On Saturday, Jan. 13, a storm battered the coast of Maine, leading to unprecedented levels of sea swell. A new record was set for the state, with the ocean rising almost 15 feet above normal levels. These raised water levels washed away the remaining two fishing shacks perched on the rocks of Willard Beach. The shacks are a local icon, having been there for around 150 years. One of my high school teachers had her wedding ceremony in front of the shacks, and she is far from unique in holding the small buildings close to her heart.
Faurther down the beach is a playground that I have fond memories of playing on when I was younger. This structure is around 25 feet back from the high tide line. As the storm crashed into the Portland area, I watched videos of the playground’s lower levels being submerged underwater. My social media feeds were covered with videos from up and down the coast of normally high and dry parts of the coast being covered in water.
Not even a week prior to this storm, another had hit Maine. Rain quickly melted most of what was left from our first real snow storm, and winds upward of 50 mph crashed into coastal towns. Again, seawaters rose, and chaos ensued as the ocean swelled up. The day after the storm, streets were covered with downed branches and toppled trash bins. Across the state, thousands of citizens were left without power. Within one week, two massive abnormal storms hit Maine, a historically temperate and stable state.
Weather events like this used to feel rare and special. When I was little, I remember it being a big deal when the remains of a hurricane would reach us in their diminished states, or when we would get a foot of snow in one day. Over the last few years, however, our weather patterns have become increasingly strange. Last winter, we were hit by a cold fronta cold front hit us, that setsetting record-breaking freezing temperatures. Around my home in Portland, temperatures dropped deep into the negatives. Atop Mount Washington in neighboring New Hampshire, a national low windchill record was set of -108.4 degrees Fahrenheit.
As I have grown up, I have watched the normally stable climate of Maine become increasingly unpredictable. We have had cold, wet summers and warm, rainy winters. This past summer, I worked at a sleepaway camp. A defining feature of the season was almost nonstop rain. During one rainstorm that lasted almost 36 hours, the puddles rose to a point where one of my 12-year-old campers could submerge himself to his chest. Lobster populations, which are a crucial element of Maine’s fisheries, are moving farther north as the waters around the coast warm. Our ski season is starting later and later every year as snow fall becomes less and less consistent. The ponds in my hometown of Portland now rarely have ice thick enough to support safe skating.
I remember thinking that Maine would probably be safe from the destruction brought on by climate change. I used to think that we would mostly be able to live without making major changes to our ways of life. It seems clear now that that is not likely. I feel very strongly that the changing climate is starting to have very noticeable effects on the way I live, and it makes me very sad. I fear that future generations will not be able to share the way that life has been in Maine for hundreds of years. Additionally, I fear that I will slowly lose the Maine that I grew up in. It feels like nothing is going to change in the way we regulate the climate and our planet will continue to decline in health. I feel that it is likely that these crazy storms and weather events will only become more common and more devastating in the coming years.