Every time a king tide floods the roughly 50% of Charleston built on landfill, the sturm und drang about climate change floats to the surface of every conversation. Unless, of course, you live in Mount Pleasant, where we only care about the next Hugo, how to reduce traffic on U.S. 17, and why there are no decent Chinese restaurants. The only reason anyone goes to West Ashley is to buy a car (OK, or maybe a hot Krispy Kreme), and North Charleston, well, has an airport.
From the late 1950s through 2013, flooding in Charleston jumped 409%, mostly from high tides. Sea levels in the area are anticipated to rise by anywhere from 14 to 18 inches by 2050, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (unless they, too, have been cut by our totally out-of-control administration in D.C.).
As the Dutch Dialogues Charleston pointed out in 2019: “Water is not something to exploit or control; it is something to respect, manage and embrace. There are ways to prevent further degradation, but these will require new zoning, building, land-use regulations and market-based mechanisms... floods and high water will eventually overwhelm the city unless it substantially invests in both green and gray infrastructure, drainage, pumps, perimeter protection, floodplain and creek restoration, bioswales, complete streets, stormwater infiltration and detention in public spaces. Preparedness and humility have replaced reaction and hubris.”
Not that we aren’t in the midst of spending billions to prove we can manipulate Mother Nature:
As I write this, the city has embarked on a $1.3 billion project to raise the seawall circumscribing the Battery by about three feet and erect a metal barrier — known as a combo wall — traveling through marsh and nearshore areas. The wall would begin near the rear of the Charleston Sk8 Park, tie into the raised Battery walls, then run under the Ravenel Bridge overpass at Morrison Yard and end near the intersection of Morrison and Meeting streets. If you live in the Cormac Apartments or the Joseph Floyd Manor, you’d best keep a few inflatable life jackets in your bedroom closet.
Around the Battery, the seawall will require at least five new stations to pump water outside the wall (to keep from turning everything south of Broad into a giant bathtub). The city has also nearly completed a large-scale drainage system near Septima Clark Parkway and extending down to the medical district near MUSC, where you occasionally have to wade from the parking deck to your doctor’s office.
FEMA (another endangered species) helped Charleston fund a program that bought and demolished houses in West Ashley to create rain gardens and green space meant to help reduce flooding. About $200 mini-grants for 37 rain gardens across the city were awarded between 2020 and 2022. But the city later suspended the program out of concern that public money was being used for private gain and because City Hall worried these mini-grants lacked adequate oversight and financial controls. Apparently, the program had no income restrictions, so grants could go to the wealthiest homeowners as well as the poorest. It also lacked any element that targeted grants toward parts of the city with the worst flooding. And there was little to no follow-up to gauge the effectiveness of the grants and gardens. Nevertheless, the next time one of your neighbors whines about climate change, you can simply reply, “Well, where is your rain garden?”
There was also a major project to reconstruct the peninsula’s storm drains, which apparently were full of waste dating back to the 1880s. They were all cleaned and layered with gunite for smoother operation.
And don’t try to blame everything on tides and rainfall. You’re part of the problem too. The EPA (or have they been cut from the federal budget as well?) estimates that nine billion gallons of water are used outdoors every day in the United States. Nitrogen and phosphorus from fertilizers, pet waste, detergents, failing septic tanks, oil and other petroleum products, chemicals, construction debris, bacteria, viruses, and other materials also make up stormwater pollution. This negatively impacts swimming, recreation, human health, and local economies such as tourism and shellfish industries. So maybe you shouldn’t care so much if the shrimp on the menu aren’t local.
Face it: You love Charleston because it is nearly surrounded by bays and marshes (where you can abandon your boat without too much consequence), beaches (where you can foster your melanoma), and rivers (that you can drive into if you’re not careful). You can fish (but are strongly advised not to eat them), jet ski, windsurf, or swim into a stew of Portuguese man o’ war.
So, the next time you have to drive around the perpetual puddle on Fishburne, remember — you could be swimming in it tomorrow.