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Crammed with tourists, Alaska's capital wonders what will happen as its magnificent glacier recedes

So many people are expected that the city's immediate concern is how to manage them all

Crammed with tourists, Alaska's capital wonders what will happen as its magnificent glacier recedes

So many people are expected that the city's immediate concern is how to manage them all

O'BRIEN: WELCOME TO MATTER OF FACT. I'M SOLEDAD O'BRIEN, COMING TO YOU TODAY FROM OUR AFFILIATE WESH 2 IN ORLANDO, FLORIDA. THIS MONTH, THE EARTH SAW ITS HOTTEST DAY ON RECORD. THE EXTREME HEAT IS STRENGTHENING CALLS TO ADDRESS CLIMATE CHANGE AND MOVE TO CLEAN ENERGY SOURCES LIKE OFFSHORE WIND POWER. FEDERAL AND STATE GOVERNMENTS ARE PILOTING WIND POWER PROJECTS ALONG THE EAST COAST, BUT SOME OF THOSE PLANS FACE OPPOSITION, INCLUDING IN MAINE. THAT STATE SUPPLIES 90% OF THE COUNTRY'S LOBSTER, BUT LOCAL FISHERMEN WORRY OFFSHORE TURBINES COULD HURT THE MARINE HABITAT. CURRENTLY, THERE ARE PLANS TO BUILD 12 FLOATING WIND TURBINES IN THE GULF OF MAINE, BUT THE STATE COULD EVENTUALLY HAVE CLOSER TO 400. OUR CORRESPONDENT DAN LIEBERMAN TRAVELED THERE TO HEAR FIRSTHAND ABOUT HOW THIS IS PLAYING OUT. LIEBERMAN: ABOUT 5 MILES OFF THE COAST OF MAINE, SWAN'S ISLAND IS A TIGHTKNIT COMMUNITY OF JUST 350 YEAR-ROUND RESIDENTS. THEIR CULTURE AND LIVELIHOOD DEPEND ON LOBSTER AND FISHING. MAN: I'M AN EIGHTH GENERATION LOBSTERMAN. MY FAMILY FIRST MOVED HERE ON MY DAD'S SIDE IN 1806. MY DAD'S 84, MY MOM'S 83. THEY'VE GOT TRAPS IN THE WATER. DAD LOVES IT. GIVE THAT A FLING OVER ON THE FLOAT FOR ME. LOBSTER IS--IS THE GULF OF MAINE. IT'S WHO WE ARE. IT'S WHAT WE DO. LIEBERMAN: JASON JOYCE SAYS THE ENTIRE LOBSTER INDUSTRY IN MAINE IS AT RISK DUE TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF FLOATING OFFSHORE WIND PROJECTS. JOYCE: ONCE THOSE TURBINES ARE INSTALLED, THE NEXT 4, 5, 6 GENERATIONS COULD BE CURSED WITH THE RAMIFICATIONS OF WHAT HAPPENS. ANCHORED TO THE OCEAN FLOOR WITH 3 CHAINS. AS THAT STRUCTURE MOVES, ALL THAT EXCESS CHAIN DRAGS OVER THE OCEAN BOTTOM AND JUST DESTROYS THE HABITAT, SO WE'RE FEARFUL OF HABITAT DESTRUCTION. LIEBERMAN: DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHERE THE WINDMILLS WOULD GO? JOYCE: LEGALLY, THEY CAN GO AS LONG AS THEY'RE IN FEDERAL WATERS, WHICH IS 3 MILES OFFSHORE. LIEBERMAN: THE TURBINES WOULD BE 850 FEET TALL, EQUIVALENT TO 3 FOOTBALL FIELDS END TO END. JOYCE: PERSONALLY--AND MOST FISHERMEN THAT I KNOW--WE'RE NOT LOOKING 100 YEARS IN OUR FUTURE. WE'RE LOOKING AT THE DEVASTATION THAT WILL HAPPEN IN THE NEXT 10 YEARS. LIEBERMAN: BECAUSE OF ITS HIGH WIND SPEEDS AND DEEP WATERS, THE GULF OF MAINE IS GROUND ZERO FOR FLOATING OFFSHORE WIND DEVELOPMENT. MAN: WITHIN 50 MILES OF THE U.S. COAST, THERE'S ENOUGH OFFSHORE WIND CAPACITY TO POWER THE COUNTRY 4 TIMES OVER. LIEBERMAN: DR. HABIB DAGHER IS THE HEAD OF THE COUNTRY'S LEADING RESEARCH AND TESTING CENTER FOR FLOATING OFFSHORE WIND TURBINES. WHAT DO YOU SAY TO LOBSTERMEN WHO ARE CONCERNED ABOUT THIS? DAGHER: WE'RE CONCERNED, TOO. WE WANT TO MAKE SURE WE DO IT RIGHT. WE WANT TO MAKE SURE WE PRESERVE EVERYONE'S LIVELIHOOD, THAT WE PRESERVE THE ENVIRONMENT. LIEBERMAN: PROTECTING MARINE LIFE, DAGHER SAYS, IS ONE OF THE REASONS HE BELIEVES FLOATING TURBINE TECHNOLOGY IS THE RIGHT CHOICE FOR THE GULF OF MAINE WITH ADVANTAGES OVER FIXED PLATFORM TURBINES ATTACHED TO THE SEABED. DAGHER: THE BIG ADVANTAGE OF FLOATING TURBINE TECHNOLOGY IS THAT YOU CAN PUT IT WAY OUT THERE IN THE OCEAN. YOU CAN PUT IT IN PLACES WHERE THERE'S LESS FISHING AND LOBSTERING AND SO FORTH. WOMAN: I THINK OFFSHORE WIND IN THE UNITED STATES IS A HARD TOPIC BECAUSE IT IS THIS THING THAT HAS EXISTED ELSEWHERE, BUT WE DON'T HAVE EXPERIENCE WITH IT, SO I THINK IT'S REALLY REASONABLE THAT PEOPLE HAVE QUESTIONS AND CONCERNS THAT HAVEN'T BEEN ADDRESSED. LIEBERMAN: SUZANNE MacDONALD IS A SENIOR RESEARCHER AT THE NATIONAL RENEWABLE ENERGY LAB. AS PART OF HER JOB, SHE MEETS WITH FISHERMEN AND LOBSTERMEN TO HEAR THEIR CONCERNS ABOUT OFFSHORE WIND LIKE THE CHAINS THAT HOLD THE TURBINES TO THE SEA FLOOR. MacDONALD: THEY'RE ACTUALLY EXTREMELY LARGE ROPES OR CHAINS THAT ARE VERY HEAVY. THEY'RE NOT LIKELY SOMETHING THAT A SPECIES IS LIKELY TO GET ENTANGLED WITH AND IS, YOU KNOW, MORE LIKELY SOMETHING THEY MIGHT SORT OF BUMP INTO AND THEN SORT OF MOVE--MOVE AROUND. JOYCE: THERE WE GO. YOU GOT THE BUOY? LIEBERMAN: FOR JASON AND HIS FAMILY, NOTHING CAN CONVINCE THEM THAT THEIR LIVELIHOOD IS SAFE. JOYCE: THEY'RE DEFINITELY NOT LISTENING TO US, THE FISHERMEN. IF THIS IS TO SAVE THE WORLD'S CLIMATE BUT WE'RE GONNA DESTROY OUR ECOSYSTEM TO DO IT WHERE WE LIVE AND WHERE MY FAMILIES LIVE FOR OVER 200 YEARS, NOT INTERESTED. LIEBERMAN: LOOK. CHANGE IS SCARY. IF OFFSHORE WIND IS TO SUCCEED HERE IN MAINE, DO YOU HAVE TO CONVINCE THE LOBSTERMEN OF MAINE? DAGHER: I THINK WHAT WE NEED TO DO IS MAKE SURE WE CONVINCE THE LOBSTERMEN BUT ALSO CONVINCE OURSELVES. THIS PLAN IS CRAWL BEFORE YOU WALK, WALK BEFORE YOU RUN, COLLECT YOUR DATA, MINIMIZE THE IMPACT, LEARN AS YOU GO. JOYCE: IT'S HAPPENING TOO FAST, AND I BELIEVE WITH TIME PEOPLE WILL SEE THAT IT'S NOT--IT'S NOT WORTH THE RISK. THEY'RE MAKING DECISIONS ON THE ENVIRONMENT THAT'S GONNA AFFECT GENERATIONS TO COME. THERE WE GO. LIEBERMAN: IS IT EMOTIONAL FOR YOU AND YOUR FAMILY? I MEAN, DOES THIS GET YOU GUYS EMOTIONAL? JOYCE: UH, YEAH, IT DOES. HEH. SORRY. UM, YOU LOOK AT THE POSSIBILITY OF... [INHALES] WHERE YOUR FAMILY HAS BEEN FOR--EXCUSE ME--200 YEARS, AND THEN YOUR OWN STATE...LOOKS THE OTHER WAY. THEY'RE NOT LOOKING AT THE ENVIRONMENT. THEY'RE NOT LOOKING AT FUTURE GENERATIONS. OK. YOU WANT TO HEAD RIGHT FOR THAT BELL. DOING A GOOD JOB. LIEBERMAN: FOR "MATTER OF FACT," I'M DAN LIEBERMAN ON THE GULF OF MAINE. O'BRIEN: TO LEARN MORE ABOUT HOW FLOATING OFFSHORE WIND TURBINES WORK, YOU CAN SEE AN EXTENDED INTERVIEW WITH THE EXPERTS AT MATTEROFFACT.TV
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Crammed with tourists, Alaska's capital wonders what will happen as its magnificent glacier recedes

So many people are expected that the city's immediate concern is how to manage them all

Thousands of tourists spill onto a boardwalk in Alaska's capital city of Juneau every day from cruise ships towering over downtown. Vendors hawk shoreside trips, and rows of buses stand ready to whisk visitors away, with many headed for the area's crown jewel: the Mendenhall Glacier.A craggy expanse of gray, white and blue, the glacier gets swarmed by sightseeing helicopters and attracts visitors by kayak, canoe and foot. So many come to see the glacier and Juneau's other wonders that the city's immediate concern is how to manage them all, as a record number are expected this year. Some residents flee to quieter places during the summer, and a deal between the city and cruise industry will limit how many ships arrive next year.But climate change is melting the Mendenhall Glacier. It is receding so quickly that by 2050, it might no longer be visible from the visitor center it once loomed outside.That's prompted another question Juneau is only now starting to contemplate: What happens then?"We need to be thinking about our glaciers and the ability to view glaciers as they recede," said Alexandra Pierce, the city's tourism manager. There also needs to be a focus on reducing environmental impacts, she said. "People come to Alaska to see what they consider to be a pristine environment, and it's our responsibility to preserve that for residents and visitors."The glacier pours from rocky terrain between mountains into a lake dotted by stray icebergs. Its face retreated eight football fields between 2007 and 2021, according to estimates from University of Alaska Southeast researchers. Trail markers memorialize the glacier's backward march, showing where the ice once stood. Thickets of vegetation have grown in its wake.While massive chunks have broken off, most ice loss has come from the thinning due to warming temperatures, said Eran Hood, a University of Alaska Southeast professor of environmental science. The Mendenhall has now largely receded from the lake that bears its name.Scientists are trying to understand what the changes might mean for the ecosystem, including salmon habitat.There are uncertainties for tourism, too.Most people enjoy the glacier from trails across Mendenhall Lake near the visitor center. Caves of dizzying blues that drew crowds several years ago have collapsed, and pools of water now stand where one could once step from the rocks onto the ice.Manoj Pillai, a cruise ship worker from India, took pictures from a popular overlook on a recent day off."If the glacier is so beautiful now, how would it be, like, 10 or 20 years before? I just imagine that," he said.Officials with the Tongass National Forest, under which the Mendenhall Glacier Recreation Area falls, are bracing for more visitors over the next 30 years even as they contemplate a future when the glacier slips from casual view.The agency is proposing new trails and parking areas, an additional visitor center and public-use cabins at a lakeside campground. Researchers do not expect the glacier to disappear completely for at least a century."We did talk about, 'Is it worth the investment in the facilities if the glacier does go out of sight?'" said Tristan Fluharty, the forest's Juneau district ranger. "Would we still get the same amount of visitation?"A thundering waterfall that is a popular place for selfies, salmon runs, black bears and trails could continue attracting tourists when the glacier is not visible from the visitor center, but "the glacier is the big draw," he said.Around 700,000 people are expected to visit this year, with about 1 million projected by 2050.Other sites offer a cautionary tale. Annual visitation peaked in the 1990s at around 400,000 to the Begich, Boggs Visitor Center, southeast of Anchorage, with the Portage Glacier serving as a draw. But now, on clear days, a sliver of the glacier remains visible from the center, which was visited by about 30,000 people last year, said Brandon Raile, a spokesperson with the Chugach National Forest, which manages the site. Officials are discussing the center's future, he said."Where do we go with the Begich, Boggs Visitor Center?" Raile said. "How do we keep it relevant as we go forward when the original reason for it being put there is not really relevant anymore?"At the Mendenhall, rangers talk to visitors about climate change. They aim to "inspire wonder and awe but also to inspire hope and action," said Laura Buchheit, the forest's Juneau deputy district ranger.After pandemic-stunted seasons, about 1.6 million cruise passengers are expected in Juneau this year, during a season stretching from April through October.The city, nestled in a rainforest, is one stop on what are generally week-long cruises to Alaska beginning in Seattle or Vancouver, British Columbia. Tourists can leave the docks and move up the side of a mountain in minutes via a popular tram, see bald eagles perch on light posts and enjoy a vibrant Alaska Native arts community.On the busiest days, about 20,000 people, equal to two-thirds of the city's population, pour from the boats.City leaders and major cruise lines agreed to a daily five-ship limit for next year. But critics worry that won't ease congestion if the vessels keep getting bigger. Some residents would like one day a week without ships. As many as seven ships a day have arrived this year.Juneau Tours and Whale Watch is one of about two dozen companies with permits for services like transportation or guiding at the glacier. Serene Hutchinson, the company's general manager, said demand has been so high that she neared her allotment halfway through the season. Shuttle service to the glacier had to be suspended, but her business still offers limited tours that include the glacier, she said.Other bus operators are reaching their limits, and tourism officials are encouraging visitors to see other sites or get to the glacier by different means.Limits on visitation can benefit tour companies by improving the experience rather than having tourists "shoehorned" at the glacier, said Hutchinson, who doesn't worry about Juneau losing its luster as the glacier recedes."Alaska does the work for us, right?" she said. "All we have to do is just kind of get out of the way and let people look around and smell and breathe."Pierce, Juneau's tourism manager, said discussions are just beginning around what a sustainable southeast Alaska tourism industry should look like.In Sitka, home to a slumbering volcano, the number of cruise passengers on a day earlier this summer exceeded the town's population of 8,400, overwhelming businesses, dragging down internet speeds and prompting officials to question how much tourism is too much.Juneau plans to conduct a survey that could guide future growth, such as building trails for tourism companies.Kerry Kirkpatrick, a Juneau resident of nearly 30 years, recalls when the Mendenhall's face was "long across the water and high above our heads." She called the glacier a national treasure for its accessibility and noted an irony in carbon-emitting helicopters and cruise ships chasing a melting glacier. She worries the current level of tourism isn't sustainable.As the Mendenhall recedes, plants and animals will need time to adjust, she said.So will humans."There's too many people on the planet wanting to do the same things," Kirkpatrick said. "You don't want to be the person who closes the door and says, you know, 'I'm the last one in, and you can't come in.' But we do have to have the ability to say, 'No, no more.'"

Thousands of tourists spill onto a boardwalk in Alaska's capital city of Juneau every day from cruise ships towering over downtown. Vendors hawk shoreside trips, and rows of buses stand ready to whisk visitors away, with many headed for the area's crown jewel: the Mendenhall Glacier.

A craggy expanse of gray, white and blue, the glacier gets swarmed by sightseeing helicopters and attracts visitors by kayak, canoe and foot. So many come to see the glacier and Juneau's other wonders that the city's immediate concern is how to manage them all, as a record number are expected this year. Some residents flee to quieter places during the summer, and a deal between the city and cruise industry will limit how many ships arrive next year.

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But climate change is melting the Mendenhall Glacier. It is receding so quickly that by 2050, it might no longer be visible from the visitor center it once loomed outside.

That's prompted another question Juneau is only now starting to contemplate: What happens then?

"We need to be thinking about our glaciers and the ability to view glaciers as they recede," said Alexandra Pierce, the city's tourism manager. There also needs to be a focus on reducing environmental impacts, she said. "People come to Alaska to see what they consider to be a pristine environment, and it's our responsibility to preserve that for residents and visitors."

The glacier pours from rocky terrain between mountains into a lake dotted by stray icebergs. Its face retreated eight football fields between 2007 and 2021, according to estimates from University of Alaska Southeast researchers. Trail markers memorialize the glacier's backward march, showing where the ice once stood. Thickets of vegetation have grown in its wake.

While massive chunks have broken off, most ice loss has come from the thinning due to warming temperatures, said Eran Hood, a University of Alaska Southeast professor of environmental science. The Mendenhall has now largely receded from the lake that bears its name.

Scientists are trying to understand what the changes might mean for the ecosystem, including salmon habitat.

There are uncertainties for tourism, too.

Most people enjoy the glacier from trails across Mendenhall Lake near the visitor center. Caves of dizzying blues that drew crowds several years ago have collapsed, and pools of water now stand where one could once step from the rocks onto the ice.

Manoj Pillai, a cruise ship worker from India, took pictures from a popular overlook on a recent day off.

"If the glacier is so beautiful now, how would it be, like, 10 or 20 years before? I just imagine that," he said.

Officials with the Tongass National Forest, under which the Mendenhall Glacier Recreation Area falls, are bracing for more visitors over the next 30 years even as they contemplate a future when the glacier slips from casual view.

The agency is proposing new trails and parking areas, an additional visitor center and public-use cabins at a lakeside campground. Researchers do not expect the glacier to disappear completely for at least a century.

"We did talk about, 'Is it worth the investment in the facilities if the glacier does go out of sight?'" said Tristan Fluharty, the forest's Juneau district ranger. "Would we still get the same amount of visitation?"

A thundering waterfall that is a popular place for selfies, salmon runs, black bears and trails could continue attracting tourists when the glacier is not visible from the visitor center, but "the glacier is the big draw," he said.

Around 700,000 people are expected to visit this year, with about 1 million projected by 2050.

Other sites offer a cautionary tale. Annual visitation peaked in the 1990s at around 400,000 to the Begich, Boggs Visitor Center, southeast of Anchorage, with the Portage Glacier serving as a draw. But now, on clear days, a sliver of the glacier remains visible from the center, which was visited by about 30,000 people last year, said Brandon Raile, a spokesperson with the Chugach National Forest, which manages the site. Officials are discussing the center's future, he said.

"Where do we go with the Begich, Boggs Visitor Center?" Raile said. "How do we keep it relevant as we go forward when the original reason for it being put there is not really relevant anymore?"

At the Mendenhall, rangers talk to visitors about climate change. They aim to "inspire wonder and awe but also to inspire hope and action," said Laura Buchheit, the forest's Juneau deputy district ranger.

After pandemic-stunted seasons, about 1.6 million cruise passengers are expected in Juneau this year, during a season stretching from April through October.

The city, nestled in a rainforest, is one stop on what are generally week-long cruises to Alaska beginning in Seattle or Vancouver, British Columbia. Tourists can leave the docks and move up the side of a mountain in minutes via a popular tram, see bald eagles perch on light posts and enjoy a vibrant Alaska Native arts community.

On the busiest days, about 20,000 people, equal to two-thirds of the city's population, pour from the boats.

City leaders and major cruise lines agreed to a daily five-ship limit for next year. But critics worry that won't ease congestion if the vessels keep getting bigger. Some residents would like one day a week without ships. As many as seven ships a day have arrived this year.

Juneau Tours and Whale Watch is one of about two dozen companies with permits for services like transportation or guiding at the glacier. Serene Hutchinson, the company's general manager, said demand has been so high that she neared her allotment halfway through the season. Shuttle service to the glacier had to be suspended, but her business still offers limited tours that include the glacier, she said.

Other bus operators are reaching their limits, and tourism officials are encouraging visitors to see other sites or get to the glacier by different means.

Limits on visitation can benefit tour companies by improving the experience rather than having tourists "shoehorned" at the glacier, said Hutchinson, who doesn't worry about Juneau losing its luster as the glacier recedes.

"Alaska does the work for us, right?" she said. "All we have to do is just kind of get out of the way and let people look around and smell and breathe."

Pierce, Juneau's tourism manager, said discussions are just beginning around what a sustainable southeast Alaska tourism industry should look like.

In Sitka, home to a slumbering volcano, the number of cruise passengers on a day earlier this summer exceeded the town's population of 8,400, overwhelming businesses, dragging down internet speeds and prompting officials to question how much tourism is too much.

Juneau plans to conduct a survey that could guide future growth, such as building trails for tourism companies.

Kerry Kirkpatrick, a Juneau resident of nearly 30 years, recalls when the Mendenhall's face was "long across the water and high above our heads." She called the glacier a national treasure for its accessibility and noted an irony in carbon-emitting helicopters and cruise ships chasing a melting glacier. She worries the current level of tourism isn't sustainable.

As the Mendenhall recedes, plants and animals will need time to adjust, she said.

So will humans.

"There's too many people on the planet wanting to do the same things," Kirkpatrick said. "You don't want to be the person who closes the door and says, you know, 'I'm the last one in, and you can't come in.' But we do have to have the ability to say, 'No, no more.'"