In the middle of Chesapeake Bay, on an island only accessible by boat, residents shot down offers from Maryland to relocate.

The state in 2013 was concerned about Smith Island’s bleak and vulnerable future as the sea level rises and erosion eats away at the shoreline. Lifelong resident Mary Ada Marshall was among those who refused to leave; the island’s people are survivors who’ve learned to adapt with the weather, she said. 

“When I was a little girl they used to say, ‘The island’s sinking. Now, this weren’t yesterday. This has been a long time ago,” Marshall said. “Well, fast forward 60-70 years, we’re still here.”

Climate change and Smith Island

Smith Island, a tapestry of marshland, winding creeks and mudflats, is less than 100 miles from Washington and Baltimore. With no airport or bridge, everything — groceries, utility workers, doctors and the pastor — comes by boat; it’s 40 minutes from the mainland. Life on the island abides by Mother Nature’s fickle nature. 

Erosion eats away up to 12 feet of shoreline a year, according to the Army Corps of Engineers. 

Hilary Harp Falk, CEO of the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, travels all around the mid-Atlantic, fighting to preserve the bay. 

“Right now we’re expecting in Maryland to see an increase in sea level rise by 1-2 feet by 2050 and more than 4 feet by 2100,” she said. 

That means the bay has the highest level of sea level rise on the East Coast. 

“We also are seeing issues of erosion as well as issues of subsidence. So we’re actually, some of the land is actually sinking,” she said. “Those are all combining to have a really negative impact on the communities that surround the bay.”

Efforts to save Smith Island 

Falk’s work around Smith Island is personal — it’s where she spent her childhood summers. She thinks of a local phrase when it comes to the determination of residents to stay: you get mud between your toes.

“It means that Smith Island never leaves you, that you will always be connected to this place,” she said. “And for those of us that have mud between our toes, I think we can understand what it means to not have Smith Island anymore.”

While Maryland’s 2013 offer to buy and demolish Smith Island homes was shot down, it did sound alarms for residents. Watermen and retirees learned how to apply for grants and lobby legislators. They’ve been successful, receiving more than $43 million for elevating roads, building jetties, restoring buildings and drawing in tourists. 

Adapting to change on Smith Island

Environmentalists and climate scientists 60 Minutes consulted worry that Smith Island grit is no match for a rapidly changing environment. By the turn of this century, fears surfaced that Smith Island might not last another century. Better job opportunities on the mainland caused an exodus. There are now so few children on the island that its only school recently closed. 

Waterfowl now outnumber people. The population has dwindled by more than half since the 1990s and now hovers around 200. 

The people still on the island pride themselves on adapting to meet challenges. Waterman Mark Kitching, born and raised on Smith Island, uses his boat to host ecotours around the pelican rookery to supplement his income.

Marshall makes Smith Island cakes out of her kitchen. The cakes, once baked by the island’s women to sustain their husbands during the oyster harvest, are eight-layer confections. They’re now the Maryland state dessert. Marshall takes orders by phone, then ships her creations off island, sending them as far away as Japan and Iran. 

Her customers mail her checks. 

“I don’t have no credit card machine or nothing,” Marshall said. 

People moving to Smith Island

It’s not just the native residents who won’t give up. Despite the specter of sea level rise, there’s been a real estate boom; 20% of the homes on the island have changed hands in the past three years. A chance at affordable island life and optimism about the government’s investment have led people like Shannon Abbott to defy the warnings. 

Abbott and her husband lived in New Jersey before they made the move. They paid $80,000 for their new waterfront home, which they’ve elevated above flood level. The Abbotts have four kids and hope their kids will be able to bring their grandchildren to the Smith Island home in the future.

“Five years ago, we never thought we would have a pandemic, and live through COVID,” Abbott said. “I mean, things can change tomorrow. So why worry about it?”

Why residents are determined to stay on Smith Island 

Abbott and her husband are focused on the Smith Island charm. Her life on the island transports her back to when she was a little girl.

“It’s like that feeling when you were a kid, like, that first day of summer vacation. And you’re, like, ‘Hmmm, what am I gonna do today?'” she said. “I’m going to go find bugs, make mud pies,

whatever it is, stay out until, you know, the fireflies are out at night.”

Marshall, who’s lived on Smith Island her entire life, said it’s like a big family. Faith plays a big role on the island, she said. 

“That’s the government of our island. It really is. We don’t really have government much. I mean,  we don’t have any law. We don’t need it.”

Crime is nonexistent on the island.

“The speed limit’s a golf cart. I mean, how fast can you go in a golf cart?” Marshall said. “Here, I feel so safe. I do. I mean, I just feel like if I need anything that I can pick up my phone. And I don’t care what anybody’s doing, they’ll come say, ‘What’s the matter? What do you need?’ That’s golden.”

Jon Wertheim

L. Jon Wertheim is an accomplished journalist and 60 Minutes correspondent.