I Removed 11,000 Pounds of Trash from a City of Miami Park. This is What I Learned.

by Andrew Otazo

Once a week, I spent the day pulling hundreds of pounds of other people’s trash from Virginia Key’s North Point Park. It took 12 months to clear all 1.5 miles of mangrove swamps and sand dunes ringing this public park a ten-minute drive from Downtown Miami’s skyscrapers.

Here’s the final tally:

  • 11,375 pounds of trash
  • 246 contractor bags filled
  • 62 car tires
  • Seven carpets
  • Three headlights
  • One kitchen stove
  • One playground slide
  • One square grouper (smuggled bundle of cocaine—this is Miami, after all)

But the more dramatic items are only part of the story. The park brimmed with trash that had accumulated over decades. Some, like a 220-pound tractor trailer tire, had been dumped. However, the vast majority—hundreds of thousands of water bottles, plastic bags, and pieces of Styrofoam—floated in with the tide. They came from the mainland, where litterers dropped them on the street. Rain then washed them into storm drains that flowed directly into the ocean before they became tangled in the mangroves.

Commenters on my videos often denounce park employees for not picking up this trash. They’re wrong. Firstly, every city, county, state, and national park I’ve partnered with organizes cleanups throughout the year. Secondly, their few employees are dedicated to protecting the environment but are stretched to their limits maintaining facilities and running programs with limited funds. Lastly, the work I do is brutal. Horrible, in fact, unless you happen to be a sucker for physical punishment, like me.

In the summer, the heat can kill by 11 AM, clouds of mosquitoes swarm anything with a pulse, and injuries are unavoidable. Within one month, I suffered a sprained ankle, body-wide allergic reaction, dehydration, lacerations, and heat exhaustion. Good luck retaining a workforce compelled to do that job. I’d rather park employees ensure drunken jet skiers don’t ruin your afternoon than pull their backs hauling tires out of the mud.

We cannot rely on government in a time of widespread funding cuts. Last year, MJ Algarra of Clean this Beach Up organized fundraisers for Biscayne National Park (which is 90% aquatic!) because it lacked funds to fill its boats’ gas tanks. Similar scenes continue to play out in parks across the country as the federal government willfully neglects our country’s priceless natural treasures. I’ve collaborated with many other local organizations such as Debris Free Oceans, Fill-a-Bag, Volunteer Cleanup, Surfrider, Latino Outdoors, Frost Museum, Mangrove Sasquatch, and Love the Everglades to fill in the gaps, but we can’t do it alone.

This past summer, I hiked Western North Carolina’s Art Loeb Trail in a day. Over 32 miles that summited 13 peaks, I saw exactly zero pieces of trash. That’s because a culture of environmental responsibility pervades the Blue Ridge Mountains. People pick up trash that is not theirs and lambast litterers because they take ownership of their natural spaces. For many, “leave no trace” is not just a phrase, but a way of life. We desperately need a similar culture throughout in Miami.

Miami’s mangrove forests might not have Tennent Mountain’s vistas, but they are no less iconic. They are keystone habitats that buffer our homes from hurricanes and storm surges, protect us from rising sea levels, and serve as nurseries and rookeries for coastal wildlife. We must all understand that what we do in our neighborhoods miles from the shoreline directly impacts the ocean. A plastic bag on the street can be in a sea turtle’s stomach hours later.

That’s why, after collecting 42,215 pounds of trash over eight years, I don’t want people to join me in the mangroves. I want them to pick up a water bottle in a traffic median so I don’t have to reach for it in knee-deep mud. While they’re at it, they should publicly call out whoever dropped it so they don’t do it again.

This doesn’t mean government isn’t important. All our efforts—both in urban settings and the coastal habitats—will be for naught if we don’t repeal terrible legislation like Florida’s preemption law that blocks cities from passing plastic bans. We should advocate for more resources for parks. Climate change is an existential threat that can only be addressed at the federal and international level. Nevertheless, the world’s best laws mean nothing if people refuse to respect their natural birthright. State and federal government won’t save us anytime soon. We must be willing to do it ourselves.