Post by L Roebuck on Mar 27, 2006 17:03:35 GMT -5
We polluted Wakulla Springs; we can fix it
By Diane Roberts
MY VIEW
The conquistadors, stamping around in the thunderstorm heat of the swamps, must have thought the spring was some kind of miracle: cold as a diamond, sweet as nectar, blue as the vault of heaven. In 1835, a traveler in these parts said the spring was "of such perfect transparency, that the smallest object is seen at the immense depth of water below, and the spectator upon its surface, sits and shudders as if suspended on empty air."
Wakulla Springs retained its aboriginal beauty through waves of colonization, wars, blights, hurricanes and droughts. In a state dredged, drained, paved over, built up, clear-cut, landscaped and theme-parked, Wakulla Springs stands as a symbol of the old Florida, what the park service likes to call "the real Florida."
At least, it used to. Wakulla Springs is sick. The crystalline waters have gone cloudy. An excess of algae smothers the eel grass meadows. Largemouth bass are disappearing from the Wakulla River. Yellow-crowned night herons are becoming rare. The limpkin, that pretty, long-legged tweezer-beaked bird, hasn't been seen since 2000.
Hydrilla, an invasive exotic plant, grows so thick that the park service uses mechanical harvesters to yank it out so that children can swim and the boats can take visitors to see Henry the pole-vaulting mullet and the spot where Tarzan swung from his jungle tree. That's when they aren't dumping weed killer into the springs.
The poisoning of Wakulla Springs is not an act of God. It's not a conspiracy. It's not a tragic accident. The nitrates polluting the water weren't put there by aliens or outside agitators. We did it. And we can fix it.
As Gov. Napoleon Bonaparte Broward sharply observed in 1905, "water will run downhill." Uphill from the springs lies the city of Tallahassee's spray field, perched on the Woodville Karst Plain - "karst" being the word for an area of limestone terrain with more holes than Swiss cheese. The T.P. Smith Water Reclamation Facility on Tram Road spews out 20 million gallons of effluent a day. That's a powerful lot of fertilizerÐnitrates. There's little top soil to slow down the grunge and filter out the nasty stuff. So it seeps unimpeded into the ground, finds sinkholes, underground streams and conduits heading south. The fertilizer ends up - much of it - in Wakulla Springs.
The city insists that it's not their fault. Or not all their fault. The mayor and commissioners say they are good environmentalists, that they cherish Wakulla Springs, and not just for the $22 million it generates for the area's economy.
Now, the city's environmental cred ain't looking so good, not since some commissioners took to pimping for the coal plant. The scientific evidence, provided in a report from the Northwest Florida Water Management District, shows that Tallahassee's wastewater operations contribute at least 70 percent of the nitrates polluting the spring. “Atmospheric deposition,” nitrogen in the air from coal plants, adds to the problem as well. (Gosh, soon we'll have our very own coal plant belching chemicals, too). And yes, those pesky septic tanks are culpable: Six percent of the nitrates in the spring come from Wakulla County's rural flush.
But the septic tanks aren't up for a permit renewal; and there's not much we in Tallahassee can do about the air. The spray field, on the other hand, needs new authorization from the state. Which should not happen unless the city gets serious about reducing the nitrates impairing our groundwater and attacking our springs.
The spray field was built in 1980 when the population of Leon County was 150,000. Now the county has more than 250,000 souls and, encouraged by the city of Tallahassee's build, build, build policies, is growing as fast as the hydrilla choking Wakulla Springs. The city tells us it is spending $100 million on the spray field, but to what end? It seems likely that the money will mostly go to expanding its capacity - all those new people moving into those downtown condos and those sprawling 'burbs will almost certainly want to use the bathroom at some point.
Tallahassee should commit itself to what is known as advanced wastewater technology, a technique to get the damaging nutrients out of the effluent. Other cities in Florida use AWT - the citizens of Key West voted themselves increased sewer rates in order to, as it were, cut the crap. The city should get with a 21st-century environmental program: It will probably be cheaper than fighting this thing over and over in court.
Let's be clear: We're not talking about a mere tourist attraction, though Wakulla Springs draws big-time for the region. We're talking about our drinking water. The spring lets us look deep into our aquifer. The news is not good. The blue heart of North Florida is diseased. If we don't cure it, we'll get sick, too.
Diane Roberts is author of “Dream State,” a family history of Florida.
www.tallahassee.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060324/OPINION05/603240325/1006/OPINION
See also Wakulla Springs
www.wakullacounty.com/wakulla-30.htm
WKPP: Turner Sink-Wakulla-Spring Creek Dye Trace on YouTube.com
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tz5zZc_rZY
By Diane Roberts
MY VIEW
The conquistadors, stamping around in the thunderstorm heat of the swamps, must have thought the spring was some kind of miracle: cold as a diamond, sweet as nectar, blue as the vault of heaven. In 1835, a traveler in these parts said the spring was "of such perfect transparency, that the smallest object is seen at the immense depth of water below, and the spectator upon its surface, sits and shudders as if suspended on empty air."
Wakulla Springs retained its aboriginal beauty through waves of colonization, wars, blights, hurricanes and droughts. In a state dredged, drained, paved over, built up, clear-cut, landscaped and theme-parked, Wakulla Springs stands as a symbol of the old Florida, what the park service likes to call "the real Florida."
At least, it used to. Wakulla Springs is sick. The crystalline waters have gone cloudy. An excess of algae smothers the eel grass meadows. Largemouth bass are disappearing from the Wakulla River. Yellow-crowned night herons are becoming rare. The limpkin, that pretty, long-legged tweezer-beaked bird, hasn't been seen since 2000.
Hydrilla, an invasive exotic plant, grows so thick that the park service uses mechanical harvesters to yank it out so that children can swim and the boats can take visitors to see Henry the pole-vaulting mullet and the spot where Tarzan swung from his jungle tree. That's when they aren't dumping weed killer into the springs.
The poisoning of Wakulla Springs is not an act of God. It's not a conspiracy. It's not a tragic accident. The nitrates polluting the water weren't put there by aliens or outside agitators. We did it. And we can fix it.
As Gov. Napoleon Bonaparte Broward sharply observed in 1905, "water will run downhill." Uphill from the springs lies the city of Tallahassee's spray field, perched on the Woodville Karst Plain - "karst" being the word for an area of limestone terrain with more holes than Swiss cheese. The T.P. Smith Water Reclamation Facility on Tram Road spews out 20 million gallons of effluent a day. That's a powerful lot of fertilizerÐnitrates. There's little top soil to slow down the grunge and filter out the nasty stuff. So it seeps unimpeded into the ground, finds sinkholes, underground streams and conduits heading south. The fertilizer ends up - much of it - in Wakulla Springs.
The city insists that it's not their fault. Or not all their fault. The mayor and commissioners say they are good environmentalists, that they cherish Wakulla Springs, and not just for the $22 million it generates for the area's economy.
Now, the city's environmental cred ain't looking so good, not since some commissioners took to pimping for the coal plant. The scientific evidence, provided in a report from the Northwest Florida Water Management District, shows that Tallahassee's wastewater operations contribute at least 70 percent of the nitrates polluting the spring. “Atmospheric deposition,” nitrogen in the air from coal plants, adds to the problem as well. (Gosh, soon we'll have our very own coal plant belching chemicals, too). And yes, those pesky septic tanks are culpable: Six percent of the nitrates in the spring come from Wakulla County's rural flush.
But the septic tanks aren't up for a permit renewal; and there's not much we in Tallahassee can do about the air. The spray field, on the other hand, needs new authorization from the state. Which should not happen unless the city gets serious about reducing the nitrates impairing our groundwater and attacking our springs.
The spray field was built in 1980 when the population of Leon County was 150,000. Now the county has more than 250,000 souls and, encouraged by the city of Tallahassee's build, build, build policies, is growing as fast as the hydrilla choking Wakulla Springs. The city tells us it is spending $100 million on the spray field, but to what end? It seems likely that the money will mostly go to expanding its capacity - all those new people moving into those downtown condos and those sprawling 'burbs will almost certainly want to use the bathroom at some point.
Tallahassee should commit itself to what is known as advanced wastewater technology, a technique to get the damaging nutrients out of the effluent. Other cities in Florida use AWT - the citizens of Key West voted themselves increased sewer rates in order to, as it were, cut the crap. The city should get with a 21st-century environmental program: It will probably be cheaper than fighting this thing over and over in court.
Let's be clear: We're not talking about a mere tourist attraction, though Wakulla Springs draws big-time for the region. We're talking about our drinking water. The spring lets us look deep into our aquifer. The news is not good. The blue heart of North Florida is diseased. If we don't cure it, we'll get sick, too.
Diane Roberts is author of “Dream State,” a family history of Florida.
www.tallahassee.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060324/OPINION05/603240325/1006/OPINION
See also Wakulla Springs
www.wakullacounty.com/wakulla-30.htm
WKPP: Turner Sink-Wakulla-Spring Creek Dye Trace on YouTube.com
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tz5zZc_rZY