By Alex Mann, Correspondent
ANNAPOLIS, Md. — At 7:30 a.m., outside of the Oyster Recovery Partnership office and by the trunk of his 2008 Toyota Corolla, Wayne Witzke traded his slides for a pair of brown rubber boots.
The bearded man hopped into a Ford F-550, fired up the truck 鈥� covered with oyster-camouflage 鈥� and shifted it into gear. Time to pick up smelly barrels of shells from roughly 30 restaurants in Annapolis.
鈥淛ust me individually,鈥� Witzke said, 鈥淚 pick up 100-150 restaurants鈥� per week.
Witzke works for the Shell Recycling Alliance, an Oyster Recovery Partnership program that collects discarded shell from restaurants and seafood distributors in Maryland, D.C. and Virginia.
Witzke grew up near Salisbury, Maryland, 鈥渁lways going to tributaries of the bay, specifically the Nanticoke and living near the Wicomico,鈥� he said. 鈥淚鈥檝e always gotten to see how life on the bay is.鈥�
He鈥檚 also seen the Chesapeake鈥檚 condition change.
鈥淲e鈥檝e also had moments where we can鈥檛 necessarily go swimming in some of those tributaries because of bacteria and other things,鈥� he said. 鈥淟oving to fish and crab and even eat some of the seafood that we get from it has opened my eyes to the plight of the bay and how, consequently, there are efforts out there to bring it back.鈥�
While Witzke picks up, transports and unloads shell, he keeps the bigger picture in mind.
鈥淪ure I鈥檓 just dumping the shells,鈥� he said, 鈥渂ut each one will become a home for 10 baby oysters.鈥�
鈥淚t comes down to believing in the mission,鈥� he added.
Some of the shells are used for the Marylanders Grow Oysters program, which equips waterfront households with cages of oysters to hang from their docks.
The effort protects baby oysters in their most vulnerable stages. After a year, the homeowners return the oysters, which are planted in oyster sanctuaries to improve water quality, among other benefits.
The recycled shell is also used to bolster state- and federally sponsored oyster restoration in Chesapeake Bay tributaries on the Eastern Shore of Maryland 鈥� the largest oyster restoration project in the country.
The shell Witzke and his colleagues recycle is delivered to the University of Maryland Center for Environmental Science Horn Point Oyster Hatchery in Cambridge, Maryland.
It is aged for a year 鈥渢o get rid of any organic material,鈥� washed with high-pressure hoses and placed in metal cages containers, hatchery manager Stephanie Alexander told the University of Maryland鈥檚 Capital 草莓传媒 Service.
The containers of shell are then added to outdoor setting tanks. The larvae are introduced to the tank and regulated closely by hatchery staff members, who take samples to measure how many attached to shells, Alexander said.
鈥淚f the numbers look good,鈥� she said, 鈥渨e鈥檒l go ahead and turn the water on鈥� and then schedule planting. The tanks are connected by an elaborate network of pipes, which pump phytoplankton-rich river water through the cages, providing a food source for the young bivalves.
Ready for deployment, the spat 鈥� baby oysters once they鈥檝e attached to shell 鈥� are loaded onto a vessel and dumped onto oyster beds in the country鈥檚 largest oyster restoration project in and around the Choptank River.
Oyster planting can鈥檛 happen without hatchery-grown larvae. And hatchery-grown larvae need shells to survive, which highlights the importance of Witzke and his colleagues鈥� work.
Shell recycled by the alliance accounts for about a third of hatchery operations鈥� total demand of about 100,000 bushels per year, according to Tom Price, operations manager of the Shell Recycling Alliance.
The shell recycling program began in 2010 with 22 restaurants. Today, the alliance boasts more than 336 members regionwide and counting, Price said.
This year, Price said, the alliance is on track to collect 34,000 bushels, with its grand total set to eclipse 140,000 bushels since the program’s inception in 2010.
In Annapolis
On Nov. 9 鈥� as he does almost every Thursday 鈥� Witzke set off to pick up shell from restaurants on the alliance鈥檚 Annapolis route. He鈥檚 refined his collection practice down to labeling certain cans with zip ties, and has developed a walking route among the downtown restaurants. Each time he picks up a restaurant鈥檚 container of shell, he replaces it with a fresh can.
The aroma of a full can of old shucked oyster shells is nauseating. The containers stored inside are bad; the ones stored outside 鈥� open to the elements and subject to filling with water 鈥� are noxious.
Witzke鈥檚 used to it, though, and didn鈥檛 skip a beat.
Cans with zip-ties have holes in them to let water drain as they sit outside of restaurants. Witzke knows he can鈥檛 use those cans for restaurants that store shell indoors, because the rancid liquid inside would drip out.
As he approached the first, and newest, stop 鈥� Azure, at the Park Place Plaza 鈥� Witzke squeezed the truck beside two moving vans, grabbed a rope he uses to drag full cans and took off into a dark loading dock.
鈥淟et鈥檚 see if we can find this can,鈥� he said.
The three-year shell recycling veteran has also noticed trends. Some restaurants, the 鈥渄ink and dunks鈥� as Witzke calls them, produce little shell, while others, the 鈥渉eavy hitters,鈥� consistently have multiple cans to recycle.
His downtown Annapolis route, which he does on foot, pulling cans on a dolly, began at the Market House by Ego Alley on the town鈥檚 renowned waterfront. He picked up at popular restaurants such as Middleton Tavern and McGarvey鈥檚 Saloon & Oyster Bar, then headed toward the State House and Galway Bay Irish Restaurant and Pub, on Maryland Avenue.
To get to Galway Bay鈥檚 cooler, Witzke had to maneuver through an elaborate and narrow alley system. On this particular Thursday, the Irish pub, which prides itself on reducing waste, produced little more than a bucket of shell.
鈥淚t鈥檚 our mission to be good stewards of our planet,鈥� said Gary Brown, assistant general manager at Galway Bay. Brown found out about the recycling alliance at a festival. The Recovery Partnership attends many festivals to spread the word about the program.
鈥淚 spoke with one of the ladies from the recovery partnership and decided to say, 鈥楬ey, we鈥檙e going through all these oysters and there鈥檚 no way to recycle them,鈥欌�� Brown said.
鈥淚t鈥檚 been a bit of a learning curve,鈥� Brown said, 鈥渂ecause they smell.鈥�
If they leave the oysters outside, Brown added, they鈥檒l attract flies, maggots and rodents, 鈥渨hich obviously as a restaurant we don鈥檛 want.鈥�
So Galway Bay settled on buckets with a screw-on lid to negate the smell.
Incentive for restaurants
It鈥檚 not only about environmental stewardship for restaurants. The initiative provides free waste removal 鈥� the recycling alliance picks up their shell for free 鈥� and a tax break.
Each time they pick up shell from a restaurant, Witzke and the alliance record the total. At the end of the year, the alliance adds up the number of bushels collected from each restaurant, creates a certificate and delivers it to the restaurant. For up to 150 bushels, the restaurant can earn $5 per bushel against its state income tax.
After loading the shell from the Irish pub onto his dolly, Witzke wheeled the oysters back to the truck.聽On to the heavy hitters in the Eastport neighborhood.
Boatyard Bar & Grill recycled the most shell Nov. 9, with more than six cans.
鈥淲e sell a huge amount of oysters,鈥� said Dick Franyo, the owner of Boatyard, who outlined his restaurant鈥檚 鈥淏uck to Shuck鈥� promotion, which offers $1 oysters at happy hour and on Sundays.
Franyo, a self-proclaimed 鈥渂ay rat,鈥� said he grew up fishing and sailing around the bay. As such, he鈥檚 grown to understand the importance of cleaning it 鈥� and the oysters鈥� impact on the estuary.
鈥淚f you鈥檙e in the Chesapeake Bay region, your business is driven by the health of the bay,鈥� he said. 鈥淧eople come here to eat local鈥� oysters, crabs and rockfish (striped bass).
He added: 鈥淪o goes the health of the bay, so goes our business.鈥�
To get to the back of Boatyard, Witzke had to reverse the bulky truck down a narrow alley.聽鈥淎ll the other trucks scrape the walls,鈥� Franyo said.
Witzke then retrieved the cans from an outdoor closet attached to the restaurant. The room was packed with full cans stacked on top of each other. He had to heft the heavy cans onto the ground before dragging them to the back of the truck. At the truck, Witzke heaved four cans onto a聽hydraulic lift, repeating until he鈥檇 collected all of them.
The smelly dropoff
By about 1 p.m., Witzke had collected all of his shell. He got back on the road and headed for the Bay Bridge.
鈥淭his is the part of the job that drives me nuts,鈥� he said, pointing to the pickup truck in front of him on Eastbound Route 50, 鈥渟itting in traffic behind someone that鈥檚 just moseying along. 鈥�
鈥淚 just want to dump or pick up my shell.鈥�
Upon arriving at the Grasonville Solid Waste Transfer Station, in Queen Anne鈥檚 County, Witzke steered the truck to the back corner of the facility. He turned and reversed toward the alliance鈥檚 mountainous shell piles.
As Witzke exited the truck, the rancid smell of rotting seafood was startling.
Witze stacked each of the empty cans left at the transfer station from the previous trip. He maintains a rotation, giving the cans a few days to air out before exchanging them for full containers at restaurants.
Witzke swung open the Ford鈥檚 rear corral gates and slid containers to the edge of the truck bed before tipping them over, one at a time, pouring the contents onto the shell pile.
It had rained overnight and many of the cans had filled with water. Each time he turned over a container of shells, water splashed up.
And each time, the pungent smell of rotten seafood slush pierced the air.
After about an hour, Witzke had cleared the truck bed and switched out the cans. Time to head back to the Annapolis office, a long day of smelly work on the books.
He climbed into the truck, leaving the putrid smell behind, and turned the ignition.
鈥淒oes the AC smell weird to you?鈥�
