Bristol. East Providence. Aquapalooza. Three sewage-related closures in one season remind us that Narragansett Bay can absorb a great deal—but our negligence just won’t go down the drain.

I spend a good amount of my working days on—and primarily beneath—Narragansett Bay. Down there, the world is reduced to a few honest things: water, muddy blackness, peaceful time with your thoughts, and whatever your own two hands can accomplish. The bay does not care about press releases, political talking points, or municipal budgets. It simply receives what we put into it.

And this season, the bay got dumped in to in a big way.

Three sewage related shellfish closures have now marked 2026: an accidental discharge from a pump station in Bristol, a massive sewer-main rupture in East Providence, and a precautionary closure for the annual Aquapalooza boating gathering off Prudence Island. The events differ in size and circumstance, but they all arrive at the same place—closed waters, threatened livelihoods, and another reminder that our relationship with the bay is only as healthy as the systems and choices surrounding it – it’s all a function of us.

Bristol: A Smaller Spill, a Long Closure

On April 24, approximately 5,000 gallons of untreated sewage discharged from the Mt. Hope Pump Station in Bristol and entered Mount Hope Bay. Rhode Island closed the affected portion of Shellfish Growing Area 17: waters north of a line from Mt. Hope Point in Bristol to Common Fence Point in Portsmouth. The Kickemuit River was not included. At the time of the incident, the closure notice said the area would remain closed until further notice which accounted for a full 21 days.

Twenty-one days may sound excessive for a 5,000-gallon spill in a bay containing billions of gallons of water. However, shellfish are not merely sitting in that water; they are filtering it. Quahogs, oysters and mussels filter tens to hundreds of gallons per day per animal and can concentrate the microorganisms around them. We cannot look at a clam and determine whether it is carrying a sewage-related pathogen. So, the water must move, the shellfish must cleanse themselves, testing must occur, and regulators must be satisfied that harvest can resume safely. 

East Providence: When Infrastructure Breaks

Then came East Providence.

On May 5, the Rhode Island Department of Environmental Management closed Lower Providence River Area 16E after a 20-inch force main ruptured near the East Bay Bike Path. Roughly 800,000 gallons—and by later accounts, more than 800,000 gallons of untreated sewage entered Watchemoket Cove and the Providence River. At the time of the official announcement, the discharge had been reduced but not eliminated, repairs were still underway, and the cause remained under investigation.

Area 16E is not a meaningless patch of muddy water. This section of the lower Providence River is currently among the most productive quahog grounds where more than 150 commercial harvesters make a hard earned living one bushel at a time. This area accounts for more than half of the state’s commercial landings. When the area closes, the income stops. The bay may eventually dilute the sewage, but it does not reimburse the shellfishermen – nor are the losses accounted for by any state agency or fishermen subsistence fund.

The closure ended May 15 after water and shellfish testing met national standards; thereafter commercial harvesting resumed May 18. Still, the event exposed more than just bacteria. It exposed the fragility of infrastructure we rarely think about until it fails which has proven to be the norm statewide in recent years.

An ecoRI News investigation later placed the spill within a broader discussion of aging sewer systems and public notification. We flush, the water disappears, and we assume the problem has gone somewhere else. On May 4, “somewhere else” was Narragansett Bay.

Aquapalooza: Pollution by Probability

The Aquapalooza closure is different—and exposes disturbing realities.

No broken pipe triggered it. No single confirmed discharge was identified. Instead, DEM preemptively closed approximately 700 acres off Prudence Island from sunrise July 24 through sunrise July 31. The closure stretched south and west from Providence Point to the northwest extension of Warner Avenue, around Potter’s Cove. The reason, according to the state notice, was the risk created by a dense gathering of recreational boats [and the presumption of irresponsibility]. As I say, “move the party, not the fishermen”.

Rhode Island is a no-discharge state for vessel sewage. Most boaters comply. But place enough boats into a small cove for enough hours and days and the odds of an accidental—or intentional—release rise. The state therefore closes the shellfish grounds for a week each year to accommodate the Aquapalooza event such that any waste can dilute and the shellfish can cleanse.

Think about that for a moment. We accept the gathering, anticipate that some people may discharge sewage, and close a public food resource around the expected behavior. In modern times, perhaps that’s considered prudent public health management. From my perspective, it’s a sign that Narragansett Bay is quickly going to $#!T with this behavior becoming normalized. 

The Human Element

On one hand, we shellfishermen well recognize that quahogs in particular favor nutrient rich waters. With the Bay becoming much ‘cleaner’ over the last couple of decades, nutrient loading is down, and consequently (no surprise) quahog numbers are down. This is one of nature’s great balancing acts, and it should be expected that the shellfish populations will shift to oyster-dominated as the Bay continues to clean up, much like prior to the industrial revolution.

However, it’s not just a movement of nutrient loads – the untreated sewage from these spill incidents can carry bacteria, viruses, protozoa and other pathogens. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency notes that exposure can cause illnesses ranging from stomach cramps and diarrhea to far more serious disease. Filter-feeding shellfish create a direct pathway from polluted water to the dinner table. That is why management areas and their closures are so important, along with buying tagged shellfish from licensed dealers. Note: Rhode Island’s safe-shellfish guidance is worth reading.

But, this is not simply a food-safety story – it is a story about us.

The Bristol closure lasted 21 days after 5,000 gallons escaped from a pump station. East Providence lost about 10 days of commercial access, closer to two weeks, after more than 800,000 gallons spilled from a broken force main. Aquapalooza cost seven days and 700 acres because the risk of vessel sewage was foreseeable. Three closures. Three sources. One common denominator.

We are unable to flush our negligence.

We built the pipes. We deferred the maintenance. We operate the boats. We enforce [or ignore] the rules. And when those choices fail, we ask the bay to dilute the consequences. As they say – dilution is the solution to pollution. It’s a criminal mindset.

Narragansett Bay is resilient, but resilience should never be mistaken for permission. The answer is not to stop harnessing the Bay’s many gifts and precious resources that are indeed critical for our food supply and economy. The answer is to value it enough to prioritize maintenance of our sewer systems, funding reliable pump stations, expanding convenient vessel pump-outs, notifying the public quickly, and behaving as though the water beneath us matters.

Because it does.