A Cape Cod resident reflects on the effects of a changing climate on the shoreline, marine life, and her childhood memories.
By Courtney Peloquin, as told to her daughter, Lauren Peloquin
Growing up on Cape Cod in the 1980s, the ocean was an ever-present part of my life. My family lived just by the beach, and some of my fondest childhood memories involve spending long summer days by the water. The shoreline felt stable then — endless, as if the beaches would always be there, untouched and unchanged. But over the past few decades, I’ve watched as Cape Cod’s environment has transformed, and not in a good way. The first signs were subtle but undeniable: the water temperatures in the summer, for instance, started getting warmer. When I was younger, the Atlantic was so cold that even on a hot day, it took a while to adjust to the cool temperature. It was part of the experience, really — a chill that sent shivers through your bones when you first dipped your toes in. But now? It’s different. The water, which used to stay in the low 60s even in peak summer, is now regularly in the 70s. In recent years, I’ve noticed that I don’t need to brace myself for that same icy shock. It’s a small change, but one that I feel deeply, marking a shift in the natural rhythm of things.
These warmer waters have brought changes I never anticipated. We’re seeing different kinds of fish and marine life that I didn’t encounter as a child. Species like black sea bass and other warm-water fish are now thriving, while some of the more iconic cold-water species, such as cod and lobster, are harder to find. I used to go on whale-watching tours with my family, and the whales would come so close to the boat that you could practically feel their presence. But now, they’re migrating farther north, chasing the colder waters. These days, when I go on a whale watch I see maybe two instead of ten.
The changes aren’t just in the water — they’re on the land too. Beach erosion has become a serious issue, especially in the past 10 to 15 years. When I was young, there was so much sand. The dunes stretched far back, and we had wide beaches to run on. Now, some of those same beaches have shrunk significantly. In places like Bourne or Chatham, where we used to have a vast expanse of sand, the shoreline has crept closer and closer to our homes on the shore. The dunes are crumbling away, and the ocean seems to be reclaiming the land faster than we can imagine. It’s eerie, in a way — places I remember as wide and open now feel constrained as if the land itself is being squeezed by the encroaching sea. This erosion has been driven not just by rising seas but by stronger, more intense weather. The storms we used to have were fierce, sure, but nothing like what we’ve been seeing recently. Storm surges tear through the coastline, eroding dunes and pulling more and more sand into the ocean. Some of our favorite spots for family picnics or clambakes are just gone, completely swallowed by the water.
As the currents shift and the tides rise, it’s hard not to feel a sense of loss. It’s not just the physical landscape that’s changing, but the emotional connection we all have to this place. Cape Cod has always been a special place for families like mine — where generations gather each summer to connect with nature and each other. But now, I worry about what will be left for future generations. Will my grandchildren even recognize the Cape I once knew? Despite the changes, there’s resilience here too. Cape Codders are doing what they can to protect the land and preserve what’s left. There are dune restoration projects and local environmental groups advocating for coastal protection. People are starting to talk more about climate change, recognizing that what’s happening isn’t just natural cycles — it’s human-caused, and we need to do something about it.
“It’s strange to think that something as vast and seemingly permanent as the ocean can change so much in a lifetime … The Cape is still beautiful, still full of life, but it’s also fragile in a way I never understood before.”
Courtney Peloquin
It’s strange to think that something as vast and seemingly permanent as the ocean can change so much in a lifetime. But that’s exactly what I’ve witnessed. The Cape is still beautiful, still full of life, but it’s also fragile in a way I never understood before. Climate change isn’t just an abstract concept for me anymore — it’s personal. It’s watching the beach where I spent my childhood summers slowly disappear, knowing there’s little we can do to bring it back. I’ll always love Cape Cod, but I know now that it’s a place in flux, constantly shaped by forces beyond our control. All we can do is try to protect what’s left — and hope that future generations get to experience the beauty of this place the way I once did.
For more personal reflections on the impacts of climate change, read a student story about a trip to the Himalayas.