This small Virginia island could be underwater before the next century

As the ferry draws near Tangier, Captain Steven Thomas steps to the microphone and delivers a well‑worn narrative about the island’s past—one in which crabbing is not just an occupation but the very backbone of local identity. He gestures to a cluster of diminutive wooden structures perched on stilts above the water:

“These are crab shanties,” he explains calmly. “They’re used in summer to house softshell crabs while they molt.”

Tangier Island lies off Virginia’s coast in the Chesapeake Bay, and it is among the few remaining inhabited islands in that region. Long before European colonists arrived in the 1700s, Native communities likely visited during the summer to harvest the Bay’s abundant fish and crab. Over the centuries, settlers — and their descendants bearing names like Crockett, Parks, and Thomas — have stayed. The island’s isolation fostered a distinctive accent, which residents sometimes describe as a blend between “Southern” and “Elizabethan” English.

Yet the island is literally slipping away. Since 1850, it has lost roughly two‑thirds of its landmass—washed off by erosion and rising waters. The terrain stands only about three feet above sea level on average, while water levels in the Bay are climbing by about a quarter inch each year. Scientists warn that if current trends persist, the island may be mostly underwater within several decades.

Dave Schulte, a climate change researcher and ecological restoration specialist who has studied Tangier in depth, co‑authored key reports in 2015 and 2021. He formerly worked with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. He has told NPR that the forecasts show the town may need to be abandoned in about 25 to 30 years. According to Schulte, “sea level rise is accelerating erosion, and storms are now more intense and frequent,” compounding the damage. Further complicating the problem is that the Chesapeake Bay region is undergoing tectonic subsidence—meaning the land itself is sinking. In short: the island’s base is descending while water levels rise from above.

For the people of Tangier, the sea is not abstract—it’s a threat to their very way of life. Many still live by the water’s rhythms: crabbing and fishing as generations did before them. But their numbers are dwindling. The 2024–2025 school year, for example, saw only 38 students enrolled at the local combined school, and just one of them graduated. That graduate, Lukas Thomas, has vowed to stay on the island—unusual in a place where many young people leave after school. The median age among residents now exceeds 60, and many are elderly, making even day‑to‑day tasks like home repairs a struggle.

Life on Tangier is tranquil in many ways, but under a constant bruise of tension. Mayor James “Ooker” Eskridge—himself a crabber—describes the connection people feel: “We’ve been here for hundreds of years and we’d like to remain. It’s home.” He and others stress that they are not merely trying to preserve land, but a whole culture. But the scale of intervention required is enormous: Schulte estimates a full rescue would cost between $250 million and $350 million. That would cover hard measures like shoreline armoring with rock, elevating roads, and retrofitting utilities.

Some federal attention has shown up. Senator Tim Kaine from Virginia secured funding of $800,000 in 2024 and $10 million more in the current year, intended to support resilience strategies like seawalls and dredging. A few physical protections are already in place: a seawall built in 1990 along the west side, and a breakwater installed in 2020 to buffer the harbor. But these were long‑drawn projects, and not nearly enough to turn the tide. As Schulte puts it, “They can’t keep asking for help and wait 50 years for someone to save the island.”

Organizations such as the Chesapeake Bay Foundation are now partnering with the town to develop an adaptation plan. Ideas being discussed include establishing a “living shoreline” using marsh grasses and oyster beds, deploying dredged sediments to bolster vulnerable zones, and other nature‑based defenses. The aim is to slow erosion while preserving—or at least delaying—the island’s inundation.

Yet questions linger: how much can be saved, who will pay for it, and whether time has already run out. Tangier is more than an island under siege—it’s a community fighting to remain rooted in place even as the waters creep in.

Source: npr