Smith Island is disappearing. It’s not a conspiracy theory or a slow-burn geological shift that won't matter for a thousand years; it’s a literal, daily erasure. When the 60 Minutes Smith Island story first hit the airwaves, it introduced millions of Americans to a place that felt like a glitch in the 21st century. Imagine a world where there are no cars. No stoplights. No malls. Just a cluster of three small villages—Ewell, Tylerton, and Rhodes Point—clinging to a marshy archipelago in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay.
The water defines everything there. It provides the crabs that fuel the local economy, and it provides the soft-shell cakes that have become the island's most famous export. But the water is also the predator.
The Reality Behind the 60 Minutes Smith Island Footage
When Morley Safer stepped onto the island for that iconic 60 Minutes segment, he found a community of Methodists who spoke with a distinct, lingering British accent—a linguistic fossil from the 1600s. The locals don't sound like they’re from Maryland. They sound like they’ve been preserved in amber since the days of the colonial settlers. But the "amber" is melting.
The island has lost thousands of acres over the last century. You can see it in the skeleton trees. These are the "ghost forests"—stands of timber that have been killed by saltwater intrusion, their bleached white trunks standing like tombstones against the horizon. For the people living there, the 60 Minutes coverage wasn't just a travelogue. It was a witness to a slow-motion catastrophe.
People often ask if the islanders are scared. Honestly? Most of them are just tired. They’ve seen the "death of the island" predicted for decades. They’ve seen the state government offer buyouts. In 2013, after Superstorm Sandy thrashed the coast, the Maryland Department of Housing and Community Development offered $2 million to buy out the residents and turn the place into a nature preserve. The islanders said no. Almost unanimously.
Why They Refused to Leave
It’s hard for someone living in a suburban cul-de-sac to understand that kind of stubbornness. Why stay on a sinking ship?
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For a Smith Islander, the land isn't just real estate. It’s lineage. When you walk through the cemetery in Ewell, you see the same five or six last names repeated for 300 years: Evans, Bradshaw, Marshall, Tyler. To leave the island is to abandon their ancestors. It's to admit that the water finally won.
The 60 Minutes Smith Island segment captured this grit perfectly. It wasn't about "quaint" people. It was about a specific brand of American resilience that is rapidly becoming extinct. They live by the tide. If the wind blows from the northwest for too long, the "tide goes out and stays out," leaving the boats grounded in the mud. If it blows from the south, the streets of Ewell become canals. You just put on your boots and keep moving.
The Cake That Saved a Culture
You can’t talk about Smith Island without talking about the cake. It’s the official state dessert of Maryland, and it’s probably the only reason the local economy hasn't completely imploded.
A traditional Smith Island cake has at least eight to ten layers. Sometimes more. The layers are incredibly thin—almost like pancakes—and they are bonded together by a cooked chocolate fudge frosting that is poured over the cake while it's still warm. Why so many layers? History says the women made them this way for the watermen to take out on long crabbing trips. The thin layers and heavy frosting kept the cake moist and sturdy in the damp, salty air of a workboat.
- Layer Count: Historically 8-12 layers.
- The Frosting: Never buttercream. It has to be a cooked fudge.
- The Variations: While chocolate is the original, lemon and coconut are local staples.
The Smith Island Baking Co. actually moved its main production to the mainland a few years back for logistical reasons—shipping thousands of cakes by boat isn't exactly efficient—but the "cake ladies" on the island still bake in their home kitchens. They are the keepers of the flame.
Erosion, Subsidence, and the Scientific Fight
Scientists at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science (VIMS) and other agencies have been tracking the bay's rise for years. But it isn't just that the sea is rising. The land is also sinking. This is called subsidence.
During the last Ice Age, a massive glacier sat over what is now Canada and the northern US. The weight of that ice pushed the earth's crust down there, which caused the land further south—including the Chesapeake region—to bulge upward. Now that the ice is gone, the "bulge" is slowly flattening out. So, while the ocean levels are creeping up due to thermal expansion and melting ice, the island itself is physically dropping. It’s a double whammy.
The 60 Minutes Smith Island report hinted at this, but the data has only become grimmer since then. Some projections suggest that by 2100, the island will be largely uninhabitable.
The Jetty Project
There is some hope. After years of pleading, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers finally completed a series of jetties and restoration projects near Rhodes Point. They used dredged material to rebuild the shoreline and protect the navigation channels.
Does it solve the problem? No. It buys time. It stops the immediate wave action from eating the backyards of the houses along the water. But it doesn't stop the marsh from turning into a lake.
Living Without a Grocery Store
Kinda wild to think about, right? There is no supermarket on Smith Island. There’s a small general store, but for "big" shopping trips, you have to take a 45-minute ferry ride to Crisfield, Maryland. If you miss the boat, you’re stuck. If the bay freezes over—which happens during particularly brutal winters—the island is cut off entirely. The Coast Guard has had to fly in supplies by helicopter in the past.
This isolation creates a community bond that is almost impossible to find elsewhere. Everyone knows whose boat is out. Everyone knows who is sick. If someone's roof leaks, half the town shows up with shingles.
How to Experience Smith Island Without Being a "Tourist"
If you decide to visit because the 60 Minutes Smith Island story piqued your interest, don't expect a resort. This isn't Martha's Vineyard.
- Take the Ferry: You’ll likely catch the Chelsea Ellen or the Island Belle out of Crisfield. It’s a workboat first, a passenger boat second.
- Rent a Golf Cart: There aren't many cars, so this is how you get around. Or just walk. The islands are tiny.
- Eat at the Local Restaurants: Places like Harborside or the Smith Island Cultural Center offer the real deal. Order the crab cakes. They are 95% lump meat and 5% "stuff that holds it together."
- Visit the Cultural Center: It’s the best way to understand the history without just staring at people’s houses. They have a great film on the island’s history and, of course, cake.
The Verdict on Survival
Is Smith Island doomed? It depends on who you ask. If you ask a geologist, they’ll show you a map of blue water where the island used to be. If you ask a 70-year-old waterman, he’ll tell you the island will be here as long as God wants it to be.
The 60 Minutes Smith Island piece wasn't just a news segment; it was a portrait of a culture in its twilight. Whether that twilight lasts fifty years or five hundred depends on a mix of federal funding, climate shifts, and the sheer willpower of the people who refuse to leave the only home they’ve ever known.
Actionable Next Steps for Supporting the Island:
- Buy Local: Order an authentic cake directly from an island-based baker or the Smith Island Cultural Center. The revenue stays in the community.
- Visit Respectfully: Tourism is a vital part of their modern economy. Go for a day trip, stay in a B&B, and spend money at the local shops.
- Advocate for Coastal Resilience: Support infrastructure projects that focus on "living shorelines" and marsh restoration in the Chesapeake Bay. These projects are the only physical defense the island has left.
- Learn the History: Read An Island Out of Time by Tom Horton. It’s widely considered the definitive account of the island’s struggle and beauty, providing far more depth than a 12-minute TV segment ever could.