Florida’s unusually long red tide is killing wildlife, tourism and businesses
Lifeguard Mariano Martinez wears a mask Sunday because of the red tide at Lido Beach in Sarasota, Fla. (Eve Edelheit for The Washington Post)
SIESTA KEY, Fla. — Even as she sat under the brilliant Florida sun, her toes covered in sugar-white sand, Alex McShane wasn’t exactly enjoying her summer vacation. Florida’s worst red tide in more than a decade had turned the aqua-blue surf to a rusty dull brown.
And then there were the lifeguards. They were wearing gas masks.
With no mask of her own, McShane, 24, wore a frown. Her eyes itched, she coughed, and the stench was giving her a headache — all telltale symptoms of the monster algal bloom spanning the southern Gulf Coast. It is killing untold numbers of marine animals from Bradenton to Naples, where rotting fish still lay scattered on a beach behind Gov. Rick Scott’s seaside mansion, even after a cleanup.
As the outbreak nears the year mark, with no sign of easing, it’s no longer a threat to just marine life. Business owners in the hardest-hit counties report they have lost nearly $90 million and have laid off about 300 workers because of the red tide and a separate freshwater algal bloom in the state’s largest lake. Together, the two blooms have caused a sharp drop in tourism.
A dead fish on Siesta Beach in Siesta Key, Fla., on Sunday. (Eve Edelheit for The Washington Post) A pair of toxic algal blooms striking the state at the same time is rare and, in this case, especially lethal. A red tide is a natural phenomenon that develops miles offshore before making its way to the coast, where it feeds on a variety of pollutants, including phosphorus and nitrogen from fertilizer, along with other runoff and wastewater.
What is not clear is whether climate change and pollution from humans near the shore has made this outbreak even worse. Scientists have found that the algae thrive in warmer waters and increased carbon dioxide levels.
Co-owner Tom Kouvatsos works in the kitchen at the Village Cafe on Sunday in Siesta Key. (Eve Edelheit for The Washington Post)August has been brutal for Sarasota County, where McShane sat on a folding chair on the top-rated beach at Siesta Key. In the second week of the month — one of the worst of the red-tide bloom — small-business revenue fell by as much as 50 percent, according to a survey conducted by the local convention and visitors bureau.
At the Hub restaurant, a short walk from the beach, manager Tim Wong tried to be positive. “If it’s going to hit, this is the best time, because it’s the slow season for us,” Wong said. “It could be gone tomorrow — you never know.”
But others worry that the painful slow season, which stretches from August to November, will be tough to endure. “I’m prepared for the slow season, but this is scary,” Tom Kouvatsos said last week after yet another breakfast and lunch with hardly any diners at his Village Cafe. “This is just two weeks. What if it stays for two months? How can I carry my kitchen staff for two months?”
The longest red tide on record is a 30-month marathon of misery that started in 1994. That was before social media and news reports broadcast the problem around the world.
State officials say the economic impact, compiled from surveysthat have circulated for only a few weeks, is expected to worsen as the outbreak continues.
McShane, who traveled from Ellicott City, Md., with her parents for a week-long visit, scanned the nearly deserted beach, which reeked like a commode that hadn’t been flushed.
“Gosh, should we be out here?” she wondered. “I definitely wouldn’t go in the water. This is as close as I’m getting.”
A lone walker Sunday on Siesta Beach. (Eve Edelheit for The Washington Post) Ten miles away at the Mote Marine Laboratory and Aquarium, Gretchen Lovewell and her two-woman crew responded to yet another emergency distress call.
They climbed into a pickup truck and rushed to Manasota Key Beach, an hour drive south, where a baby dolphin was spotted on the edge of the surf. The calf was dead, but its carcass could yield valuable tissue samples that would add to the understanding of how the toxin kills.
The red tide’s poisonous algae is a variety called Karenia brevis that is native to the Gulf of Mexico. It breaks out every year, and its neurotoxin disorients and paralyzes marine life. But in her nine-year tenure at Mote, Lovewell has never seen animals die on this scale.
Florida’s toxic algae bloom is having a devastating impact on marine life. When dead animals wash ashore, the Mote Marine Laboratory is the first to respond. (Melissa Macaya, Alfredo De Lara/The Washington Post)
As of Friday, the aquarium had recovered 19 dolphins and 239 sea turtles in Sarasota and Manatee counties alone. That did not include more than 100 manatees statewide and an untold number of fish, as well as large animals such as sharks and tarpons.
To keep up with the death toll, Lovewell has worked six-day weeks and up to 16 hours on some shifts.
More than 2,000 tons of dead marine animals have been removed from the coasts of the five hardest-hit counties, according to cleanup reports. The baby dolphin was the 13th recovered.
At the beach, an intern and part-time worker snapped on blue rubber gloves. A swarm of flies launched when they reached for the carcass. Its mouth was stuck open, tongue bloated and body stiff with rigor mortis. Blood oozed from its navel as they examined it.
“It definitely takes a toll on you, dealing with so much death,” Lovewell said. “When this is all said and done, I’m going to have to go into a room and scream and cry a little.”
By Friday night, a crowd numbering in the hundreds started pouring into the Cock and Bull Farmhouse east of Siesta Key, drawn by a Facebook post to discuss the red tide.
The organizers wanted to spread the word that the real culprit behind the tourism drop was not the algae but the pollution that feeds it.
Many residents were angry, and they pointed their fingers at Scott, the Republican governor who is campaigning for a U.S. Senate seat.
Scott has taken aggressive steps to address the outbreak, declaring a state of emergency, providing millions of dollars to help small businesses and directing his Department of Environmental Protection to partner with the Mote lab to track the algae bloom. But his detractors point to his record.
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