 |
| Photo by International Environmental Justice Advocate Stel Bailey |
By Stel Bailey | Investigative Report
MANATEE COUNTY, FL - Spring break in Florida is supposed to mean sunshine, sandy beaches, and cocktails by the water. Instead, thousands of tourists arriving on Florida’s west coast this year were greeted by a smell many described as “a dumpster left out in the summer heat.” That odor wasn’t trash, it was the stench of red tide, a toxic algal bloom killing marine life and sickening beachgoers.
Walking along Manatee County Beach, the contradiction was staggering. Food vendors cheerfully served seafood. Parking lots charged full rates. Hotels promoted “oceanfront views.” Yet just beyond the dunes, visitors were coughing through waves of toxins carried on the breeze. Tourists laid their towels beside piles of lifeless fish, rubbing on sunscreen as they inhaled poison.
Lying Beside the Dead
At first glance, it looked like a postcard scene. Umbrellas dotted the shoreline, jet skis buzzed across the horizon, and sunbathers lined up for frozen drinks. But walk closer, and the illusion shattered.
Thousands of lifeless fish lay scattered along the surf, their scales glinting in the sunlight. Some tourists laid their towels down just feet away, unaware or unwilling to believe the danger. The breeze carried not only the stench of decay but also aerosolized brevetoxins—microscopic poisons released by the algae.
A chorus of coughs rose up along the beach. “I thought I was just getting allergies,” said one tourist from Indiana as she rubbed her burning eyes. “But then I saw all the dead fish and thought, something’s not right here.”
What Officials Don’t Say
County crews arrived at dawn to collect as many dead fish as they could, dumping them into trucks bound for the landfill. By noon, the smell returned, and new bodies floated ashore.
But for tourists paying premium rates for “beachfront views,” there was no mention of red tide. Workers at local food stands admitted quietly that they were told not to discuss it. “We can’t say anything,” one whispered. “We’d lose our jobs.”
The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) publishes daily red tide maps online. But those maps are buried on government websites. Few visitors think to search them when booking a beach getaway.
The result is a tourism machine that keeps humming—parking fees collected, food sold, hotel rooms filled—even as visitors breathe poison in paradise.
The Silent Danger in the Air
Red tide, caused by the microscopic organism Karenia brevis, releases brevetoxins—potent neurotoxins that aerosolize and travel inland with the wind. The health effects read like a medical nightmare:
- Coughing, wheezing, and shortness of breath
- Severe headaches and burning eyes
- Asthma flare-ups and bronchitis
- Digestive illness and skin irritation
- Long-term risks, including DNA damage linked to certain cancers
The Science of a Crisis
Red tides have plagued Florida for centuries, but scientists say what’s happening now is different. They are more frequent, more severe, and more dangerous.
Why? Pollution.
- In 2021, the Piney Point phosphate plant discharged 215 million gallons of contaminated wastewater into Tampa Bay, fueling a toxic bloom that killed tons of fish and dolphins.
- In 2022, Hurricane Ian washed nutrient-rich runoff into an already fragile ecosystem, accelerating blooms along the coast.
- Ongoing discharges from Lake Okeechobee, loaded with agricultural fertilizers, continue to feed the algae.
Each new spill and storm makes the next bloom worse. It’s a vicious cycle of human waste and industrial pollution colliding with fragile waters.
Tourists Caught in the Middle
Most beachgoers had no idea what they were walking into.
A visitor from Michigan, sunburned and wheezing, shook his head when asked about red tide. “Never heard of it,” he said.
The irony was stark: families sipping tropical drinks and building sandcastles while choking on toxins powerful enough to cause neurological damage.
Doctors warn the risks are real. Emergency rooms along Florida’s Gulf Coast report treating visitors for respiratory distress during red tide events. Cases of flesh-eating bacteria infections linked to contaminated water have also made headlines, sending unlucky swimmers to intensive care.
Even pets aren’t safe. Dogs that lap up red tide water can collapse within hours.
How to Protect Yourself
Until change comes, experts advise beachgoers to be cautious:
- Check the FWC Red Tide Map before traveling: FWC Red Tide Status
- Leave the beach if you experience coughing, dizziness, or burning eyes.
- Avoid swimming where dead fish are present.
- Keep children and pets away from the shoreline.
- Do not eat shellfish or fish harvested from red tide waters.
- Use masks outdoors if symptoms worsen.
The Hard Truth
Florida continues to market itself as paradise. But behind the glossy brochures and Instagram photos lies a grim reality: toxic blooms, suffocating wildlife, and families gasping for breath while lying in the sand.
This is more than an inconvenience. It is a public health crisis, an economic gamble, and a test of whether leaders will value truth over tourism dollars.
For now, visitors will keep arriving, towels will keep unrolling, and children will keep building castles beside carcasses. And the question remains: how long can Florida bury its dead fish before it must face its poisoned waters?
Sources & Further Reading
- Florida Fish & Wildlife Commission, Red Tide Current Status: FWC.gov
- Environmental Integrity Project, The Clean Water Act at 50 (2022): EIP Report
- Tampa Bay Times, Piney Point Discharge into Tampa Bay (2021): Link
- NOAA, Hurricane Ian Environmental Impact (2022): NOAA.gov
- Diaz, R. et al., Neurological Illnesses Associated with Florida Red Tide (Harmful Algae, 2019): DOI
- CDC, Illness and Symptoms: Marine Algal Blooms (2023): CDC.gov
- Case Reports in Pulmonology, Hypersensitivity Pneumonitis due to Florida Red Tide (2019): Link
- University of Florida IFAS Extension, Understanding Florida Red Tide (2018): UF Blog
- Visit Florida, Tourism Data 2022: VisitFlorida.org