Running from Blue Cypress Lake to the Atlantic Ocean, the St. Johns River takes on many forms. In quiet marshlands, broad winding waterways, cypress-lined floors and tidal estuaries, the river reshapes itself again and again.
The 310-mile river creates bountiful fishing for boaters, soothes the fiercest storm surges and provides a home for countless species from manatees to bald eagles. In recent years though, it has also been forced to take an unwelcomed guest.
Every year, human waste, or, in regulatory language, biosolids, leaches into its waters. South Florida governments have largely banned the practice of spreading biosolids on farm fields, leaving rural communities in North Florida to deal with the consequences.
The health of the St. Johns River is one of the most devastating, said St. Johns Riverkeeper Lisa Rinaman.
“It was just kicking the can down the road, thinking it's a less-populated area, not realizing how quickly this would come to a head,” Rinaman said. “By 2017-18, you could already see a significant spike in pollution, as well as degradation of the headwaters.”
Regulators classify biosolids into two main categories, Class A and Class B, based on pathogen and contaminant levels. More than two-thirds of Florida’s Class B sewage sludge, the less treated type, has been disposed of on farmland along the banks of St. Johns, leading to estimated cleanup costs of over $1 billion.
Even though this area absorbed the environmental hazards, it received little financial support from contributors, making plans for cleanup complicated. For example, while South Florida rate-payers paid an environmental fee for truckers to move their waste up north, none of those funds went to the St. Johns River, Rinaman said.
And now, communities along the river face pollution that threatens human, environmental and economic health, Rinaman said.
“When you have a river that is polluted, you don't get the benefit of additional taxes from waterfront properties, the recreational input. Some of our rural communities really depend on that fishing, tourism aspect of it. It can also be harmful to your health,” Rinaman said.
Modern wastewater treatment came out of centuries of trial and error. Yet the question of how to deal with what remains after treatment is becoming more complicated and more expensive. In the face of rising costs, friction between environmental regulators and water plants and a lack of public awareness, the question becomes who pays – both metaphorically and literally.
Out of sight and out of mind
According to the Florida Department of Environmental Protection, people generate about 100 gallons of wastewater daily. Considering more than 23 million Floridians live here and 143 million tourists visit annually, that adds up to trillions of waste generated per year. Few people, however, think about what happens when they flush a toilet, take a shower, or do their laundry.
It’s a problem as old as humanity. Ancient civilizations buried human waste in pits. In London, “night soil men” collected waste under the cover of darkness and sold it as fertilizer to farmers. But the most tried and true method, and the one that would dominate waste management, was the simplest: dump it into the nearest, largest body of water to get it out of sight. “Dilution of pollution” treated rivers and oceans more like trash bins than vital ecosystems. By the mid-20th century, U.S waterways were so polluted that rivers, such as Ohio’s Cuyahoga, frequently caught fire.
Public outrage helped pass the Clean Water Act in 1972. The federal government banned dumping raw sewage directly into lakes, rivers or the sea. Utilities were required to extensively treat wastewater before releasing it, an endeavor that would prove costly.
Wastewater treatment: Costly yet crucial
Less than 20 minutes away from Disney World, barbed wire surrounds an area dotted with large white domes, pipes coated with thick, pale-purple paint, and large vats filled with brown liquid basking in the sun. Waste from public restrooms, homes, restaurants, and resorts ends up at this water reclamation facility to undergo extensive treatment. According to the City of Orlando, this division can expect to see 45 million gallons per day of wastewater.
The City of Orlando invested nearly $500 million in a wastewater division that consists of three plants: Iron Bridge, Conserve I, and Conserve II. The costs to repair, replace, and upgrade these nearly 40-year-old plants are mounting. For example, an $18 million project is underway to update the Iron Bridge plant to improve the quality of treated water and provide a more reliable supply of irrigation to parts of the city.
“We will spend around $80 million to $100 million a year for the next five years”, said Alan Oyler, a project manager at Orlando’s water reclamation division.
These high costs are not unique to the City of Orlando. Modern wastewater treatment is a complex, energy-intensive process.
Chemical and physical processes help separate liquids from solids and improve the quality of the water. At the heart of wastewater treatment is biological treatment. While treatment plants work meticulously to ensure pipes and infrastructure are in working order, they put equal amounts of effort into creating the perfect concoction of bacteria that can clean our waste and even unlock its true potential.
Some bacteria convert nutrients in waste into more stable forms that will not upset delicate balances in the environment. Some consider the waste food. What is gross to us is a feast to these bacteria, and they happily multiply with an abundance of food.
The process ends with two distinct products. One is “reclaimed water,” that is, water safe enough to be used for irrigation and industrial and other processes, but not for drinking. The second product is biosolids. The sheer volume and additional steps needed to clean up the biosolids before spreading them out in the environment makes managing them far from cheap. The cost can make up more than half of a wastewater plant’s total operation costs. New regulations are making it even more pricey.
Rising costs
After the Clean Water Act banned the practice of dumping biosolids in waterways in 1972, producers pivoted to spreading them on farmlands as fertilizer. But today, concerns about nutrient pollution and PFAS, also known as “forever chemicals,” have led the Environmental Protection Agency to consider stronger restrictions and remediation of the contaminants.
Installing new treatment systems and expanding monitoring systems for chemicals such as PFAS are costly. If residents want safer alternatives to waste disposal practices, they must be prepared for how that will translate financially.
According to a study by global engineering firm CDM Smith, biosolid management costs could jump 37% as a result of forever chemical management. Testing soil samples, assembling a team and publishing work can cost over $2 million, explained UF soil, water and ecosystem scientist Davie Kadyampakeni.
After watching an EPA webinar addressing PFAS management, Oyler said he felt like he had a bullseye painted on his forehead. EPA representatives raised the possibility of banning the application of biosolids on agricultural land, he said.
“What do you do as a wastewater guy when the method you’ve been using for 100 years is suddenly no longer available to you?” he said.
While a ban on land application could result in cleaner and reduced cleanup costs for waterways such as the St. Johns, prices for wastewater management would rise as treatment plants invested in new technologies to process biosolids. To combat this, Oyler is seeking private corporations to help bear the financial burden.
“I didn’t have enough money to invest $15 million or $20 million in a new biosolid disposing alternative,” he said.
In August, the city announced a partnership with Stircor to implement biosolids drying technology at the Conserve II facility. In this service fee model, the plant commissions Stircor for their work instead of building and maintaining the technology themselves. As a result, Stircor will cover all costs associated with designing, building, and operating equipment as well as maintenance costs. This reduces the costs as the city can allocate less internal resources while dealing with the potential ban of the land application of biosolids.
The role of the public
Given the rising costs of wastewater management and the need for investment in new technology, one thing is certain: The public will ultimately have to pick up a bigger tab for dealing with waste. Wastewater plants operate on user fees instead of general tax dollars. There is a growing consensus that user fees must rise.
For decades, most Floridians have paid relatively low rates for sewage treatment. As utilities face new regulations and new technology requirements, the gap between the true costs of treatment and what customers pay is widening.
“Given that three-quarters of the state is serviced by municipal wastewater treatment facilities, even small additional charges could generate enough money for expanded monitoring and research,” said Craig Diamond, an environmental economist at 1000 Friends of Florida.
Sewage fee increases can help cities invest in treatment systems that minimize harm to the environment.
“How much do you pay for your cable, internet bill, and phones? How much do you pay for your sewer bill?” Oyler asks. “Something that is necessary for the health, safety, and public welfare of the public costs $30 a month, while something that is entertainment costs far more. Ask yourself this: Do you not want to pay to protect your life?”
The “out of sight, out of mind” problem—and the fact that people have paid so little historically—makes the conversation difficult. Rising fees can spark public outrage as utilities ask residents to pay for a challenge that is both hidden and poorly understood.
But as rural residents and iconic waters like the St. Johns River have their fill of waste from other parts of the state, stakeholders on all sides say one thing is sure: Floridians can no longer just flush and forget.