Slow death: Critical estuary facing dark time - again

Capt. Billy Rotne is mad as you know what, and he can't take it anymore.

The long time fishing guide, owner of Tail Hunter charters, has spent the majority of his life on the once pristine waters of the Mosquito Lagoon. And he loves the fragile and beleaguered estuary so much, he's actually willing to leave it.

No easy task. But it's what he feels he must do.

"It's the right thing to do," said Rotne, who has been guiding 200 days a year for more than a decade. "I care too much about the lagoon."

He felt so strongly about it, he posted his feelings on his Facebook page March 5. In 943 well-chosen words, he succinctly explains why it is painfully difficult to watch an estuary die in front of one's very eyes.

Rotne's reasons are numerous. First, there is the degradation of habitat. The seagrass beds of the lagoon which were once meadows now are disconnected small pads of grass hard to pinpoint and thinning every day. Then, there is the water quality which was usually clear, but has been murky, making sight casting a rare opportunity for visiting anglers. Also, fishing pressure on key brood stock has increased, while ethical behavior on the water has decreased.

Rotne feels the estuary is poised for collapse. And help is nowhere in sight.

What's worse, Rotne knows he is not alone. A few miles to the south, the northern Indian River Lagoon is suffering a similar plight. The Banana River Lagoon, thanks to another brown tide event, is likely on the verge of another massive fish kill, like the one which shocked coastal residents and visitors of Central Florida in the spring of 2016. And in the southern Indian River Lagoon, along the Treasure Coast, guides and weekend warriors are bemoaning the widespread absence of seagrass, and what it means for the local fish, fowl and fauna.

The Indian River Lagoon, which includes the shallow 21,000 acre Mosquito Lagoon, is 156 miles long spanning from Jupiter Inlet at the Loxahatchee River to Ponce Inlet at New Smyrna Beach. Along its shores, over 1 million people carry about their business. It's been identified as a nearly $3 billion economic engine for communities along its five coastal counties. Each year, there are more than 3 million fishing trips taken on its waters. Some of the fish are sold commercially supporting a fresh seafood industry. But a much larger percentage of the fishing trips are taken by residents and tourists who are seeking the exhilaration of that tug on the end of the fishing line. Most of the fish caught by recreational anglers are released to fight again another day.

Rotne has done his part and he has done it right. He has educated hundreds of clients why it's so important to handle what appears to be a hearty 35-pound redfish with a delicate touch.

But he can only do so much. And now, he will do it in the waters closer to Ponce Inlet and the Halifax River, leaving the Mosquito Lagoon so he doesn't add to its severe and rapid rate of decline. He's sick and tired of steering clients to a catch of three fish on the day and trying to convince them it was a world class fishing experience.

Rotne is working to be part of a solution, not the problem. He is on citizen advisory panels for organizations working to clean up waters and fix complex problems befalling these waters. He is speaking out on issues even when his own voice could hurt his livelihood. He is following in the footsteps of Florida fishing guides before him who realized their own silence was a bigger risk to their business than being a voice for change.

Rotne is wise beyond his years. He knows the problems facing these estuaries are complicated with expensive time-consuming solutions. Any solution requiring political urgency will take years measured in election cycles. Any solution put forth by an eco-organization or research foundation will take years. Anything involving federal input will take decades.

"These lagoons are on life support," Rotne said. "How much longer do they have? Do they have 5-10 years left? Maybe not."

Rotne is worried the voting public is growing weary of the struggle for clean water, too. Two years ago, the Banana River Lagoon fish kill was the worst in its history. Voters responded in November 2016 by imposing a half-cent sales tax for the next 10 years to collect an estimated $300 million to help replace infrastructure that is polluting lagoon waters. But there's a limit, Rotne says.

"How many times will voters support this before they get frustrated?" he asked. "There won't be enough money to replace all the septic tanks or fix all the problems with the sewage plants."

Wayne Mills of North Hutchinson Island in Fort Pierce was once in a similar place as Rotne. As one time chairman of the board of trustees of the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, he was part of the effort to repair one of the nation's most iconic and important estuaries.

"Working together we can get the job done in Florida too," Mills said in an email this week. "But it’s going to take a supportive effort by everyone and every organization who cares about our environment. The legislative session ended in Tallahassee without a hearing for two bills, HB 339 and SB 786, which would have provided matching funds for cities and counties on the Indian River Lagoon to take corrective actions."

Mills said "an effort is underway to combine forces around the state to make a concerted effort in this election year to call on them to pass legislation to assist all the estuaries to recover from excessive pollution. Without a safe and inviting environment, Florida’s economy has much to lose and it’s citizens will lose the opportunity to enjoy our waters."

Rotne and many of his peers hope it's not already too late.

Ed Killer is the outdoors columnist for Treasure Coast Newspapers, TCPalm.com and USA Today's Florida Network, and this column reflects his opinion. Friend him on Facebook at Ed Killer, follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @tcpalmekiller or email him at ed.killer@tcpalm.com. He can be called at 772-221-4201.