Monday, February 12, 2024

House overboard. (By the sea, by the sea, ,by the beautiful sea.)

I don't live on the water. But I live near the water. Some water, anyway. The closest water is the Charles River - a couple hundred yards, max. Then there's the Atlantic Ocean, which ain't all that far. I'm about a mile from Boston Harbor. But it's enough of a ways away that, even when we have heavy rains and king tides, I don't tend to get water seeping in through the cracks.

But my condo is on the Flat of the Hill, which:

...is built on 19th century-made land along the Charles River. The Flat is geologically part of Back Bay and culturally part of Beacon Hill, with the architecture of both. (Source: Boston by Foot)
Nice to know that, while I may live in what is geologically part of Back Bay, I'm culturally part of Beacon Hill. Good thing, because Beach Hill is definitely how I identify. 

But the operative words in this little description are "19th century-made land." 

In other words, I live on landfill, in an area that used to be water. Literally. The name "Back Bay" didn't come out of nowhere.

So, geologically, I'm living on reclaimed ocean, and I live in some minor fear that the ocean will one day want their territory back.

And if that's going to happen, I certainly hope it doesn't happen until after I sell my condo to someone who doesn't know or care about rising sea levels. (For the life of me - especially given that I'm unwilling/unable to read a kabillion page manual explaining how to interpret FEMA flood maps - I can't really tell what type of flood zone I'm in. I think it may be an AE, which I think may mean vulnerable-to-a-hundred-year-storm. But I don't really know. I do have some sort of flood insurance, but it's only a few hundred bucks a year, so I'm guessing I'm not in a mega-ly hazardous flood zone.)

Anyway, I do keep my eye on the Massachusetts communities that get whacked whenever there's a major storm - winter Noreaster or summer-fall hurricane, and (more recently) spring floods - and end up with houses falling into the drink.

Plum Island on the North Shore. Scituate on the South Shore. Chatham on the Cape. Nantucket. Etc. 

There's a more or less steady flow of stories around here about homes that a few decades ago had lots of land between house and ocean, and are now teetering precauriously at the water's edge. Every once in a while, it's HOUSE OVERBOARD!

And then there are the insurance claims, the government bailouts to restore homes to their homeowners. But there's a movement afoot to end that cycle of paying to rebuild, only to have another storm wash the rebuild away.

In the age of climate change, as sea levels rise and more intense storms wear away the natural landscape that had protected coastal communities for generations, state and local officials are considering more radical measures, including paying people to abandon their waterfront properties altogether.

Massachusetts, for example, is exploring the feasibility of a program that would purchase particularly vulnerable or extremely damaged properties from their owners, rather than continue to expose the buildings to further risk, a concept known as managed retreat. (Source: Boston Globe)

The theory is that, rather than keep throwing buildings up in watery zones, we let the watery zone return more or less to nature, where they may be able to protect territory a bit further inland.

Sounds good to me.  

Why should taxpayers keep footing the bills to shore up the shore for individuals with oceanfront property? Why should taxpayers have to keep perpetually funding infrastructure repair work that's just going to keep Groundhog-Daying it?

FEMA already has a buyback and relocation program, but it runs into a lot of resistance.

I get it.

You live on the ocean. You love sitting there with your G&T, just taking it all in from your front porch. You love being lulled to sleep by the waves rolling out, the waves rolling in. 

The ocean is incredibly beautiful. 

And every time I see one of those oceanfront properties start floating away, I feel terrible for the folks whose home just washed out to sea. 

But, gee whiz, didn't the Bible warn folks about the foolish man who built his house upon the sand? Or something like that...

Turns out that, despite the increasing vulnerability of houses built on actual or metaphorical sand, if you're on the ocean, and you have enough $$$, you're willing (and can afford) to rebuild, even if you're in a doom cycle. And if you want to be on the ocean, you're willing to pay for the privilege of breathing in the salt air, even if there's a high likelihood that you'll end up rebuilding at some point. Which is good for oceanfront property owners looking to sell on the market. 

Because your property is actually worth more than what FEMA's willing to pay you to leave.

At some point, I suspect that flood insurance companies and FEMA will stop bailing homeowners out. Maybe they'll pay for one rebuild, but after that, you're on your own. 

I also suspect that at some point, the damage will be so great - and your little plot o' paradise will be six-feet under - that, no matter how deep your pockets, you won't be able to rebuild unless your rebuild is a houseboat. But folks are guessing that this won't happen until they're six-feet under, so it'll be someone else's problem.

Just hoping I'm lucky/smart enough to sell out in time...

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