Storied nuke plant becomes environmental wasteland
Jun 1, 2013 5:18 PM (ET)
By SHANNON DININNY
Associated Press
http://apnews.myway.com//article/20130601/DA6L6ABG0.html
RICHLAND, Wash. (AP) - A stainless steel tank the size of a basketball
court lies buried in the sandy soil of southeastern Washington state, an
aging remnant of U.S. efforts to win World War II. The tank holds enough
radioactive waste to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool. And it is leaking.
For 42 years, tank AY-102 has stored some of the deadliest material at
one of the most environmentally contaminated places in the country: the
Hanford Nuclear Reservation. This complex along the Columbia River holds
a storied place in American history. It was here that workers produced
the plutonium for the atomic bomb dropped by the U.S. on Nagasaki,
Japan, in 1945 - effectively ending the second world war.
Today Hanford's legacy is less about what was made here than the
environmental mess left behind - and the federal government's inability,
for nearly a quarter-century now, to rid Hanford once and for all of its
worst hazard: 56 million gallons of toxic waste cached in aging
underground tanks.
Technical problems, mismanagement and repeated delays have plagued the
interminable cleanup of the 586-square-mile site, prolonging an effort
that has cost taxpayers $36 billion to date and is estimated will cost
$115 billion more.
Add to that the leaks involving AY-102 and other tanks at the site, and
watchdog groups, politicians and others are left wondering: Will Hanford
ever really be free of its waste? If not, what will its environmental
impact be on important waterways, towns and generations to come?
"One corner of our country and my state acted as a stalwart during World
War II and the Cold War and did the right thing," Washington Gov. Jay
Inslee said in a recent interview. "We want the federal government to
fulfill its obligation to our state."
There is no greater challenge at Hanford today than its underground tank
waste. The leaks inside AY-102, a double-walled tank that was supposed
to provide more protection against spillage - as well as newer leaks
found this year in six other single-walled tanks - show how critical the
situation has become.
Put simply: Time is running out on Hanford's deteriorating tanks and, in
turn, for completing work on a more permanent solution to store what's
in them.
The federal government created Hanford at the height of World War II,
moving 50,000 people to sagebrush fields, dotted with small farms, near
the Washington-Oregon border for a top-secret construction project. The
influx quickly made this area Washington's fourth-largest city, but most
workers didn't even know exactly what they were building - the world's
first full-scale nuclear reactor - until the bomb was dropped on Nagasaki.
In ensuing years, workers built eight more reactors to produce plutonium
for the nation's nuclear weapons arsenal. They also built hundreds of
ancillary projects, including large canyons where toxic chemicals were
used to reprocess the plutonium and extract uranium.
All of this work produced massive amounts of radioactive and toxic
waste, as reprocessing of the spent nuclear fuel created byproducts that
were far too dangerous for human contact. Workers poured some of that
waste directly into trenches in the ground at Hanford, but most of the
deadliest waste was stored in 177 underground tanks, grouped into areas
known as tank farms.
There isn't much to see at these tank farms. Gravel fields cover the
tanks themselves. Exhaust pipes jut out of the ground above each of
them. Underground, they hold a bubbling, brewing stew of radionuclides,
hazardous chemicals and nitrates. Two radionuclides comprise much of the
radioactivity: cesium-137 and strontium-90. Both take hundreds of years
to decay, and exposure to either would increase a person's risk of
developing cancer.
The first storage tanks, 149 of them, were built between 1943 and 1964
with just a single, stainless-steel wall. They were designed to last
only 10 to 20 years, because they were intended as a stopgap measure
until a more permanent solution could be found to deal with the waste.
Turns out the tanks were susceptible to corrosion; some even buckled
from the extreme heat radiated by the waste.
As early as 1956, workers suspected one tank was leaking. Between 1959
and 1968, the U.S. Energy Department confirmed that 12 tanks were leaking.
Around that time, workers started building 28 double-walled tanks to
provide better protection, then began pumping the most dangerous liquid
waste out of the leaking tanks into these vessels. By 1995, they had
gotten as much of the liquid out as possible, leaving behind sludge the
consistency of peanut butter.
AY-102 was the first double-walled tank, put into service in 1971 with
an intended lifespan of 40 years. The tank contains chunks of solids -
many common metals, including aluminum, nickel, lead, silver, copper,
titanium and zinc - as well as other common elements. It also holds more
than a dozen radionuclides, such as plutonium, uranium, strontium and
cesium, all of which can cause cancers upon contact.
Last fall, at 41 years of age, AY-102 was found to be leaking into the
space between its inner and outer shells. So far, no waste has escaped
the outer shell to the soil surrounding the tank, and a video review of
six other double-shell tanks that began holding waste in the 1970s
showed none of them was leaking.
"None of these tanks would be acceptable for use today. They are all
beyond their design life, and yet they're holding two-thirds of the
nation's high-level nuclear waste," said Tom Carpenter of the watchdog
group Hanford Challenge.
There has since been more bad news involving still more tanks.
On Feb. 15, federal officials revealed another single-shell tank was
leaking. A week later, the governor said that actually six of the
single-walled tanks were leaking. Officials now estimate that those
tanks could be releasing as much as 1,000 gallons of waste a year into
the soil.
In all, since that very first leak in the 1950s, at least 69 tanks are
known to have excreted more than 1 million gallons of waste - and
possibly far more - into the soil.
Add to that a concern that hydrogen gas could build up inside the tanks
and possibly cause an explosion that would release radioactive material.
The Defense Nuclear Facilities Safety Board recommended additional
monitoring and ventilation of the tanks last fall to avoid such a
disaster, and federal officials are working to develop a plan to
implement the recommendation.
So what does all of this mean for the environment and the safety of
nearby communities?
The groundwater at Hanford already is contaminated, but scientists gauge
the risks to be minimal because it would take decades for contaminants
already in the soil to reach the Columbia River, the largest waterway in
the Pacific Northwest. The closest tank sits 5 miles from the river,
home to endangered fish and a source of drinking water for some 175,000
people immediately downstream.
"From the standpoint of worrying about an immediate hazard, we're not
there," said Ken Niles of the Oregon Department of Energy. "But the
problem is that resolving these issues at Hanford takes so long."
The Energy Department previously built a $230 million plant to treat
contaminated groundwater near the tank farms. The agency also is
studying how best to handle the leak in AY-102, including whether to
empty the tank immediately into another tank, said Kevin Smith, who
heads the Energy Department's Office of River Protection in Richland.
Smith acknowledged, however, that the double-shell tanks are nearing
capacity.
One problem is knowing exactly what is in each tank. A database listing
the contents of each is only a best-guess, relying on historical
information about the site and waste samples that are very limited, said
Cheryl Whalen of the state Department of Ecology.
Drawing a single sample and analyzing it, which requires exhaustive
safety precautions, costs about $1 million, and it doesn't show
everything that's inside, Whalen said. The sample might include liquid,
but not the solids floating around inside or the sludge at the bottom.
Whalen also said some elements that are in very small quantities, but
could be very hazardous, aren't even recorded. In addition, some of the
radionuclides inside produce altogether new elements under the right
conditions.
"The tanks create their own chemical environment. Between the heat and
the radionuclides and the chemicals that are already in there, they're
just their own nuclear reactors," Whalen said. "They're generating their
own little world in there."
What officials do know is that the tanks are so thermally and
radioactively hot that workers must wear white hazmat suits, often with
supplied air tanks, when working nearby. To date a total of 10
single-shell tanks have had their contents emptied into double-walled
vessels, and another five tanks are scheduled to be emptied by September
2014.
The permanent solution to eradicating Hanford's waste is a plant being
built that would encase the waste in glass-like logs for disposal deep
underground. The vitrification plant is among the largest industrial
construction projects nationally, both in cost and sheer size.
Originally bid at $4.3 billion, the price tag has since grown to more
than $12.3 billion, a figure that is expected to rise even further.
The Energy Department fired its original contractor in 2000 amid
mounting delays and costs. In 2006, construction was suspended for 22
months after an independent review concluded the department
underestimated the force of ground movements at the site should a severe
earthquake occur. Construction has been put on hold in some areas of the
plant while the Energy Department works to resolve problems.
Once targeted for completion in 2011, the plant now won't be operating
before 2019.
That pushes a deadline for treating all of the waste from 2028, under
the original agreement, to 2047. Removal of contaminants from
groundwater and long-term stewardship of the site will continue for at
least two decades longer.
Ernest Moniz, the nation's new energy secretary, vowed during his
confirmation hearings to visit Hanford and work to get the money needed
to ensure the cleanup job is finished. The Energy Department spends
roughly $2 billion each year on Hanford cleanup, or one-third of its
budget for nuclear waste cleanup nationally. The federal government also
directed $2 billion in stimulus money to speed up some Hanford projects.
"Clearly, I support trying to meet the milestones (for completing the
work) and that will require having the budget to do it," Moniz told the
Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee in April.
But as part of the federal spending cuts known as sequestration, some
250 Hanford workers have received pink slips while hundreds of others
will be required to take weekslong furloughs.
Despite the many challenges, there has been some progress in the 24-year
cleanup of Hanford. Workers have removed spent nuclear fuel from two
leak-prone pools near the Columbia River. They've dug up hundreds of
waste sites and demolished contaminated buildings. Five of the nine
reactors have been mothballed, and workers continue to monitor and treat
groundwater tainted by radionuclides and toxic chemicals.
Today, the communities closest to the Hanford site comprise a science
and technology hub that is among the fastest-growing regions in the
country, where Hanford cleanup and a national laboratory drive the economy.
Locals celebrate their contribution to the U.S. defense effort. In
Richland, a brewery offers "Half-Life Hefeweizen" and "Plutonium Porter"
on tap. Richland High School adopted a mushroom cloud as its mascot and
students are known as "the Bombers."
The risks that come with the cleanup project are taken in stride by
those whose livelihoods still depend on Hanford.
"There's an inherent risk to what we do. But I live here, and I've never
been fearful of anything," said Dave Molnaa, who has worked at Hanford
for 34 years and serves as president of the Hanford Atomic Trades
Council, a union representing 2,800 workers.
Inslee, Washington's governor, has long been a champion of Hanford
cleanup; he was first elected to Congress in 1992 to represent a
district that includes the Hanford site. Despite the many leaks and
delays, Inslee maintains the belief that the project will one day be
completed.
Failing to do so, he said, is just not an option.
"The country does have financial challenges, but we cannot tell our
grandkids that we are going to allow pollution that may someday end up
in the Columbia River," said Inslee. "That's inexcusable."
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