The California coast is disappearing under the growing sea. Our selections are grim

THE CALIFORNIA COAST GREW AND PROSPERED in the course of a beautiful moment in records when the sea changed its tamest. But the effective Pacific, unbeknownst to all, is nearing its final years of a relaxed, however unusual cycle that had lulled dreaming settlers into a false sense of countless summer seasons. Elsewhere, Miami has been drowning, Louisiana is shrinking, and North Carolina’s seashores are disappearing like a time-lapse without an ending.

While different areas grappled with unfavorable waves and rising seas, the West Coast for decades was spared by an unprecedented confluence of favorable winds and cooler water. This “sea-level rise suppression,” as scientists call it, largely went undetected. Blinded by the results of a warming planet, Californians stored construction proper to the water’s area. But traces in the sand are intended to shift. In the final 100 years, California’s ocean rose much less than 9 inches. By the top of this century, the surge can be more than 9 feet.

Wildfire and drought dominate the alternate weather debates inside the kingdom. Yet this less-talked-about reality has California cornered. The coastline is eroding with every tide and typhoon. Still, the entirety constructed earlier than we knew higher—Pacific Coast Highway, multimillion-dollar houses in Malibu, the rail line to San Diego—is fixed in place with nowhere to go.

But the world is getting hotter, the great ice sheets are still melting, and the growing ocean is a gradual-moving catastrophe that has already swept beyond California’s front door. Seaside cliffs are crumbling in Pacifica, bringing down entire buildings. Balboa Island, barely above sea level, is spending $1.8 million to raise the wall that separates it from the sea.

Winter storms pummeled a Capistrano Beach boardwalk, turning the idyllic coastline into a creation area as bulldozers rushed to stack boulders into a barricade. From San Diego to Humboldt counties, house owners scramble to fend off growing erosion and storm surges, pleading with officers for more giant seawalls that may preserve the even bigger ocean again. There are many effective ways to play in opposition to the growing sea. Seawalls are one choice; however, they arrive with a hidden cost — forcing the sand before them to clean away. For each new seawall shielding a domestic or a road, a seashore for the humans is sacrificed. Adding sand to disappearing seashores is sanothertactic. However, a race against nature lasts best with cash and enough sand.

Then there’s what scientists, economists, and number-crunching specialists call “controlled retreat”: Move, return, relocate, and essentially cede the land to nature. These words by myself have roiled the few towns formidable enough to utter them. Mayors had been ousted, planning documents rewritten, and campaigns waged over the very thought of turning prime actual property returned into dunes and beaches. A retreat is as un-American as it gets, community corporations declared. To win, California should guard.

But at what price? Should California be one long wall of concrete in opposition to the sea? Will there be sandy seashores or surf breaks to cherish inside the destiny of oceanfront homes left to dream about? More than $150 billion in assets could be liable to flooding via 2100 — the economic damage ways more devastating than the nation’s worst earthquakes and wildfires. Salt marshes, domestic to shorebirds and endangered species, face extinction. In Southern California alone, two-thirds of seashores could vanish.