Solar-powered community is 1st in U.S.
BABCOCK RANCH, Fla. — The autonomous shuttle was parked for the night, but the town square was hopping. Kids in tie-dyed shirts cartwheeled on a lawn that has a pair of solar trees — free solar charging stations curved into massive green stems. Parents slipped off their shoes and admired the Florida sunset over the 300-acre lake. A singer strummed beneath an oak tree at the farm-totable restaurant.
The Friday scene at this community, billed as the nation’s first solar-powered town, unfolded like a director’s take on an eco-utopia.
“It really is like a TV show, like Andy Griffith,” said Kara Fales, 36, as she and her sons, ages 5, 2 and 1, ate near the square. She and her husband, who manages restaurants, moved here in December, joining families drawn by nature, the promise of sustainable living and the A-rated charter school.
Climate change has been linked to Florida’s most recent environmental disasters. In the summer, the strongest red tide in more than a decade drove away tourists and killed hundreds of sea turtles, manatees and dolphins on the Gulf Coast. Millions of pounds of fish and wildlife piled up on world-renowned beaches. Algae choked waterways. Hurricanes, which grow stronger with warm water, remain a constant threat.
In a state where government is known for lax pollution controls and an aversion to even mentioning climate change, Babcock Ranch is a groundbreaking concept that residents say they hope will catch on in other parts of Florida.
Developers and residents say inland communities like Babcock Ranch will be the wave of the future, as hurricanes and rising sea levels drive more people away from Florida’s coastal areas.
The 18,000-acre community rising from cattle land and wildlife habitat welcomed its first residents in January 2018. The population has since swelled to nearly 400. Eight builders signed on to construct houses ranging from the $200,000s to more than $1 million. Houses must receive at least a bronze rating from the Florida Green Building Coalition.
At build-out, projected to be in about 20 years, the town could surpass 50,000.
Fales’ family relocated from Fort Myers, Fla., the closest metropolitan area, about 15 miles west. They chose a five-bedroom, roughly $420,000 house.
Neighbors offer to babysit and leave “mommy cocktails” on the porch. Homes are designed to create community. “It’s even better than we could have imagined,” Fales said.
Babcock Ranch sits amid open fields off a two-lane country road, across from a horse rescue and not far from a feed store. Native grasses, pine trees, lakes and marshes border the road leading to Founder’s Square, where developer Kitson & Partners crafted an idealized town with an ice cream shop, an outdoors outfitter, a high-end market complete with an olive oil bar and a co-working space.
Babcock visionary Syd Kitson said the entry sequence was designed to tell Babcock’s story of sustainability. Land preservation was an early chapter.
In 2006, Kitson & Partners bought the 91,000-acre ranch from the Babcock family. The company then resold 73,000 acres for $350 million to state and local governments, in what’s considered among the largest land conservation deals in state history. The preserve provides habitat to imperiled species such as the endangered Florida panther.
The town was planned on 18,000 acres, according to the developer. Half is reserved for lakes and green space, including 50 miles of public trails.
Sustainable development has not been south Florida’s forte: for example, the early 20th-century attempts to drain the Everglades. But the need for resilient development feels urgent with the onslaught of environmental disasters, perhaps intensified by climate change.
Florida might be in the nascent stages of better managing such disasters. In his first week in office, the state’s new Republican governor, Ron DeSantis, announced a $2.5 billion plan for water and Everglades protections, pledging stronger environmental enforcement and to establish a resiliency office.
Hurricane resiliency is another selling point for Babcock. Its building requirements dictate storm shutters or impact glass and construction that withstands at least 145 mph winds, higher than state codes for the area. Babcock sits beyond the storm surge at about 30 feet above sea level, Kitson said.
Richard Kinley checked hurricane tracks for the past century and projected sea level rise before moving to bucolic Babcock from traffic-snarled Atlanta. He reviewed flood insurance maps. “Where we live is a 0.2 percent annual chance of flooding,” he said.
In 2017, Hurricane Irma churned over Babcock as a Category 2, as Kinley’s $523,000, two-bedroom, 2,300-square-foot house was being built. There was no damage, he said. Babcock reported a few downed trees and two solar panels needing repairs.
Kinley and his wife, Robin, both 61, were the first Babcock residents. She is a professional quilter; he is semiretired from a medical device company.
Since their arrival, the Babcock vision has sharpened into focus. Kitson has sold more than 2,000 lots to builders. More than 150 homes are occupied, with about the same number under contract.
In the fall, Babcock earned platinum designation, the highest designation from the Florida Green Building Coalition, for development strategies around solar energy, tree preservation, water efficiency, and native plant and sustainable material usage.
“Our whole thesis is that when Florida continues to grow, we need to do it in a sustainable way,” Kitson said. “Babcock is proving people want it and that it’s really desirable.”