Ghosts of Past, Visions of Future

Along the shores of Weesuck Creek in East Quoque, a lone cedar tree hovers above the sand, barely supported by a few scraggly, rotting roots. The ground beneath it has washed away, exposing its subterranean system. Its once robust trunk has diminished to a prickly stump and many of its wooden peg legs now poke out of the ground like headstones in a graveyard.

Carl LoBue, a senior marine scientist with the Nature Conservancy, snapped a photo of it this spring at low tide. The haunting image has made its rounds among Long Island scientists, generating some stunned reactions. 

“Wow. That’s quite a photo,” said Stuart Lowrie, a botanist with the Nature Conservancy, upon seeing it.

In addition to sea-level rise, the cedar also succumbed to coastal erosion, a natural occurrence sometimes exacerbated by human activity. This combination caused the soil compacted around the dead roots to wash away, leaving them exposed to open air. They typically linger beneath the water’s surface.

The cedar reflects a phenomenon seen not just on Long Island, but also around the world. As the climate changes, the salt from rising sea levels is killing vegetation that grows near the coast, particularly trees with low tolerance of saline conditions; cedars actually have a higher saline tolerance than other trees.

Seas have been rising for centuries. Ice masses are melting and warmer water is expanding, spilling farther onto land. Mr. LoBue estimates that this particular tree has been dead for several years, but around the Island, physical repercussions of sea-level rise such as this are being seen more frequently.

“It’s really pretty common,” he said. “You can go almost anyplace on Long Island and see tree trunks underwater.”

Christopher Gobler, a professor and researcher at Stony Brook University’s School of Marine and Atmospheric Sciences, said that one can see treetops sticking out of the water in areas such as East Quogue and the Peconic Estuary. Not too long ago there was a small island in the northwest corner of Montauk’s Fort Pond with a stand of dead trees that would occasionally be underwater. Now all that can be seen are the tops of those trees.

Other plants and ecosystems have been affected from sea-level rise as well. Dr. Gobler said 90 percent of Long Island’s sea grass has disappeared. The salt marshes that protect the land from surging storms are sinking and becoming muddied.

“Sea-level rise is a big issue,” he said.

Oceans, sounds, bays, rivers, and estuaries surround Long Island, making it especially vulnerable to rising sea-levels, one of the largest immediate threats seen as a result of climate change. Scientists note that this is a slow, incremental process, occurring since the glacial ages. Tangible clues like these disintegrating terrestrial trees in Pine Neck reveal the reality of a changing landscape.

“If you’re an observant person, you have clearly recognized it. It’s not hiding from anybody,” said Mr. LoBue of the vanishing cedars.

MaryLaura Lamont, a ranger at Fire Island National Seashore and the educational chairwoman of the Long Island Botanical Society, once worked and hiked at Orient State Park, but said she now cannot see the trails because the water has soaked the paths almost to the point of obliteration. The abundant maritime cedars there are disappearing as well.

“That forest is falling into the sea,” she said. “Sea level is rising faster than the land can keep up with it.”

According to Mr. LoBue, the water has been rising about an inch every decade, and that trend is expected to accelerate. According to a 2014 report by the New York State Energy Research and Development Authority, the waters around the city and Long Island are projected to rise two to five inches in the next decade, and one to two feet by the 2080s.

More frequent, turbulent storms could hasten the salt’s effects as well. The NYSERDA study also said that a large portion of Long Island’s South Fork is less than 10 feet above average sea level, something made clear as Hurricane Sandy hit. The fierce flooding that plagued the area following the storm fueled the salt’s lingering presence in trees, said Mr. LoBue. It saturated the trunks and roots and soaked in long enough to kill them.

“This clearly impacts our low-lying communities,” he said, pointing in particular to Mastic Beach. He recently gave a talk about such shallow-built populations in Asian Pacific countries, like Papua New Guinea, whose inhabitants were forced to flee their homes after ocean flooding destroyed food sources and other necessities. Mr. LoBue took the photo of the tree at Weesuck to illustrate Long Island’s possible future in comparison to these other islands.

On the East End, as well as other lowlands, a chain reaction takes place after water seeps into neighborhoods, said Mr. LoBue. The salt renders septic systems defective, which can lead to bacteria influxes in places residents swim.

“All of these problems we see on Long Island, there’s a connection to rising sea levels,” he said.

Dr. Gobler explained that 90 percent of East End houses are equipped with cesspools, which drain household waste into the ground. As the ocean rises, these will eventually align with the water table, and nitrogen waste will begin to leak excessively into the groundwater. It will flow into the bays and cause algae blooms and fish kills. Toxins will penetrate the seafood and eradicate their sea grass habitat. Ms. Lamont told of a salt marsh wedged between the two forks that is “completely disappearing.”

“The less salt marsh you have, the less land mass will be protected,” she said.

Mr. LoBue recently revisited Flax Pond, an old stomping ground he frequented as a student over 20 years ago. It was the first time since those earlier years that he had come during daylight. He was astonished to find that near the marsh, a cluster of trees he once knew to be alive and thriving were dead.

“It’s the reality we live in now,” he said later.