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TRANSCRIPT
This is Living Planet, I’m Kathleen Schuster.
Rising sea levels are threatening a way of life for hundreds of millions of island dwellers across the world. Tropical islands might be some of the first that come to mind, but it’s a problem that’s made its way to Europe, too. Germany, for example, is currently wrestling with questions of how to preserve its beloved islands in the North Sea whose cultures and traditions date back centuries. Not to mention their proud history of adapting to turbulent waters.
But can they adapt fast enough to survive climate change? That’s a question our producer Tamsin Walker set out to answer over the next two episodes.
Part One begins in the mudflats off the island of Pellworm.
Tamsin: Can I take my shoes off?
Dierk: Yeah, yeah. It’s better.
Tamsin: I always wanted to feel the squishing mud between my toes.
Dierk: Yeah, yeah.
We are in the Wattenmeer, or Wadden Sea.
Tamsin: It’s really squelchy.
Dierk: Yeah.
Which is the world’s largest unbroken system of intertidal sand and mudflats. Besides flanking a section of northern Germany, where Dierk Jensen gives visitors regular tours, it also forms part of the coastline of Denmark and the Netherlands.
It’s a place of near endless horizons and vast, fast-moving skies. A place of wind, weather and brooding atmosphere. And it is so unique that it’s also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Dierk: So in four hours… four and a half hours, there’s…
Tamsin: High tide.
Dierk: High tide. Okay, time is running.
Tamsin: Let’s go then.
It’s a place of near endless horizons and vast, fast-moving skies. A place of wind, weather and brooding atmosphere. And it’s so unique that it’s also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The tides roll in and out twice a day, exposing the huge seabed to the rich birdlife that comes to feed at what is sometimes described as giant natural buffet.
Dierk: Yeah, to have the right name in English… for the mussels.
Tamsin: Ah, well, I wouldn’t be able to correct you if you got it wrong, so, you’re safe. Cockles and mussels.
Dierk: Pepper mussels, hard mussels, and clams.
It’s a restless and windswept landscape that serves as a constant reminder of just how quickly things can and do change. Because the sea is bound to keep moving.
Dierk: You see the waters coming?
Tamsin: Yeah. It’s going really quick. Yeah, I see it.
We’ve walked maybe 300 feet out onto the exposed mud flats, just off a German island called Pellworm – written PELL-worm. And in those couple of minutes, the excited grey sea has come racing back towards the shore.
It’s covered our footsteps almost as quickly as they were made, leaving us to walk through the deepening shallows.
Dierk: If you stand here for twenty minutes, the water will be to here.
Dierk is indicating somewhere on his torso.
Tamsin: Okay, let’s not do that.
Dierk: No, no, no. To the knees and then we are going back.
So we stand for two minutes and sure enough, the water reaches to just below our knees. Time to beat our retreat.
Dierk: You know the difference of low and high tide is three, three and a half meters in six hours.
For anyone who’s experienced the ebb and flow of tidal seas, this scenario will sound familiar. But what makes it striking here is that the waves are rushing towards land that lies below sea-level. And which is entirely dependent on huge grassy dykes to keep it safe.
Dierk: We are here always under sea level. And to settle down in this area nowadays, that’s a decision. And you have this thing that you sit in the garden, but you can’t see the sea. And the sea is, like the height of your hips more or less. But you can’t see that. And what the man is not seeing, you know, it’s not really happening in his head.
I’m Tamsin Walker and on this episode of Living Planet, we’re visiting a low-lying area of Germany where dykes and artificial hills have long been essential to the continued survival of local communities. And we’re asking how they’re adapting to the threat of rising sea levels.
Dierk Jensen, who’s also an author, grew up on Pellworm, which is one of Germany’s many North Sea islands.
This one is characterised by its green, grassy beaches and the towering coastal defences that wrap right around its almost 30-kilometer or 18-mile circumference.
Dierk Jensen: Friends of mine who are not islanders, who are coming from other places, in Europe, they are thinking to live such a place, under the sea level, it’s against some natural things, you know? So, I am joking: that’s always the reason why I’m trying to be a good swimmer.
He personally doesn’t balk at the idea of swimming to the mainland,
Dierk: Yes, I can, I can, yeah.
But the more common way of getting to and fro is by boat.
The crossing is short. It takes just over half an hour, but it cuts through centuries-old history. Because the sea here covers land that once joined Pellworm with the neighboring island of Nordstrand, which is much closer to the main land and is now connected to it via a human-built causeway.
Dierk: Pellworm was an island in the late Middle Ages, together with Nordstrand, our neighbor island today. And that was split up in a big flood in the 17th century. Die grosse Flut, die Mandränke. And yeah since then, since 1634, Pellworm is an island. But in former times, in the long, bigger timeframe, it was part of the land.
Records show that more than 6,000 islanders and 50,000 animals were lost to the waves in that one stormy October night. But even before that devastating event, the local population understood the need for defending themselves against the sea.
Dierk: In the first time of settlement in the 800th century after Jesus, they started to build up their houses on, you could say, little hills.
Tamsin: The Warften?
Dierk: We call it Warften. Warfen, Warften. And that was the first method not to get wet in the flood and low tide. And then later on in the end of the Middle Age, they turn to the dike system. They say, ‘Okay, we are dry as persons, but our land is always saltened.’ And they try to make these dykes. But what an effort to build the dykes, you know.
They had no modern machinery or engineering techniques, so the dykes were much lower and less robust than today.
Knut Knudsen is a native Pellwormer, who knows the island, its defenses and surrounding Wadden Sea as well as anyone. Besides having worked on the dykes himself, he regularly walks over the mudflats to deliver post to a smaller island.
Knut Knudsen: Wenn man damals schon ein bisschen mehr Küstenschutz betrieben hätte, so wie in Form von Deichbau…
Knut believes better coastal protection all those years ago would have prevented such large-scale loss of life and land.
Knut: Aber da hat man ja auch festgestellt, dass diese Sturmflut damals …
Nonetheless, he says measurements show that even by today’s standards, the flood of 1634 was particularly violent.
Knut: … für heutige Verhältnisse schon eine sehr schwere gewesen ist.
Though it was four centuries ago, the story of the storm comes up often. It was a turning point in coastal protection, which is only gaining in importance as sea levels rise. Even in recent years, it has gone from strength to strength.
Dierk: When I was born, in the 60s, we had an old dyke with a height of six meters, and nowadays we have a dyke of eight meters.
They are vast and solid structures. But according to the coastal protection authorities, one five-kilometer stretch in particular needs to be further strengthened. Which could cost anything between 10 and 18 million euros (or 11 and 20 million dollars) per kilometer. And take around five years to complete.
And because the bolstering would have to be done from the island side of the dyke as opposed to the sea-side, it also means buying the land on which to conduct the work. So, all in all, no small undertaking. And though there seems to be consensus that work needs to be done, not everyone is anxious for it to happen immediately.
Knut: Also hier ist, jetzt noch mal, wo wir jetzt gerade sitzen, soll nachgebessert werden.
Knut points to a place where he says repairs are needed. Where tests have shown a structural instability should there be too much water. But on the whole, he’s not worried about the state of most of the dykes. At least not for now.
Knut: … in Schuss. Also da hätte ich jetzt keine Bedenken. Aber eben, wenn das jetzt zum Ende des Jahrhunderts…
Though he says if sea levels were to rise 80 centimeters, or more than 2 and a half feet, by the end of the century, the dykes as they are now would not prevent regular flooding.
Knut: … die nicht mehr, dann werden die öfter mal überflutet.
Current modelling cannot specify exactly how much seas will rise in the coming decades. What is known, though, is that burning fossil fuels to power industries and societies is warming the planet, causing the thermal expansion of seawater and ice sheets and glaciers to melt.
Seas are already 24 centimetres higher than in 1880, but according to scientists, the continued rise rate will depend on how quickly the world stops generating heat-trapping emissions. The best-case scenarios indicate seas will be 40 centimetres higher by the end of the century. While the most dire modelling points to levels of an additional 2 meters in that time frame.
So where does that leave islanders? Dierk Jensen is aware of the potential risks from higher waters, but says that doesn’t impact his decision about where to live.
Dierk: If someone is talking to me, ‘Oh, you are buying a house on this island; this island will be away in the next 30 years because of climate change and rising sea levels.’ Yes, that could be, but that’s not a thing which has an influence in my decisions here. And I think many people here are the same because you are living here, you like it here, and you live now, and you are not living in 30 years.
Over time, he has also noticed what he describes as a curiosity in terms of the way many locals relate to the waves lapping at their fortified shores.
Dierk: The islanders here on Pellworm are not so close to the Wadden Sea. So, their experiences is not that they enjoy it every day. No, no, no.
He says they can seem more concerned with the land which serves as the basis for their existence. And sometimes regard the sea as the enemy.
Dierk: The mentality of the farmers is really more to see the green, green fields here on the island instead of the grey Wadden Sea soil outside of the dike. Many of them don’t swim in the water, but you can understand that because historically, all the things behind the dike is safe and good and makes life possible.
Torsten Frener was also raised on the island and has long farmed the land that the dykes protect. Like Dierk, he is pragmatic about any threat posed by the sea at the door.
Torsten Frener: Es gibt ja so einen Katastrophenplan, wo jeder, wir ja auch, wir sind hier …
Torsten says there’s a detailed plan that lays out where he and everyone else on the island would be expected to go…
Torsten: Wenn jetzt irgendwo der Deich hier bricht…
… should the dykes break. And though he’s aware that such an emergency is not an impossibility, he doesn’t assume it’s about to happen.
Torsten: Sitze ich auch nicht auf meinen gepackten Koffern oder so.
And when a storm does come rolling in, he says he’s not sitting on a packed suitcase. Nor does he find it hard to sleep at night. At least not about the sea.
But there are other issues facing the island that cause him great concern. Particularly the way its farming heart has been forced to change over the years.
One issue is that the island has become a hotspot for barnacle geese, which are taking advantage of milder temperatures in this part of the world.
They come in great flocks in October and spend the winter on the island, stripping the fields bare.
Torsten: Weil wir hier ein Riesenproblem mit den Gänsen haben.
As a result, farmers like Torsten have to wait until the birds move on in April or May to start planting. He’s now shifted to growing summer grains, such as spring barley, wheat and oats.
Torsten: Weil die Hauptschadgänse, die Nonnengänse, die verziehen sich nachher…
There is no immediate solution to the problem. All farmers can do is to adapt their crop choice and take part in a scheme that pays them to plant food the geese like, so they can fill up before their spring-time onward journey. Torsten is part of the initiative, but would much rather be producing food for human consumption.
And it’s not the only issue facing Pellworm’s farming community. Where dozens of small family operations once thrived side-by-side, many have now gone, ceding space to fewer, bigger farms. And that has an impact on the fabric of the island.
Torsten: Wenn du jetzt hundert Betriebe hast, da sind ja Menschen dahinter, Familien…
Torsten laments the loss, which he says goes beyond simply counting up the number of farms on Pellworm’s 37 square kilometers or 14 square miles of land mass . It is also about the families connected to those businesses and the respective roles they play in the community and therefore in island life.
Torsten: Was das Inselleben halt so ausmacht. Und ja, das verändert die Insel dann halt schon zum Teil.
Changing demographics is something many on Pellworm talk about. Without jobs to keep younger people there, plenty move away. Others are moving in. Such as Nestor Castillo, who arrived this summer to work in a restaurant. He’s originally from Venezuela and spent many years in Madrid before moving to the island, where he is getting used to the dyke landscape.
Nestor Castillo: It is a complete new concept for me. Like being, yeah, used to, having the Caribbean Sea in front of me, it’s a, it’s just a very different kind of water. It’s like a different environment. I think I couldn’t put it in words what it psychologically does to me, but it has like a soothing, calming effect. So I make sure I’m visiting whenever, the rain is gone.
He is not the only newcomer but in his early thirties, he perhaps among the younger ones. Because the majority of Pellworm residents are now over 50.
Dierk Jensen remembers times when there were more youngsters on the island.
Dierk: When I was here in the school, we were 300 pupils, and nowadays there are 90.
He says it indicative of what he describes as the dramatic process of change. And as older structures on the island weaken, he sees a clear need for new ideas. Including sustainable tourism. Pellworm has become more or an attraction for holidaymakers in recent decades. And is marketed as a destination for those who are really looking for time outside the normal fray. Many locals, including farmer Torsten Frener, are involved in this new face of the island.
Torsten: Auf dem Betrieb war eine Ferienwohnung und dann haben wir gesagt: Nee, irgendwie müssten wir noch ein anderes Standbein dazu haben.
He and his family started out with one holiday let on their farm, but realized they needed another source of income, so now have seven rental opportunities.
And he says many of the other farms are doing the same thing, because without tourism here, making ends meet would be tough.
Torsten: … dann wär’s ja wirklich übel.
The changing demographics and social structures are relevant in terms of keeping the island viable. And not only with regard to services and infrastructure. Maintaining strong communities is key. Not least because the regional coastal defence authorities have a clear remit to protect people living in low-lying areas.
But as much as Pellworm needs to be protected, it and the other islands along this stretch of Germany’s coastline are important for the protection of the mainland.
Even a group of tiny patches of land known as the Hallig islands, play a vital role in keeping the country’s shores safe
These 10 islets dotted around the Wadden Sea close to Pellworm are low-lying marshlands. And they are utterly unique to the world.
Michael Klisch is mayor of Hooge, the second largest Hallig. And also heads its Wadden Sea conservation station.
Michael: In dem Verbund der Inseln …
He says the islands essentially create a first line of defence for Germany’s northern coastline.
Michael: Und damit kommen die Wellen und damit die Wucht der Wellen deutlich abgeschwächter auf die Festlandsküste …
They break up the open sea and help weaken the force of the waves, so by the time they reach the mainland shore, they potentially cause less damage than if they hit it directly. But the Hallig islands can take a beating themselves in the process.
Michael: … die Wucht der Wellen kommt.
On a calm day, when the sea is still and the only sounds are coming from birds and insects, it’s hard to imagine wind violent enough to whip waves into a lather. Or storms that cause the sea to spill onto the Hallig Islands themselves. But it happens. So often, in fact, that it has a name: Landunter. Or land under. Because though the Hallig islands are above sea level, unlike Pellworm, they have no high dyke protection, and in many cases they have none at all. Which means that during storm surges, they are completely and regularly flooded.
Residents live in clusters of houses on the same small dwelling mounds or Warften that exist on Pellworm. Because those are high enough to remain above water when the sea comes crashing in.
Locals get reliable information about incoming storms. They need to know so they can prepare by bringing everything that could be washed away up onto their dwelling mounds before it’s too late. Because as Hallig Hooge native Sandra Wendt says, when the waters come, they come quickly.
Sandra Wendt: Also diese 550 Hektar, die laufen so in anderthalb, zwei Stunden …
She runs a local shop. And says the Hallig which is 570 hectares, or 1,400 acres in size, and says it can completely flood within two hours. And the water doesn’t come from just one direction, but from everywhere …
Sandra: … sondern hinter dir auch.
… including from behind.
Once the sea has flooded the land, the dwelling mounds are all that are visible. Until the waters to recede, which generally takes between a day and a half and two days. It’s a singular way of life lived in incredible proximity to the wilds of nature. Which for the most part, Sandra says she loves. But there are times during the flooding events when she finds it hard to sleep.
Sandra: Die Winde sind doch sehr doll und je mehr Wind wir haben, desto höhere Wellen haben wir auch.
She says it’s the wind that gets her. Because flooding events are always connected to wind and waves. The stronger the gusts, the bigger the waves, and if the water has already reached a critical level and there’s still a lot of wind, the sea can climb higher up the side of the dwelling mounds.
Sandra: … höhere Wellen, die eben auch die, die Warft noch höher klettern.
Katja Just: Gerade weil mein Haus so alt ist, liegt das so tief.
Katja Just lives on the same mound as Sandra, but in a much older and lower-lying house. She describes the North Sea as an ever-changing diva, and she loves watching its moods.
Katja, who is originally from southern Germany, has written three books about her 25 years living on Hallig Hooge.
Katja: … wirklich in die Ockenswarft kommt, dann wird mein Haus das Erste sein, was absäuft.
She is clear that if the water were to come over the top of their dwelling mound, her building would be the first to flood.
She also understands that living where she does means facing increasing challenges as the years go on.
Katja: Ich bin mir dessen bewusst, dass ich hier…
One day, she says, she’s sure the mound will be flooded. She just hopes that she is no longer around to witness it.
Katja: Ich hoffe natürlich, dass ich das nicht erleben werde.
One of the interventions to ensure the Hallig Islands remain habitable for as long as possible, is to increase the height of the dwelling mounds. And built a large, stabilizing plateaus. Though the buildings themselves are not elevated. The strategy is time-consuming and costly, but for the mayor of Hooge, Michael Klitsch, it makes sense.
Michael: Aktuell würde ich sagen, die bisherigen und auch geplanten Schutzmaßnahmen …
He says he’s confident that the current coastal defence plans for the Halligs, but also the islands and mainland are sufficient to keep land and residents safe for the coming years and decades.
Michael: … die nächsten Jahre oder Jahrzehnte durchaus, äh, man sorgenfrei hier leben kann.
Though he also says it is now going to be a race against time. He believes that at some point, parts of coastal Germany will be faced with difficult decisions. Not least because of the cost of adapting to rising sea levels.
He doesn’t anticipate that during his lifetime. And for now, the Hallig Islands have an additional safety measure. Houses built on any of the inhabited islands in the last 60 years have to have one room that is anchored to the dwelling mound by a pile foundation
The idea is that if the sea were to wash a house away, that one room would remain standing.
And anyone sheltering in it, could stay there until the water recedes. Which eventually, it always does. During the subsequent low tides, it naturally flows off the Hallig via little channels and a sluice to rejoin a sea that’s gone back to its rightful place.
It’s wild to think that where there is now water, there was once dry ground. And that had it not been for extreme storms, Hallig Hooge might still be connected to the island of Pellworm.
Dierk: It means that in former times, the people from Hooge came to the old church of Pellworm. They had no own church. They went from their place to Pellworm on land, not on boat. In former times that was a regular thing.
Dierk Jensen does sometimes still walk from Pellworm to the Hallig. Not to go to church, but to lead interested tourists across the seabed at low tide.
As he goes, he often sees remnants of old times hidden in the mudflats. Things like bricks. And it’s no anomaly. A small museum on the island of Pellworm is given over to thousands of relics of lives lost to the waves. Shelves and cabinets are crammed with tiles, pots, utensils and other fragments of everyday items pulled from the seabed over decades.
It’s a reminder, Dierk says of how things are constantly moving. And how the survival of societies and communities is ultimately dependent on learning to adapt. Adapt to the erosion of social structures; and in the case of this part of the world, to the impacts of climate change on literally shifting sands.
Dierk: In former times, this land was higher than now, so different factors, in a very dynamic process, change the coastline. It’s a long process and if you explain dynamic processes in the Wadden Sea, not every dynamic is depending on climate change. You know? But it makes it more drastic, more, more extreme.
Check out our feed next week for part two on islands and climate change. Living Planet’s Tamsin Walker will be back to talk more about the Hallig Islands along with Carlyle Calhoun, the host of the podcast Sea Change, which is produced by New Orleans public radio.
Together they’ll be exploring this tradition of mound building and what it means not only for the survival of Germany’s islands, but also how it compares to what’s found along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico.
And this week we have question for you, our listeners: How has coastal erosion affected your life? We want to know. You can leave us a quick voice message at dw.com/livingplanet. That’s dw.com/livingplanet.
We’ll be right back after this message.
This episode of Living Planet was produced by Tamsin Walker who reported from the islands of Pellworm and Hallig Hooge. Editing and soundscaping by me, Kathleen Schuster.
Our sound engineers were Simon Berkhahn and Gian Luca Wald.
