On a cloudy Sunday just after Thanksgiving, Grand Isle Chief of Police Chris Hernandez knelt beside his daughter, securing the final treated two-by-four to the handrails outside his house.

“We used our savings and just fixed it little by little. Yesterday, we finally finished fixing our porch after four years,” Hernandez said.

The afternoon marked a quiet end to part of a multi-year recovery following Hurricane Ida, which made landfall near Port Fourchon on Aug. 29, 2021.

At the end of Louisiana Highway 1 sits the town of Grand Isle. With about 1,000 residents, Grand Isle is the last inhabited barrier island in Louisiana.

Though Grand Isle faces a threat every hurricane season, the community remains strong.

Four years ago, Ida tore through the island, leaving much of it in ruins. More than 40% of homes were completely destroyed.

The power grid providing electricity to the town collapsed.

Entergy was forced to rebuild all of the electrical infrastructure. Crews built eight miles of power lines along Louisiana Highway 1 from Leeville to Grand Isle.

Grand Isle went without electricity for nearly three months.

In the months that followed, many families chose to leave.

Before Ida, an estimated 187 students made up the school population on Grand Isle; today, that number has dropped to 68.

For Hernandez and his family, their home survived but suffered extensive damage.

“It took forever to get here. It was a disaster like a bomb had hit,” Hernandez said. “The farther you got on Grand Isle, the worse it got.”

“My house survived, but the front window was broken, the door was pushed in, and the floors buckled because the water came up high. The only thing we could do was pray, but I said, ‘If we have a roof, we’ll rebuild.”

Ida was not the first storm to test this community, and it will not be the last.

Over the past century, Grand Isle has faced devastating hurricanes, including Flossy, Betsy, Katrina, and Ida.

Longtime resident Patrick Landry, owner of The Landry House, has witnessed the effects of these storms across generations.

“During Katrina, I had big boats come over my fence that were 30 inches high,” Landry said. “It didn’t even damage the fence. Everything inside the house had to be rebuilt little by little.”

Being from a fifth-generation family, Landry recalls when the island was a bustling town with plenty of businesses.

“In the ’50s, Grand Isle had everything you could want,” he said. “Then Betsy came and wiped it out. Before Betsy, you never had to leave Grand Isle. We had doctors, theaters, drug stores, and furniture stores. You name it, we had it here.”

Today, Grand Isle has two grocery stores, fewer than eight restaurants, and no doctors. Most residents leave the island at least once a week to purchase items not sold locally.

Beyond storm damage, coastal erosion continues to reshape the island. Before multiple hurricanes and decades of land loss, Grand Isle was surrounded by miles of marsh.

Shelly Maples, owner of Sureway, said she worries her grandchildren may never see the land she grew up on.

“You’re riding along the coast on the Geaux Pass Bridge, and when you look out there, you don’t see what we saw growing up,” Maples said. “I’ve seen so much of it go away.”

The marsh that once protected the island has disappeared in many areas. With beach erosion continuing each year, storm surge now travels farther inland with less resistance.

To combat land loss, rock jetties were constructed along parts of the shoreline. These structures slow erosion and help keep sand on the beach.

“We’ve got the levee out there, but we need the rocks to keep it from washing away,” Maples said. “We need more rocks right now. That’s one thing I don’t think anyone would disagree on.”

Through all of it, residents have adapted.

Today, tourism drives the local economy. Grand Isle is home to numerous vacation rentals and fishing camps. Summer weekends bring visitors to the beaches, and golf carts fill neighborhood streets.

Tourism provides economic opportunity, but it also increases pressure on housing.

Property values continue to rise. Land that once held modest homes now sells for millions.

One of the biggest financial challenges for residents is insurance.

During Katrina, insurance averaged about $3,800 per year. Today, many residents report paying as much as $17,800 annually.

The Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) requires homes to be built 16 feet above the ground to be insured.

Some residents have stopped carrying insurance altogether and now self-insure.

“We self-insured ourselves,” Hernandez said. “I told my wife if the roof goes, we’re done, because we don’t have insurance to rebuild.”

Others have sold and moved north. Young families, in particular, find it difficult to afford building or buying on the island.

Yet despite population loss and rising costs, the community remains tight-knit.

“Being chief of police here for 25 years, I know everyone,” Hernandez said. “ I know their kids, the tourists. I could probably tell you 60% of the people here by first name. This community really hangs on to each other.”

Neighbors frequently share tools, food, and labor. When someone is in need, residents respond quickly.

“When the island washes over, we come in and clean up the pieces. Families and neighbors help one another. Even our customers are always calling to check in to see how things are going and if there’s anything they can do for us,” Maples said.

After Ida, Hernandez said neighbors helped him fix his home so his family could stay.

“My neighbor built us a makeshift step with temporary hand railings,” he said. “We’ve been climbing them for over four years.”

Still, the island continues to change. Each hurricane season brings renewed concern.

“Storm season’s over with, and I feel like I won the lottery when we don’t get one,” Maples said. “It’s an amazing feeling not to have to pack up and close up again.”

“We’ve been fortunate this year, thank the good Lord, with no storms or floods. Where in the winter months now, so let’s keep it moving,”  Hernandez said

Rebuilding remains slow, insurance continues to rise, and the shoreline inches closer.

Still, on an ordinary cloudy day, a father and daughter finished a porch that had stood unfinished for four years. Not with ceremony or crowds, just with family and a quiet sense of closure.

“This community is the best,” Hernandez said. “We’ve been here for 45 years. I could not move anywhere else.”