return their spat to natural waters. The commonwealth increased its number of oyster farms to more than 130 in 2018, up from 60 in 2013, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.Last season, Virginia harvested 700,000 bushels of oysters, one of the highest annual harvests since the late 1980s, according to Adam Kenyon, chief of the shellfish management division at the Virginia Marine Resources Commission.Those efforts, plus Mother Nature, have helped create the delicate combination oysters need to survive.“In the last five years, we’ve seen a rebound,” Colden said. “Reproduction has been higher than the long-term average, and we’re seeing more consistency in how they’re doing year-to-year, and that’s a positive sign.”For Jeff Harrison, a fifth-generation waterman who serves as president of the Talbot County Watermen Association, the changes have been like a roller coaster over the 47 years he has made a living off the bay. He’s seen diseases hit, oyster-harvesting seasons shortened, prices fluctuate and many other watermen leave the business because they couldn’t turn a profit.“I’ve seen some of the worst seasons in oystering,” he said. “We’d always have ups and downs. Now we’re seeing a steady up, and we’re hoping we have turned the corner.”

These communities are unaware they’ve lived near toxic gas for decades. Why has no action been taken?

Five facilities near schools and houses in LA County fumigate produce shipped from overseas with methyl bromide. But the air agency doesn’t plan to monitor the air or take any immediate steps to protect people from the gas, which can damage lungs and cause neurological effects.

In summary Five facilities near schools and houses in LA County fumigate produce shipped from overseas with methyl bromide. But the air agency doesn’t plan to monitor the air or take any immediate steps to protect people from the gas, which can damage lungs and cause neurological effects. In a quiet Compton neighborhood near the 710 freeway, children on a recent afternoon chased each other at Kelly Park after school. Parents watched their kids play, unaware of a potential threat to their health.  On the other side of the freeway, just blocks from the park and Kelly Elementary School, a fumigation company uses a highly toxic pesticide to spray fruits and vegetables.  The facility, Global Pest Management, has been emitting methyl bromide, which can cause lung damage and neurological health effects, into the air near the neighborhood for several decades.  Earlier this year, the South Coast Air Quality Management District asked the company — along with four other fumigation facilities in San Pedro and Long Beach — to provide data on their methyl bromide usage. But the air quality agency does not plan to install monitors in the communities that would tell residents exactly what is in their air, or hold community meetings to notify them of potential risks. Instead, the South Coast district has launched a preliminary screening of the five facilities to determine if a full assessment of health risks in the neighborhoods is necessary. But even if that analysis is conducted, the agency won’t require the companies to reduce emissions unless they reach concentrations three times higher than the amounts deemed a health risk under state guidelines, said Scott Epstein, the district’s planning and rules manager. Piedad Delgado, a mother picking up her daughter from the Compton school, said she “didn’t even know” that the hazardous chemical was being used nearby. When a CalMatters reporter told her about the fumigation plant, Delgado wondered if it was causing her daughter’s recent, mysterious bouts of headaches and nausea. “It’s concerning. We may be getting sick but we don’t know why,” she said. For about the past 30 years, the companies have sprayed methyl bromide on imported produce arriving at the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach to kill harmful pests. Adults and children are shown after school at Kelly Elementary School in Compton, which is near a facility that uses a highly toxic fumigant, methyl bromide. Photo by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters Methyl bromide, which was widely used to treat soil on farm fields, has been banned worldwide for most uses since 2005 under a United Nations treaty that protects the Earth’s ozone layer. Exemptions are granted for fumigation of produce shipped from overseas. While little to no residue remains on the food, the gas is vented into the air where it is sprayed. State health officials have classified methyl bromide as a reproductive toxicant, which means it can harm babies exposed in the womb. With acute exposure, high levels can cause headaches, dizziness, nausea and difficulty breathing, while chronic exposure over a year or longer could cause more serious neurological effects, such as learning and memory problems, according to the California Air Resources Board. “It’s concerning. We may be getting sick but we don’t know why.”Piedad Delgado, Compton Resident State and local air quality officials are responsible for enforcing laws and regulations that protect communities from toxic air contaminants such as methyl bromide, while the Los Angeles County Agricultural Commissioner issues the permits to the fumigation companies. After CalMatters reported about the facilities last month, members of Congress representing the communities demanded “greater monitoring, transparency and oversight surrounding these fumigation facilities and their toxic emissions.” “We have serious concerns about the prevalent use of methyl bromide, a toxic pesticide, by container fumigation facilities in Los Angeles County,” U.S. Reps. Nanette Barragán, Maxine Waters and Robert Garcia wrote in an April 11 letter to state and local air regulators and county and federal agricultural officials.  “Several of these fumigation facilities are located close to homes, schools, parks, and other public spaces. Our communities deserve a greater understanding of the levels of toxic emissions from these facilities, the health risks from exposure to such emissions, and the oversight processes in place to ensure all protocols are maintained at these sites,” they wrote. “Our communities deserve a greater understanding of the levels of toxic emissions from these facilities, the health risks from exposure to such emissions, and the oversight processes in place.”U.S. Reps. Nanette Barragán, Maxine Waters and Robert Garcia Even though the San Pedro facility at the Port of Los Angeles and the Compton plant use the largest volumes of methyl bromide — a combined 52,000 pounds a year — the air in nearby communities has never been tested.  The two Long Beach facilities use much less, yet state tests in 2023 and 2024 detected potentially dangerous levels in a neighborhood near an elementary school. South Coast district officials said although certain levels of methyl bromide in the air could cause health effects, it doesn’t necessarily mean immediate action is necessary.  “We don’t want to go out and unnecessarily concern folks if there isn’t (a health concern), but we are actively investigating this right now,” said Sarah Rees, the South Coast district’s deputy executive office for planning, rule development and implementation.   Global Pest Management, which fumigates in Compton and Terminal Island, did not return calls from CalMatters. An employee at the facility declined to comment. A general manager at SPF Terminals in Long Beach also declined to comment.  Greg Augustine, owner of Harbor Fumigation in San Pedro, said his company has been permitted for more than 30 years and complies with all requirements. “To protect the health of our community, the air district establishes permit conditions and we comply with all of those permit conditions,” he said. “Those are vetted by the air district…and they’re all designed to protect the health of our community.”  “To protect the health of our community, the air district establishes permit conditions and we comply with all of those permit conditions.” Greg Augustine, owner of Harbor Fumigation in San Pedro Daniel McCarrel, an attorney representing AG-Fume Services, which fumigates at facilities in Long Beach and San Pedro, did not respond to questions but previously told CalMatters last month that the company is adhering to all of its permit conditions.  High levels found in Long Beach  Back in 2019, during regionwide testing, South Coast district officials detected methyl bromide in the air near the two West Long Beach facilities close to concentrations that could cause long-term health effects. The South Coast district took no action at the time — other than to publish a large study online of all toxic air contaminants throughout the four-county LA basin. Then, several years later, the state Air Resources Board found that the two facilities — SPF Terminals and AG-Fume Services — spewed high concentrations of methyl bromide at various times throughout the year. The state’s air monitor near Hudson Elementary School in West Long Beach — which is just about 1,000 feet from the two facilities — detected an average of 2.1 parts per billion in 2023 through part of 2024. Exposure to as little as 1 ppb for a year or more can cause serious nervous system effects as well as developmental effects on fetuses, according to state health guidelines. Spikes of methyl bromide were as high as 983 and 966 ppb in February and March of 2024. Short-term exposure to 1,000 ppb can cause acute health effects such as nausea, headaches and dizziness.  But state and district air-quality officials didn’t inform nearby residents about any of the monitoring data for longer than a year — not until three months ago, in a community meeting held in Long Beach.  First: Edvin Hernandez, right, waits to pick up his son at Kelly Elementary School in Compton, which is near a fumigation plant. Last: SPF Terminals in Long Beach uses methyl bromide. High levels of the gas were found near an elementary school in West Long Beach. Photos by Joel Angel Juarez and J.W. Hendricks for CalMatters Upon learning of the test results, the Los Angeles County Agricultural Commissioner a few months ago added new permit conditions for SPF Terminals and AG-Fume Services, including shutting doors, installing taller smokestacks and prohibiting fumigation during school hours, according to permits obtained by CalMatters. But the county permits for the three San Pedro and Compton facilities, which use much larger volumes of methyl bromide, remain unchanged, with none of the protections added to the Long Beach permits. And officials still have not held any community meetings there. The agricultural commissioner’s office declined to comment on the facilities. A complex web of ‘hot spots’ rules for methyl bromide About 38% of the methyl bromide used in California for commodity fumigation is in LA County, according to Department of Pesticide Regulation data for 2022. After many Long Beach residents expressed concerns, the South Coast district assessed all nine facilities permitted to use the chemical in the region and determined that five could pose a risk to residents.  Now the agency is going through a complex process outlined under the state’s Air Toxics “Hot Spots” law, enacted in 1987. Usage data, weather patterns and proximity to neighborhoods will be used to calculate a “priority score” for each of the five facilities. If a facility’s score is high enough, then the company will be required to conduct a full health risk assessment to examine the dangers to the community. None of the scores have been released yet. Risk assessments under the air district’s rules are a complicated, multi-step process likely to take many months. Smokestacks are shown at a facility that fumigates imported produce at the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. AG-Fume Services and Harbor Fumigation operate at this facility. Photo by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters And these health assessments may not trigger any changes at the facilities. It all depends on whether certain thresholds for hazards are crossed. The state Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment has set guidelines, called reference exposure levels, for concentrations of methyl bromide that could cause the long-term or short-term health effects, such as respiratory and neurological damage, nausea and fetal effects, based on human and animal studies. But South Coast district officials said action isn’t triggered if methyl bromide exceeds these reference levels. Instead, the district uses a state-created “hazard index” based on them. If a facility’s hazard index reaches one — which means concentrations outside the facility have reached the reference dose and could cause harm — the company must notify the public, under a South Coast district regulation. However, the facilities will only be required to take steps to reduce emissions if the hazard index reaches three — three times the reference level that indicates potential harm, according to that regulation. Expedited action is required under the rule if the index is five times higher.   “Just because it’s above the (reference level), it doesn’t mean it’s going to cause health impacts,” said Ian MacMillan, assistant deputy executive officer at the South Coast air district. He said the reference level indicates “there’s a possibility that there could be health impacts.”  The series of escalating thresholds is designed as a balancing act between regulating facilities and protecting the public, officials said. MacMillan also said methyl bromide emissions must be considered in the context of overall air quality in the region — the entire LA basin has an average hazard index of 5.5 when considering all sources of toxic air pollutants from industries and vehicles, he said. When told about the fumigation plants and lack of air testing and risk assessments, residents contacted by CalMatters were outraged. “There’s no interest from the government to protect our health,” said Edvin Hernandez, a father picking up his 9-year-old son from Kelly Elementary School in Compton. “We’re surviving by the hand of God.” The members of Congress — Barragán, Waters and Garcia — asked air regulators to install monitors near all Los Angeles County fumigation facilities, compile inspection records, conduct health assessments in the communities and provide all of the results on a public website.  “It is egregious that communities in California are still being impacted by this harmful and unnecessary chemical,” said Alison Hahm, a staff attorney with the Natural Resources Defense Council, which is working with community members. “In addition to stopping this ongoing public health threat in West Long Beach and Los Angeles, residents are demanding accountability and remedies for the harm endured.” The methyl bromide facilities in L.A. County are subjected to a different permitting process than elsewhere in California.  That’s because in 1996, the South Coast air district and the Los Angeles County Agricultural Commissioner agreed to share responsibility for regulating fumigating facilities. The agricultural office is tasked with issuing permits and the air agency is in charge of setting emissions limits and enforcing them.   In the Bay Area, the local air district has a similar agreement with agricultural departments that originated in 1997. However, the district decided that agreement is out of date so it is now issuing permits, too. One facility in the Bay Area uses the pesticide, Impact Transportation of Oakland. In 2019, the air district assessed the health risks of that facility and modeled how the fumes spread.   In the San Joaquin Valley, new facilities or those changing their methyl bromide use are subject to a health risk evaluation before a permit is issued. Facilities permitted before the air district was established in 1992 are subject to a review like the one that the South Coast district is now launching in San Pedro and Compton. The Los Angeles Agriculture Commissioner’s office, when asked whether it conducts a risk assessment before issuing permits, declined to answer any questions. CalMatters filed a public records request seeking risk assessments, but they said they had no records matching the request.   South Coast air regulators said they and the commissioner are now considering if any changes to their agreement should be made.  Allowed to use up to a half-ton of methyl bromide a day  Fumigation of produce using methyl bromide occurs within an enclosed facility, and the produce is covered by a tarp when sprayed. The fumes are then released into the atmosphere through tall smokestacks, a process called aeration. CalMatters filed a public records request with the county agricultural office and received the five facilities’ permits for 2023 through 2025. The permits show that the two Long Beach companies are now required to take an array of new precautions to limit fumes emitted into communities that the three Compton and San Pedro families are not — even though the Long Beach ones use much smaller volumes of methyl bromide. The San Pedro and Compton plants are allowed to use up to 1,000 pounds of methyl bromide in a 24-hour period. In contrast, the Long Beach plants can use up to 200 pounds in 24 hours, and in Oakland, Impact Transportation’s permit allows only 108 pounds.  First: Pallets of produce are piled up at the outer berths at the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. Last: A tarped area holds a tank that contains a hazardous gas, most likely methyl bromide. A fan and roof vents ventilated the area while garage doors were left open on April 8, 2025. AG-Fume Services and Harbor Fumigation operate at this location. Photos by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters The San Pedro and Compton facilities release fumes into the atmosphere during the daytime, except when they use an exhaust stack meeting certain height requirements, according to their permits. The two Long Beach facilities, SPF Terminals and AG Fume Services, have new, additional requirements this year: Fumigation can’t occur between 8:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. when a school is within 1,000 feet. And by the end of this month, they must replace their smokestacks with taller ones that are at least 55 feet tall, which disperse the fumes better. All doors must be closed during fumigation and aeration and fans must be used in the aeration process.  ‘We don’t have a choice’ At a ballpark on a recent day in San Pedro, Eastview Little League players took the field.  When a 13-year-old boy on the Pirates team was up to bat, his mom, Amy Shannon, cheered him on.  “Let’s go D! Deep breath boy, you got it!” she shouted.  Then she paused. Maybe she shouldn’t be encouraging her son to take a deep breath, she said. Shannon had just learned from CalMatters about the fumigation facility across the street from the baseball field. Amy Shannon, left, and Roxanne Gasparo, right, attend their children’s Little League game at Bloch Field near the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro on April 8, 2025. Both women were unaware that a fumigation facility nearby has been using a toxic gas for about 30 years. Photo by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters At the facility where AG Fume and Harbor Fumigation operate, located at 2200 Miner Street, it was business as usual that day. A ship was docked on one side of the Los Angeles Port berth. On the other side, hundreds of stacks of fruits and vegetables were visible through several large garage doors.  Some of the stacks were covered with plastic. A tank containing a fumigant — labeled with a hazard sign depicting a skull — was hooked up outside. Yellow smokestacks protruded from the facility.  An AG-Fume Services truck was parked near one of the garage doors. Workers wearing yellow vests and sun-protective hats closed the garage doors, but left them slightly open at the bottom.  At the baseball field, Shannon watched the game with a friend, Roxanne Gasparo. Both women grew up in San Pedro. Gasparo said she wasn’t at all surprised to learn that a dangerous gas could be in their air.   “Because it’s a port town, unfortunately, we’re used to pollution. We have the port, obviously, and all the refineries next to us,” Gasparo said. “There’s really no way to get out of it unless you leave the city, and because most of the families here are blue collar families that rely on the unions, we kind of don’t have a choice,” she added. “We just deal with it and raise our kids the best we can.” More about air pollution in port communities ‘We should be in crisis mode’: Toxic fumigant could be seeping into these communities March 21, 2025March 26, 2025 Polluted communities hold their breath as companies struggle with California’s diesel truck ban December 10, 2024December 10, 2024

Costa Rica Ghost Net Cleanup Saves Marine Life in Puntarenas

For the Oceans Foundation successfully completed the first stage of its ghost net rescue campaign in Costa de Pájaros, Puntarenas, removing approximately 15 tons of abandoned fishing nets from the seabed, enough to nearly fill a 20-ton truck, according to social media reports and foundation statements. The initiative aims to eliminate these silent killers that […] The post Costa Rica Ghost Net Cleanup Saves Marine Life in Puntarenas appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

For the Oceans Foundation successfully completed the first stage of its ghost net rescue campaign in Costa de Pájaros, Puntarenas, removing approximately 15 tons of abandoned fishing nets from the seabed, enough to nearly fill a 20-ton truck, according to social media reports and foundation statements. The initiative aims to eliminate these silent killers that harm marine life and promote sustainable fishing practices in Costa Rica’s coastal communities, a critical step toward preserving ourcountry’s rich biodiversity. Ghost nets are abandoned, lost, or discarded fishing gear that continue to trap marine life, such as fish, sea turtles, dolphins, and sharks, while damaging coral reefs and seagrass beds. Globally, an estimated 640,000 tons of ghost gear pollute the oceans, contributing to 10% of oceanic litter, according to the Food and Agriculture Organization. In Costa Rica, these nets threaten iconic species like the hawksbill turtle and disrupt artisanal fishing livelihoods, exacerbating ocean pollution and habitat loss. The cleanup effort united 20 artisanal fishing families, professional rescue divers, and more than 60 volunteers, showcasing community-driven conservation. The operation was led by Captain Gabriel Ramírez of UDIVE 506, with eight fishing boats navigating the Gulf of Nicoya’s challenging currents. Reportedly, organizations including the Parlamento Cívico Ambiental, ACEPESA, Coast Guard, Red Cross, IPSA, REX Cargo, and Cervecería y Bebidas San Roque provided logistical support, transportation, hydration, and assistance with sorting and processing the recovered nets. Marine Biology students from the National University (UNA) played a key role by preparing the nets for recycling, ensuring minimal environmental impact. “Each of us can contribute to the environment. This is not for me or for you—it’s for Costa Rica, for the planet, and for marine life,” said Jorge Serendero, Director of Fundación For the Oceans. This cleanup builds on Costa Rica’s leadership in marine conservation, with over 30% of its territorial waters protected as of 2021, a global benchmark. The foundation reported a tense moment when a diver became entangled in a drifting net due to strong currents. Thanks to the quick action of his colleagues, he was freed unharmed, underscoring the risks of such operations. This campaign highlights the power of collective action in protecting marine ecosystems, a priority for Costa Rica as it expands marine protected areas like Cocos Island. Fundación For the Oceans plans additional cleanups in 2025 to address ghost nets across Costa Rica’s Pacific coast. Interested individuals can contact For the Oceans Foundation at info@fortheoceansfoundation.org or +506 8875-9393 to volunteer, donate, or learn about upcoming initiatives to safeguard the oceans. The post Costa Rica Ghost Net Cleanup Saves Marine Life in Puntarenas appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Commercial salmon season is shut down — again. Will California’s iconic fish ever recover?

While it’s an unprecedented third year in a row for no commercially caught salmon, brief windows will be allowed for sportsfishing in California.

In summary While it’s an unprecedented third year in a row for no commercially caught salmon, brief windows will be allowed for sportsfishing in California. Facing the continued collapse of Chinook salmon, officials today shut down California’s commercial salmon fishing season for an unprecedented third year in a row.  Under the decision by an interstate fisheries agency, recreational salmon fishing will be allowed in California for only brief windows of time this spring. This will be the first year that any sportfishing of Chinook has been allowed since 2022. Today’s decision by the Pacific Fishery Management Council means that no salmon caught off California can be sold to retail consumers and restaurants for at least another year. In Oregon and Washington, commercial salmon fishing will remain open, although limited. “From a salmon standpoint, it’s an environmental disaster. For the fishing industry, it’s a human tragedy, and it’s also an economic disaster,” said Scott Artis, executive director of the Golden State Salmon Association, an industry organization that has lobbied for river restoration and improved hatchery programs.  The decline of California’s salmon follows decades of deteriorating conditions in the waterways where the fish spawn each year, including the Sacramento and Klamath rivers. California’s salmon are an ecological icon and a valued source of food for Native American tribes. The shutdown also has an economic toll: It has already put hundreds of commercial fishers and sportfishing boat operators out of work and affected thousands of people in communities and industries reliant on processing, selling and serving locally caught salmon.  California’s commercial fishery has never been closed for three years in a row before.  Some experts fear the conditions in California have been so poor for so long that Chinook may never rebound to fishable levels. Others remain hopeful for major recovery if the amounts of water diverted to farms and cities are reduced and wetlands kept dry by flood-control levees are restored.  This year’s recreational season includes several brief windows for fishing, including a weekend in June and another in July, or a quota of 7,000 fish.   Jared Davis, owner and operator of the Salty Lady in Sausalito, one of dozens of party boats that take paying customers fishing, thinks it’s likely that this quota will be met on the first open weekend for recreational fishing, scheduled for June 7-8.   “Obviously, the pressure is going to be intense, so everybody and their mother is going to be out on the water on those days,” he said. “When they hit that quota, it’s done.” One member of the fishery council, Corey Ridings, voted against the proposed regulations after saying she was concerned that the first weekend would overshoot the 7,000-fish quota. Davis said such a miniscule recreational season won’t help boat owners like him recover from past closures, though it will carry symbolic meaning. “It might give California anglers a glimmer of hope and keep them from selling all their rods and buying golf clubs,” he said.  “It continues to be devastating. Salmon has been the cornerstone of many of our ports for a long time.”Sarah Bates, commercial fisher based in San Francisco Sarah Bates, a commercial fisher based at San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf, said the ongoing closure has stripped many boat owners of most of their income.  “It continues to be devastating,” she said. “Salmon has been the cornerstone of many of our ports for a long time.” She said the shutdown also has trickle-down effects on a range of businesses that support the salmon fishery, such as fuel services, grocery stores and dockside ice machines. “We’re also seeing a sort of a third wave … the general seafood market for local products has tanked,” such as rockfish and halibut. She said that many buyers are turning to farmed and wild salmon delivered from other regions instead. Davis noted that federal emergency relief funds promised for the 2023 closure still have not arrived. “Nobody has seen a dime,” he said.  Fewer returning salmon Before the Gold Rush, several million Chinook spawned annually in the river systems of the Central Valley and the state’s northern coast. Through much of the 20th century, California’s salmon fishery formed the economic backbone of coastal fishing ports, with fishers using hook and line pulling in millions of pounds in good years.  But in 2024, just 99,274 fall-run Chinook — the most commercially viable of the Central Valley’s four subpopulations — returned to the Sacramento River and its tributaries, substantially lower than the numbers in 2023. In 2022, fewer than 70,000 returned, one of the lowest estimates ever. About 40,000 returned to the San Joaquin River. Fewer than 30,000 Chinook reached their spawning grounds in the Klamath River system, where the Hoopa, Yurok and Karuk tribes rely on the fish in years of abundance.  The decline of California’s salmon stems from nearly two centuries of damage inflicted on the rivers where salmon spend the first and final stages of their lives. Gold mining, logging and dam construction devastated watersheds. Levees constrained rivers, turning them into relatively sterile channels of fast-moving water while converting floodplains and wetlands into irrigated farmland.  Today, many of these impacts persist, along with water diversions, reduced flows and elevated river temperatures that frequently spell death for fertilized eggs and juvenile fish. The future of California salmon is murky Peter Moyle, a UC Davis fish biologist and professor emeritus, said recovery of self-sustaining populations may be possible in some tributaries of the Sacramento River.  “There are some opportunities for at least keeping runs going in parts of the Central Valley, but getting naturally spawning fish back in large numbers, I just can’t see it happening,” he said. Jacob Katz, a biologist with the group California Trout, holds out hope for a future of flourishing Sacramento River Chinook. “We could have vibrant fall-run populations in a decade,” he said.  That will require major habitat restoration involving dam removals, reconstruction of levee systems to revive wetlands and floodplains, and reduced water diversions for agriculture — all measures fraught with cost, regulatory constraints, and controversy.  “There are some opportunities for at least keeping (salmon) runs going in parts of the Central Valley, but getting naturally spawning fish back in large numbers, I just can’t see it happening.”Peter moyle, uc davis fish biologist State officials, recognizing the risk of extinction, have promoted salmon recovery as a policy goal for years. In early 2024, the Newsom administration released its California Salmon Strategy for a Hotter, Drier Future, a 37-page catalogue of proposed actions to mitigate environmental impacts and restore flows and habitat, all in the face of a warming environment.  Artis of Golden State Salmon Association said the state’s salmon strategy includes some important items but leaves out equally critical ones, like protecting minimum required flows for fish — what Artis said are threatened by proposed water projects endorsed by the Newsom administration. “It fails to include some of the upcoming salmon-killing projects that the governor is pushing like Sites Reservoir and the Delta tunnel, and it ignores the fact that the Voluntary Agreements are designed to allow massive diversions of water,” he said. Experts agree that an important key to rebuilding salmon runs is increasing the frequency and duration of shallow flooding in riverside riparian areas, or even fallow rice paddies — a program Katz has helped develop through his career.  On such seasonal floodplains, a shallow layer of water can help trigger an explosion of photosynthesis and food production, ultimately providing nutrition for juvenile salmon as they migrate out of the river system each spring.  Through meetings with farmers, urban water agencies and government officials, Rene Henery, California science director with Trout Unlimited, has helped draft an ambitious salmon recovery plan dubbed “Reorienting to Recovery.” Featuring habitat restoration, carefully managed harvests and generously enhanced river flows — especially in dry years — this framework, Henery said, could rebuild diminished Central Valley Chinook runs to more than 1.6 million adult fish per year over a 20-year period.  He said adversaries — often farmers and environmentalists — must shift from traditional feuds over water to more collaborative programs of restoring productive watersheds while maintaining productive agriculture. As the recovery needle for Chinook moves in the wrong direction, Katz said deliberate action is urgent.  “We’re balanced on the edge of losing these populations,” he said. “We have to go big now. We have no other option.” more about salmon ‘No way, not possible’: California has a plan for new water rules. Will it save salmon from extinction? by Alastair Bland December 16, 2024December 16, 2024 A third straight year with no California salmon fishing?  Early fish counts suggest it could happen by Alastair Bland October 30, 2024October 30, 2024

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