On the afternoon of the first big wave, six-year-old Maggie Colón was at her godmother’s house in the Jareales neighborhood. A sack of rice was on the floor of the house, which was elevated on stilts. “Then the house kind of tilts, and I see the sack of rice tilt,” she recalls.

She remembers her mother calling her and saying, “Come up, look at the sea, there’s a storm.”

“And we stayed there. Our house, although  being on stilts, wasn’t knocked down; my godmother’s house was washed  away,” Maggie said, sitting outside a fried food kiosk she runs near La Poza del Obispo beach, in the northern coast.

However, the relief was short-lived. Another large wave eventually destroyed Maggie’s house. It was 1954, and the sea forced her family of six to accept relocation to another seemingly safer plot.

Only a bridge and two culverts remain of Maggie’s old neighborhood.

Nearly 70 years later, with rising sea levels and stronger cyclones caused by the climate crisis, the Atlantic Ocean has intensified its assault on Puerto Rico’s northern coast, threatening to displace Maggie once again.

“Now I’m living in a house by the sea, but my Jarealito neighborhood will disappear,” she said. Jarealito is the nickname her family and the displaced community gave the sector they were relocated to, which is now also under threat from coastal erosion.

The threat Maggie perceives has already become a reality for Liliana Acabá Cruz in the nearby Islote neighborhood. In March 2019, the 38-year-old returned home to find a wave surge that reached the road. She stopped in front of a small restaurant to help the owner deal with the water that had reached the garage.

“While we were taking out the trash, we heard another wave… bringing large logs, vegetation, coconuts, and we ran,” she recalls of the episode captured on video.

That night, three wave surges occurred in a 30 minute span, blocking cars for days due to sand accumulation on the road.

The wave surges resulted from the so-called “dead swells,” when cold fronts from North America move into the Atlantic Ocean during the fall.

“During hurricane season, we’re cut off,” said Liliana, who moved to Jarealito, also oceanfront, nine months ago.

According to the Puerto Rico Coastal Research and Planning Institute (CoRePI) at the University of Puerto Rico’s Graduate School of Planning, Arecibo is one of Puerto Rico’s oceanfront municipalities most affected by rising sea levels, beach erosion, and coastal flooding, which have gotten worse since Hurricane Maria in 2017.

The government’s proposal to build two wavebreakers near the shore exposes the neighbors to government bureaucracy and lengthy construction process of a project that could have serious environmental impact. Scientists interviewed by the Centro de Periodismo Investigativo agreed that hard structures like wavebreakers  do not solve the problem, changing wave patterns and diverting currents to other communities, causing greater erosion.

The problem gets worse considering that between 2010 and 2017, Puerto Rico experienced a sea level rise of six millimeters per year, according to Oceanographer Aurelio Mercado. It is estimated that the sea level will rise another 12 inches by mid-century and up to eight feet by the end of the century, according to the Caribbean Sea Level Center.

Four Years of Waiting and Counting…

One of the most exposed sectors in Arecibo is Barrio Obrero, a centenarian community that has long-awaited solutions to mitigate the effects of rising sea levels and waves reaching their backyards.

In 1925, under the tenure of then-mayor Ricardo Agrait Aldea, the creation of this neighborhood in Arecibo was proposed, following the model of a sector with the same name in San Juan. It was designed to provide a safe home for working class families coming from the countryside to work in the city. In Arecibo, it mainly housed workers from the Puerto Rico Distilling Co., a rum producer, said Arecibo historian Daniel Mora Ortiz.

“We don’t doubt that Arecibo will soon have its Barrio Obrero, with cool, comfortable, picturesque houses, where, after a hard day’s work, the worker will feel pleasure in resting with the regenerative and inspiring affection of the family,” reads a 1925 editorial from El Mundo newspaper.

Miguel De Arce Molina, a 64-year-old construction worker , lives there. He stands on his house’s balcony, a concrete structure with a wooden roof. Beside him is a bicycle, and behind him are memories of two streets in the neighborhood that no longer exist.

“There used to be more houses back there; one was my father’s, and the water used to get under it. But years ago, the sea rose and took many houses and even people who, although they were saved, got a fright,” said Miguel.

Warnings about the growing risk to the community due to coastal erosion are not new. I toured the area in 2019 when residents claimed that the government had done little to address the issue after Hurricane Maria.

At that time, José Vega, who has lived in Barrio Obrero for nearly 40 years, explained that the community lost a considerable amount of land after Hurricane Maria. “One of these days, while sleeping, we’ll wake up sailing in the sea,” he told me then.

The proposal for a possible solution took four years to materialize: two breakwaters costing $36 million with funds from the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s (FEMA) Hazard Mitigation Grant Program.

The breakwaters — one 2,700 feet long in front of the Radioville community and another 1,700 feet long for Barrio Obrero — are still in the design stage, requiring a long list of studies that can take years.

So, there is no approximate start date for the projects and no known completion date, Yisiel Belén, spokesperson for the municipality’s mayor, Carlos Irizarry Ramírez, confirmed.

“I’ll die before I see the breakwaters,” Miguel lamented.

Belén explained that a “seawall with ecological elements to help mitigate coastal erosion will be built and once completed, will solve the problem in the long term.” It will also include stormwater drainage and coastal vegetation, such as sea grapes, among others.

Meanwhile, residents in this neighborhood and Arecibo deal with the anxiety caused  by the sea, rains, and even tornadoes. On May 2, the National Weather Service reported a tornado entering Arecibo’s coast, toppling trees, palm trees, and signs during 10 minutes. This phenomenon, unusual in Puerto Rico, occurred after the island experienced weeks of severe rainy weather.

“Why Breakwaters?”

Despite what goes on in the Arecibo’s coastline, some residents reject the construction of new stone or concrete structures. They say it was precisely the construction of such a structure in Punta Morrillos in the 1940s that diverted waves to other communities like the vanished Jareales, Barrio Pueblo, and Barrio Obrero.

Fredesmindo Soto, a 74-year-old retired professor, recalls that for the construction of the new pier, a stone wall was created from the coast to the now disappeared Cocineras Key, which was eliminated as a result of the structure.

“That didn’t help prevent the erosion as it should have,” he said.

Opposing the new breakwaters proposal, Maggie insists that the project caused stronger currents to reach the disappeared Jareales.

“Why breakwaters? You already destroyed what you built. Why did the sea reach  here? Why did Jareales disappear? The breakwater destroyed old Jareales,” she said.

Myrna Concepción Torres, 63, also doubts the proposed solution. Standing under a palm tree in what once was the Jareales neighborhood, her green eyes gaze into the ocean’s infinity. Since 2011, she has coordinated the Arecibo Committee for the Protection of Sea Turtles, as leatherbacks nest there. Today, they protect 18 nests.

“I’m younger; I can’t speak of how it was before, but to some extent, the breakwater at the pier protects a little. Now, this beach changes a lot. You may see it like this today, and tomorrow it has eroded, and we lose nests because of that,” she concedes.

Geologist Maritza Barreto Orta, who has studied Puerto Rico’s beaches for over 25 years, maintains that the coastal erosion threatening Barrio Obrero results from the wave diversion caused by the last century’s project, worsened by the recent intensification of the climate crisis.

“That area had waves coming one way, but as the structure was built and the port area was dredged, the waves changed direction, causing the beach to erode,” the scientist explains.

This risk of redirecting the sea makes Myrna doubt and rethink the long-term efficiency of these structures.

“They take measures for one community’s benefit at the time, and that’s fine, but if they build a breakwater here, where will that water go? We must consider the damage it will do to the corals, and turtle nesting… Ok, maybe Barrio Obrero, Jarealito, or Arecibo won’t flood, but then neighboring areas will start having problems,” she said.

A 1973 report from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) acknowledges that the breakwater construction caused changes in Arecibo’s ocean currents.

The report cites a 1961 U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) study that observed aerial photographs over 30 years and concluded that the coast was relatively stable before 1940, but drastic changes in currents occurred after the breakwater’s construction.

According to the USACE report, a 2.5-mile stretch — from the disappeared Jareales to the area in front of the town center — was impacted, losing an average of 114 feet of coast.

Still, residents like Miguel Correa and Liliana Acabá Cruz put their hopes on such projects to prevent further displacement.

“The breakwater next to the pier improved and prevented some damage. A new breakwater could help a little more,” Correa believes, while lamenting that such constructions take so long.

Liliana agrees, recognizing that a breakwater won’t save her life during a strong surge, but it will at least give her and her neighbors some time to escape the sea’s fury.

“I can’t oppose it because I can run at 38, but my 91-year-old neighbor with a bedridden son can’t. We must be empathetic,” she says.

Oceanographer Aurelio Mercado Irizarry says constructing hard structures on the coast or in the sea is “detrimental” due to changes in marine currents.

“With a hard structure, the wave pattern breaking on the shore changes, producing a jet of water to the sides and other shores,” Mercado Irizarry explained.

In 2022, the Government of Puerto Rico’s Committee of Experts and Advisors on Climate Change (CEACC) recommended a moratorium on construction in the archipelago’s 44 coastal municipalities. However, Governor Pedro Pierluisi Urrutia repeatedly rejected this recommendation, instead ramping up permit approvals to build on Puerto Rican coasts, according to a CPI investigation.

In the first year of his administration, there was a 29% increase in permits granted compared to the previous year, 2020. Additionally, this year, Pierluisi Urrutia signed a law to further expedite the construction and infrastructure permitting process for projects considered “critical, strategic, or emergency and funded by federal funds, including schools and housing.” This new law also allows for the appointment of a Specialized Permit Manager, a previously non-existent government position whose job will be to organize, coordinate, and process the evaluation of submitted projects. This law is part of the reconstruction process following Hurricane Maria in 2017.

Puerto Rico’s 44 coastal towns are home to 60% of the 3.2 million residents, according to 2020 Census data.

“The coast is exposed to tsunamis, storm surges, and coastal erosion, which poses a threat to people’s safety, housing, and other infrastructure,” FEMA said in written statements explaining the approval of funds for the breakwaters in Arecibo. The project aims to reduce the erosion effects in Barrio Obrero and the Radioville community.

Arecibo: From Socioeconomic Hub to Coastal Risk Epicenter

Walking through the streets of Arecibo reveals a vibrant socio-economic past evident in its colonial architecture, remnants of early 20th-century wealthy family mansions, and the commercial activity that persists along part of its coast. Geographically, it is the largest town in Puerto Rico, and in the 19th century, it was a key port for exporting sugar and other products from the more than 18 sugar plantations that once existed there, explains historian Mora Ortiz.

But the climate crisis, among other factors, has jeopardized the development of this municipality, which today ranks high on the list of areas impacted by rising sea levels.

Studies conducted by CoRePI indicate that Arecibo was the second municipality with the most coastal loss after Hurricane Maria in 2017, only surpassed by Vieques, an offshore municipality, which leads the zone most impacted by erosion.

Arecibo is unique in that it also ranked third in shoreline mobility — 4.8 kilometers inland — and is one of the top five coastal municipalities at risk of coastal flooding due to the reduction of natural barriers like coral reefs, loss of sand dunes, and diminishing beaches.

Barreto Orta, director of CoRePI, explains that the increase in coastal erosion in Arecibo persists in new analyses she is conducting with data collected between 2022 and 2023, with final findings expected to be published by the end of this year.

Additionally, she says Arecibo ranked fifth among municipalities where erosion was identified on beaches with rigid structures such as rocks, gabions, and concrete walls.

“My hypothesis is that as sea levels rise, the tendency is for sand to move inland. But if you have a hard structure, a house wall, rocks, or walls for mitigation, it shortens the possibility of that sand moving inland,” the professor explains, based on years of studying the field, noting that structures prevent natural beach restoration.

According to a draft of the Climate Change Mitigation, Adaptation, and Resilience Plan in Puerto Rico prepared by CEACC, to which Barreto Orta belongs, in 2018, the municipalities with the most rigid coastal mitigation structures were San Juan (64%), Rincón (33%), Humacao (32%), Aguadilla (18%), and Arecibo (13%).

According to the USGS Coastal Change Hazards Portal, Arecibo is 100% exposed to coastal erosion during any hurricane category (from 1 to 5 in intensity). In some areas, it is exposed to a 60% to 97% probability of coastal flooding during hurricanes.

Communities Facing Fear and Anxiety

When I talk to people on Arecibo’s coast, words like fear, anxiety, and all their synonyms weave into their testimonies.

Miguel “Tito” Correa is 81 years old and has lived in Barrio Obrero for over 50 years. He tells me that every time the sea gets rough, and the waves intensify, anxiety grows among the families living there.

“Since my childhood I was told that the sea would reclaim what belonged to it. Now it’s getting closer and closer until there’s almost no shore left. The sea is reclaiming what’s its own,” he says.

Myrna Concepción Torres agrees.

“You don’t know what will happen or where the sea will strike. Yes, they tell us it will hit the North region. But that doesn’t stop us from stressing, making us anxious, thinking about what will happen,” she said.

Similar emotions are triggered in Maggie Colón whenever any storm is announced. “It brings back memories. The bad things we lived through because that [eviction from Jareales] was a horrible thing,” she recalls of the traumatic experience.

Urging More Natural Barriers

For oceanographer Mercado Irizarry, alternative solutions to offshore or shore breakwaters could be natural barriers like coastal vegetation and sand dune restoration. However, he does not believe planting mangroves in the water is feasible on the North coast due to the ocean’s intensity.

Myrna walks among the leatherback nests, explaining that they have long promoted planting vegetation as a natural containment measure for Arecibo’s coastal zone.

“It’s a slow process, but it’s something every community should try, not just leave it to  the government. Coastal vegetation, like sea grapes or salt-resistant coastal plants, is slower but something people can do, especially not cutting down the  vegetation already there. Also, respecting dunes and not removing the sand,” she advises.

Resigned, Arecibo residents know that any solution will take time while the sea remains untamed. But they stay.

“It’s a sense of belonging, of my things; I was born there; I’ve lived there all my life… I have to breathe the sea. I love the countryside, but it has to be an area near the sea, and I believe that’s the feeling, the concern, and the stress it causes many: ‘Where will they take me?’” reflects Myrna.

I ask Maggie, after all she has lived through — displacement, hurricanes, erosion, floods, and the current threat of another displacement — what is her relationship with the sea now?

“It’s my life,” she replies without hesitation.

This report is part of a journalistic alliance between Mongabay Latam, Vorágine, Plaza Pública, and the Centro de Periodismo Investigativo