Imagine entire communities swept away by raging floodwaters, homes torn from their foundations, and families clinging to rooftops for survival. This is the stark reality that unfolded in western Alaska after the remnants of Typhoon Halong unleashed its fury. One life lost, two missing, and countless others displaced—this is the devastating toll of a storm that has left officials calling it "absolute devastation." But here's where it gets even more alarming: this isn't an isolated incident. It's part of a growing pattern of extreme weather events that are reshaping Alaska's landscape, and it raises a critical question: Are we doing enough to prepare for a future where such disasters become the norm?
On October 14, 2025, the small villages of Kipnuk and Kwigillingok bore the brunt of Typhoon Halong's wrath. Hurricane-force winds, storm surges, and relentless floodwaters ravaged these communities, sweeping away homes and forcing residents to seek refuge in local schools. U.S. Coast Guard Captain Christopher Culpepper didn’t mince words when describing the scene: "Absolute devastation." More than 50 people—and even two dogs—were rescued, some plucked from rooftops in a desperate bid for survival. Yet, amidst the heroism, tragedy struck: a woman was found dead in Kwigillingok, and two others remain missing, their fates still unknown.
And this is the part most people miss: the storm didn’t just destroy homes; it upended lives. Power outages, ruined food supplies, and damaged heating stoves have left these remote communities vulnerable as winter looms. For Alaskans, especially in predominantly Native villages like Kwigillingok, these challenges are compounded by the region’s reliance on subsistence hunting and fishing. When freezers fail and heating systems are compromised, the very means of survival are at risk. Jamie Jenkins, a resident of Napakiak, described the storm as "the worst I’ve ever seen," with howling winds and rapidly rising waters forcing her family to evacuate by boat. Her story is a stark reminder of the human cost behind these headlines.
But here’s the controversial part: While Alaska grapples with the aftermath, the federal government’s commitment to climate resilience funding remains in question. Earlier this year, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) announced plans to end a program aimed at mitigating disaster risks—a decision currently being challenged in court. Alaska’s senators, Lisa Murkowski and Dan Sullivan, have vowed to fight for infrastructure and climate resilience funds, but will it be enough? Murkowski herself admitted that erosion mitigation projects take time, yet the frequency and intensity of these storms are accelerating. "The time to act is now," she urged, but is anyone listening?
A 2022 report by the Alaska Institute for Justice highlighted the urgent need to relocate communities like Kwigillingok, where flooding has become increasingly severe due to climate change. Erosion, melting permafrost, and rising sea levels are no longer distant threats—they’re realities that endanger entire communities. Yet, despite the evidence, funding for these critical initiatives remains uncertain. Is this a failure of policy, or a reflection of our collective reluctance to confront the climate crisis head-on?
As the search for the missing continues and communities begin the long road to recovery, one thing is clear: Alaska’s struggle is a harbinger of what’s to come for coastal and low-lying regions worldwide. The question is, will we act before it’s too late? What do you think? Are we doing enough to address the growing threat of climate-driven disasters, or are we merely reacting to them after the fact? Let’s start the conversation—because the next storm is already on the horizon.
