BBCThere are few clearer signs of the destructive force Hurricane Beryl unleashed on Barbados in July than the scene at the temporary shipyard in the capital, Bridgetown.
Dozens of mangled and cracked ships rest on piles, holes in their hulls, their rudders smashed and their cabin windows shattered.
However, these were the lucky ones.
At least it can be repaired and returned to the sea. Many others drowned, taking the entire family's income with them.
When Beryl struck Barbados, the island's fishing fleet was destroyed within hours. About 75% of the active fleet was damaged, and 88 boats were completely destroyed.
Charles Carter, who owns a blue-and-black fishing vessel called Joyce, was among those affected.
“It was very bad,” he says, pointing to the now clean boat in front of us. “I had to change both sides of the hull, up to the waterline.”
It took months of restoration and thousands of dollars to bring it back to this point, during which time Charles could barely fish.
“This is my livelihood, and fishing is all I do,” he says.
“The fishing industry is a mess,” echoes his friend Captain Euryd. “We're just trying to get the pieces back.”
Now, six months after the storm, there are signs the waters are calming. On a warm Saturday, several repaired ships were returned to the ocean with the help of a crane, a trailer and some government support.
Seeing Joyce back on the water is a welcome sight for all Barbados anglers.
But Barbadians are keenly aware that climate change means more active and powerful hurricane seasons in the Atlantic Ocean – and it may only be a year or two before the fishing industry hits again. For example, Beryl was the oldest Category 5 hurricane on record.
Few understand the scale of the problem better than the island's head of fisheries, Dr. Shelley-Ann Cox.
“Our captains have reported that sea conditions have changed,” she explains. “With the waves getting higher, the sea surface temperatures are getting warmer, and they are having a harder time getting flying fish now at the start of the high seas season.”
The flying fish is a national symbol in Barbados and a major part of the island's cuisine. But climate change has hurt stocks for years.
At Oistins Fish Market in Bridgetown, flying fish is still available, along with marlin, mahi-mahi and tuna, although a few stalls are open.
At one of them, Cornelius Carrington, of Freedom Fish House. He fillets the kingfish with the speed and dexterity of a man who spent many years with a fish knife in his hands.
“Beryl was a surprise attack, like an ambush,” Cornelius says, his voice deep, baritone, amid market chatter, reggae music and the thumps of machetes on cutting boards.
Cornelius lost one of his boats in Hurricane Beryl. He said, “It is the first time that a hurricane has come from the south in this way. Storms usually hit us from the north.”
Although his second boat has allowed him to remain financially afloat, Cornelius believes the hand of climate change is becoming increasingly present in the fate of fishermen.
“Right now, everything has changed. The tides are changing, the weather is changing, the sea temperature, the whole pattern has changed.”
He says the effects are also being felt in the tourism industry, where hotels and restaurants struggle to find enough fish to meet demand each month.
For Dr. Shelley Ann Cox, public education is key, and she says the message is getting through.
“Maybe because we are an island and because we are so connected to water, people in Barbados can speak well about the impact of climate change and what it means for our country,” she says.
“I think if you talk to the kids as well, they are very knowledgeable about the topic.”
To see for myself, I visited a high school—Harrison College—where, as a member of a local NGO, the Caribbean Youth Environmental Network, I spoke to members of the school's environmental club about climate change.
CYEN representative, Sheldon Marshall, is an energy expert who quizzed the pupils about greenhouse gases and steps they can take at home to help reduce the island's carbon emissions.
“How can you, as young people in Barbados, help make a difference on climate change?” He asked them.
After an interesting and lively discussion, I asked the students how they felt about Barbados being on the front line of global climate change, even though it produces only a small carbon footprint.
“Personally, I take a very pessimistic view,” said 17-year-old Isabella Fredericks.
“We are a very small country. No matter how hard we try to change, if the big countries – major producers of pollution like America, India and China – do not make a change, everything we do will be in vain.”
Her colleague, Tenosha Ramsham, is a bit more optimistic.
“I think all the big leaps in history were made when people collaborated and innovated,” she says. “I don’t think we should be completely discouraged because research, innovation, technology creation and education will ultimately lead to the future we want.”
“I feel that if we can communicate to the global superpowers the pain we feel when we see this happening to our environment, it will help them understand and help us collaborate to find ways to fix the problem,” adds 16-year-old Adrielle Byrd. The issues we see.”
For the island's youth, their very future is at stake. Rising sea levels now pose an existential threat to small islands in the Caribbean.
It is the point at which Barbados' Prime Minister, Mia Mottley, became a global advocate for change – urging greater action on an impending climate catastrophe in her speech at the United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP29) and calling for economic compensation from the world's industrialized nations.
On its shores and in its seas, it is as if Barbados is under siege – dealing with issues ranging from coral bleaching to coastal erosion. While the impetus for action comes from the island's youth, it is the older generations that have seen the changes unfold.
Stephen Bourne has fished the waters around Barbados all his life and lost two boats in Hurricane Beryl. As we look out at the coast from one of the rickety bars in a beach hut, he says the sands of the island shift before his eyes.
“It's an attack from the elements. You see it destroys the beaches, but years ago you were sitting here, and you could see the edge of the water cascading over the sand. Now you can't because the sand has built up so much.”
Coincidentally, in the same pub where I spoke to Stephen was Home Affairs Minister Wilfred Abrahams, who is in charge of national disaster management.
I told him this must be a difficult time for disaster management in the Caribbean.
“The whole landscape has completely changed,” he replied. “Once upon a time, it was rare that you would get a Category 5 hurricane in any year. Now we get one every year. So its intensity and frequency are a cause for concern.”
Even the length of hurricane season has changed, he says.
“We used to have a rhyme that said: June, too early, July, getting ready, and October, all over,” he told me. Extreme weather events like Beryl have made this idea obsolete.
He adds: “What we can expect has changed, what we have prepared for our entire lives, and what our culture is built on has changed.”
Angler Stephen Bourne had hoped to retire before Beryl. Now, he says, he and the rest of the islanders have no choice but to keep going.
“Fear or anything like that is meaningless. Because there is nowhere to go. We love this rock. We will always be on this rock.”
