There was something profound about the first time I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge. Perhaps it was the iconic scene, engraved into my imagination by movies, photographs and songs about flowers in one's hair, which I realized as I tilted my head sharply upward in salute to the red-painted towers that supported my passage. I always loved San Francisco: With its trolley cars, fortune cookie factories, steep streets and say-anything flavor, it never failed to reinforce the magic and myth my mind envisioned. Yet up on the bridge, where a crisp wind blew my gaze from Alcatraz Island across the bay and city to the Pacific Ocean and sculpted California Coast beyond, I was most impressed by the natural beauty that still ruled the scene. San Francisco Bay, dotted with sailboats and windsurfers, seemed pristine and changeless from that great height.
So I can only imagine the horror that must have struck visitors earlier this month when their views of the storied bay were fouled by an inky black shadow that passed beneath the bridge in a fleeting but dark symbol of a more troubled reality.
The oil slick that blotted the bay was the product of a shipping accident. Nearly 58,000 gallons of oil were spilled when a container ship the size of three football fields struck the Oakland Bay Bridge on the foggy morning of Nov. 7. The Cosco Busan was on its way out of the Port of Oakland with a Chinese-speaking crew and an American bar pilot (who directs the crew's handling of the ship in near-shore waters) when it mysteriously turned in the wrong direction and struck one of the bridge's supports. While no damage was done to the bridge, the ship sustained a 160-foot gash, puncturing one of its fuel tanks. Twelve hours after the crew reported the accident and estimated the spill at only 150 gallons, the Coast Guard finally announced the true magnitude of the accident to concerned citizens.
As the tide flushed through the bay, the oil slick spread across the water's surface, borne north and west toward the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific Ocean. As the slick moved, it surrounded historic Alcatraz Island, fouled local beaches and wildlife preserves, and coated all living creatures that crossed its path with a lethal film. Official confusion, miscommunication and sluggish response from designated cleanup crews allowed the spill to spread beyond the point of reasonable containment. As the hours passed, the slick spread exponentially and the opportunity for rapid and comprehensive recovery of oil was lost.
The cleanup became a battle of the trenches. Volunteers arrived by the hundreds, ignoring risks to their own health to rescue injured animals and painstakingly collecting oil drop by drop. Saving a single seabird can take hours: The birds need treatment for ingested oil and thorough cleaning to restore the insulating power of oil-fouled feathers. Two weeks after the spill, 75 seabird survivors were released back into the bay, the rare successes amid 1,682 birds were already counted dead and an ecosystem would feel the spill's effects for decades to come.
Necessity was the mother of green invention elsewhere. Resourceful volunteers employed a novel cleanup method, using pads of human hair to absorb oil. Later, the pads will be planted with oyster mushrooms and the entire mixture will be decomposed into soil within 12 weeks. The soil can then be used for landscaping and construction projects. The majority of the 19,000 gallons of oil recovered to date, however, will be burned or buried in landfills as time dulls the memory of the bay's latest tragedy.
This is not the first time oil has spilled in San Francisco Bay. In fact, oil spills are surprisingly frequent throughout the world and echo the same disturbing patterns of carelessness and oversight. The worst spill in United States history occurred in 1989, when the Exxon Valdez oil tanker spilled 10.8 million gallons of oil in Alaskan waters. The disaster, compounded by human error and slow reaction times, prompted Congress to pass the Oil Pollution Act of 1990, requiring the development of oil response plans. Though the legislation was directed primarily at oil tankers, ships entering San Francisco Bay must also have such plans and hire local companies to act as ready responders in case of emergency.
Yet the careful plans and good intentions all failed this November in San Francisco, just as they have failed in accident after accident in the past. Legislators are quick to criticize and point fingers at corner-cutting companies and underdeveloped protocols. Environmental groups offer scores of suggestions for better plans and increased safety measures. But the truth is that there will never be a simple cure.
Container ships like the Cosco Busan and oil tankers like the Exxon Valdez exist because our society demands cheap goods and cheaper oil. The Valdez carried oil from the Alaskan Pipeline, constructed despite loud environmental protests because the American lifestyle demanded a new source of fuel. The Busan shuttled tons of inexpensive Asian imports across the North Pacific because global trade demands 70,000 such trips each year. When accidents happen, they must be acknowledged as the new norm, a necessary consequence of the demands we place on transportation infrastructure and the environment.
The challenge, then, is not to demand contingency plans, generate reams of paperwork and install countless safeguards. Instead, we must weigh carefully the pleasures of our consumer lifestyle against the twin backdrops of sustainability and the environment. If we choose inexpensive imports and gas-guzzling cars, we must accept responsibility for the accompanying environmental problems. But if we turn to local produce and biofuels, we may treasure our romanticized views from the Golden Gate at least a little longer.
Holly Moeller is a Rutgers College senior majoring in chemistry and biology. She welcomes feedback at hmoeller@eden.rutgers.edu. Her column "Seeing Green" runs on alternate Mondays.
Be the first to comment on this article!