in Morbihan, oyster farmers are gambling for their survival – L’Express

An expert flick of the wrist, followed by a discreet but very recognizable crack. “The more you limit the growth of the shell, the fleshier the oyster flesh will be,” describes Jean-François Quintin. The oyster farmer stretches the shell like a jeweler presents his jewelry. “Its iodized taste will be more present in the mouth,” continues -he. With his feet in the sand, Jean-François – “Jeff” – Quintin broods over his oyster farm with his owner’s gaze. “Here, it’s paradise. How can we imagine that this place could be polluted?” It’s difficult to prove him wrong: the place is idyllic. On the edge of an estuary, the village of La Trinité-sur-Mer, in Morbihan, is a popular spot for nautical competitions. opulent houses rub shoulders with small fisherman’s huts, each trying to be as close as possible to the Crac’h river. This part of the watercourse is what hydrographers call a ria – a bay where salt has eaten away at the pure water.

Well sheltered, the place is ideal for growing oysters. This is what around twenty oyster farmers have been doing for decades, including Jeff Quintin and his team. On this balmy January morning, a handful of workers are busy around the plump shells of Maison Quintin. “This winter, we were lucky: the river parks escaped closure, says the business manager. Last year, we were just coming out of a sales ban which affected many oyster farmers.” A decree from the prefecture, taken in December 2022, prohibited the sale of oysters. Just before the holidays, a crucial period for the sale of seafood. The cause: the presence of a norovirus in shellfish, which causes gastroenteritis among consumers.

Discharges in Quiberon Bay

If the Crac’h river and its oyster farmers were spared this winter, the closures affected other areas of the coast, such as Calvados, Vendée and the Arcachon basin. Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, oysters were banned for consumption there for almost a month. A disaster for the companies concerned, but also for the sector, which achieves up to half of its annual turnover during this period. “Out of 375 monitored areas, only 20 were closed. But the media effects are colossal, points out Philippe Le Gal, head of the National Shellfish Farming Committee. This episode represents 30 to 50% of the annual turnover less.” According to professionals, this contamination of oyster ponds can be explained by wastewater overflowing from treatment plants. Several municipalities concerned, such as those in the Auray Quiberon Terre Atlantique community of municipalities – where La Trinité-sur-Mer is located – intend to upgrade their sanitation network. But these efforts are partly offset by climate change, which appears to be leading to more intense rains than in the past. There is also this influx of new inhabitants on the coast, ex-urban dwellers who have come to taste the sweetness of the seaside. They too contribute to overloading the water treatment plants.

The stakes are high for the region. The shellfish industry represents 130 companies and 650 jobs in the community of municipalities. However, since 2015, “six closures have been decided in seven years”, points out Jeff Quintin. The recurrence of the phenomenon is not surprising. In Auray and its surroundings, i.e. 24 municipalities with 95,606 inhabitants, the sanitation circuit is very compact: 15 treatment plants are grouped over 521 square kilometers. In all, 853 kilometers of underground pipes. Much of this sprawling network was built in the 1960s. Its asbestos pipes are often dilapidated and porous. Rain and wastewater are mixed before being treated. In the event of heavy precipitation, the sites saturate. In August 2022, an overflow resulted in the direct discharge into Quiberon Bay of untreated water, with fecal matter floating in the mouth. “Let’s be direct: people were bathing in shit,” summarizes Jeff Quintin.

“No zero risk”

Since 2020, a “Marshall plan” of more than 50 million euros, the result of an agreement between the Loire-Bretagne water agency, the prefect and the Morbihan department, has enabled a renewal of its network of water. Spread over six years, it should make it possible to modernize the wastewater treatment plants located on the edge of Crac’h and those in neighboring towns as well. “But it’s a long-term job,” admits François Le Cotillec, mayor of Saint-Philibert, a town in the area. The councilor sips coffee in the office of Samuel Durand, president of the union of oyster farmers of the Crac’h river, who vigorously approves. “The community has become aware of the extent of the work to be carried out,” he says. “But despite this in-depth work, we are not immune. Other problems exist.” On the coast, for example, some properties are not connected to the collective network. “In 2022, the sanitation pit of a house welcoming 15 vacationers released its wastewater directly into the sea,” recalls François Le Cotillec. “We filed a complaint against X.”

Added to these problems is the galloping success of the coastline. In six years, the Auray region has gained more than 4,000 inhabitants per year. Not to mention the influx of tourists in the summer, which more than doubles its population. “The prefect of Morbihan told us during a meeting that the population was going to increase further on the coast. This necessarily concerns us,” continues Samuel Durand. Already, from an economic point of view: real estate pressure is already high, some oyster farming workers sometimes live “30, even 40 kilometers” from their place of work. On the purely health side, then: will the wastewater treatment plants properly treat this new influx of population? “Communities must keep pace with urbanization. These investments are therefore heavier for coastal communities,” emphasizes Martin Gutton. “And there is no zero risk.” Despite the work, the profession is not immune to accidents either.

The future of the sector

To avoid any risk of closure, oyster producers are therefore monitoring the weather as much as the path of epidemics in France. When the two signals threaten to collide, they remove their shells from the river and place them in an isolated pond. “So we are no longer just oyster farmers, but also meteorologists and epidemiologists!” jokes Jeff Quintin. This operation allows them to continue to sell despite the closure of their parks. But it is not without problems: the basins are not expandable, part of their production remains at sea, vulnerable to the virus. It must therefore wait a month before being marketed.

In order to speed up the process, the sector is trying experiments. Samuel Durand’s oysters pass through a purification tank, whatever the period, in order to “clean” them before being marketed. For his part, Jeff Quintin has embarked on a project of pharaonic dimensions. He plans to build two huge ponds equipped by a French start-up, Coldep, on land not far from his oyster farm. “With the innovation they are proposing, oysters could be rid of norovirus twice as quickly as today,” he hopes.

Cutting-edge technology or not, these installations have a cost for businesses. They are financed up to 30% by European funds. Insufficient aid, responds the sector. “The profession already has cash flow difficulties. It cannot always afford such large investments,” says Samuel Durand. Oyster farmers, who consider the State largely responsible for the pollution they suffer, are therefore demanding more subsidies – in the absence of cleaner water for their shellfish. “The future of the sector is at stake,” believes Jeff Quintin. What about eating oysters at Christmas?