A dormant malaise lies in the liquid heart of Florida. Muck — an oozy, viscous blanket the consistency of black mayonnaise — smothers the majority of the 730-square-mile floor of Lake Okeechobee.
What is done about the muck — if anything is done about it — and how the muck is managed is something some of Lake O's complicated network of stakeholders are beginning to discuss again.
Two concepts introduced to the Rivers Coalition in September require the attention of anyone who is truly concerned about how to help Lake O, the rivers downstream affected by Lake O discharges and eventually the entire Everglades system. One thing is certain: However and whenever the muck is handled, it won't come cheap.
What is Lake Okeechobee Restoration Inc.?
Every few years over the past few decades, the subject of "what are we going to do about the muck?" arises to the tops of water advocates' minds. But once project managers get to the part where methods to remove it and money to pay for it are being discussed, the muddy mess settles back to the lake's floor the same way the pollution does when the winds stop ruffling the lake's surface waters.
Joe Gilio, a retired Palm City aquatic biologist, is president of the newly formed nonprofit Lake Okeechobee Restoration Inc. For those skeptical of the alphabet soup of governmental and non-governmental organizations designed to help with the overall goal of Everglades restoration, reserve your criticism.
LORI's goal is simply to reduce nutrient pollutants in the lake and try to restore those levels in the water to those that preceded decades of nitrogen and phosphorous inputs.
Sounds simple enough. Except it's anything but.
For example, let's start with the chemistry. My comprehension of chemistry is best described by the "D" I earned in Dick Powell's organic chemistry class at Martin County High School. It's the reason I'm a columnist and not a biochemist.
To his credit, Gilio clearly (well, almost) spelled out the problem during the meeting. Basically, mixed in with the muck are six thousand years of nitrogen and phosphorous and other stuff carried into Lake O from the Kissimmee River. However, it's the last 125 years that's caused the real problem.
You see, man's activities north of the lake — cattle ranching, dairy farming, development and the dumbest thing man did, dumping biosolids — have added more nutrients to the lake.
How much nutrients? Try 500 metric tons annually since the early 1970s.
A whale of a phosphorous problem
I can hear you now, "Ed, how much is a metric ton?"
Gilio tried to explain it to the room. He said that's like adding five blue whales worth of nitrogen and phosphorous to the lake every year. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that's a lot of nutrients. And those nutrients are doing two things: causing the harmful algae blooms every summer and steadily killing the lake.
No one raised the question, but I did wonder if we could clean up the lake and its algae by adding a dozen blue whales.
But what used to happen was the muck would be carried south of the lake and spread throughout what is now the Everglades Agricultural Area. The muck covered about 400,000-500,000 acres south of the lake. It created the perfect organic material to grow a variety of crops a thousand years before any farmers even showed up in the Sunshine State.
Once we added the Herbert Hoover Dike in the early 1930s, that restricted the movement of the muck and contained it within the boundaries of the lake, Audubon Florida scientist and Lake O expert Paul Gray said.
The Diatom Lagoon
Then Len Lindahl of MacVicar Consulting spoke to the group. He outlined an innovative concept called The Diatom Lagoon. In short, it creates a 9,000-foot-wide, 18-foot-deep "lake inside a lake" to help remove the muck that Gilio said is killing Lake O.
The lagoon would be encircled by rings of permeable limestone, plants that suck up nitrogen and phosphorous, floating pipes — and a partridge in a pear tree. Seriously, the three-dimensional graphic had everything in it except the part where Elon Musk blasts it into space like a muck-filled flying saucer.
One thing that was obvious about Lendahl's presentation: It would be funded by billions of some taxpayers' dollars. A pilot project would be needed to check its efficacy and feasibility beforehand, of course. I'm sure that alone would cost enough to exceed the gross domestic product of at least 50 countries.
All jokes aside, the meeting was informative, educational and made several things clear: The muck has to go, and however it is done, it won't be for free. It may be the only way the lake can be saved.
Then we can work on the muck in the St. Lucie River.
Ed Killer is a columnist with TCPalm. This is his opinion. You can email him at ed.killer@tcpalm.com.
