As geology students did faculty-guided fieldwork in and around the 乐播传媒鈥揗orse Mountain Conservation Area on Aug. 13, 乐播传媒 photographer Josh Kuckens followed along.

And after a long day looking down at sand, marsh, and water, the young researchers, whose work will inform and guide their senior theses, got a chance to look in a different direction 鈥� like up, into the night sky.

9:52 a.m. 鈥� Measuring up

At Popham Beach State Park, Nicole Cueli ’16 of Fort Lauderdale, Fla., sets up an a transit, or autolevel, a device used by scientists, builders, and surveyors to measure distances and elevation changes. In the distance at right is Ian Hillenbrand ’17 of Terrace Park, Ohio.

9:53 a.m. 鈥� Staff support

Hillenbrand ’17 holds a stadia rod, which is used in tandem with an autolevel to measure the elevation change between two points on the beach.

Geology majors Cueli and Hillenbrand have joined 乐播传媒 geologist Mike Retelle’s long-term work to monitor and evaluate how the area’s sandy beach systems respond to changes brought about by storms, seasonal wave climate, and rising sea level.

9:54 a.m. 鈥� Level best at Popham

Cueli uses the autolevel. In her left hand is the geologist鈥檚 trusty companion, a yellow field notebook.

10:20 a.m. 鈥� Sooner or ladder

As Dana Cohen-Kaplan ’16, of Newton Mass., steadies the ladder, Retelle downloads weather data and time-lapse images from a unit mounted on the west bath house at Popham Beach.

11:28 a.m. 鈥� Break time

Back at the 乐播传媒 College Coastal Center at Shortridge, adjacent to 乐播传媒-Morse Mountain and Popham Beach State Park, the 乐播传媒 researchers break for lunch.

Here, Cueli jokes with Retelle, who is reviewing time-lapse images from the beach, and with聽 Laura Sewall, who is director of the 乐播传媒-Morse Mountain Conservation Area and Shortridge.

1:24 p.m. 鈥� You can get there from here, but it’ll take awhile

Geology majors Cailene Gunn ’16 (left) of Granby, Conn., and Dana Cohen-Kaplan ’16 of Newton, Mass., secure benches to the top of Gunn’s car before heading out to do fieldwork at Long Marsh in Harpswell.

The distance from Shortridge to Long Marsh is just 10 miles as the crow flies, but it’s 30 miles (and a 45-minute drive) on roads that follow Maine’s infamously zig-zaggy shoreline.

2:22 p.m. 鈥� Waist deep in big muddy

Gunn suddenly finds herself waist deep in Long Marsh. “It happens, but it’s not usually this bad,” she says.

Gunn and Cohen-Kaplan have been working with geology professor Bev Johnson to measure the carbon budget of Maine’s salt marshes.

Specifically, they are measuring the amount of methane released by two different salt marshes, the Sprague River Marsh, part of 乐播传媒-Morse Mountain, and Long Marsh, in Harpswell.

Long Marsh, occupying a long, narrow glacially carved valley at sea level, has experienced restricted tidal flow for decades. As a result, its health has suffered.

3:21 p.m. 鈥� Gassing up

In early 2014 a new and wider culvert was installed beneath a road that crosses the marsh.聽 The wider culvert allows sea water to flood the marsh regularly.

The tactic is working, says Gunn, seen here taking a gas sample from the marsh. 鈥淲e can actually see the ecosystem beginning to restore itself.鈥�

Taking gas samples is necessary to measure the amount of methane being released from the marsh. Among other things, better tidal flow throughout Long Marsh should help the marsh retain more methane.

While carbon dioxide is the more prevalent greenhouse gas, methane is much more potent as a heat-trapping gas.

3:37 p.m. 鈥� Wetlands at work

Tidal marshes are paramount to the overall health of coastal ecosystems. They provide nursery habitat for important fisheries, protect against storm surges, filter out pollutants, and serve as carbon sinks.

Unfortunately, most of Maine’s salt marshes have been anthropogenically altered in some way, and many are in need of restoration to function properly.

7:25 p.m. 鈥� Setting the scene

Gunn and Cohen-Kaplan join Adam Auerbach ’16 of Silver Spring, Md., and Nathan Stephansky ’17 of Whitman, Mass., on Hermit Island., about three miles from Shortridge, where they watch the sunset from a spot called the Bath Tub.

The four students, each of whom did fieldwork or related coastal work over the summer, used Shortridge as their home base.

7:43 p.m. 鈥� Getting rooted on the rocks

Gunn does some sunset-inspired yoga.

9:16 p.m. 鈥� Back to Shortridge

Cohen-Kaplan and Cueli finish off their late supper at Shortridge.

Shortridge was donated to 乐播传媒 in the mid-1990s by John and Linda Shortridge, who had built a retirement home on the land. It has facilities for field research while also supporting other 乐播传媒 activities. Each year, some 25 student groups, representing up to 400 students, use the center.

The center sits on 79 acres of woodlands, wetlands, granite escarpments, and a glacially-scoured pond.

10:03 p.m. 鈥� Starry starry night

At night, “the Rock,” an outcropping behind Shortridge that looks out over Meetinghouse Pond, is a dark and spectacular place 鈥� a perfect spot to watch the night sky.

Name: Molly Newton ’11
Major: Geology and Environmental Studies
Hometown: Easthampton, Mass.
Summer activity: Researching beach erosion at Popham Beach with geologist Mike Retelle

Molly Newton ’11, cradling lengths of rebar, gazed around Popham Beach, uncertain where to plant the steel.

Seeking guidance for the crucial first step of her research project, she looked to her two professors. “And they looked at me and asked where we were going to start,” Newton recalls. “They weren’t kidding.”

One professor was 乐播传媒 geologist Mike Retelle. The other was her own father, a geology professor at Smith College and a good friend of Retelle’s. And as for lengths of rebar,聽they were GPS survey markers for an ongoing 乐播传媒 project to measure and other beaches near the 乐播传媒鈥揗orse Mountain Conservation Area.

“My 乐播传媒 education has blasted apart the limitations I placed on myself.”

Newton calls geology “the family trade,” yet she arrived at 乐播传媒 determined to avoid the field. “To anyone who would listen, I proclaimed that I was in no way smart enough for science, let alone intellectually capable of executing a study of my own design.”

But then she took a geology course her sophomore year, then another. And on that summer 2010 morning at Popham Beach, when Newton made her own decisions about her project, she felt that she had emerged as a 乐播传媒 student scholar.

“That Mike and my father did not dispute my choices gave me the confidence to jump into a full summer of research feet first, and not be afraid to make my own decisions.”

Now, as a senior, she’s diving into her geology thesis. The capstone project will use data accumulated from her 乐播传媒-funded summer work that, in turn, builds on Retelle’s research with prior students.

“My 乐播传媒 education has blasted apart the limitations I placed on myself,” she says.

Taken on July 31, 2010, this satellite photo shows (1) the sand spit that initially pushed the Morse River toward the beach; (2) the old river channel's close approach to Popham's parking and picnic areas; (3) the new channel across the spit. Photo taken by the Quickbird satellite.

From the opposite direction on March 10, 2010: (1) the sand spit that forced the Morse River toward the beach; (2) the site of greatest erosion near Popham picnic area; (3) the new channel cut across the spit by the Morse River last winter. Fox Island is at upper right. Photograph by John Picher.

This aerial photograph of Popham Beach on March 10, 2010, shows the key elements of erosion: (1) the new channel cut by the Morse River last winter, which should save the beach; (2) the old channel that for years had eroded the west side of Popham; (3) the tombolo that makes it possible to walk to rocky Fox Island at low tide; and (4) the large sand spit that pushed the Morse toward the beach in the first place. Photograph by John Picher.

The roiling sea in December 2009 comes closer and closer to the Popham Beach picnic area. Photograph by Stephen Dickson.

This seaward-looking view of the beginning of the new channel across the sand spit was taken on April 7, 2009. Note how the seaweed, wood and other debris have been cleared from the area of fastest flow. Photograph by Mike Retelle.

The meandering Morse River ends its assault on Popham Beach

By Kirsten Weir

The 乐播传媒 Outing Club clambakes at Popham Beach State Park are one reason this sandy stretch of Maine coastline is a touchstone of the 乐播传媒 experience.

Longtime BOC adviser Judy Marden 鈥�66 recalls the clambake ritual from her 乐播传媒 days: 鈥淭he night before, we鈥檇 go out and gather driftwood, then camp overnight. Early the next morning we鈥檇 dig pits and start the fires. Then we cooked the lobsters in trash cans with clams and corn.鈥�

But this spring, the state asked the BOCers to relocate their clambake, which they did, to Reid State Park a few miles to the east. The reason: There鈥檚 not much public beach left at Popham.

Indeed, while an idealized and immutable Popham looms large in the alumni consciousness, the beach itself has rapidly eroded during the 2000s. These days, only a few feet remain at high tide.

If Popham Beach is this story鈥檚 protagonist, then the antagonist is the Morse River, which exits the coast just west of Popham Beach. In recent years, the river has migrated eastward, cutting away at Popham鈥檚 beach, particularly the western part of the beach, though the center beach, which connects to Fox Island, has also been eroded significantly.

鈥淲e鈥檝e been watching this river shift its course gradually for a long time,鈥� says 乐播传媒 geology professor Mike Retelle. By 2005, he says, 鈥渨e started noticing massive changes鈥� to the Morse River and Popham Beach.

Two factors pushed the river toward the beach. 鈥淎 double whammy,鈥� Retelle says.

One was the relentless growth of a sand spit just offshore from the Morse River outlet. The spit was created by a wave and sand mechanism called longshore sand transport, in which sand-carrying waves hit the shore at an angle and gradually deposit their sediments. Retelle and Dana Oster 鈥�09 dubbed the Morse River spit 鈥淚-95鈥� for its great length and width, and it became an 鈥渋nsurmountable barrier鈥� that blocked the Morse from flowing directly into the ocean.

The sand spit deflected the river toward the beach, and the erosion just got worse and worse. 鈥淚t was like a firehose,鈥� Retelle says. As kayakers and canoeists know, when a river curves, the fastest and most powerful flow is the outside of the curve. As the Morse curved into Popham Beach, the strongest part of the current was eating away at the beach.

鈥淵ou want to see natural processes play out,鈥� Retelle says.

River outlets are always 鈥渢he most dynamic places鈥� along the coast, says Retelle. Even so, the stunning changes at Popham had observers 鈥渋n a panic鈥� by this past winter, Retelle says. Erosion had carved deeply into the dunes and toppled hundreds of shoreline pine trees. The ocean was within feet of the parking lot, and it threatened the park鈥檚 new bathhouses. State geologists say it鈥檚 the beach鈥檚 greatest retreat in a century.

In its inexorable eastward march, the river had even cut through the sand bar, known as a tombolo, making it nearly impossible for visitors to walk from Popham to Fox Island.

This past February, some local residents urged that a channel be cut through the sand spit to allow the river to return to a north-south orientation. But others said that the river, and nature, should take its course.

鈥淔rom an environmental perspective, you want to see natural processes play out,鈥� Retelle says. 鈥淥therwise you won鈥檛 know what would have happened.鈥�

The 乐播传媒鈥揗orse Mountain Conservation Area is just across the Morse River from Popham Beach, and director Laura Sewall also opposed taking action.

鈥淭he mission of the conservation area emphasizes protecting ecological integrity and educational opportunities. That鈥檚 primary,鈥� says Sewall.

She subscribes to a philosophy promoted by naturalist Aldo Leopold, she explains: 鈥淚f you want to understand a natural system, you can鈥檛 study one that has already been in any way altered.鈥�

While public attention peaked over the winter, scientists like Retelle and state geologist that the river was about to change course.

In April 2009, as Retelle and his students were doing measurements on that aforementioned I-95 sand spit, they saw a dry channel right across the spit, about 2 meters wide 鈥� evidence that the river had momentarily breached the spit during a recent storm and its associated high tide.

According to Dickson, the channel was the first sign of 鈥渁 new, and more direct, course to the sea across the…spit.鈥� In fact, winter storms had begun shaving the sand spit little by little over the last two years, Retelle says. He and Dickson agreed that a few more fierce winter storms would do the trick.

On Feb. 25 and 26, 2010, a major northeaster proved them right, as gale winds and high tides helped the Morse River barrel through the mound of sand to create a new north-south flow away from Popham Beach.

鈥淚 never know what I鈥檓 going to see when I go down to Popham.鈥�

With summer鈥檚 arrival, calmer wave action should allow sand to be re-deposited along Popham, explains Retelle, so the beach should begin to grow again. In fact, Retelle and his geology thesis student, Molly Newton 鈥�11 of Easthampton, Mass., are now working with the state to monitor the recovery of Popham Beach.

It鈥檚 an intriguing project, he says. 鈥淚 never know what I鈥檓 going to see when I go down to Popham.鈥�

Kirsten Weir is a science writer based in southern Maine.