Post-hurricane, Canada charts new relationship with the sea
| North Shore, Prince Edward Island
Robbie Moore spent a week preparing his oyster farm as Hurricane Fiona barreled toward Prince Edward Island in late September. But that didn鈥檛 spare it from the impact.
On Sept. 24, Fiona roared across Atlantic Canada, leaving catastrophe in its wake, including two deaths. Prince Edward Island recorded 92 mph winds, and on the North Shore, where Mr. Moore鈥檚 farm is located, the storm ripped up trees, reduced wharves to splinters, and flooded structures. By the time he could get to his farm to assess the damage several days later, he found some sections had vanished, and this year鈥檚 oyster crop had been tossed into the treeline, 30 feet from the high-water mark.
Still, he counts himself relatively fortunate. Some people lost everything, and as much as people had prepared, there was no way to prepare for the damage Fiona caused. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of people very discouraged right now,鈥� he says.
Why We Wrote This
Canada never experienced a storm as powerful as September鈥檚 Hurricane Fiona. Now, Prince Edward Island, like many coastal regions, is rethinking how to coexist with an unpredictable ocean.
The recovery is expected to take years. But given what Fiona has shown about the growing threat posed by hurricanes, the more transformative effect could be still to come. As hurricanes become a more regular, immediate danger up and down North America鈥檚 Eastern Seaboard, Atlantic Canada 鈥� like regions from the Gulf Coast to Florida to New England 鈥� is beginning to grapple with how climate change is rewriting people鈥檚 relationship with the sea.
鈥淧ictures don鈥檛 do it justice鈥�
While Atlantic Canada is no stranger to volatile weather, Fiona marked a departure. Past storms, such as Hurricane Dorian in 2019, had weakened before they made landfall. But Fiona retained much of its strength, making it the most powerful storm to ever hit Canada.
University of Prince Edward Island climatologist Adam Fenech says that while Fiona was unprecedented, the storm was not unanticipated, given projections of stronger storms in the Atlantic hurricane season. 鈥淎ll the things that we鈥檝e been talking about for 30 years are all coming true,鈥� he says.
Despite that consensus, Dr. Fenech has spent years playing Cassandra to an at-times skeptical public. Half a dozen years ago, when Dr. Fenech was invited to give a talk about coastal erosion at a cottage development on Prince Edward Island鈥檚 North Shore, he warned that many of the properties could disappear in a big storm. Residents were unconvinced. 鈥淟et鈥檚 just say they didn鈥檛 want to sit and chat about what the possibilities were,鈥� he says.
When Fiona hit, 12 cottages in that development were swept off their footings; several were swallowed wholesale by the ocean. In other places, people鈥檚 year-round homes were destroyed.
But in a region where communities have deep ties to the coast, housing isn鈥檛 the only concern. Atlantic Canada is the site of Canada鈥檚 most lucrative fisheries, operating out of nearly 200 small harbors dotting the coastline 鈥� nearly three-quarters of which were affected by Fiona in some way.
For many harbors, the destruction caused by Fiona will mean an expensive rebuild. But some people are saying the reconstruction should look different.
When Fiona hit Newfoundland鈥檚 southwest coast, Shawn Bath was a day鈥檚 drive away; as the scale of the damage came to light, he loaded his truck, hitched his boat, and headed across the province.
There, he found communities devastated by storm surge. One man he encountered in Port aux Basques, where at least 80 houses were damaged, described running out the back door as the ocean came in the front, and clinging to a light pole to avoid being swept out to sea.
Mr. Bath also found shorelines littered with debris. In many places, wharves and fishing stages had been smashed like toothpicks, scattering fishing gear into the water. Mr. Bath and his crew 鈥� who run a marine debris cleanup project called the Clean Harbours Initiative 鈥� made their way to a small community called Burnt Islands, and got to work.
Forty boatloads and two weeks later, that shoreline is clean, but it鈥檚 just one small section of a wide area. 鈥淚t鈥檚 overwhelming,鈥� says Mr. Bath. 鈥淧ictures don鈥檛 do it justice.鈥� And he鈥檚 worried that there are more than a thousand fishing nets drifting along the bottom of affected harbors. He says urgent action is needed to remove nets from the water before they can damage ecosystems 鈥� and undermine local fisheries.
But in the long term, Mr. Bath says the way harbors are laid out needs to be rethought. Fishing infrastructure has traditionally been placed close to the water because that鈥檚 where it made the most sense to be. But that calculus has changed.
鈥淭here鈥檚 no point in rebuilding and filling all these stages with nets again, if two years down the road the same thing happens,鈥� he says. 鈥淜eeping fishing gear on the water鈥檚 edge is no longer a reasonable thing to do.鈥�
鈥淭he island is different now鈥�
These harbors aren鈥檛 the only landscape that could be changed in Fiona鈥檚 wake. In places with sandy coastlines, as the storm passed, residents found the rolling dunes that characterized areas like the North Shore of Prince Edward Island had completely disappeared.
For Prince Edward Island musician Tara MacLean, who grew up playing in the dunes, the shock of seeing a beloved landscape suddenly vanish was indescribable. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 imagine a more sacred place to Prince Edward Islanders than the shoreline,鈥� she says.
Sand dunes are a naturally dynamic ecosystem. Given time 鈥� and the right conditions 鈥� they could return. But Ms. MacLean is worried that, given how Fiona portends the storms to come, the dunes may never come back. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 think I鈥檝e even touched the grief that is coming for the way the island was,鈥� she says. 鈥淭he only way that I know is just to be with that feeling and learn to accept that the island is different now.鈥�
Ms. MacLean says the sorrow for what鈥檚 been lost should serve as a wake-up call on the risk that climate change poses to the region. But it鈥檚 that emotional connection to the water that could also make changing the relationship to it difficult, and when things return to normal, the allure of living close to the water may return, too.
Some Atlantic provinces have already put in place measures to guard against that. In Nova Scotia, the provincial government has passed first-of-its-kind-in-Canada legislation for how close people can build to the water, regulations for which are to come into effect in 2023. Advocates say Fiona has shown why other Atlantic provinces need to follow suit.
In the meantime, even existing settlements may eventually need to move. For years, managed retreat 鈥� the idea of pulling back from the water 鈥� has been a third rail in Canada, says Kate Sherren, a social scientist at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Fiona has changed that. 鈥淚t wouldn鈥檛 seem ethical anymore, to put people in what is so clearly harm鈥檚 way, quite aside from the waste of money that would represent.鈥�
In Canada, there is little insurance available for coastal flooding 鈥� meaning that for the vast majority of those whose homes were affected by storm surge, the damage is not covered. The insurance industry is currently in talks with the federal government about a national public-private flood insurance program, similar to the Federal Emergency Management Agency鈥檚. But聽Dr. Sherren says any policies should encourage communities to work with increasing coastal volatility, rather than clinging to a reality that no longer exists.
鈥淲e鈥檝e been building on and living on this borrowed space,鈥� she says. 鈥淲hen these events happen, there needs to be a program in place that can step in to help people to make decisions other than building back where they were.鈥�
鈥淵ou can鈥檛 control water鈥�
Some are already looking at making a shift.
Rita Raymond grew up in St. Vincent鈥檚, on Newfoundland鈥檚 east coast. That side of the province was largely spared Fiona鈥檚 impact, but severe storms have nonetheless become more frequent, often washing out the community鈥檚 main road. That鈥檚 changed how Ms. Raymond 鈥� who spent decades living in British Columbia and moved back to the community 14 years ago 鈥� feels about living on the coast.
When she and her husband bought their house, which is five minutes from the beach, she says she didn鈥檛 see the ocean as a threat. Now, unlike the tourists who come to stay at her bed-and-breakfast because they want to be close to the water, Ms. Raymond says she鈥檇 like to get farther away.
鈥淚n British Columbia, we had fire hazards in the summertime and a fear of fire, and I always thought fire can be controlled, to a point,鈥� she says. 鈥淏ut you can鈥檛 control water.鈥�
Ms. Raymond says she鈥檚 contemplating buying on higher ground or moving to another community.
But in some places, moving is not possible.
On Prince Edward Island鈥檚 North Shore, Mr. Moore says he鈥檚 spoken to oyster farmers who are too dispirited by the scale of their loss to start over. Mr. Moore himself is facing volatile conditions going forward 鈥� it takes roughly eight years for an oyster to reach its full size, well in excess of the interval between recent hurricanes. Still, while he says he鈥檚 planning on making changes to respond to the threat of worsening storms, there鈥檚 only so much he can do. He has a plot to farm 鈥� an oyster lease that鈥檚 existed for almost a century 鈥� and he鈥檚 constrained by those boundaries.
鈥淵our hands are sort of tied, right?鈥� he says. 鈥淪omething can always come up, and you can鈥檛 not try to rebuild.鈥�
