I was driving back from a camping trip in Michigan a decade ago when I received a call. “Find bottled water and shower before you get too close to home.” I arrived home in Toledo, Ohio, to find a city scrambling to meet the basic water needs of over 500,000 people. The water was toxic due to an algal bloom plaguing Lake Erie. We couldn’t drink it or shower in it. We weren’t even supposed to wash our dishes with it. This lasted for three days.

Every year since, as the heat of summer approaches, Toledoans wait for the green to roll in and the warnings to begin. We haven’t lost our access to tap water since 2014 thanks to a change in treatment and forecasting, but that hasn’t stopped many I know from opting for bottled water out of fear.

In years past, the algae blooms would begin in August, hindering beach access. In the summer of 2023, however, the bloom came even earlier. By July 5 last year, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) satellite images showed toxic cyanobacteria forming along the coast. These blooms are lasting longer as well. This year, the blooms began forming on June 24, the earliest date yet since tracking began in 2002. It is now September, and our lake is still green. This isn’t something affecting just Ohio, however. Lakes and gulfs worldwide are dealing with toxic algae blooms from similar causes — excess nutrients from fertilizer, wastewater and stormwater runoff coinciding with warm water temperatures.

In Lucas County, where Toledo is based, agricultural runoff is a major ecological issue. As of November 2021, over 65,000 acres of the county, amounting to 17 percent of available land, was under agricultural use. Runoff rich in phosphorus and nitrogen from these lands seeps into the Maumee River watershed (and also get flushed into the river in large volumes when it rains) and flows into Lake Erie, causing thick algae blooms annually. The leading source of this kind of runoff are fields, including several that have excess manure applied to them due to the number of massive factory farms or CAFOs (Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations) in the region. (The CAFO operators prefer to spread the manure from their livestock on nearby farmlands to avoid the hassle of transporting it too far, or having to store it on their property.)

Nonpoint source pollution consists of contaminants from various sources, such as road salt, pesticides, oil, and sediments all carried by rainwater or snowmelt distributed to a wide area. Similar factors contribute to the massive “dead zone” in the Gulf of Mexico. This differs from point source pollution, which is direct contaminant flow, for example, from a water treatment plant into a connected water body, and is a small percentage of the overall problem.

Over the past ten years, I have attended numerous meetings and forums where people discuss Lake Erie’s value. How do we value a natural resource, and what is the true cost of protecting it? Who is affected, and who ultimately pays the price?

The intrinsic value of a freshwater coast is difficult to estimate but important to consider. On summer days, the beach at Maumee Bay State Park, one of the only public access points to swim in Lake Erie’s western basin that lies a short distance from Toledo, is packed with families escaping the city’s heat. Numerous studies suggest these wild spaces are critical for mental health and wellbeing.

Before the 1800s, Ohio consisted primarily of an area known as the Great Black Swamp in the northwest, which existed alongside Lake Erie, and about 95 percent of the rest was forested. Today, only about 20 percent of the forests are left, and most of the swamp has been drained for agriculture. Ohioans wanting to commune with nature have limited pockets of coastline and forests preserved by the park system. These areas have become even more precious to me and my neighbors, who live in a city impacted by the urban heat island effect, few trees, loud urban noise, and high crime rates. Local natural areas are where we go to decompress. There is a psychological toll from living near polluted ecosystems.

The economic cost of these algal blooms is intense too. A 2019 study found that during algal blooms communities along Lake Erie alone lose $142 million annually from drops in tourist footfall and recreation revenues, falling housing values, contaminated drinking water, and more. Nationwide, algal blooms have cost US communities over $1 billion since 2010.

In the ten years since that first major bloom, Ohio has wrestled with solutions to clean up our great lake. In 2019, the state government created H2Ohio, which invests $172 million annually in various water quality initiatives. Funding was bumped to $270 million for the 2024-2025 fiscal year. This is part of a goal to reach a 40 percent reduction in phosphorus entering the Western Lake Erie Basin, which stretches across Michigan, Ohio, and Ontario, by 2025. We are not currently on pace to meet this goal. The most recent study by the Alliance for the Great Lakes and the Ohio Environmental Council found that our investments are “woefully inadequate.”

So, what have we done over the last ten years? Monitoring is in place with technologically advanced buoys that send out live water quality data all summer. Numerous universities collect and study samples from waterways and Lake Erie. Our local college, the University of Toledo, has a page on its website listing many research projects to determine how blooms affect people and our environment. The H2Ohio-sponsored Voluntary Nutrient Management program has enrolled 2,400 farmers. Over 150 wetland projects are either completed or in progress, which will help sequester carbon and phosphorus.

But, frustratingly, Ohio has also allowed more permits for factory farms. Finding exact numbers is difficult, but we know that between 2005 and 2018, the number of CAFOs in the watershed grew from 545 to 775, a 42 percent increase. The number of animals went from 9 million to 20.4 million, and manure production increased from 3.9 million tons annually to 5.5 million.

When I asked Marcy Kaptur, a US Representative from Ohio, about allowing permits despite ongoing pollution at an Environmental Policy meeting in August of 2022, she failed to answer the question and talked instead about other environmental causes she is championing, such as alternative energy solutions. It is a touchy subject at many of the meetings I’ve attended. It seems some elected officials are hesitant to discuss this topic directly.

Billions have been invested to fix Lake Erie’s complicated environmental crisis, but perhaps community members of some of Toledo’s most economically challenged neighborhoods are the ones bearing the greatest cost. Changes in water treatment infrastructure caused water bill rates in the region to double between 2010 and 2019. Alliance for the Great Lakes found that in 2022, Toledo residents were shouldering the burden by paying $19 per person toward algal bloom expenses annually. This is about $100 extra per year for a family of five. While the amount might seem low considering the billions Ohio is spending, in a city where almost 25 percent of our residents live at or below the poverty line, it is no surprise that 20 percent of community members report that they often have to reduce spending on basic necessities to pay their water bill.

Toledoans have tried to show just how much they value Lake Erie. When a grassroots initiative formed to create a Lake Erie Bill of Rights in 2019 — a landmark Rights of Nature law that would allow people to sue on behalf of the lake asserting that the lake should have the right to flourish as a living entity — it passed in overwhelming support. However, a farm sued and a judge deemed the law unconstitutional in 2020. A few groups, such as Lake Erie Waterkeeper and Lake Erie Advocates, are still trying to raise awareness about the annual blooms and fight for the lake’s health. Politics tend to get in the way.

We’ve talked about it, thrown money at it, monitored it, and studied its effects. Yet the bloom continues. Most people I talk with feel hopeless, or worse, apathetic.

People value nature in different ways. Some want to use it in utilitarian ways, solely looking at how it best serves human beings. Some remember that we are not separate from nature and that our actions have far-reaching consequences. Some cherish the intrinsic value of freshwater ecosystems and all they entail. Different communities see Lake Erie from varying perspectives.

Traditional farmers have mixed opinions on the impact, with some being proactive and others insisting they shouldn’t have to carry the blame, pointing to urban pollution and large factory farms. Community members voice concerns about water quality, wildlife impact and coastal use. Politicians have their own fluctuating opinions about proposed solutions. There is an apparent clash regarding the balance between land use, runoff, pollution, and those affected.

Perhaps understanding how each party values nature by coming together to focus on the values and interests that overlap would be a good first step toward the healing and cleanup of Lake Erie. The current divisiveness seems to be causing a stalemate.

In the meantime, I’m finishing my tenth summer watching the thick sludge of green wash ashore, a recurring annual choking death of what should be a vibrant source of life.