Report from the Emerald Coast.

So far it seems like we have only heard numbers. The numbers describe the gallons of oil spilled from the collapsed Deepwater Horizon rig, the miles of shoreline at risk along the Gulf Coast, the volume of chemical dispersant released into the water, the length of boom laid, and the projected economic losses. I came to the Emerald Coast of Florida with a head full of numbers and no real perspective. After my first day out on the water with Skipper Tonsmeire, and Emerald Coastkeeper Chasidy Fisher Hobbs, I finally understand how catastrophic the Deepwater Horizon oil spill really is.


The barrier islands that enclose the Pensacola Bay extend for miles on either side of the Pensacola Pass as open dunes of white sand. Where other barrier islands and beach cities have been developed into a solid line of condominiums and hotels, long stretches of the Gulf Islands are preserved and protected as the Gulf Islands National Seashore. Of course there are built-out areas too - Pensacola Beach is a popular destination for locals and tourists alike. But once you enter the gates of the park, the human presence feels secondary to the natural processes at work on the island. You can still see evidence of Hurricane Ivan tearing apart the single access road in 2004, and during major weather events the Gulf pours over the island and into the Intracoastal Waterway. Closer to the Pass, Great Blue Herons silently stroll along the waterline while anglers cast their lines, waist deep in the waves.

In Skipper’s boat, we patrolled the inland waterways, inspecting boom placement and studying the pre-impact condition of the shoreline. Some lines of boom had been strategically placed to guard inlets and important ecological areas like Red Fish Point and Big Lagoon State Park. In other areas, like near the Pensacola Pass, the boom has been staged for deployment near the shore. When an oil slick enters the Pass on a flood tide, lines of boom from either side of the channel will be angled toward the middle, creating a funnel to collect and then remove the oil. The boom will then be drawn back to the shore during the ebb tide, honoring the Coast Guard’s request not to interrupt commerce on the Intracoastal Waterway.

Escambia County has done a good job so far of protecting their sensitive inland and shoreline areas with boom, but this method will only be effective at stopping oil on the surface of the water. Reports are now emerging that most of the oil is suspended in the water column, and tarballs have already been seen on Gulf Shores, 90 miles west of Pensacola. Environmental damage to the Gulf Coast from the Deepwater Horizon oil spill may be inevitable if booming is our only protective measure.

Fortunately our patrol gave us the opportunity to swim in the Gulf for what may be the last time in a while. To a person familiar with the bone-chilling water of the San Francisco Bay, the water of the Emerald Coast seems unreasonably warm. Just inside the Pass the water is clear enough to see schools of bait fish at your feet. It could have been a perfect day out on the Gulf, but swimming adjacent to lines of boom conjures up an ominous feeling that is hard to ignore. Anglers continue to fish from the shore, even though commercial fishing has been suspended. Kayakers paddle through inland waters, even though boom excludes them from the more interesting shoreline. People land their boats right on the beach and dive into the water without a second thought about its quality. Even while the Emerald Coast plays this game of sit and wait, it remains a community devoted to its beautiful shoreline and coastal resources.