Spring migration has taken flight, but with rising temperatures and shifting seasons, birds are adjusting when and how they migrate to keep up with a rapidly warming climate.
Morgan Tingley, a professor of ecology and evolutionary biology at the University of California, Los Angeles, studies the effects of climate change on birds.https://player.vimeo.com/video/1188466289 Morgan Tingley discusses how climate change is affecting bird migration and behavior.
The Conversation has collaborated with SciLine to bring you highlights from the discussion, edited for brevity and clarity.
How is climate change affecting birds?
Morgan Tingley: In the spring, birds migrate north across the United States in order to get to where they will be spending their spring and summer. They try to time their migration so that they can arrive at their breeding grounds, build their nests and lay their eggs at the time of year when there’s going to be maximum food available.
But climate change is causing spring to happen earlier, which can cause real problems for birds. These earlier springs can result in birds falling behind local springtime because they arrive too late on their breeding grounds.
Are there particular birds climate change is affecting more than others?
Tingley: About 70% of the bird species found in the United States are migratory. Some migrate just 50 to 100 miles, and others migrate all the way from the farthest tip of South America in order to breed in Canada. Our work has found that the birds that migrate the farthest are the ones that are having the hardest time keeping up with climate change.
Why is that? If you can imagine going from Tennessee to New York and it’s an early spring in New York, it might be also an early spring in Tennessee. In that case, these birds can keep pace with an earlier spring.
But if you’re a bird living in Argentina and then migrating all the way to New York in the springtime, the temperatures and seasons in Argentina versus New York are going to be very disconnected from each other. So a bird in Argentina might not actually have the information it needs to arrive on time and keep up with the local pace of a changing climate in New York.
What happens when they can’t keep up?
Tingley: When the timing is off, it could mean that there’s not enough food available for their young, or it could be that they’re more susceptible to really extreme summer temperatures. Whether it is high temperatures or missing peak insect food, birds that are out of sync with the seasons may respond by laying fewer eggs or suffering reduced hatch success. Another issue is that once the eggs hatch, the birds might not be able to raise as many young.
As a result, we’ve seen that when birds become mismatched with climate and changing seasons, it can lead to population declines. In North America, we’ve seen many bird populations decline over the past 40 years. As bird populations decline even further, this can cause a variety of problems for humans.
For example, birds are a key link in many food supplies, as they can be key pollinators, important seed dispersers and critical consumers of insect pests.
Tingley: Climate change is a stressor that is being added on top of everything else going on in the environment. A lot of the greatest effects of climate change are not in the past. They’re going to happen in the future. These effects are coming next year, or five years from now, or 10 years from now. So wildlife managers are trying to sustain bird populations as much as possible and help them grow.
Helping save birds means keeping populations high by conserving land, reducing other types of threats, such as by keeping pets indoors or installing bird-friendly glass, and allowing birds to adapt to this changing world as best as they possibly can.
SciLine is a free service based at the American Association for the Advancement of Science, a nonprofit that helps journalists include scientific evidence and experts in their news stories.
Colorado River south of Lees Ferry. Photo by Robert Marcos
by Robert Marcos, photojournalist
The National Park ServiceOffice of Public Health is actively investigating a cluster of undiagnosed, severe illnesses affecting Colorado River rafters in Grand Canyon National Park. The probe began in early July 2026 after numerous river runners used the “Grand Canyon Private Boaters” Facebook community group to report that members of their respective crews had returned home with highly concerning, unexplained medical symptoms.1
Current Situation and Symptoms
• Affected Trait: The reported cases belong to separate rafting groups traveling the Lee’s Ferry to Diamond Creek corridor between May and late June 2026. 2
• Core Symptoms: Rafters describe enduring severe localized muscle pain, persistent high fevers, intense fatigue, chills, weakness, and fluid in the lungs. 3
• Severity: Some patients have experienced symptoms akin to a severe, month-long summer flu, while others required hospitalization for localized infections or sudden loss of consciousness. 4
Potential Causes Under Investigation
Medical specialists and public health officials are currently tracking data via platforms like the infectious disease platform Beacon to rule out specific diagnoses. Because many rafters slept outside and swam in side canyons, doctors are currently testing for a wide range of potential ailments, including: 5
• Leptospirosis: A bacterial disease often contracted via freshwater exposure.
• Tick and Mosquito-borne Illnesses: Such as West Nile virus, Rocky Mountain spotted fever, dengue fever, or Lyme disease.
• Fungal and Viral Infections: Including Hantavirus or Valley Fever.
• Note on Gastrointestinal Illness: While the Grand Canyon has historically dealt with norovirus outbreaks—including a smaller spike in Norwalk-like viruses linked to portable toilets in June 2026—the current investigation focuses on a distinct respiratory and muscular illness. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]. The National Park Service has stated that the investigation is ongoing, and they will release official diagnostic findings as soon as lab results become available.
A man fills his water tank at a well a few miles from the Hopi village of Mishongnovi, on the tribe’s northern Arizona reservation.
Click the link to read the article on the Pro-Publica website (Mark Olalde and Alex Hager):
June 29, 2026
ProPublica is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power. Sign up for Dispatches, a newsletter that spotlights wrongdoing around the country, to receive our stories in your inbox every week. This story was co-published with KJZZ News-Phoenix.
Reporting Highlights
Certainty on the River: Tribes have negotiated a settlement to resolve the largest outstanding claim to the Colorado River, while providing billions of dollars for water infrastructure.
Upper Hand: Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming — the Upper Basin states — are resisting the deal because it allows the Navajo and Hopi to lease water outside their reservations.
Unfulfilled Promise: It has been 118 years since the Supreme Court ruled that the federal government owes tribes water, but many are still fighting to resolve their rights.
These highlights were written by the reporters and editors who worked on this story.
A deal to bring Colorado River water to Native American communities in northern Arizona, where a third of homes lack running water, is being blocked by neighboring states, caught up in a broader battle over how to divide the dwindling river.
The largest tribal water rights settlement in U.S. history — the product of decades of negotiations to secure water for the Navajo Nation, Hopi Tribe and San Juan Southern Paiute Tribe — was on the verge of being realized before Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming stepped in to oppose it being codified by Congress.
Those four states, known collectively as the Upper Basin, are at a stalemate with the Lower Basin states of Arizona, California and Nevada over new rules governing how they share the Colorado River, a key water source for nearly 40 million people. Congress and the White House, under both Democratic and Republican leadership, have declined to approve the settlement until all parties reach an agreement.
For 83-year-old Marilyn Tewa, the stalemate means her family will continue to go without running water. Tewa serves on the Hopi Tribal Council, where her duties include working on the water rights agreement, but her village of Mishongnovi, on the tribe’s northern Arizona reservation, lacks indoor plumbing.
Every other day, she loads 5-gallon buckets into her pickup and drives 5 miles to a windmill originally built for livestock that draws untreated water from underground.
“That’s what keeps us alive,” Tewa said, tapping the spigot on a May afternoon.
Back home, Tewa bustled about her kitchen while her daughter kneaded dough for dinner. There’s no faucet in the kitchen, which is decorated with a framed American flag and a painting of a katsina, a figure with spiritual significance in Hopi culture. Instead, the family stores water in large plastic containers. Because of the lack of indoor plumbing, the Tewa family and its neighbors use portable toilets that stand among the houses.
If passed into law, the Northeastern Arizona Indian Water Rights Settlement Actwould resolve the largest outstanding claim on the Colorado River while providing about $5 billion in federal funding to build infrastructure to transport the water across the reservations. The legislation would also go beyond water rights, creating a reservation for the San Juan Southern Paiute. The tribe’s effort to secure a permanent homeland was added to the settlement due to their difficulty getting it through Congress independently.
“That’s my prayer,” Tewa said, “that we get this settlement through for all three tribes.”
Marilyn Tewamain sits in her chair inside her home Saturday afternoon. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
The tribes need pipes, pumps and treatment plants to use the water secured through the settlement. To defray the cost beyond the federal government’s expected contribution, the Navajo and Hopi plan to lease some of their water rights, almost certainly to growing towns around Phoenix. The towns would pay to use the tribes’ water for a set number of years.
While the Lower Basin states support the settlement, the Upper Basin states have latched onto this provision in particular as they stand in the way of the settlement.
The Colorado River’s upper and lower basins don’t precisely follow state borders. Some states have portions in both sections, and the line dividing the two basins cuts across northeastern Arizona and directly through the Navajo reservation. If water moves across that line, they argue, the rules governing the river give them veto power over the settlement. (It’s an open legal question whether approval from all seven states is necessary.)
The Upper Basin states fear that, in the future, water they currently control might be leased on an open market. They view any monetary transaction that moves water downstream as setting a precedent that could allow the highest bidder — possibly thirsty cities with money such as Los Angeles, Phoenix and Las Vegas — to buy vast quantities of their water.
In an effort to assuage that concern and close the deal, the Navajo and Hopi made major concessions over the volume of water and length of time they could lease. The tribes also offered to leave some of their water in one of the river’s drought-depleted reservoirs to help keep water levels high enough that it could continue flowing downstream. But the Upper Basin has not wavered in its opposition.
Tewa’s family travels 5 miles each way to haul water in 5-gallon plastic buckets from a well initially drilled for livestock. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
ProPublica and KJZZ News-Phoenix reached out to the governor, senators and lead negotiator from every Upper Basin state for comment. Utah’s and Wyoming’s lead negotiators deferred to the letter they co-signed. A spokesperson for New Mexico Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham said in a statement that the tribes addressed most of the state’s concerns but that questions remain as to whether the water that the tribes would lease to Arizona cities could be counted as part of what the Upper Basin states are legally required to send to the Lower Basin. “New Mexico remains committed to finding a workable solution,” the spokesperson said.
A spokesperson for Colorado Gov. Jared Polis also said the state is “committed to finding a path forward” and pointed to the letter that Becky Mitchell, the state’s lead river negotiator, submitted to Congress. Mitchell wrote that the settlement’s leasing provisions violate laws governing the river and that the state was concerned about what the sale of water across the basin would mean for “the security and certainty” of Colorado’s share of the river.
Heather Tanana is an assistant professor at the University of Denver’s law school, where she focuses on federal Indian law. She is also a citizen of the Navajo Nation and said the Upper Basin is “trying to hide behind” how the river has traditionally been managed rather than find a way to give the tribes access to a resource that is rightfully theirs and one that they need to survive.
“It’s a fundamental human rights issue,” she said.
While negotiations drag on, the three tribes continue waiting for water they say will help them to build more housing, grow sustainable economies, better protect public health and preserve cultural practices.
The Hopi believe their ancestors return as clouds to bring the rain that nourishes their corn, but drought is wracking the region. An overreliance on groundwater has dried up springs that have been used for ceremonies and agriculture for centuries. When the settlement brings more water to the reservation, Tewa said, aquifers will have a chance to recharge, restoring the springs.
“I’m speaking on behalf of my children, my grandchildren and their children that haven’t come yet,” she said. “I hope, in the future, that they will have water.”
The village of Mishongnovi, which Tewa represents on the Hopi Tribal Council, sits atop a rocky mesa. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
Tewa washes her hands with untreated water she hauled from a well. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
Fighting for Water Since Elvis Was on TV
That the settlement even reached Congress seemed like a small miracle to those involved.
If the tribes were to use every drop to which they are entitled, the system of sharing the river that supports more than $1 trillion in annual economic output would collapse.
“Everybody’s getting free Navajo, Hopi and San Juan Southern Paiute water right now. The seven basin states are all benefiting in the absence of a settlement,” said Ethel Branch, a former Navajo attorney general who was involved in the negotiations, adding that the water had been “stolen for over a century.”
In 1908, the Supreme Court ruled that, if the federal government confined tribes to reservations, then it owed them enough water to sustain an agrarian economy on that land. But securing that promised water, referred to as “Winters rights,”has proven arduous.
Tribes were excluded from the compacts that apportioned the river. The Navajo in particular were barred from joining a seminal case quantifying other users’ rights, and members of the tribe themselves rejected a proposed settlement in 2012 when they viewed the deal as unfair. So the tribe went back to the Supreme Court, asking that the justices force the federal government to quickly settle the claims. The Navajo once again lost, with the court’s majority deciding that their treaty with the U.S. didn’t require the government to take any “affirmative steps” to deliver the water it owed the tribe.
“At each turn, they have received the same answer: ‘Try again,’” Justice Neil Gorsuch wrote of the Navajo in his dissent. “When this routine first began in earnest, Elvis was still making his rounds on The Ed Sullivan Show.”
Arizona politicians and tribal leaders have since concluded that they needed to combine all three tribes’ claims to finally settle their rights.
That was no simple feat. The Navajo and Hopi have long had a contentious relationship. Underlining their thorny partnership, leaders of various tribes around the region have accused Navajo, the largest tribal nation in the U.S., of flexing their political strength to the detriment of other tribes.
About a third of homes on the Navajo Nation lack the pipes and other infrastructure necessary to deliver running water, including near Page, Arizona, close to a large reservoir on the Colorado River. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
But Navajo and Hopi struck a deal, and Arizona moved off its bargaining position. Now in lockstep, the settlement’s supporters turned to Congress, only to hit more roadblocks: The House of Representatives balked at the spiraling price tag to fund the deals; presidential administrations were unwilling to expend political capital on such settlements; and more than a dozen settlements are in the works, clogging the system. (No settlement has been enacted since 2022.)
“Partisanship has gone to a new low in this country, and Indian water settlements have gotten swept up into that,” said Pam Williams, who spent about two decades as director of the Secretary’s Indian Water Rights Office in the Department of the Interior before she retired last year.
In November 2024, as President Donald Trump prepared for his return to the White House, the tribes believed they had an opening to get their settlement through Congress while President Joe Biden was still in office.
Navajo leadership had supported the Democratic presidential ticket and feared the incoming administration would be vindictive toward them.
Every basin state’s lead negotiator, tribes’ staff and a federal representative descended upon the Arizona Department of Water Resources’ offices in Phoenix for what several attendees described as a “Hail Mary.” At the meeting, the Navajo offered a major compromise: limiting how much water they could lease and for how long they could lease it.
But the Upper Basin states showed up with a list of grievances, multiple attendees told ProPublica and KJZZ News-Phoenix, and weren’t interested in negotiating over the Navajo leasing concessions.
“It’s difficult for the Upper Basin to wrap their heads around this settlement,” said Tom Buschatzke, Arizona’s Colorado River lead.
Navajo President Buu Nygren says the fact that his tribe’s reservation straddles the upper and lower divisions of the Colorado River Basin should not be held against the tribe as it negotiates for water. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
In March 2026, leaders from the tribes traveled to Washington for a Senate hearing where they made an impassioned plea for Congress to pass a version of the bill that now included the concessions they had offered in the Hail Mary meeting. Sen. Lisa Murkowski, the Alaska Republican who ran the hearing, expressed support for the settlement but worried its $5 billion price tag was too high, a concern echoed by an Interior Department official who testified. (The tribes and department are currently negotiating to shrink that cost.)
All four Upper Basin states submitted comments opposing the settlement. Their main concerns were about the ability to lease across the basin and whether the water for the settlement would be counted against the upper or lower division of the river.
Leasing would last only as long as it’s needed to pay for infrastructure to distribute their newly acquired water, said Navajo President Buu Nygren. It would not set a precedent, he said, because no other tribe straddles both basins.
“We shouldn’t be punished for being in two basins,” Nygren said, “because other tribal nations, other settlements have been able to lease water.”
A construction crew installs pipes at the new LeChee Water Treatment Plant near Lake Powell, along the Arizona-Utah border. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
The former Navajo Generating Station’s intakes, which drew water from Lake Powell to cool the coal power plant, sit unused, awaiting funding from the stalled settlement. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
“How Precious Water Is to Us”
During the decades that the tribes fought to access their water, they helped quench the thirst of growing cities in the Colorado River Basin.
A water intake plant on Navajo land drew from Lake Powell to cool the nearby Navajo Generating Station. The coal plant powered pumps for the Central Arizona Project, the 336-mile series of canals that sends Colorado River water to Phoenix and Tucson.
The power station shut down in 2019, and the intake plant was handed over to the Navajo for the iiná bá-paa tuwaqat’si pipeline, which means “for life” in Diné and “water is life” in Hopi, to deliver water to the three tribes. But for now, the massive pumps remain mothballed, the building sitting musty and dark like a tomb, and the pipeline remains an engineering schematic, waiting for funding from the stalled settlement.
The irony is not lost on tribal leaders, they told ProPublica and KJZZ News-Phoenix: After helping deliver water beyond their lands, they are now blocked from using that same water and infrastructure to sustain their communities. The insult is compounded, they said, by the fact that water use is drastically lower on reservations.
“It’s not about green-grass lawns or golf courses or swimming pools,” said Crystalyne Curley, speaker of the Navajo Nation Council. “It’s just basically turning on the faucet and getting water to boil eggs for your children or turning on a faucet to wipe and clean the table or washing your hands after butchering a sheep.”
San Juan Southern Paiute Vice President Johnny Lehi Jr. is fighting for the settlement because it would finally ratify a treaty with the Navajo that would create a reservation for his tribe. Photo credit: Sharon Chischilly
For the San Juan Southern Paiute, the settlement is also about having a permanent homeland. They have no reservation but struck a deal with Navajo in 2000 to transfer some of its land. Since the tribes already reached an agreement, it’s an uncontroversial proposition. But, without political clout to get Congress to take it up, the land transfer was pulled into the water settlement.
“During the COVID era, it took a lot of the tribal elders, and there are only a handful that saw the treaty signed and are really wanting to see this before their time is up,” said San Juan Southern Paiute Vice President Johnny Lehi Jr., whose father signed the 2000 agreement. Finally securing a reservation, he said, means the ability to build housing and develop an economy for a tribe that currently rents its government building.
Nearby, on the Hopi reservation, Councilmember Marilyn Fredericks grabbed a pair of hiking poles, donned a hat with a roadrunner pin on it and set out from her village on a recent spring afternoon. To stay fit as she grows older, she walks up and down the hand-carved steps of a terraced garden that used to produce food for her community.
Seven natural springs once fed the garden, but only two still flow. Ponds that stored their excess sit dry, stains on the rock now just a memory of the water. It’s been six years since there was enough to plant.
The settlement would fund a pipeline that would be “our umbilical cord,” Fredericks said. Future generations of Hopi have a right to clean, reliable water, she said. “This is evidence of how precious water is to us.”
Native America in the Colorado River Basin. Credit: USBR
The Colorado State Engineer’s office opened its defense this week of Subdistrict 1’s approved Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management with a history lesson on the origins of the San Luis Valley and the development of irrigated agriculture over the past 174 years when the first water right was issued to the San Luis People’s Ditch.
Featured in the state engineer’s defense was testimony by Matt Seitz of HRS Water Consultants, who took the state Division 3 Water Court through ancient history and into the era of early irrigation and storage practices of farmers in the Valley.
“Yeah, so we covered 25 million years pretty quickly, see how long the rest of it takes here,” he said from the witness stand Tuesday. Seitz stayed on the witness stand for the better part of the week, working to bolster to the state engineer’s defense of the Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management and then under cross-examination from a Sustainable Water Augmentation Group attorney, who worked to show faults in Seitz’ testimony and undermine the case of the state engineer in the eyes of Division 3 Water Court judge Michael Gonzales.
It is Gonzales who will decide this case. He will take in all the testimony around the various takes on the Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management to rule on whether the plan will be implemented.
Plan of Water Management Equation
The subdistrict itself is charged with recovering the shallow unconfined aquifer of the Upper Rio Grande Basin and its Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management is the latest attempt to do so. The complexity of the basin’s hydrology has been an early theme.
“I think there’s been a lot of great research over the years,” Seitz said in speaking to the state’s modeling of groundwater in the Upper Rio Grande Basin and other studies on the Valley’s hydrology. “So I think we’ve made some good progress, but there’s a lot of complexity. Again, I’ve been saying that word a lot, but there certainly is and I think we’re on our way, but it’s never going to be fully understood.”
Week 1 of the trial ended with Craig Cotten taking the witness stand. He is witness number three for the state engineer’s defense of the plan, following Cleave Simpson, the general manager of the Rio Grande Water Conservation District who was the lead witness, and then Seitz, the hydrologist consultant who endured four days on the witness stand.
“Wonderful way to start the Fourth of July weekend,” quipped Gonzales as Cotten, the state water division engineer for the San Luis Valley area, stepped into the witness box at 1:50 p.m. on Thursday. He spent the initial two hours testifying to his background and his credentials before Gonzales broke for the Fourth of July weekend.
Cotten is the enforcer of the state’s groundwater management rules in the San Luis Valley. His testimony will reignite the trial when it resumes on Monday for week two of the water trial.
Map of the Rio Grande watershed. Graphic credit: WikiMedia
GOES-18 satellite imagery showing wildfire smoke in Colorado and Utah on June 29, 2026. Imagery courtesy of NOAA and CSU/CIRA.
July 3, 2026
For the Interior Rockies, June marks peak wildfire season. This year, the risk of large wildfires is elevated due to record low snowpack and drought. For Colorado and Utah, wildfire activity was relatively quiet through the first half of June. So what led up to the explosion of activity in the last week of June?
THE DELAYED SETUP
Despite record low snowpack, some late season storms in May helped delay meltout and keep fuels a bit more moist than they would have been otherwise. Although precipitation was still below average, and drought conditions persisted, moisture in the air into early June limited the onset of wildfires.
July 3, 2026
For the Interior Rockies, June marks peak wildfire season. This year, the risk of large wildfires is elevated due to record low snowpack and drought. For Colorado and Utah, wildfire activity was relatively quiet through the first half of June. So what led up to the explosion of activity in the last week of June?
THE DELAYED SETUP
Despite record low snowpack, some late season storms in May helped delay meltout and keep fuels a bit more moist than they would have been otherwise. Although precipitation was still below average, and drought conditions persisted, moisture in the air into early June limited the onset of wildfires.
THE SWITCH TO DRY
Like flipping a switch, dry air took over the region. The graphic below shows EDDI, a drought index that estimates the dryness of the atmosphere due to a combination of temperature, solar radiation, wind, and humidity. Higher values (denoted in the map with oranges and reds) shows where the atmosphere is much drier than normal as of the end of June. The change map on the right shows the drying trend over the last 30 days. This rapid trend dried out the vegetation, on top of the existing drought conditions, setting the stage for enhanced wildfire activity.
Evaporative Demand Drought Index (EDDI) for the Intermountain West as of June 23, 2026. Map from NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center.
All the ingredients for wildfires are present – hot temperatures, dry air, and windy conditions on top of a drought landscape. Once an ignition occurs, either from human activities or lightning, the wildfires start. But what is needed for large and uncontrollable wildfires?
A CLOSER LOOK AT WILDFIRE METRICS
One of the surprising contributors to wildfire activity begins months in advance, where precipitation provides the necessary growth for vegetation that ultimately dries out and becomes fuel for a fire. Prior to the onset of the snowpack season, The Four Corners region received much above average precipitation in October thanks to two tropical systems coming from the Pacific Ocean. Fast forward to spring, drought conditions have dried out that vegetative growth, adding fuel for fires. The graphic below shows 3 different wildfire indices. The first index is the Energy Release Component (ERC), which is a measure of the energy and heat of a wildfire. The second index is the Burning Index, which measures flame length and the difficulty of containing a fire. The third index is 100-hr fuel moisture, which measures the moisture content in dead vegetation. By June 27, all three indices indicated very high or extreme fire danger. The Burning Index was record high for many parts of the Four Corners area.
Wildfire indices for Colorado and Utah as of June 27, 2026. Maps from the Climate Toolbox.
THE STAGE IS SET
With all the ingredients in place, the last week of June brought a sudden surge of wildfires to Colorado and Utah, with 11 wildfires starting between June 26th and June 29th. Wildfires have now burned more than 400,000 acres in Colorado and Utah. Unfortunately, extreme heat and dry conditions are expected into the middle of July, bringing little relief to the current wildfire situation.
Active wildfires across Colorado and Utah as of July 3, 2026. Data from the National Interagency Fire Center and Watch Duty.
New Mexicois facing a profound environmental transformation. The state is transitioning out of temporary, cyclical droughts and entering a permanent state of aridification—a structural shift toward a fundamentally drier climate. Driven by rising temperatures, record-low winter snowpacks, and unpredictable weather volatility, state climate models project that New Mexico will lose 25% to 30% of its available water by 2050. This looming shortfall presents an existential threat to the state’s population, economy, and natural ecosystems.
Who Is Affected?
Aridification will impact every single New Mexican, though the immediate crisis is hitting specific communities first.
Rural Towns and Communities: Small municipalities with shallow wells are on the front lines. The town of Estancia has already declared a local water emergency, forcing the municipality to actively truck in water to keep its pipes flowing.
Eastern Border Cities: Urban areas in Eastern New Mexico, most notably Clovis and Portales, are facing severe long-term threats to their survival as their primary water reserves dry up.
The Agricultural Sector: Farming and ranching consume the vast majority of New Mexico’s water. Growing political friction is mounting against water-heavy industries like mega-dairies and commercial alfalfa farming. Along the Rio Grande, over 35% of historical farmland has already been abandoned due to shrinking irrigation allocations.
Which Water Sources Are Drying Up?
The crisis is simultaneously draining both above-ground and below-ground water supplies, creating a compounding deficit.
Surface Water Supply: The Rio Grande, the state’s main surface water artery, increasingly dries up completely during peak summer months. Vital reservoirs are failing; the massive Elephant Butte Reservoir has repeatedly plummeted to near-empty levels (3% capacity or less) because water evaporates or is consumed up to 15 times faster than it flows in from the north.
Groundwater Supply: Groundwater provides 80% of New Mexico’s drinking water, but it is being depleted at an unsustainable rate as cities and farms pump aggressively to replace lost surface water. The fastest-dropping water tables are concentrated in the Ogallala Aquifer (beneath Clovis and Portales), the Mimbres Basin (Deming), the Estancia Basin, and the Albuquerque Basin. Scientists predict a total deficit of 750,000 acre-feet of water within the next 50 years.
What’s Being Done About It?
While the projections are stark, New Mexico is not standing still. The state has launched a comprehensive 50-Year Water Action Plan to reshape how it manages, conserves, and sources water.1
The Strategic Water Supply: The state has committed $75 million to build advanced desalination projects. These facilities will treat brackish (salty) groundwater, with the goal of delivering 100,000 acre-feet of brand-new drinking water to communities by 2028.
Infrastructure Overhauls: Rural communities lose anywhere from 40% to 70% of their treated drinking water to leaks in aging pipelines before it ever reaches a tap. State-backed infrastructure campaigns are underway to aggressively repair these systems.
Water-Right Buyouts: To satisfy legally mandated interstate water compacts with downstream neighbors like Texas—and to prevent legal warfare—the state is actively buying back water rights from domestic farmers, taking certain agricultural lands out of production to preserve remaining aquifer levels.
Below is the Precipitation Accumulation in South Platte graph from the NRCS for July 6, 2026. Precipitation is at 7% of the median (down 1% one week), and 58% of the water year median (no change one week), this morning. There are 86 days left in the water year.
There is a slight chance for showers today, showers are likely Tuesday, with a chance for thunderstorms Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, in the central mountains. There is a slight chance for showers today, showers are likely Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, with a chance for thunderstorms Friday, in the northern mountains. There is a chance for thunderstorms Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, down here about 181 miles from Julesburg where the Battle of Julesburg took place on January 7, 1865. From Wikipedia:
The Battle of Julesburg took place on January 7, 1865, near Julesburg, Colorado between 1,000 Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Lakota Indians and about 60 soldiers of the U.S. army and 40 to 50 civilians. The Indians defeated the soldiers…The Julesburg Battle is unusual in that the main source of information about the battle comes from the Indian side, mostly from George Bent…a Cheyenne warrior who participated in the battle.
Here’s a look at the 7-Day Colorado precipitation map through July 5, 2026 from the High Plains Regional Climate Center. Precipitation in the South Platte Basin along the Continental Divide of the Americas ranged from 0.00” to 0.30”.
Here’s the 7-Day percent of normal precipitation map through July 5, 2026 from the High Plains Regional Climate Center. Precipitation in the South Platte River Basin along the Continental Divide of the Americas ranged pretty much 0% of normal.
Note: the 7-Day Quantitative Precipitation Forecast by NOAA is not rendering for me this morning.
Below are the 8-14 day outlooks from the Climate Prediction Center, issued July 5, 2026, for temperature and precipitation, for the week starting July 13, 2026. The CPC expects above normal temperatures and near normal precipitation for the mountains of the South Platte River Basin.
Below is the Colorado Drought Monitor map from June 30, 2026. There was a one class degradation in Park County. There were one class improvements in Park, Clear Creek, Gilpin, Jefferson, Boulder, Weld, Logan, Morgan, Sedgwick, Adams, Arapahoe, and Elbert counties. Drought and abnormal dryness covers 100% of Colorado. The South Platte Basin is experiencing Abnormally Dry, Moderate, Severe, Extreme, and Exceptional drought conditions.
Colorado Drought Monitor map June 30, 2026.
Below is the Colorado Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 30, 2026.
Colorado Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 30, 2026.
Here’s the US Drought Monitor Map from last week along with the one week U.S. change map.
US Drought Monitor map June 30, 2026.
US Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 30, 2026.
Below is a screenshot of the USGS streamgages this morning that includes the South Platte River Basin.
What cannot be contested is Becky Mitchell’s assertion that demands cannot exceed supplies. This year, we’re robbing Peter to pay Paul. Water is being taken from Flaming Gorge and other federal upstream reservoirs to keep water in Powell. Blue Mesa Reservoir near Gunnison may have too little water to release any downstream, a condition called dead pool. The Bureau of Reclamation similarly sees that possibility for Navajo, the reservoir on the Colorado-New Mexico border.
The Bureau intends to release six million acre-feet from Powell for the lower-basin, leaving Powell 80% empty. The agency’s “most probable” projections see reservoir levels at Glen Canyon Dam early next year being too low to generate electricity.
In Grand Junction this week, people stood in the rain with sheer delight. It was a feel-good moment. But will El Niño save us from calamity? Maybe, but don’t bet on it. The warming climate seems to be rewriting the rules about how much water from the Pacific Ocean arrives on our mountains.
That was the takeaway from a recent presentation by Brad Udall, a scientist scholar affiliated with Colorado State University. El Niños in the past have produced big water years. One was in 1983, the year that flood waters nearly broke Glen Canyon Dam. Often, though, an El Niño produces no more moisture than a La Niña. Video ⬇️.
The full impact of this past winter’s record-low snowpack is rearing its ugly head in the form of:
Record-low spring stream flows.
Low reservoir storage levels.
An empty reservoir.
And one incredibly rare statistic.
On June 17, Denver Water’s reservoir system hit its peak storage level following a diminished spring runoff.
Water levels in the utility’s reservoirs collectively hit 81% of the system’s storage capacity — the second-lowest peak storage level on records dating back to 1983, considered the beginning of the modern Denver Water collection system.
“Peak storage” is the moment, or day, when the utility’s collection system holds the most water it will hold for the next year. It’s akin to topping off a swimming pool once a year in June to carry the pool through the next year of use.
Typically, the “peak storage” moment happens in mid-June, after the spring runoff.
But in 2026, due to the record-low winter snowpack and low spring runoff, Denver Water’s collection system held more water on Jan. 1 — 83% of capacity — than on June 17, as the runoff dwindled and storage levels inched to 81% of capacity.
There’s only one other year since 1983, when the Strontia Springs Dam was completed, that Denver Water’s storage was higher in the dead of winter than the dawn of summer — the drought year of 2002.
“Having our highest amount of water happen in January is incredibly rare. It speaks to how little snow we saw this winter and the impact of the record-setting warm weather,” said Nathan Elder, Denver Water’s manager of water supply.
“We’ve seen many records fall this year, and unfortunately, they were not good ones.”
Dillon Reservoir reached 80% capacity on June 17, the highest elevation it is expected to see in 2026. Dillon is the largest reservoir in Denver Water’s collection system, storing roughly 38% of the utility’s water supply. Photo credit: Denver Water.
During the spring peak, the amount of water stored in Denver Water’s reservoirs typically hits an average of 97.5% of capacity.
And since 1983, the utility’s peak storage levels have hit at least 95% of capacity (considered sufficient for normal operating conditions) in all but six years.
“Ideally, we like to top off our mountain reservoirs during the spring runoff, but this year our storage levels came up well short,” Elder said.
Record low ‘paycheck’
Why do water managers focus on peak storage numbers?
The peak reservoir storage figure is critical to determining how much water is available until next year’s spring runoff. It’s comparable to a family determining how much money they have to pay the bills until the next paycheck comes through.
“The spring runoff is our annual paycheck from Mother Nature,” Elder said. “The water filling our reservoirs is the cash that fills our bank account. But in our case, that paycheck only comes once a year — and this year we didn’t get anywhere close to the normal amount.”
Tenmile Creek in Frisco, as it enters Dillon Reservoir on June 12. Denver Water saw record low flows into the reservoir in 2026. Photo credit: Denver Water.
This year’s meager paycheck was reflected in the record-low peak flows on the rivers and streams that feed Denver Water’s reservoirs.
Mountain snowmelt accounts for 90% of Denver Water’s supply, which provides water to 1.5 million people in metro Denver.
In Summit County, Denver Water recorded this year’s peak stream runoff into Dillon Reservoir at just 404 cubic feet per second, or cfs, on May 29. That’s a record-low “peak inflow” and less than a quarter of the normal peak inflow into the reservoir of 1,750 cfs, which typically happens on June 7.
In Park County, the South Fork of the South Platte River experienced a double-whammy, with record-low flows that occurred abnormally early in the season.
Flows on the South Fork peaked on March 25 at a record-low flow of just 18 cfs. That’s 15% of the normal peak flow of 120 cfs, which usually happens on June 10.
The South Fork of the South Platte River south of Fairplay on May 22. The river peaked at a record low flow of just 18 cfs in 2026. Photo credit: Denver Water.
“In a typical year, the rivers and streams start rising in late-April as the snow starts to melt, then they peak in early June, and then they start to ease back to normal flows throughout the summer,” Elder said.
“This year the runoff started about six weeks early in March, and the normal spring surge of water we usually see was basically nonexistent.”
Reservoir impact
The results of the record-low spring flows are having a significant impact on three of Denver Water’s most popular reservoirs.
Dillon Reservoir in Summit County topped off on June 17 at 80% of capacity, with water levels about 18 feet below normal for this time of year. Water levels are expected to drop over the next year until the 2027 spring runoff — hopefully more boisterous than this year’s meager flow — begins.
Dillon Reservoir in Summit County reached 80% capacity on June 17. This picture shows the low levels at the Snake Inlet on the southeast corner of the reservoir on June 12. Photo credit: Denver Water.
In Grand County, Williams Fork Reservoir topped off June 21 at merely 53% of capacity, about 35 feet below normal for this time of year and forcing the closure of the reservoir’s boat ramp.
At the Williams Fork Reservoir in Grand County, the boat ramp will be closed all summer due to low snowpack and record-low runoff. Photo credit: Denver Water.
Because of the low snowpack, Denver Water also dipped into its emergency water supply at Antero Reservoir in Park County.
Using water from Antero Reservoir is only done in extremely dry years. It’s comparable to someone having to dip into their 401(k) savings to pay bills until their next paycheck.
Denver Water moved water out of Antero this spring and sent it downstream to Cheesman Reservoir to avoid losing water in shallow Antero due to evaporation.
Denver Water moved water from Antero to Cheesman reservoir in 2026 to reduce losses from evaporation. The water in Antero Reservoir, pictured above, is only used in extreme dry years. Photo credit: Denver Water.
Early forecasts for the abysmal spring runoff and low peak storage were two factors that led Denver Water to issue a Stage 1 drought declaration in March.
The declaration, which calls on customers to reduce water use by 20% and includes mandatory watering restrictions of two assigned days per week, seeks to stretch existing water supplies until next spring’s paycheck is deposited in the reservoirs.
“While the reservoirs are low this year, they are doing what they were built for, which is to help us get us through a dry year,” Elder said.
“We hope customers notice the low reservoir levels and take steps to conserve water at home so we can stretch our water supplies over the coming months.”
A new Colorado law requires water users that buy water tied to farms in the Arkansas Valley to revegetate land before using water elsewhere…
“When that water leaves, the impacts of the dry-up don’t leave with it. They stay with the land and the people who live here,” said Jack Goble, general manager of the Lower Arkansas Water Conservation District, which advocated for the legislation.Revegetation involves restoring native plant cover to the land to reduce erosion, maintain soil moisture and manage noxious weeds…
In Crowley County, where productive farmland has declined by more than 90% since the 1970s because of water transfers, so-called “buy-and-dry” transactions have spawned a sea of dirt that supports little more than weeds. According to a recent report from ProPublica, these water transfers have caused an “environmental catastrophe,” in Crowley County, in which birds, bees and wildlife have fled. A 2026 report from Colorado State University estimates that every acre of irrigated land taken out of production leads to an annual economic loss of $1,400 to $1,600. Governor Jared Polis (D) signed House Bill 26-1340 into law June 1. The new law, sponsored by representative Ty Winter (R), gained broad support in the House and Senate. The law takes effect January 1, 2027.
“If you look at other natural resources — coal, gravel, oil and gas — when that’s mined from the land the requirement is on the entity that profits off of, and mines that, to go and reclaim that land. We think water should be no different,” Goble said.
Maybell Irrigation District’s headgate on the Yampa River, September 2022. Photo credit: Heather Sackett/Aspen Journalism
Click the link to read the article on The Denver Post website (Noelle Phillips). Here’s an excerpt:
June 18, 2026
For the 18 ranchers who rely on the Maybell Irrigation District’s canal to funnel water to their fields, the 127-year-old headgate that diverted flow from the Yampa River meant a two-hour round trip through a rocky canyon whenever they needed water. The rusted structure was barely hanging on, and its operation was time-consuming for the busy ranchers, who had to lug special tools on all-terrain vehicles and on foot to open or close the mechanism. But it seemed impossible for the tiny district to find the $6.8 million needed to replace the headgate and the rocky diversion dam that pushed water into the canal. Then legalized sports betting came along, and, with it, millions of dollars for Colorado water projects. The tiny irrigation district, in Moffat County in the far northwest corner of the state, soon became the poster child for how gambling money is benefiting Colorado’s waterways. The district received a $750,000 grant from the Colorado Water Conservation Board, which doles out money from sports betting tax revenue, said Diana Lane, sustainable food and water program director for The Nature Conservancy in Colorado, which helped the district land the grant. That led to a matching grant from the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation’s WaterSMART program. With those two grants in hand, other organizations jumped on board, and money poured in, she said. In 2024, the Maybell Irrigation District installed a new headgate that can be opened or closed via cellphone. If a rancher is cutting hay and doesn’t need to irrigate, he can close the gates to match the amount of water he actually needs at that moment, Lane said. And the diversion structure no longer uses boulders to control the water flow. Instead, it’s a modern structure that is the right height for water control. The project also benefited four fish species, including the threatened humpback chub, and it made river navigation easier for boaters, helping the region’s outdoor recreation economy.
“That $750,000 was really the ball that got it all rolling, that showed people, ‘Oh, this is going somewhere,’” Lane said of that initial state grant.
Since sports betting became legal in May 2020, the state has collected more than $154 million in taxes, and the Colorado Water Conservation Board has funneled $140 million to various projects that preserve and conserve Colorado’s precious water. Supporters say the gambling money is a godsend for ranchers, fishermen, paddlers and others who want to protect the state’s water and those who depend on it for their livelihoods. Critics, however, say legalized sports betting has come at a cost — fueling an addiction crisis that the state was unprepared for and is underfunding.
Today’s Colorado River Delta is a far cry from the lush waterway that thrived before the river was forced behind dams that diverted much of its flow for half a century. Now, with just small amounts of water and funding, stretches of the parched riverbed have been transformed into healthy riparian habitats.
Click the graphic to download a copy of the report.
A new report from a University of Arizona-led team of researchers has evaluated the effects of the 2014-2025 controlled water releases along the lower Colorado River in Mexico to restore natural habitat. The report also lays out a roadmap for continuing the current binational restoration efforts. The report was published today by the Center for Colorado River Studies at Utah State University.
“It’s hard to find some good news about the Colorado River, but we believe we have some to share,” said first author Karl Flessa, professor emeritus in the U of A Department of Geosciences. “The lessons learned from more than a decade of work show that a small amount of water can do big things.”
The controlled water deliveries to the Colorado River streambed from 2014-2025 were mandated by two addenda of the U.S.-Mexico Water Treaty of 1944, which governs the allocation of Colorado River water between the two countries. The current addendum expires at the end of 2026.
To ensure the restoration sites continue to thrive, Flessa said sustaining this binational success will require a renewed commitment of water and funding by the United States, Mexico and non-governmental organizations.
The report reveals that bird numbers and diversity have increased since restoration began in 2014. The delta is an important rest stop for birds migrating along the Pacific Flyway. Beavers and other wildlife have also increased.
Graphic credit: USGS
The restoration of the Colorado River Delta began in 2014, in the form of a so-called pulse flow, a one-time water release from Morelos Dam that lasted 57 days. Before that, the riverbed below Morelos Dam was dry. The pulse flow was conducted to allow researchers to assess the effects on the ecosystem once water returned.
The pulse flow of 2014 kickstarted a concerted, binational effort to systematically restore riparian habitat along certain stretches of the formerly dry river delta. Environmental NGOs, both in the U.S. and in Mexico, developed three designated restoration sites by terrain-shaping and planting of native riparian vegetation, including cottonwood trees, mesquite trees and willows – species that once dominated the landscape when the Colorado flowed through a healthy delta.
In 2019, AZPM produced a story on revitalizing the Colorado River delta five years after the 2014 pulse flow.
“These NGOs actually have nurseries on site, in which they germinate an array of Sonoran Desert riparian plants. Those seedlings are then planted and carefully irrigated according to the habitat needs,” said Martha Gomez-Sapiens, a U of A research scientist and co-author on the study. “In some cases you will see irrigation drip lines that go to each individual tree – a system designed to maximize water efficiency in this desert environment.”
Subsequent creation, irrigation and maintenance of 1,381 acres of riparian vegetation attracted birds and other wildlife. Deliveries to the river channel raised water tables, supported existing vegetation and increased the length of the flowing river.
In addition, local communities have benefited from recreational, educational and job opportunities. All three restoration sites have visitor programs that cater to local communities and schools, and one – the Laguna Grande complex, managed by the Tucson-based Sonoran Institute – even boasts a visitor center. All offer recreational opportunities in a region dominated by water scarcity.
While the pulse flow of 2014 demonstrated the feasibility of revitalizing former habitats with controlled and planned water releases, the authors conclude that releasing large amounts of water during a limited timeframe has limited benefits for a long-term revitalization of the delta.
“Most of the pulse flow water infiltrated into the groundwater before it could be used by new vegetation,” Flessa said. “Since then, we have learned how to use the water more efficiently for restoration of riparian habitat.”
Importantly, the report points out that restoration sites are not self-sustaining. Revitalizing degraded river habitat will require continuing maintenance, occasional water allocations and monitoring.
According to the authors, just 6,890 acre-feet per year, which represents approximately 0.05% of the Colorado’s total annual average flow, would suffice to preservethe existing restoration sites. With a little more water and a little more funding, the number or size of the sites could be increased even more, according to the report.
“Effective and sustainable habitat restoration can be done with a little bit of water, a small amount of funding and a lot of hard work.” Flessa said.
Other co-authors on the report are Eduardo González-Sargas in the Department of Biology at Colorado State University and Roberto Real Rangel, of The Nature Conservancy in Mexicali, Mexico.
Fig. 1. The Colorado River Basin covers parts of seven U.S. states as well as part of Mexico. Credit: U.S. Geological Survey
Click the link to read the article on the Pagosa Springs Sun website (Clayton Chaney). Here’s an excerpt:
July 1, 2026
The Archuleta County Board of Health (BoH) held a special meeting on June 15 to consider approval of Regulation 43, pertaining to on-site wastewater treatment system (OWTS), also known as septic systems…
According to the regulation attached to the meeting agenda, “The purpose of these Regulations is to establish the minimum standards for the location, design, construction, performance, installation, alteration, and use of OWTS with a design capacity equal to or less than 2,000 gallons per day within the Jurisdiction.”
[…]
It also states that the regulations apply to all OWTS in the unincorporated areas of the county and over all municipal corporations within the territorial limits of Archuleta County.
Furthermore, it explains that an “OWTS permit must not be issued to any person when the subject property is located within a municipality or special district that provides public sewer service, except where such sewer service to the property is not feasible according to the determination of the municipality or special district, or the permit is otherwise authorized by the municipality or special district.”
The document explains that Archuleta County Water Quality Department “may enter upon a private property at reasonable times and upon reasonable notice for the purpose of determining whether or not an operating OWTS is functioning in compliance with the OWTS Act and applicable regulations adopted pursuant thereto and the terms and conditions of any permit issued and to inspect and conduct tests in evaluating any permit application.”
Map of the San Juan River, a tributary of the Colorado River, in Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah, USA. Made using USGS National Map data. By Shannon1 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47456307
Confluence of the Little Colorado River and the Colorado River. Climate change is affecting western streams by diminishing snowpack and accelerating evaporation. The Colorado River’s flows and reservoirs are being impacted by climate change, and environmental groups are concerned about the status of the native fish in the river. Photo credit: DMY at Hebrew Wikipedia [Public domain]
Click the link to read the article on the InkStain website (John Fleck):
June 18, 2026
A grab bag from my friends and colleagues working on Colorado River issues….
The good news
From friend of Inkstain Karl Flessa (the guy who helped get me started thinking about the Colorado River Delta), a new analysis concluding that despite the terrible hydrology and political difficulties, environmental restoration work in the delta is working:
Figure 1. Graph showing total storage in 46 reservoirs in the Colorado River Basin since January 1, 2023. The minimum amount during this period occurred in mid-March 2023, when total storage was less than at any time since late May 1965. The amount of increase or decrease in total Basin storage during the accumulation and depletion periods of each year are shown. Updated to June 14, 2026. Credit: Traveling Wilburys of the Colorado River
Last month, U.S. Agriculture Department Undersecretary Michael Boren issued a memo, with a preamble by Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins, to Forest Service employees directing them on “advancing grazing on Forest Service” lands. It’s a curious, sometimes alarming memo. And, as is customary for the Trump administration, its authors are a bit confused about history.
While most public lands grazing occurs on Bureau of Land Management land, the memo reminds us that national forests also host more than 2 million cattle, sheep, and horses and burros. The current administration desperately wants more livestock on America’s forests, although it’s not clear why.
The memo directs the agency’s staff to streamline the permitting process, to treat public lands1 ranchers with deference and respect, and to bring more “flexibility” to prairie dog “management,” which I assume means they want more efficient ways to kill the animals. It also guides line officers to offer up unallocated forage “to the maximum extent possible” and work to “solicit interest/applications from the eligible ranching community” to occupy vacant and closed grazing allotments. The goal? To add 500,000 head months2 of cattle and other livestock to national forest lands over the next two years, purportedly in part to “maintain the fabric of rural America.”
The fabric of rural America very well may be frayed, but throwing a bunch of half-ton methane dispensers onto drought-addled national forests to gobble up what grass and wildflowers remain in high-country meadows, trample stream banks, sully trout habitat, and make a mess out of trails, isn’t going to repair it.
Boren acknowledges that grazing on national forests has declined over the last 60 years in part due to “changing rangeland conditions” and “catastrophic wildfire and variable moisture levels.” But he seems oblivious to the fact that in most of the West, moisture levels remain at an all time low, and putting livestock on that land would not only lead to some pretty skinny cows, but also would further decimate the drought-stressed soils and vegetation.
Ranchers nationwide are actually thinning their herds due to drought and rising overhead costs, and cattle numbers are at record lows this year despite high beef prices. That reduces the chances that Boren will actually have many takers for the vacant allotments.
Still, it’s concerning. With the top brass pressuring the entire agency to pull out all of the stops to get more livestock on the forests, it’s not hard to imagine a district ranger succumbing and permitting a vacant allotment — even one that a conservation organization bought out from a willing rancher to help wildlife or reduce conflicts.
Rollins, meanwhile, seems confused about the origins of the agency she oversees. She writes:
But she doesn’t seem to consider what Congress was trying to “protect” the forests from, because in the next paragraph she writes: “From those early beginnings, grazing has been an integral part of our nation’s national forests …” Yeah, not quite. Let’s step back a bit, shall we?
During the early and mid-1800s, the United States stole, conquered, purchased, or acquired by treaty hundreds of millions of acres of land in the West and declared it the “public domain.” The government then went about “disposing” of the land, giving it away or selling it for virtually nothing via the Homestead Act, the General Mining Act, the Pacific Railway Act, the Desert Land Act, and so forth. By the end of the 1880s, huge tracts of public land had been handed over to the railroads, to mining interests, to states, and to homesteaders, yet across the West hundreds of millions of acres still remained in the public domain, and nearly all of those lands were open to unrestricted grazing, timber-cutting, and the devastation that came with them.
Gifford Pinchot would later describe the period like this:
Albert Potter, the USFS’s first chief of grazing, called the 1880s the era of “spoilation,” writing:
Unfettered livestock grazing wasn’t just diminishing the forage, but also wrecking watersheds. In southeastern Utah, the big livestock companies, notably the New Mexico and Kansas Land and Cattle Company, ran thousands of cattle and sheep across the once abundant grasslands on the slopes of the Abajo and La Sal Mountains, reducing them to denuded, dusty, gullied, flash-flood-prone wastelands. At one point, allegedly out of spite, the Carlisle livestock concern turned out thousands of sheep on the upper branches of Montezuma Creek, Monticello’s source for drinking water. Bacteria from the sheep feces contaminated the water, leading to a typhoid outbreak in Monticello that killed eleven people.
In hopes of mitigating the wreckage, in 1891 Congress passed the Forest Reserve Act, giving the president the authority to withdraw areas from the public domain3 as forest reserves, to be overseen by the Interior Department. Six years later Congress passed the Forest Management or Organic Administrative Act, which gave the previous law some teeth by providing a framework for managing the reserves. In 1905 President Theodore Roosevelt transferred management of the reserves to the Department of Agriculture and named the agency the Forest Service, appointing Gifford Pinchot as his chief forester.
Together, Pinchot and Roosevelt represented a major shift in the way the government managed and society perceived and treated the public lands. Roosevelt set aside some of the nation’s most cherished landmarks as national monuments. Pinchot believed that humans should utilize the forests and grasslands but that they should do so in a more sustainable manner so as to save some of the timber and forage for future generations. This conservationist ethos came to be known as Pinchotism, a term spit derogatorily by western politicians who were beholden to the extractive industries, such as Republican senator Weldon Heyburn from Idaho. Employing the same rhetoric that would later be used by the Sagebrush Rebels, Heyburn derided the forest reserve laws, suggesting that they amounted to theft of the “people’s forests.”
The question of livestock grazing on the forest lands was a contentious one for years. Under the Forest Reserve Act, grazing was effectively banned on the new reserves. After the Organic Act passed, the General Land Office began permitting grazing by cattle and horses, but not sheep — which were generally seen as far more destructive4— on the condition that it didn’t harm the forests. Eventually, Pinchot succumbed to the sheep industry lobby and grudgingly allowed grazing on some forests, causing a schism between him and John Muir, who was strongly opposed to sheep in forests.
Over the ensuing years, the Forest Service developed a grazing policy, permitting system, and set fees — very low ones — based on the number of animals, much to livestock operators’ dismay. This was in stark contrast to the lands in the public domain, where grazing remained a free-for-all until Congress passed the Taylor Grazing Act in 1934.
These minimal restraints, however, were not enough to stop the destruction. In the years following World War I, Forest Service officials found that grazing was still wreaking havoc on vegetation and spawning more erosion. Yet every time they tried to reduce the number of livestock on the land, they were hit with legal challenges, lobbying campaigns, and political pressure.
Ultimately the backlash to Pinchotism elevated Warren G. Harding, a friend to the industries that wanted free rein over the public lands, to the presidency. Harding chose Albert Bacon Fall to be his interior secretary, who immediately went about rolling back regulations and doing his best to erase the legacy left by Pinchot and Roosevelt, including opening up the public domain and Indian land to coal mining and oil and gas drilling. While Trump and his minions like to compare themselves to Teddy Roosevelt, in reality they much more closely resemble Harding and Fall.
A number of ferocious wildfires continue to rage across the Interior West. One of the largest is the Babylon Fire in Bears Ears National Monument, which had grown to over 81,000 acres as of Thursday night. It’s also on Forest Service land and is burning through some large, active grazing allotments, including the Babylon, Gooseberry, Twin Springs, and Cottonwood, and looks like it’s making its way onto some BLM allotments as well.
The Gold Mountain Fire near Ouray, Colorado, had grown to about 21,000 acres, with the Ferris Fire near Dove Creek reaching nearly 29,000 acres. Fire weather is expected to continue through the weekend.
🗺️ Messing with Maps 🧭
Note: On the occasion of America’s 250th birthday, I’m rerunning this piece from a couple of years ago on the July 1776 Escalante-Dominguez expedition that occurred even as the American Revolution was unfolding far to the east.
Don Bernardo Miera y Pacheco’s map, drawn following the 1776 Escalante-Dominguez expedition via The Land Desk
I’ve been fascinated by maps of all sorts for as long as I remember. Don Bernardo Miera y Pacheco’s map, drawn following the 1776 Escalante-Dominguez expedition, has intrigued me for nearly as long. And the more I look at old maps of the region, the more interesting this one becomes, in part because it’s far more accurate, especially in its depictions of the Four Corners Country, than maps made a century later by U.S. surveyors.
In July of 1776, Atanasio Dominguez and Silvestre Vélez de Escalante, a couple of Franciscan priests, headed out with a motley crew from Santa Fe in search of a route to California. Instead, they ended up going up what is now Colorado’s Western Slope and through the heart of Ute territory, across to the Great Salt Lake, dropping down through western Utah, and finally looping — somewhat erratically — back to Santa Fe. But if they didn’t find California, they did leave behind relatively detailed journals and maps that give us insight into what the region looked like prior to the Euro-American invasion, and into early European colonists’ perception of the region.
The party set out from the Pueblo of Santa Rosa de Abiquiu, on the first day of August, effectively leaving the Spanish Empire. The country beyond was the domain of the Weenuchiu, Tabeguache, Caputa, and Mouache bands of Ute. Not wanting to provoke the Ute people any more than necessary — they had made that mistake before — the Spanish Crown forbade settlers from wandering into the territory of or trading with the Utes.
Still, the path they followed was well-established. Juan Rivera had travelled it a decade earlier, and he had followed well-established routes through a land that had been inhabited for millennia, and that had been intimately mapped in the collective consciousness of oral histories. Rivera probably wasn’t even the first Spaniard to tread these paths; mavericks defied the travel and trade ban to acquire deerskins or to try their luck in the mineralized slopes of the high San Juan Mountains. The Spanish mavericks, in turn, were merely following paths already well trodden by Ute, Diné, Paiute, and Pueblo travelers long before.
So it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that current day routes more or less follow Escalante’s and Dominguez’s path. From Abiquiu the party traveled northwest, roughly following Hwy. 84 about to Los Ojos/Tierra Amarilla, which they described as:
This sort of assessment of a site’s suitability for a settlement is common in Escalante’s journals. Most places he deemed good for a village now have a village on them, from Arboles to Ignacio to Dolores to Hotchkiss, though none would be established for another century or more after Escalante’s journey.
They then cut westward, meeting up with the Navajo River near Dulce, which originates in what they called the Sierra de la Grulla, or the Mountains of the Cranes — now known as the South San Juans. Later they note that the headwaters of the Rio de Los Pinos are in the Sierra de la Plata, indicating that the entirety of what we now think of as the Western San Juans were then called the La Plata Mountains. When they reach the confluence with the San Juan River near Carracas, they write:
They called their camp “Nuestra Señora de las Nieves,” or Our Lady of the Snows, because they could see snow-capped peaks from there. This seems odd given that it was early August and they would have been looking at the south faces of the San Juans, where the snow should have melted months earlier. Maybe 1776 was a cold year, because later, they describe the passage between Durango and Hesperus like this: “the terrain is very moist, since it rains very frequently because of its proximity to the Sierra; as a result, both in the mountain forest — which consist of very tall and straight pines, scrub oak, and several kinds of wild fruits — and in its narrow valleys there are the prettiest of pastures. The climate here is excessively cold even in the months of July and August.”
On this version of the map, Miera did not include the route of the expedition. But the little circles with crosses indicate places they stopped, camped, or named. Via The Land Desk
They make it to the Big Bend of the Dolores River and then do some bending of their own, deviating from their westward course by 90 degrees for reasons I can’t figure out. Were their guides trying to avoid the rugged Canyon Country of southern Utah? Were they blindly following the path of their predecessor, Rivera? For whatever reason, they ended up heading north, encountering the Dolores River a second time near Cahone and a third time near Slick Rock.
The party tried to follow the Dolores River downstream (north), but was stymied by the narrow, twisty gorge, writing: “The canyon we named El Laberinto de Miera because of the varied and pleasing scenery of rock cliffs which it has on either side and which, for being so lofty and craggy at the turns, makes the exit seem all the more difficult the farther one advances.” They turned eastward into the Big Gypsum valley, then toward Naturita and Nucla, before crossing the Uncompahgre Plateau where they found “deer and roe and other animals breed, and certain chicken fowl the size and shape of the common domestic ones, from which they differ in not having combs. Their flesh is very tasty.”
They dropped down to what they call the El Rio de San Francisco north of Montrose and that the “Yutas” call Ancapagri — i.e. Uncompahgre — or “Red Lake”, “because they say that near its source there is a spring of red-colored water, hot and ill-tasting.”
It seems that part of the reason Miera’s maps somewhat accurately depict areas the party never journeyed to is because they spoke with the Indigenous people who intimately knew the country. This is in sharp contrast to U.S. maps drawn a century later, which depict much of southeastern Utah as a big blank spot, with the San Juan River vanishing into the desert after passing the Four Corners. Miera y Pacheco’s map, meanwhile, accurately shows the stream meeting up with the Colorado in Glen Canyon.
That said, Miera y Pacheco does make some errors. He has the Gunnison River (San Xavier) running into the Dolores River near the present site of Gateway (passing through the Unaweap Gorge, perhaps?), and his maps appear to have the Green River (Rio San Buenaventura) flowing through the Wasatch Range and into Utah Lake.
Miera’s depiction of the Great Salt Lake and Utah Lake. Via The Land Desk
At Montrose the party again took an odd route, going up the Gunnison River, in a northeasterly direction, rather than following it downstream to the northwest, up and over Sierra del Venado Alazan (Mountain of the Sorrel-Colored Deer), or Grand Mesa, before getting back on course (sort of) and making their way to the Great Salt Lake. It wasn’t until that point, when winter was starting to set in, that they realized maybe they should have taken a different route, and that Monterey, their final destination, was still a long ways off.
From the Great Salt Lake, the expedition went southward, roughly following I-15, before cutting east at St. George and encountering the Colorado River where it passes through the Marble Gorge. As you might imagine, crossing the river and the canyon wasn’t easy. Via The Land Desk
So they went south, all the way down to St. George, before turning back to the east, Santa Fe-bound. This is where it gets interesting, because their guides were not familiar with the country (what we would now call the Arizona strip) they were headed for. And yet, even though their route-finding was sometimes determined by drawing lots, they somehow managed to encounter the Colorado River at one of the few places they could get down to it, just downstream from the Paria River. Crossing the river, itself, wasn’t so easy.
So they built a raft of logs, and “Father Fray Silvestre, accompanied by the servants, tried to cross the river; but although the poles they used to propel it were about five yards long, they did not touch bottom even a short distance from the bank.”
It was late October by then and, “Not knowing when we would be able to leave this place, and having already eaten up the meat of the first horse, the pine kernels and the other provisions we had bought, we ordered another horse killed.” Desperate, they hiked up the Paria until they were able to climb up to the plateau, then dropped back down to the Colorado River in Glen Canyon in a place they called San Diego. Finally they found a place where the canyon and river widened — now inundated by Lake Powell — and they were able to cross. After climbing out of the canyon: “We found today many Indian tracks, but saw no one. So many wild sheep flourish here that their tracks look like great herds of domestic sheep. They are smaller than the domestic variety, of the same shape but much swifter.”
The party finally reached Santa Fe and in the ensuing years Miera y Pacheco created at least two maps of the country they had traveled through.
1 When I use the term “public lands” I’m referring not only to BLM lands, but also to national forests, national parks and monuments, and national wildlife refuges.
2 Head Month is the U.S. Forest Service term for a cow-calf pair eating public forage for one month. It’s similar to an Animal Unit Month on BLM land.
3 When land is “withdrawn” from the public domain, it simply means that it is no longer available for “disposal.” That is, it can’t be privatized via homesteads or mining claims.
4 During a meeting with Colorado stockmen in 1905 to discuss grazing fees, Teddy Roosevelt reportedly pounded the arm of his chair with his fist and declared: “Gentlemen, sheep are destructive.”
Three federal firefighters were killed and two seriously injured when the Knowles and Gore fires overtook them southwest of Grand Junction near the Utah-Colorado line. The fires joined with others to become the Snyder Fire, which had grown to 30,000 acres as of Monday.
The fatalities were the tragic result of what has become a downright terrifying wildfire situation in the Interior West, with more than a dozen 1,000-acre-plus blazes tearing through forests in Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico during the last days of June. Without substantial and soaking rainfall soon, it’s likely to get even worse.
The fury of these conflagrations is evident in their rapid rate of growth.
The Babylon Fire within Bears Ears National Monument, for example, was first reported on the afternoon of June 26 on Elk Ridge north of the Bears Ears Buttes. By the evening of June 29 it was mapped at over 48,000 acres and was spreading northward. The National Park Service closed the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park as a result and the Manti-La Sal National Forest shut down the entire Elk Ridge area.
Further east, in Colorado, the Ferris Fire was first reported late on June 27 just north of the Dolores River along the Dolores and Montezuma county line. It quickly tore through piñon and juniper, then scrub oak and ponderosa forest toward the Disappointment Valley, and had reached about 20,600 acres as of Monday night.
The Gold Mountain Fire, apparently ignited when a tree fell on a powerline, was first reported Saturday afternoon near the Bachelor Syracuse Mine Tour north of Ouray. By Monday night it was over 8,300 acres and had forced evacuations and the closure of Highway 550.
On the eastern side of the Divide the Aspen Acres Fire grew to 23,000 acres in less than 24 hours, driven through a parched landscape by 100-mile-per-hour winds, and was threatening the towns of Beulah and Rye. The Willow Fire in Lake County is at a relatively small 1,900 acres, but is perilously close to Leadville.
Many factors contribute to the intensity, size, and frequency of the fires, from decades of fire suppression, to human encroachment in forests, to flammable noxious weed infestations. But the biggest driver of this regional calamity is clearly the hot, dry weather, which has been exacerbated by human-caused climate change.
Winter was an utter dud as far as the snowpack was concerned, in large part because of the unusually high temperatures. The hot, dry weather continued into the spring — with July-like temps at the end of March — sucking moisture from the soil and vegetation, and pushing huge swaths of the Interior West into severe to extreme drought conditions. Throw in gusty wind and a June heat wave — nearly 1,000 daily high temperature records were tied or broken in the West this month — and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.
There have been hot and dry years in the past, along with catastrophic wildfires: In 1879 the Lime Creek Burn charred 26,000 high-country acres south of Silverton, burning through what later became known as the “asbestos forest” due to its apparent blaze-resistance.
Back then, however, 1879-like dry and warm years were anomalous, as were mega fires. The Lime Creek Burn stood as the state’s largest blaze until 2002; now it’s not even in the top 20 for acreage burned. This year, while relatively extreme, is no outlier. The West’s temperatures have been trending upward since reliable record-keeping began some 130 years ago, and the Southwest is suffering through year 26 of an ongoing megadrought, the most severe in at least 1,200 years.
Nor is the phenomenon isolated to the arid West. A heat dome is on its way to the Midwest and East Coast. And a record-breaking heat wave has gripped much of western Europe. France has recorded over 1,000 heat-related fatalities in recent days, and was forced to shut down nuclear reactors because the rivers from which they pull their cooling waters are too warm (and the discharged water is even warmer, threatening river ecosystems).
So it’s utterly surreal to, on the one hand, breathe in the blanket of smoke that’s settling into the West’s valleys, to observe new flame icons popping up on the Watch Duty map, and see satellite imagery smoke plumes stretch across the region, and on the other to hear U.S. Energy Secretary Chris Wright downplay the deaths in Europe. Unlike his boss, President Trump, Wright acknowledges that human-related greenhouse gas emissions are heating the planet, but he says it’s not a crisis and that its effects are “manageable.”
Wright’s disrespect for the victims, including the injured and killed firefighters in Colorado, is dumbfounding. And his willful ignorance of the science and reality on the ground in order to perpetuate Trump’s drill-baby-drill agenda and bolster oil company profits is simply sickening. The same goes for Trump’s Interior Secretary Doug Burgum. His department now oversees the nation’s wildland firefighting force. And yet he is also leading the charge to deregulate the oil and gas industry and allow them to spew more planet-warming methane in order to spur more oil and gas drilling on public lands — ultimately leading to more fossil fuel burning, carbon emissions, warmer global temperatures, and more severe fires.
It reminds me a little bit of the story of the California firefighter who admitted setting dozens of fires as a job-creation scheme, allowing him and his colleagues to earn overtime pay. The difference here is that Burgum is not only playing his dangerous game with the lives of the firefighters under his command, but also with the planet as a whole.
Sprinklers on the Great Sage Plain in southwestern Colorado. Jonathan P. Thompson photo.
One of the many things I’m interested in is the water-energy nexus: The way a coal plant requires vast amounts of water to make steam to turn turbines to generate electricity to run the pumps on the Central Arizona Project canals, for example. Now, with dry times in full-swing and electricity prices on the rise almost everywhere, the spotlight is on the water-energy-agriculture/food nexus.
In the arid West, most agriculture is of the irrigated kind. In many cases, this means relying on pumps to move the water across the land, to bring groundwater up from a well, and to pressurize sprinkler systems. And pumps require energy, in the form of electricity from the grid, from distributed solar or wind systems, or from diesel or gasoline motors or generators.
During a dry year like this one, farmers need to start irrigating earlier in the season, meaning their pumps run more often and consume more energy, which costs more money. That’s the situation Wyoming farmers and ranchers Tim Teichert and Jason Thornock are up against this year, according to a June 11 WyoFile report by Dustin Bleizeffer. These guys fork out up to $150,000 annually for electricity, the drought is pushing that bill higher, and now Rocky Mountain Power — a subsidiary of Berkshire Hathaway — is looking for a 37.7% rate increase on irrigators. Ouch.
Here’s where the nexus comes in: If the rate hike goes through, it will make it prohibitively expensive for other farmers to switch from flood irrigation to more efficient sprinkler systems. While this would seem to be the perfect opportunity for farmers to go solar, that’s not so easy in Wyoming, either. State law caps the size of solar arrays eligible for net metering, or the system by which the utility credits a customer for exporting excess power into the grid, at 25 kilowatts, which is far smaller than most farmers would need to power their pumps.
Down in Arizona the stakes are even higher, according to a study by Andrew Berry and Mikhail V. Chester published in 2017 in Environmental Research Letters. They highlighted the fact that in Arizona, most irrigation is powered by electricity.
The Central Arizona Project’s 15 pumping stations guzzle 2.8 gigawatt-hours of electricity annually to move water more than 300 miles from the Colorado River to the middle of the state, with a total vertical climb of about 3,000 feet. Then the farmers have to pump it from the canal to their fields and rely on pumps to power sprinkler systems. Arizona farmers that don’t rely on the canals use groundwater, which also requires pumping.
When temperatures go up or precipitation decreases, the farmers need more water, which means they also use more energy, putting more strain on the electrical grid. And even without all of those irrigation pumps churning away, heat stresses the grid in other ways, primarily because power demand surges in the afternoons, when everyone cranks up their air conditioners. Also, hot power lines are less efficient, wildfires can take out transmission lines and other electricity infrastructure, smoke diminishes solar output, and low streamflows can deplete hydropower generation.
All of this has the potential to take down the power grid, which would cause the irrigation and water-movement systems to shut down, which would affect crops and food supplies.
Over the last century and a half, especially in the years following World War II, the federal and state governments, utilities, and private interests have created huge networks for generating and moving power and for diverting, storing, and delivering water. Research and stories like the ones mentioned here just go to show how inextricably intertwined the two systems have become, how important they both are to Western communities, and how fragile they can be. Climate change — along with increasing demand — is raising the risk of a catastrophic, cascading failure in these systems, which would be calamitous for the entire region.
Brad Udall always lays out the hydrology and climate in an easy to understand, and often frightening, way. This YouTube video is well worth your time, particularly if you are a climate skeptic. Our political leadership needs to start paying attention to the scientists, the Colorado River Basin is a bellwether for the future. If you add energy to a system it responds and we are adding energy (heat) to the Water Cycle. As Brad has said, “Climate Change is water change.”
Glen Canyon Dam has four bypass tubes, also referred to as river outlet works (ROWs).
In the video above Katrina Grants from Reclamation explained how her agency is planning operations of Glen Canyon Dam for the next few years and emphasized that they can operate safely with just the outlet tubes, with increased maintenance activity. The planning shows the river hydrology is the primary driver of releases rather than limitations from the tube design. “We can release the water if it is there,” she said.
The back of Glen Canyon Dam circa 1964, not long after the reservoir had begun filling up. Here the water level is above dead pool, meaning water can be released via the river outlets, but it is below minimum power pool, so water cannot yet enter the penstocks to generate electricity. Bureau of Reclamation photo. Annotations: Jonathan P. Thompson
Last year the agency coated the tubes with Epoxy primer– applied directly to the blasted steel for corrosion protection and adhesion and Polysiloxane topcoat – a highly durable finish that provides abrasion resistance, chemical resistance, and long-term protection in a submerged environment. The coating was applied using a robotic sprayer after robotic abrasive blasting removed the old lining. Grants said that every six months one tube will need to be taken offline for a while for inspection and repair while using the other 3 tubes for releases. So, Reclamation does not believe that modifications to the dam are necessary at this time.
Colorado River “Beginnings”. Photo: Brent Gardner-Smith/Aspen Journalism
Green Mountain Reservoir is owned by the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation and located in Summit County north of Silverthorne along the Blue River. Photo credit: Denver Water.
Historic water shortages are drying out the scenic mountains that lie at the heart of Colorado’s tourist economy, prompting the state to issue emergency orders earlier this month allowing water to be shifted to the towns and ranches most likely to run dry.
The Colorado River District, which represents 15 Western Slope counties, is running the emergency response effort and with financial support from the Colorado Water Conservation Board has anted up nearly $1 million to make sure even towns that can’t afford it, will have access to drinking water should it be needed.
To make the plan work, the river district opted not to lease portions of the water it normally holds in two high country reservoirs, Ruedi in the Roaring Fork Basin and Wolford Mountain, near Kremmling, on a first-come, first-served basis, as it normally does. Instead, the water is being doled out based on community need, with people and food production getting the water first, according to Andy Mueller, manager of the river district.
“We had a number of requests to lease that water out, but a lot of it would have gone to wealthy gentlemen rancher … but it wouldn’t have been for the common good,” he said.
Under Colorado law, water can only be diverted, stored and used for a designated purpose, such as city drinking water, farm irrigation, environmental streamflows, and industrial uses. Water rights are also tied to seasons, with some available only in the winter or summer.
But this spring, the river district, seeking more flexibility than the laws typically allow, went to Colorado State Engineer Jason Ullmann and asked for emergency authorization to use its water supplies differently. The state agreed, giving the district until the end of August to conduct emergency releases.
At the same time, large agricultural water users in the Grand Valley agreed to cut their water use in an effort to lessen strain on the Colorado River, and protect some of the small towns and ranchers who would have been cut off otherwise.
At issue is a special pool of water that lies within Green Mountain Reservoir, near Heeney, known as the historic users pool, or the HUP. The water is meant as a backup source that allows towns to pump wells and divert from streams even when their water rights are not in priority on the giant mainstem of the Colorado River.
But this year, because of the drought, Green Mountain’s HUP isn’t projected to fill, something that hasn’t occurred since the 1960s when the pool was created to protect mountain water users who had junior water rights, according to Ullmann. The emergency order means that even without the backup from Green Mountain, these communities and ranches will be unlikely to have their water supplies cut off.
The Eagle River Water and Sanitation District, which serves Vail and other small towns in Eagle County, has water in the HUP.
Working in the shadow of a nearly snowless winter, the Eagle River District moved early to enact watering restrictions, limiting outdoor use to just two days a week back in April, after March saw temperatures soar to 80 degrees and the patchy snow cover evaporate months earlier than normal.
“The writing was on the wall,” said Siri Roman, CEO of the Eagle River Water and Sanitation District. “This is a benefit of being in the headwaters and being a resort,” she said referring to the headwaters of the Colorado River. “Our whole community is so connected to snowpack and snow-water equivalencies and what that means. By February we knew there wasn’t enough snow to change the picture for us. We wanted to get to the decision-makers early and say the red lights are flashing. We need to prepare for a water shortage this summer.”
Eagle residents took conservation messages seriously
In Eagle, Tom Gosiorowski, the utilities manager, was standing in Brush Creek shooting videos for the town’s Facebook page, letting its 10,000 water customers know that the stream was the community’s only source of water and it wasn’t looking good. Eagle also relies on the HUP for some of its backup supplies.
“We are really wholly dependent on the streamflow and the water that is in the creek. It’s different from the big Front Range utilities” that have reservoirs, he said.
The district is limiting outdoor water use to two days a week and is sharply limiting the filling of hot tubs and swimming pools. Gosiorowski said he expects golf courses to be restricted as well as the summer wears on.
“We could get to a point where they can only irrigate tees and greens on the golf course,” he said. “We’ve never had to reduce use, but this is so extreme that I think there will be some.”
Gosiorowski said the town was still working on worst-case scenario planning for the end of summer, when streams are normally at their driest. “It’s hard to know exactly what’s going to happen. We’ve never experienced a drought to this degree in recorded history.”
Aspen has also enacted two-day-a-week watering and is prohibiting the filling of pools and hot tubs.
Grand Lake, another community that could be impacted by the shortages at Green Mountain, is not showing signs of strain yet, though officials there are concerned about lake levels.
Grand Lake, the deepest natural lake in Colorado, is linked to two other reservoirs, Shadow Mountain and Lake Granby. All three are part of Northern Water’s Colorado-Big Thompson Project. The C-BT delivers water from the Colorado River to 1 million customers and hundreds of farms on the northern Front Range.
Mike Cassio is a citizen activist who tracks Grand Lake’s health and works with a coalition of community groups and water agencies to help manage the system. Cassio said he’s worried about late summer water levels falling.
“We know Mother Nature controls everything,” Cassio said. If levels in Lake Granby and Shadow Mountain fall too low, water quality will suffer and that “will be the biggest issue.”
Kathy Chandler-Henry sits on the river district’s board and is a former Eagle County commissioner. She said the brown hillsides and dusty streambeds are unnerving.
“Before it was never a question,” she said. “There was always snowfall, there was always water. … Nothing like this year, when it was 80 degrees in March in Vail.”
Back in the 1980s, she said she participated in some regional planning efforts to help the Western Slope learn how to manage its growth. That there could be a winter without snow was unthinkable, if not downright funny.
“One planning consultant in the workshop asked folks what it would be like without snow,” she said. “And everyone just laughed.”
Despite this summer’s deep dry spell, water users say they are encouraged by recent light rains and cool weather. Just weeks ago, the HUP was projected to barely fill at all, but now the 66,000 acre-foot pool is rising again. It recently topped 33,000 acre-feet and is expected to move higher, providing some relief.
But Mueller, of the river district, said this summer is a dress rehearsal for what lies ahead as climate change and warmer temperatures continue to hamper mountain snows and spring stream levels.
“We are just beginning to grapple with the impacts of climate change. Science indicates that 30 years from now, this year may be on the wetter side.”
Last month, leaders from across Colorado’s Western Slope celebrated the release of $40 million in federal funding for the Shoshone Water Rights Preservation Project. At a time when Colorado is celebrating its 150th anniversary and our nation approaches its 250th birthday, this investment represents more than a funding milestone; it marks one of the most significant water preservation achievements our state has seen in generations. It also would not have happened without the determination of our congressional representative, Jeff Hurd, who made this project a priority and worked tirelessly to deliver results for the communities he serves. What Rep. Hurd understands is the same thing that has united more than 100 local, state, and federal elected officials and leaders in support of preserving these critical senior water rights: the future of the Western Slope is inseparable from the future of the Shoshone water rights. Protecting these rights protects the flows of the Colorado River, sustains our agricultural heritage, strengthens our recreation- and tourism-based economies, and helps preserve the rural communities that make this part of Colorado unique…
I believe that 150 years from now, our grandchildren’s grandchildren will look back on the Shoshone Water Rights project as a turning point. They will see a generation of leaders who understood what was at stake and chose to act. They will see communities that put aside differences, came together, and made a long-term investment in the future of the Colorado River. History will remember the Shoshone project as a major milestone in the stewardship of our most precious resources. From Western Slope ditch companies and water conservancy districts to local governments, state leaders, and members of Congress, countless individuals are still working together to turn this vision into reality. The lesson is an important one. On the Western Slope, progress happens when we pull in the same direction. It takes communities working in harness together to move mountains and sometimes to move water. And it takes elected leaders like Jeff Hurd who are willing to put their shoulders into that work. The Shoshone project demonstrates what is possible when rural Colorado speaks with one voice about protecting its water, its economy, and its future.
The main boat ramp at Wahweap Marina was unusable due to low water levels in Lake Powell in December 2021. Water levels are projected to soon fall even lower than this at the nation’s second-largest reservoir. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Western Slope lawmakers had harsh words for water managers at a state committee hearing last week, questioning whether Colorado has done enough to avoid a lawsuit with its downstream neighbors.
Colorado Sen. Dylan Roberts, a District 8 Democrat who represents several Western Slope counties, including Eagle, Grand, Garfield, Routt and Summit, asked Colorado’s lead negotiator, Becky Mitchell, whether the people of Colorado should have confidence that negotiations among the seven states that share the Colorado River have put the state in the best possible position. The states have been at an impasse for more than two years without a deal for future management as reservoirs continue to decline to record-low levels.
“My constituents just see fighting and intransigence,” Roberts said. “And it’s concerning to me, especially as a Western Slope lawmaker … that the strategy is just ‘Let’s hire more lawyers; we’re going to court no matter what.’ That doesn’t give me confidence, because I don’t think Colorado fares well when we go to court against Arizona and California and Nevada, throwing our fate to the nine justices on the U.S. Supreme Court.”
The remarks came at Thursday’s meeting of the state Water Resources and Agriculture Review Committee in Denver. Along with Mitchell, in the hot seat were state engineer Jason Ullmann and Amy Ostdiek, interstate section chief at the Colorado Water Conservation Board. The three are employees of the state Department of Natural Resources and have the backing of the Attorney General’s office in negotiations.
Roberts’ line of questioning seemed prompted by recent projections that show river flows dipping below a threshold that could trigger litigation. The Lower Basin states (Arizona, California and Nevada) believe that the Upper Basin states (Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming) are bound by the 1922 Colorado River Compact to deliver 82.5 million acre-feet of water over a 10-year rolling average. According to the Upper Colorado River Commission, the 10-year average will dip later this year to about 81.3 million acre-feet because of persistent drought.
Some experts believe that this amounts to a “tripwire” that could trigger a lawsuit from the Lower Basin states (Arizona, in particular, has been openly preparing for litigation) that could result in mandatory cuts in water use for the Upper Basin. Upper Basin water managers don’t subscribe to this interpretation, saying their states are only required not to deplete the river’s flows by more than 75 million acre-feet over 10 years.
Mitchell was reluctant to share details of Colorado’s legal strategy in a public forum, but she answered “absolutely” that her team’s work was putting Colorado in the best position. She said cutting back prematurely just to satisfy the Lower Basin’s interpretation of the century-old agreement would be bad for the state.
“If we initiate curtailment now, that is worse for Coloradans,” Mitchell said. “I think that is an important thing to remember.”
Wracked by drought, climate change and a management crisis, the situation on the river has never been more dire. The current management guidelines expire this year, and in the absence of a seven-state deal to share shortages and operate the nation’s two largest reservoirs, Lake Powell and Lake Mead, the feds are poised to step in. The U.S. Bureau of Reclamation plans to release a more detailed, short-term plan to manage the river for the next two years by mid-to-late summer.
State Rep. Julie McCluskie, a District 13 Democrat, said communities in her district have been living with the incredible angst, anxiety and pain of no snow and low reservoirs.
“The frustration I hear in my community is that we have missed multiple deadlines; they are becoming a funny joke,” McCluskie said. “There is such a fear about the lengthy litigation process, the fear of an outcome that is far worse for Colorado than a compromise that we have some control over.”
Lake Powell is formed by Glen Canyon Dam. In a concept pitched by a conservation organization, a flexible pool of water could be moved between Upper Basin reservoirs to wherever it’s needed most. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Conservation conversation is the ‘bare minimum’
Lawmakers also had strong words for state officials regarding conservation, saying legislators must be involved in the creation of any program.
Colorado has dabbled with pilot conservation programs in the past, but traditional programs that pay farmers and ranchers to temporarily cut back on water use remain controversial. This is especially true on the Western Slope, which has long been the target for these types of programs, and where some worry that they could harm rural communities if not done carefully. After two years of exploring how the state could set up a temporary, voluntary and compensated conservation program, officials shelved the idea in favor of focusing on drought-resilience initiatives.
“Other states out of the seven have very clear and actionable roles for their general assemblies, their legislatures,” McCluskie said. “We have less so, and yet the stakes are so high. So I beg of you, decision-makers, that it is essential that we be a part of those next steps.”
Julie McCluskie. Photo credit: Colorado General Assembly
Ostdiek said that any program would need to start slow and make sure it incorporates input from people throughout the state.
“I think that we can continue to assess as we go what we might need from you all, and what a program like that might look like,” Ostdiek said. “I think what we can certainly commit to is continuing this dialogue and continuing the discussion about what we might need to make this a success.”
In 2023, Colorado lawmakers tried to force stakeholders to come up with recommendations on conservation programs by creating a statewide task force, which met 10 times over six months. But the group failed to find a consensus, with some saying it was “premature” to create a conservation program.
As part of a post-2026 framework, the Upper Basin states plan to create a “contribution” pool in Lake Powell, which could be used to help stabilize the system, keeping water levels above critical thresholds to protect hydropower at Glen Canyon Dam and acting as an insurance pool against forced cutbacks. In a May 22 letter to federal officials, the Upper Basin states said they have a goal of saving 100,000 acre-feet by the end of water year 2028, but only if sufficient federal funding is available and hydrologic conditions allow.
Three Upper Basin states have different methods for contributing to this pool: Utah has its own demand management program; Wyoming lawmakers passed a law this year allowing for a conservation program; and New Mexico plans to release water from Navajo Reservoir.
But precisely how — and how much — Colorado would contribute to this pool is unclear. The state’s share of the Upper Basin’s allocation is 51.75%, meaning Colorado could be on the hook for 51,750 acre-feet.
And ensuring that saved water actually gets into a pool in Lake Powell remains part of the problem. Currently, conserved water that stays in the river can just be picked up by a downstream user, with no net gain to Lake Powell. Colorado officials say they do not have the authority to “shepherd” water past other water users to the state line unless it is specifically for compact compliance. [ed. emphasis mine]
Last year, some Delta County ranchers asked lawmakers to take up the issue and pass a law that would address this issue, allowing water users to conserve and get credit for contributing water to a Lake Powell pool. But legislators did not take up a bill in the 2026 session.
Colorado officials told lawmakers they were continuing to explore what a program might look like and whether legislation would be needed.
Roberts said conversations with the legislature should be the bare minimum if Colorado is going to have a conservation program.
“If the department or any agency of the state were to pursue a conserved consumptive use program or demand management program that used state tax dollars to pay for it and did not go through the legislature in a formal process, I imagine that all of us on this panel and many of our colleagues would raise holy hell about the unilateral decision-making coming from Denver about programs impacting all parts of the state,” Roberts said. “So, please, let’s just cut that off at my recommendation. Let’s work together on this.”
Officials opened the hearing by highlighting the impacts of this year’s severe drought on Colorado’s farmers and ranchers, noting how even some of the most senior water users will experience shortages as streamflows dwindle. Orchards in the North Fork Valley and row crops in the Uncompahgre River Valley already have unprecedented shortages.
In response to Roberts’ concerns about the failure to find a compromise among the seven states, Mitchell posed a high-stakes rhetorical question: “I would ask, ‘What else do you think we can give?’”
The Colorado River Basin spans seven U.S. states and is divided into Upper and Lower Basins. Lake Powell, upstream from the Grand Canyon, and Lake Mead, near Las Vegas, are the two principal reservoirs in the Colorado River water-supply system. (Bureau of Reclamation)
Active weather delivered heavy showers and locally severe thunderstorms east of the Rockies, with a few exceptions. Some of the heaviest rain, locally 4 to 8 inches or more, fell from portions of the central and southern Plains into the Ohio and Tennessee Valleys, leading to pockets of flash flooding and lowland flooding. At least five flood-related fatalities were reported in Kentucky and Tennessee. Exceptions to the wet pattern included the western Gulf Coast region, parts of the Southeast, and an area stretching from the east-central Plains into the lower Great Lakes region. At the start of the drought-monitoring period, hot, dry weather dominated the West. However, a pattern change soon delivered cooler weather across the western U.S., along with widespread Northwestern precipitation. Wet snow blanketed some high-elevation sites in the northern Rockies. During the transition from hot to cool weather, gusty winds and low humidity levels favored wildfire ignition and rapid expansion, especially in portions of the eastern Great Basin and Four Corners States. At the end of June, more than a dozen active Western wildfires had scorched more than 10,000 acres of vegetation apiece, with the largest being the 94,000-acre Cottonwood Fire near Beaver, Utah. On June 28, three federal firefighters perished in the Knowles Fire, west of Grand Junction, Colorado…
Like other areas in the central and eastern U.S., a patchwork quilt of showers provided drought relief in some areas. Some of the heaviest rain, occasionally accompanied by thunderstorm-driven high winds and large hail, fell in portions of all six states in the region. However, southeastern Nebraska was one area that missed all the rain. One of the most impressive outbreaks of severe weather occurred on the night of June 28-29, when a swath of wind damage stretched from northwestern Nebraska into southeastern North Dakota and beyond. An unofficial wind gust to 131 mph was clocked in Hyde County, South Dakota, while a gust to 112 mph was recorded at a mesonet station near Ree Heights in Hand County, South Dakota. Despite all the rain, the U.S. Department of Agriculture reported that rangeland and pastures continued to struggle. On June 28, statewide rangeland and pastures were rated 66% very poor in Nebraska, along with 63% in Colorado…
Colorado Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 30, 2026.
During the transition from hot weather to cooler conditions, gusty winds fanned recently ignited wildfires across portions of the eastern Great Basin and the Four Corners States. Fire ignition and spread was also abetted by dry thunderstorms, low humidity levels, and near-record to record-setting dry fuels. Pockets of worsening drought were observed in the Four Corners States, including a notable expansion of extreme drought (D3) across the northern half of New Mexico. In the Northwest, however, heavy precipitation—including high-elevation snow—eased drought from central Idaho into western and northern Montana. Less significant precipitation fell in the Pacific Northwest. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture on June 28, Western States reporting rangeland and pastures rated at least one-half very poor to poor included Arizona (70%) and Colorado (63%), while states with topsoil moisture more than one-half very short to short were Colorado (89%), Wyoming (81%), Utah (69%), New Mexico (68%), Nevada (65%), and Oregon (62%)…
The South experienced a second consecutive week of widespread reductions in drought coverage. In fact, flash flooding and lowland flooding plagued some of the hardest-hit areas, including the Arklatex and the southeastern corner of Oklahoma, where 2-week rainfall totals locally exceeded 10 inches. Much of the northern tier of the region, from Oklahoma to Tennessee, also received multiple rounds of heavy rain. Although mostly dry weather prevailed in south-central Texas, some additional improvements were introduced, as impacts of recent downpours on long-term drought became more apparent. By June 28, the U.S. Department of Agriculture indicated that statewide topsoil moisture in agricultural regions was 28% surplus in Louisiana…
Looking Ahead
Hot, humid weather will persist through the Independence Day weekend in most areas along and east of a line from the southern High Plains into the upper Midwest. Some of the most extreme heat will affect the middle Atlantic States, parts of which will experience multiple days with triple-digit (100-degree) heat. Although the Midwest will remain hot, temperatures in most areas will barely reach stressful thresholds (95°F of higher) for corn and soybeans entering the weather-sensitive reproductive stage of development. Furthermore, many Midwestern crops are progressing through the hot spell with adequate to locally surplus soil moisture. Meaningful precipitation during the next 5 days should be limited to parts of Florida’s peninsula and the upper Midwest; both areas could see 1 to 4 inches, with locally higher totals. Other areas of the central and eastern U.S. should receive spotty thunderstorms, while little or no rain will accompany a Western warming trend.
The NWS 6- to 10-day outlook for July 7 – 11 calls for the likelihood of hotter-than-normal weather nationwide, except for near-normal temperatures along and near the Pacific Coast, extending as far south as central California. Meanwhile, odds will be tilted toward near- or above-normal rainfall across most of the country, with drier-than-normal conditions expected to be limited to the Great Basin and environs.
US Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 30, 2026.
While the Trump administration 2.0 has so far rexfrained from trying to shrink or eliminate national monuments, its non-executive-branch proxies just keep on trying.This week the 10th Circuit federal appeals court issued a decision keeping alive Utah’s lawsuit challenging Joe Biden’s 2021 re-establishment of Grand Staircase-Escalante and Bears Ears national monuments following Trump 1.0’s shrinkage of the same.
The state and Garfield and Kane counties filed one lawsuit in 2022, with the Blue Ribbon Coalition and other parties filing their own suit. In 2023, a federal court dismissed both lawsuits; that ruling was appealed.
This week’s decision confirmed the dismissal of the Blue Ribbon suit. But it also determined that presidential national monument designations under the Antiquities Act are subject to federal judicial review, and sent Utah’s case back to the district court.
***
Photo credit: Jonathan P. Thompson/The Land Desk
The Bureau of Land Management is moving forward with three travel management plans in Utah that will determine which roads, trails, and areas of the respective field offices’ jurisdiction are open to motorized vehicles. Given that the stated aim is to bring the plans in line with Trump’s recent executive order rescinding restrictions on motorized vehicles on public lands, we can assume that the idea here is to expand motorized access to some remote areas. The plans include:
The Moab Field Office has released preliminary alternatives for the Dolores River Travel Management Plan on about 127,000 acres in Grand County, Utah, east of Moab and abutting the Colorado border. This would include roads along the Utah section of the Lower Dolores River, and on mesas and in canyons on either side of it. Maps of the alternatives can be found here. This one is not yet open to public comment.
The Kanab Field Office has released a draft environmental assessment for its Trail Canyon Travel Management Plan on nearly 330,000 acres in Kane County. It is open to public input.
And the Vernal Field Office has also released a draft review for the Dinosaur North Travel Management Plan. The public comment period is open.
***
I typically stay away from electoral politics, especially the horse-race part of it and polls and such. But sometimes a particular contest or candidate can provide a lens on bigger trends or phenomena, and so are worth looking into.
The latest race that has caught my interest is the one to replace Sen. Cynthia Lummis, the Wyoming Republican who is retiring at the end of this term. Since it’s Wyoming in 2026, it’s safe to assume the winner will be a Republican (though this wasn’t always the case), meaning the primary is the contest that matters. The front-runner, I suppose, is Rep. Harriet Hageman, the Trump sycophant and MAGA extremist who unseated Liz Cheney back in 2022 after Cheney failed to show adequate fealty to Trump.
But it’s one of her challengers that I’m interested in: Sam Mead. Mead is a fifth-generation Wyoming rancher, comes from a long line of Republican Wyoming politicians, and is the nephew of former governor Matt Mead. Mead is young (36), charismatic, has strong conservative credentials on fiscal issues and gun-rights, and a background in engineering and business, having run a whiskey distillery in Kirby. But what really distinguishes him from his opponents is his willingness to speak out against some of Trump’s policies, and his priority on protecting public lands and keeping them in the public’s hands.
Mead, in other words, appears to be an old-school, pre-MAGA Western Republican. He reminds me a bit of Wyoming Gov. Mark Gordon, back before extreme polarization pulled him more and more rightward and into MAGA land. Wyoming’s primary is on Aug. 18.
Meanwhile, Utah just held its primaries, with some surprising results. Utah State Senate President Stuart Adams, a Republican, was defeated by challenger Stephanie Hollist. Adams was a strong supporter of the controversial proposed Stratos Project data center complex on the north shore of the Great Salt Lake. Also, incumbent Rep. Celeste Maloy trounced challenger Phil Lyman in the GOP primary for the 3rd Congressional District, with about 70% of the vote.
While Maloy was endorsed by Trump, and has plenty of extreme views, Lyman is the more MAGA of the two. And Trump pardoned Lyman after his conviction for leading an OHV rally down Recapture Canyon in the southeastern part of the state. Political consultant Taylor Morgan told the Utah News Dispatch that Lyman’s resounding defeat showed that his “very angry, very conspiracy-based, populist, toxic form of Republicanism (is) frankly wearing very thin, especially here in Utah.” Let’s hope he’s right!
Pumpjack in the Aneth oil field. Jonathan P. Thompson photo.
I wrote Tuesday about how the Trump administration is eviscerating Biden-era oil and gas rules aimed at reducing methane emissions and ensuring companies clean up their own messes rather than foisting them onto the taxpayers. Now the changes are open for public comment.
Here are a few of the changes Trump and co. are proposing:
Bring back pre-Biden reclamation bond rates, which amount to just over $2,000 per well, which is insane, since the cost to reclaim and plug a single well easily can exceed $100,000. These numbers incentivized petroleum companies to walk away, forsake the bond, and abandon the well, leaving the tab for the taxpayers.
Reduce the current $10 minimum per-acre bid for leasing public land to $2, restore noncompetitive leasing, and slash royalties and filing fees for oil and gas companies.
Implement a new fee for protesting leases. And they plan to cut the 90-day public input period to just 10 days. In other words, they’re trying to cut out the public from decisions regarding public lands.
Gut the waste prevention rule (they wanted to roll it back altogether, but chose to revise it instead because it wasn’t clear which rule would replace it) by removing limits on royalty-free flaring and killing requirements that companies develop leak detection and repair plans.
Trump’s changes to the waste prevention rule will turn back the regulatory clock to the days when oil and gas operations on federal and tribal land vented and flared an average of 44.2 billion cubic feet annually of methane, which is usually accompanied by nasty volatile organic compounds and other dangerous compounds. That’s as bad for the climate as burning around 9 million tons of coal. But it also amounts to lighting money — your money — on fire and throwing it away. That vented methane is basically the same stuff you pay for to run your furnace, or to generate much of the electricity running through the grid. And since operators don’t pay royalties on gas they throw away, that cost American taxpayers some $166 million in lost revenue over a decade.
The result of all of this (and more) will be to rob taxpayers and sacrifice public lands and the climate to subsidize the same energy corporations that are raking in obscene profits thanks to Trump’s disastrous war on Iran. The administration argues that their proposed changes will save petroleum corporations operating on federal lands $17 million annually in compliance costs.
That sounds like a lot of money, until you realize that high oil prices have driven corporation’s profits to absurd highs. During the first quarter of 2026 alone, ExxonMobil raked in $8.8 billion in underlying, adjusted profits. Somehow, I don’t think several million in compliance costs is going to deter them from drilling.
🐟 Colorado River Chronicles 💧
Many of the West’s streams have entered their summer low-flow phase, a period that falls between the end of snowmelt and the beginning of the monsoon, while irrigation diversions are in full-swing. One of the most dramatic cases of this is, perhaps, the Colorado River itself as it flows through Grand Junction. This morning, the river was running at just 366 cubic feet per second near Palisade, which as reader Dave Grossman pointed out is low enough to allow someone to walk across the sprawling river bed.
Some other notably low flows:
Animas River in Farmington, NM: 104 cfs.
Dolores River at Bedrock, CO: .76 cfs (effectively dry)
White River near Watson, UT: 76.4 cfs
Green River above Flaming Gorge: 551 cfs
Green River below Flaming Gorge: 1,590 cfs
San Juan River near Caracas, CO (above Navajo Reservoir): 85 cfs
Colorado River near Hite, UT: 4,300 cfs
This has reduced daily average inflows into Lake Powell to about 4,800 cfs and dropping. It would be much lower than that, except that flows are being bolstered by upstream reservoir releases. Either way, inflows are far less than Glen Canyon Dam releases, which are averaging about 8,500 cfs daily (approx. 6,500 cfs at night and 10,600 cfs during the day). This disparity, exacerbated by reservoir evaporation, is lowering Lake Powell’s surface level, which currently sits at about 3,526.75 feet. Without substantial upstream rain, it will likely drop to 3,520 feet by early August.
📖 Reading (and watching) Room 🧐
Matt Jenkins wrote an excellent overview for the Water Education Foundation of the potential “Grand Bargain” on the Colorado River, which would require both the Upper and Lower basins to give up some of their Colorado River Compact claims not only to keep the system from collapsing, but also to avoid litigation.
The piece lays out the fact that the Compact is not only outdated, but also internally conflicted, in that it apportions the Upper Basin 7.5 million acre-feet of water per year, while also obligating it to allow the same amount of water to flow to the Lower Basin annually. That’s just not possible these days, given that there’s far less than 15 MAF in the river.
Southeastern Utah is known mostly as a mining hotspot for uranium, copper, with lithium emerging more recently. But it also hosts a potash extraction industry, and at least one company is looking to expand the potash footprint. Sage Potash says it has secured permits from Utah and San Juan County to begin drilling at is Sage Plain Potash project.
While this is only exploratory drilling, it’s notable in that it’s not occurring in the Lisbon Valley or near existing potash sites near Moab. Rather it is on the Great Sage Plain southeast of Monticello, in the archaeologically rich zone north of Hovenweep National Monument.
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Prior to mining, snowmelt and rain seep into natural cracks and fractures, eventually emerging as a freshwater spring (usually). Graphic credit: Jonathan Thompson
Yet another reason to worry about spewing more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere via fossil fuel burning: It can exacerbate acid mine drainage, the phenomenon that leads to toxic heavy metal loading in streams and other waterways. That’s the conclusion of a peer-reviewed study published in Communications Earth & Environment this April.
Acid mine drainage occurs when a mine excavation exposes once-buried sulfide-bearing rocks such as iron pyrite (FeS2) to oxygen and water. The hydrogen, sulfide, and oxygen come together to form sulfuric acid (H2SO4). Thus, the water becomes acidic, or its pH drops. The acidity dissolves heavy metals and the water picks them up. As the pH level of the water drops below 4.8, acidophilic bacteria begin feeding off the metals, releasing more acid into the solution and causing metal loading to occur up to 1 million times faster than in water with higher pH. Metal loading is bad for fish and other aquatic life.
The study found that elevated atmospheric carbon dioxide levels enhance the acidophilic bacterial activity, which accelerates iron and sulfur oxidation, acid formation, and metal loading. Zinc and cadmium, both of which are harmful to aquatic life, are more sensitive than other metals to rising carbon dioxide levels. Zinc loading is especially problematic in the Upper Animas watershed in southwestern Colorado.
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Okay, I really don’t care that Anfield bought its first underground haul truck for its Velvet-Wood uranium mine in the Lisbon Valley of southeastern Utah. But I found this press release interesting for another tidbit: The haul truck was built by Young’s Machine Company, located in Monticello, Utah. I never knew Monticello had this sort of manufacturing industry. I gotta say, it’s kind of cool.
The Hoback River joins the Snake River following a landslide upstream on June 18, 2026. Robert Frodeman photo.
🚣🏽 Water Watch 🌊
Water Quality in the Greater Yellowstone
A Guest Post by Robert Frodeman
Four million people visit Teton County, Wyoming, each year. They come to hike, float, and ski, snap pictures under the elk antler arches, and to partake in the myths of the American West. As the sign at the top of Teton Pass says, “Welcome Stranger. Yonder is Jackson Hole, the Last of the Old West.” Visitors expect to find a pristine environment. They don’t expect water quality problems reminiscent of a developing nation.
Teton County has some of the best drinking water in the country. Or most of Teton County does: Hoback, in the southern part of the County, has a nitrate problem. Nitrate is a health risk — most acutely to infants under six months, in whom nitrate is converted to nitrite by gut bacteria, interfering with oxygen transport in the blood and causing methemoglobinemia (blue baby syndrome). Many of the water systems in Hoback are on their last legs: two weeks ago, I had no running water and then a boil order at my home.
Jackson is the town, Jackson Hole is the valley that runs north of town in front of the Tetons. (‘Hole’ was what mountain men called a valley.) If you drill 20,000 feet into the valley floor you will hit the same sandstone layer that sits on top of the Tetons. This implies that the Tetons have risen some 25,000 feet over the last 10 million years.
Of course, mountains come down as they go up: the Tetons have been shedding sediment across all that time, piling up thousands of feet of gravel on the valley floor. Still more gravel was brought by the glaciers that flowed down from the Yellowstone Plateau. The Snake River meanders in front of the Tetons, but much of the river passes unseen below the surface, forming what is known as the Snake River Aquifer.
In effect, Jackson and Jackson Hole sit on top of a huge bathtub filled with gravel and water. This provides an abundant source of high-quality water for the town. But the bathtub only extends so far. The southern rim of the tub comes up at Munger Mountain five miles south of town. This is where the Yellowstone glacier stopped, and where the Snake River Canyon begins, which runs for 30 miles to Alpine and the Mormon communities of Star Valley.
Hoback lies four miles south of Munger Mountain — beyond the reach of the aquifer. Local residents must drill for their water. Local wells reach 200 feet down to the Bear River Formation. The water isn’t ideal – it’s brackish and can have a distinct sulfur smell (as do some of the local hot springs). The groundwater is also contaminated from horse farms and pig farms and (mainly) septic tanks and leach fields. Septic tanks can leak, and there is not enough biotic activity at this elevation and latitude for leach fields to function well. The result is nitrate levels in our drinking water which sometimes exceed EPA daily maximums.
Hoback is distinctive not only because of its geology. The billionaires live elsewhere in the County. There are two trailer parks nearby. Historically, local politicians have directed their attention to the Town of Jackson, Wilson, and the ski resort of Teton Village. But this has changed in recent years. Carlin Gerard of the Teton Conservation District formed a Hoback Stakeholders Group in 2019 to highlight drinking water problems. Covid disrupted that effort, but then a local non-profit called Protect Our Water Jackson Hole brought its energy and resources to southern Teton County.
In 2023 Hoback residents formed a water and sewer district. The district has now raised $7 million from the County and the State to build a municipal drinking water system. Water will be drawn from the Snake River just above the confluence with the Hoback. Construction should begin this fall and be done in a year or two depending on the weather.
At first it will only serve 125 residents: the district was made small out of fear of opposition. Teton County is solid blue, but past attempts had failed because of Hoback’s history of Red State, don’t-tread-on-me politics. In any case, it turned out that the demographic transition had already occurred: when the election was held the vote was 36-0 in favor. And there are now plans to annex a new affordable housing development that Teton County hopes will help address the local housing shortage.
Of course, the new system will only isolate residents from the nitrate problem. The environment will remain polluted, and people outside the district will still be on wells. The district has begun to price out a wastewater system, which is liable to be quite expensive. But you’d hope for nothing less for the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem – and officials would hate to see an article in the New York Times about Teton County’s leaky septic systems.
Map of Greys River in Wyoming, United States. By Feydey – Nasa World Wind 1.3.5 public domain NLT Landsat 7 satellite photo, layered with PD vmap0 vector data. Image:Map_of_USA_highlighting_Wyoming.png was used for the smaller image., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1589723
Click the link to access the report (Jeff Lukas and Juli Vano). Here’s an excerpt:
As water utilities expand climate considerations across business functions and climate hazards—amid a rapidly growing landscape of climate model datasets—selecting data that are truly “fit for purpose” has become increasingly complex. To address this, the Water Utility Climate Alliance (WUCA) Climate Modeling Work Group sought to develop several case studies that would illuminate the factors behind the selection, processing, and application of climate model datasets in planning analyses.
The purpose of the case studies was not to identify general “best practices” or create formal guidance, which has been done elsewhere (here,1here,2 and here3). Rather, it was to capture the specific circumstances and priorities that drove each utility’s decisions—what climate data to use, in what ways, and for what analyses—providing practical, real-world examples for other utilities to learn from. The case studies were informed by interviews with key utility staff and consultants as well as supporting project documents.
Each of the four case studies follows a WUCA member utility through selecting and processing climate model data, establishing a data workflow, conducting project analyses, and applying the results to planning and decision-making. Three of the projects centered on future water supply and/or demand, and the fourth focused on infrastructure flood risk. Two projects were complete at the time of writing, and the other two were in their final phases. Each case study begins with a brief overview of the utility, followed by sections addressing:
Project context
Project methods, including data selection and processing
Results of the analyses
Use of results in decision support (intended and realized)
Lessons learned
Each case study also includes links to additional resources that describe the project, climate data, and workflow—such as utility reports and peer-reviewed studies—and a utility contact for further questions.
In all four projects, the workflows began with an ensemble of runs from 15 to 35 CMIP5 or CMIP6 climate models. From there, they followed quite different paths in processing those model runs to construct discrete climate and hydrology scenarios for the subsequent impact modeling (Table 1), illustrating that there is no one “right” approach to using climate models to effectively inform planning. Unsurprisingly, the results from all four projects showed the potential for greater climate-related stresses and risks to the utility in the decades ahead—more severe droughts, larger flood events, reduced water supply, and/or increased water demand.
Rio Grande Water Conservation District General Manager Cleave Simpson outside the courtroom as the water trial over the Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management for Subdistrict 1 opened Monday at the Alamosa County Judicial Center. Credit: The Citizen
Rio Grande Water Conservation District General Manager Cleave Simpson testified it’s not a foregone conclusion that groundwater irrigators would pay the $500 per acre-foot fee for overpumping but have other options under the Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management for Subdistrict 1.
Simpson was the first to take the witness stand Monday in a state water trial that will determine if the Subdistrict 1 plan will go into effect. The plan, which calls for Subdistrict 1’s groundwater withdrawals not to exceed the amount of natural surface water that comes into the Upper Rio Grande Basin, has been approved by the state engineer and now is being tested in state water court.
Opponents to the plan argue the state engineer’s review was not thorough, did not follow Colorado water law and should not be allowed to go into effect. Other opponents have more nuanced arguments around surface water credits.
The linchpin to the subdistrict’s Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management is the overpumping fee, which some farmers and ranchers argue will put them out of business. Simpson testified that groundwater irrigators can purchase surface water credits from neighboring operations or submit their own plan of augmentation for approval from the state without incurring the subdistrict’s overpumping fee.
A 2018 letter sent by then-State Engineer Kevin Rein that warned of mass groundwater curtailment without progress on the unconfined aquifer “created a heightened sense of urgency,” within the Rio Grande Water Conservation District and Subdistrict 1, Simpson testified.
The federal government’s voluntary Conservation Reserve Enhancement Program became one program the water conservation district shifted into to reduce the amount of productive acres farmed. A Fourth Plan of Water Management for Subdistrict 1 became another, Simpson said.
The water trial comes three and a half years after the subdistrict water management plan was adopted by Simpson’s Rio Grande Water Conservation District board. The effort is tied to recovering the unconfined aquifer of the Upper Rio Grande Basin and restoring it to sustainable levels.
A group of subdistrict irrigators organized under the Northeast Water Users Association and Sustainable Water Augmentation Group are opposing the plan. They irrigate on 11,000 acres in the Center area. Also in opposition are owners of the L Cross Ranch, who rely on La Garita Creek and Carnero Creek as water sources in addition to their own groundwater pumping.
The trial will continue through July.
Rio Grande and Pecos River basins. Map credit: By Kmusser – Own work, Elevation data from SRTM, drainage basin from GTOPO [1], U.S. stream from the National Atlas [2], all other features from Vector Map., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11218868
Governor Clarence J. Morley signing Colorado River compact and South Platte River compact bills, Delph Carpenter standing center. Unidentified photographer. Date 1925. From the CSU Water Archives
Click the link to read the article on The Denver Post website (Elise Schmelzer). Here’s an excerpt:
June 29, 2026
The U.S. Supreme Court will weigh in on a legal battle over one of Colorado’s critical water sources as a neighboring state seeks to use more water from the South Platte River. The nation’s highest court on Monday announced it would hear the case, in which Nebraska officials claim Colorado water administrators are violating a century-old water compact by failing to send enough of the river’s water across the border. They also say Colorado officials are interfering in the neighboring state’s efforts to build a canal that would allow it to take more of the river’s water. Colorado Attorney General Phil Weiser on Monday denied Nebraska officials’ allegations that the Centennial State was violating the 1923 South Platte River Compact.
“Colorado is complying with the South Platte River Compact and not interfering with Nebraska’s efforts to build the Perkins County Canal,” Weiser said in a statement. “Today’s court decision merely opens the door for Nebraska to bring its claims against Colorado. Nebraska’s burden to prove those claims is incredibly high and we will vigorously defend Colorado’s full entitlements under the compact.”
Perkins County Canal Project Area. Credit: Nebraska Department of Natural Resources
Nebraska officials last year surprised Colorado leaders by taking their allegations to the Supreme Court. The two states had been meeting for months to discuss the proposed canal project. The Supreme Court asked the Office of the Solicitor General to weigh in on whether it should take the case. In May, the federal office — tasked with representing federal interests at the Supreme Court — argued that the court should decide Nebraska’s claim that Colorado is not sending enough water over the state border, but deny consideration of Nebraska’s other issues…Controversy over compact-obligated water deliveries between two states is a “quintessential” Supreme Court question, the brief states. The solicitor general’s office suggested appointing a special master — a subject-matter expert outside of the nine justices — to handle the issue. The solicitor general’s brief argues that the Supreme Court should not hear Nebraska’s arguments that Colorado is obstructing its efforts to build the Perkins County Canal because, the office said, Nebraska has not identified any actions by Colorado officials that have substantially interfered in the project. Other potential canal-related problems identified by Nebraska are hypothetical, the solicitor general said, as the state has just begun the permitting process and, therefore, is not ready for Supreme Court consideration. It’s unclear which issues the Supreme Court will consider as it hears the case. The order Monday allows Nebraska to file its complaint against Colorado.
The South Platte River Basin is shaded in yellow. Source: Tom Cech, One World One Water Center, Metropolitan State University of Denver.
Field in Palo Verde, California. Photographed by Robert Marcos.
By Robert Marcos, photojournalist
If the U.S. Department of the Interior (through the Bureau of Reclamation), decided that the most immediate way to stabilize water levels in Lake Mead and Lake Powell was for them to release less water, one way to achieve that would be to start buying up the water rights of farms in the Lower Basin. While this would save an amazing amount of water it would come at the expense of rural agricultural economies and domestic food production. But if the Bureau of Reclamation acted “surgically” and bought up water rights from major forage producers first, it would primarily disrupt only the livestock and dairy industries.
Key Benefits
Maximum “Bang for the Buck” Water Savings
Eliminates the largest single drain. Alfalfa is an incredibly water-thirsty crop which often requires up to 4 to 5 acre-feet of water per acre annually. A targeted buyout of just a portion of forage land could entirely wipe out the river’s structural deficit, leaving millions of acre-feet in Lake Mead.1
Saves vegetablesfor people. The Lower Basin (especially the Imperial and Yuma valleys) produces roughly 90% of the United States’ winter leafy greens. Leaving these high-value food crops untouched avoids an immediate national grocery crisis.2
More productive use of water. Fruit orchards and fresh vegetables generate much higher economic revenue per gallon of water than forage crops, preserving the highest-yield sectors of the agricultural economy.3
Easier target for public policy. Public and political support is much easier to secure when buyouts target cattle feed – a large portion of which is exported overseas to countries like Japan, China, and Saudi Arabia, rather than the reduction of fresh food for American families.4
Key Detriments
Negatively impacts Southwest Dairy and Beef Industries
Triggers a regional feed shortage. California and Arizona are major dairy producers. Local dairies rely heavily on a constant, nearby supply of fresh alfalfa to sustain milk production.5
Drives up dairy and meat prices. Moving forage production out of the Southwest forces dairies to truck feed from other states. The increased transportation costs will drive up consumer prices for milk, cheese, and beef.6
Eliminates operational flexibility. Farmers often use alfalfa as a financial safety net. It is cheap to plant, highly resilient, and requires very little human labor compared to vegetables.7
Increases farming risk. Without forage as a low-risk fallback option, farmers become entirely exposed to the highly volatile, expensive, and labor-intensive market of fresh produce.8
Harms rural agricultural hubs. While large cities often have many sources of employment, rural areas that are more focused on ranching, feedlots, dairies, forage sales, and the transport of livestock – would suffer from a wholesale loss of water.9
Massive Water Savings: Forage crops are incredibly water-intensive. Completely retiring the water rights of a significant portion of Lower Basin alfalfa fields would easily save 1 to 2 million acre-feet of water annually
The most significant water trial the San Luis Valley has ever seen opens this Monday morning in Courtroom A of the Alamosa County Judicial Center. At stake is the Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management for Subdistrict 1 of the Rio Grande Water Conservation District, which calls for a dramatic shift designed to match the amount of groundwater pumping to the amount of natural surface coming into the subdistrict.
Producers in Subdistrict 1 are under pressure to recover the unconfined aquifer of the Upper Rio Grande Basin, but so far the subdistrict has made little to no progress in creating a sustainable aquifer. The trial is scheduled for five weeks before Colorado Water Court Division 3 Judge Michael Gonzales.
The San Luis Valley’s highly-anticipated district water court case — the water trial of this century if you will — was originally scheduled to last five weeks beginning in January. It was pushed back six months to this summer due to the departure of a key witness in the fallout from a series of contentious October emails.
The Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management by Subdistrict 1 in the Rio Grande Water Conservation District has lived a precarious life without ever being implemented, going back to 2022 when it was originally crafted by subdistrict managers and January 2023 when it was adopted by Rio Grande Water Conservation District board.
Later came approval by the state engineer, and then after objections were filed against the new amended plan, Colorado Water Court Division 3 Judge Michael Gonzales set a trial date to commence on Jan. 5, 2026, and to last five weeks.
That is, until the week before Thanksgiving when Gonzales scrapped the January date in favor of June 29, 2026, some four years after the plan was first approved at the subdistrict level and the unconfined aquifer still in a historic decline. The judge did so after a series of emails sent by a key expert witness for the main objectors to the plan surfaced.
The effect is that a new plan to recover the Rio Grande’s unconfined aquifer, which has been approved at the local and state levels but still requires sign-off from district water court, remains in limbo.
Following filings by the Northeast Water Users Association and Sustainable Water Augmentation Group requesting a six-month continuance to the start of the trial, and the Rio Grande Water Conservation District and state Division of Water Resources objecting to the request, Gonzales ruled the two main objectors challenging the new aquifer recovery plan had good reason to ask for a six-month continuance after Taylor Adams, an environmental and water resources engineer for Hydros Consulting in Boulder, resigned from the case due to “personal and family circumstances.”
Adams was set to challenge the Subdistrict 1 water plan on a variety of engineering fronts until a series of emails he sent in October to State Engineer Jason Ullman and Senior Assistant Attorney General Preston Hartmann came to light. In one email, he tells Ullman, “Also, GFY.” In another, he emails that he is “no longer interested in anything other than publicly exploding the rampant corruption at DWR and the AG Office.”
And in an email sent Sunday, Oct. 19, to Attorney General Phil Weiser, Adams writes, “We haven’t met, but I understand that you’re running for governor of Colorado. You should know that if you continue this pursuit without addressing the persistent and laughable perjury that has been carried out in your name by Preston Hatman (sic) and Jason Ullman, you will be the subject of my attention throughout your campaign…”
The Rio Grande Water Conservation District asked Gonzales not to delay the water court proceedings due to the urgency to recover the unconfined aquifer and the lack of “credible evidence that demonstrates that Mr. Adams is unavailable. Rather, they now assert that he ‘should not be pressured into returning to the case at the risk of further harm to his mental health.’”
“In any event,” district water attorneys argued in their objection to a trial delay, “none of this changes the fact that the unconfined aquifer is still over 1.3 million acre-feet below the water levels measured in 1976, and more than 830,000 acre-feet below the water levels previously determined by this Court and the Colorado Supreme Court to be sustainable.”
State Engineer Jason Ullman, consultant Taylor Adams, Colorado Water Court Division 3 Judge Michael Gonzales
Subdistrict 1 is home to the San Luis Valley’s richest crops of potatoes, barley and alfalfa. Without recovery of the shallow aquifer, the state is threatening mass shut down of groundwater pumping wells and requires both a master plan and annual replacement plans to show recovery efforts.
The subdistrict’s proposed Fourth Plan of Water Management is its most drastic effort yet to meet the state’s orders. The new plan, crafted in 2022 and adopted by the Rio Grande Water Conservation District in January 2023, is designed to “match the amount of groundwater pumping to the amount of water coming into the subdistrict.”
It does this through a 1-to-1 augmentation, meaning for every acre-foot of water used, an acre-foot has to be returned to the unconfined aquifer through recharging ponds. The amended plan relies on covering any groundwater withdrawals with natural surface water or the purchase of surface water credits.
Farmers in the subdistrict have expressed support for the plan, which includes a $500 per acre-foot overpumping fee that farmers would pay if they exceed the amount of natural surface water tied to the property in their farming operations.
Objections are coming from farmers who do not have natural surface water coming into their property and around the steep fee for purchasing surface water credits from a neighboring operation to offset groundwater pumping irrigation. Both proponents and opponents of the plan say the $500 per acre-foot overpumping fee could put farmers who rely on groundwater pumping out of business.
The five-week water trial will sort through these issues in much more granular detail. Any new strategy to recover the Valley’s ailing aquifer will shift into 2027 at the soonest.
Below is the Precipitation Accumulation in South Platte graph from the NRCS for June 29, 2026. Precipitation is at 73% of the median (no change one week) and 58% of the water year median (up 1% one week), this morning. There are 93 days left in the water year.
There is a slight chance for showers and thunderstorms Sunday in the central mountains, otherwise breezy and warm. There is a slight chance for showers and thunderstorms Sunday in the northern mountains, otherwise breezy and warm. There is a slight chance for showers and thunderstorms Sunday down here, about 101 miles from Leadville, near the Willow Fire. From the Summit Daily: “A wildfire that grew to more than 1,000 acres in a matter of hours near Leadville in the evening Sunday, June 28, sent smoke rolling into Summit County and led emergency officials to ask residents not to call 911 unless they detect a distinct column of smoke or flames. Summit County’s emergency alert system notified residents shortly before 6 p.m. that smoke from what has been dubbed the Willow Fire had entered the county and may remain visible through the evening and coming days…The Willow Fire ignited Sunday afternoon around 3:30 p.m. on U.S. Forest Service land near Twin Mounds below Mount Massive — about two miles northwest of the Leadville National Fish Hatchery, according to the fire detection app Watch Duty and the Lake County Office of Emergency Management. Initial estimates placed the fire at three to five acres, but by around 4:38, incident commanders estimated it had nearly quadrupled in size, according to Watch Duty. Around 5 p.m., firefighters shifted focus toward evacuating residents near Turquoise Lake and the hatchery ahead of the advancing fire. By Sunday evening around 6:50 p.m., Watch Duty and Egp.Wildfire.gov estimates the Willow Fire has grown to 1,066 acres.”
Willow Fire making itself known down here in Salida:
Here’s a look at the 7-Day Colorado precipitation map through June 28, 2026 from the High Plains Regional Climate Center. Precipitation in the South Platte Basin along the Continental Divide of the Americas ranged from 0.00” to 2.00”.
Here’s the 7-Day percent of normal precipitation map through June 28, 2026 from the High Plains Regional Climate Center. Precipitation in the South Platte River Basin along the Continental Divide of the Americas ranged from 5% to 400% of normal.
Here’s the 7-Day Quantitative Precipitation Forecast issued June 29, 2026 by NOAA. Precipitation is anticipated for the mountains of the South Platte River Basin and may total 0.01”.
Below are the 8-14 day outlooks from the Climate Prediction Center, issued June 28, 2026, for temperature and precipitation, for the week starting July 6, 2026. The CPC expects above normal temperatures and near normal precipitation for the mountains of the South Platte River Basin.
Below is the Colorado Drought Monitor map from June 23, 2026. There were one class degradations in Larimer, Weld, Jefferson, Clear Creek, and Park counties. Drought and abnormal dryness covers 100% of Colorado. The South Platte Basin is experiencing Abnormally Dry, Moderate, Severe, Extreme, and Exceptional drought conditions.
Colorado Drought Monitor map June 23, 2026.
Below is the Colorado Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 23, 2026.
Colorado Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 23, 2026.
Here’s the US Drought Monitor Map from last week along with the one week U.S. change map.
US Drought Monitor map June 23, 2026.
US Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 23, 2026.
For roughly 80 years after the Compact was signed, the prospect of a Compact call was purely theoretical. Then the Millennium Drought set in. By 2005, the two flagship reservoirs on the Colorado River — Lakes Mead and Powell — were half empty.
The drought was pushing the river’s flows closer to a Compact violation trigger, making the risk of a call by the Lower Basin a growing probability. The Lower Basin, particularly Arizona, was insisting on guaranteed releases of water from Lake Powell. And because Colorado has the biggest share of the river within the Upper Basin and uses a greater portion of its apportionment than the other upstream states, it is most at risk. It began searching for a way to slip out of the legal noose of a Compact call.
In September 2005, the seven states’ top negotiators met in Albuquerque, New Mexico. During a lunch break, Colorado’s team made its pitch. The state’s negotiators proposed that the Lower Basin waive its right to force a downstream delivery through a Compact call. In exchange, the Upper Basin states would limit their water use to less than what’s strictly apportioned in the Compact, thereby reducing potential demand in the headwaters of Colorado and Wyoming that supply nearly the entirety of the river’s flow.
But in the midst of a climate change-fueled megadrought that has already robbed the river of at least 20% of its flows, experts say temporary measures no longer cut it. Water managers are reckoning with the reality that the river will probably never again deliver what was promised a century ago by the Colorado River Compact. The demand for water now far outstrips the dwindling supply.
“Are we going to continue to spend hundreds of millions of dollars a year and not have a permanent solution?” said author and Colorado River expert Eric Kuhn. “I think, at some point, it just makes economic sense to go ahead and say, ‘Let’s buy out the existing demand.’”
Map of the Colorado River drainage basin, created using USGS data. By Shannon1 Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0
Welcome to the Landline, a monthly newsletter from High Country News about land, water, wildlife, climate and conservation in the Western United States. Sign up to get it in your inbox. Screenshot from the High Country News website.
by Jonathan Thompson, High Country News June 25, 2026
This is an installment of the Landline, a monthly newsletter from High Country News about land, water, wildlife, climate and conservation in the Western United States. Sign up to get it in your inbox.
In early June, as blazes raced across the drought-baked and heat-addled Western U.S., Wyoming Republican Sen. John Barrasso’s Wildfire Prevention Act seemed to be sailing toward easy approval. If signed into law, it would direct federal land agencies to increase thinning and prescribed burning on public lands and make it easier for utilities to manage vegetation near power lines.
These tactics have often raised questions: Does a forest need to be “managed,” for example? Are high-intensity wildfires really so bad for forests? And is the urge to “thin” forests simply another excuse for logging? The bill’s provision directing agencies to step up public-land grazing as a wildfire mitigation tool is especially questionable.
Nevertheless, the legislation was cruising along with the support of prominent Western Democrats and no serious objections from environmental groups.
Or so it was, until Republican Sen. Mike Lee of Utah slipped in a last-minute amendment that would eliminate the 2001 Roadless Area Conservation Rule, which protects some 45 million acres of U.S. Forest Service land from new roadbuilding and logging. It would also prevent any similar rule from being implemented in the future.
Lee’s amendment shattered the coalition that supported the legislation and fired up opposition to that provision, and, by extension, the bill as a whole. “We had a very bipartisan-focused wildfire bill here, and now we have a very partisan bill,” said a “disappointed” Sen. Martin Heinrich, D-N.M., in a Senate committee hearing. “The wildfire legislation became a Trojan Horse for repealing the Roadless Rule.”
When the Bill Clinton administration first implemented the Roadless Rule in 2001, it marked the culmination of a multidecade effort to identify and set aside forest lands undisturbed by roads for possible wilderness designation. At the time, individual Forest Service offices managed the inventory of roadless areas. The Roadless Rule put prohibited timber harvesting, road construction and road reconstruction in designated roadless areas nationwide, though with a number of exceptions. Aside from preserving many relatively undisturbed areas, the rule saved a lot of money: By 2001, the Forest Service’s existing road network was over 386,000 miles long, with an estimated $8.4 billion in deferred maintenance and reconstruction. Building more roads would just exacerbate that deficit.
The Roadless Rule originally applied to almost 60 million acres, but in the years following its implementation, it was volleyed about by presidential administrations and the courts. In 2005, the George W. Bush White House revoked the rule and replaced it with the alternate roadless rule, which allowed states to petition the Forest Service to create their own standards; Colorado and Idaho chose to do so. When the 10th Circuit Court later reinstated the 2001 rule, the 2005 replacement was nullified, although Idaho and Colorado’s rules remained in effect. As a result, neither Lee’s amendment, nor the administration’s move to rescind the rule, would affect Colorado and Idaho’s plans.
While inventoried roadless areas share many of the same characteristics as wilderness areas, the Roadless Rule stops far short of wilderness-level protections, expressly allowing motorized uses of existing roads, off-highway motorized use in specified areas, livestock grazing and energy and mineral development.
All of which makes it hard to take Lee seriously when he argues that his amendment belongs in wildfire legislation because the Roadless Rule is hampering firefighting and wildfire prevention. In fact, the rule clearly allows for road-building to fight fires. It also allows for cutting, removing and selling “generally small diameter timber” for various reasons, including “reducing the likelihood of uncharacteristic wildfire.”
In a hearing, Sen. Alex Padilla, D-Calif., pointed out that 240,000 acres of inventoried roadless areas in his state alone had already been treated for wildfire hazard mitigation. Meanwhile, the Trump administration, for better or worse, has lagged on forest thinning: A Center for Western Priorities analysis found the Forest Service treated 35% less acreage in 2025 than it did under Joe Biden in 2024. That suggests that vegetation management is being hampered less by regulations than by a lack of resources: The Trump administration has focused its thinning efforts on Forest Service staffing and budgets instead, slashing them considerably since taking office.
In fact, it seems that the Roadless Rule actually helps deter wildfires. A 2007 Pacific Biodiversity Institute study found that 88% of the nation’s wildfires are started by humans, and 95% of those blazes occur within a half-mile of a road. Roads act like syringes, injecting human beings and their detritus— errant cigarette butts, untended campfires, sparks from machinery and hot catalytic converters — farther into the backcountry than they would go by trail. If Lee wants to avoid future blazes, he’d be better off codifying the Roadless Rule’s protections into law.
Gateway Road in Manti-La Sal National Forest, Utah. U.S. Forest Service
But as is often the case with Lee, this appears to be yet another Trump-backed assault on public lands that was back-burnered due to its deep unpopularity. Last June, U.S. Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins moved to repeal the Roadless Rule administratively, causing intense backlash not only from environmentalists, but also from the more conservative-leaning hook-and-bullet crowd as well as the general public, which barraged the department with comments supporting the rule. It’s worth noting that even Project 2025, the ultra-right-wing “blueprint” for the Trump administration, called for repealing only the portion of the Roadless Rule that pertained to Alaska’s Tongass National Forest.
“We had a very bipartisan-focused wildfire bill here, and now we have a very partisan bill.”
Lee may have chosen to or been assigned to shoulder these despised schemes because of his relative political invulnerability. His extremism shields him from opposition during primaries, and these days a Democrat is extremely unlikely to win statewide office in Utah.
But some of Lee’s colleagues may not be so impervious. Rep. Harriet Hageman, a Wyoming Republican who has introduced a House bill to nullify the Roadless Rule, is currently running to replace Sen. Cynthia Lummis, R-Wyo., who is retiring.
One of Hageman’s opponents is Sam Mead, however, a fifth-generation Wyoming rancher and nephew of former Gov. Matt Mead. Mead has strong conservative credentials on gun rights, energy development and fiscal issues, but he distinguishes himself from his GOP rivals by advocating for protecting public lands and keeping them in public hands. At a recent campaign stop, he said Hageman’s support of Mike Lee’s failed bid last year to sell public lands for housing left him with a “sense of helplessness.”
Whether Mead can win the primary remains to be seen, but his high-profile presence in the race highlights something we’ve known about Lee for a long time. For all his talk about antifa super solders and globalist democrats, Lee is the true extremist, out of touch even with rural Western conservatives, people who often cherish America’s public lands over partisan ideology.
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Your news tips, comments, ideas and feedback are appreciated and often shared. Give Jonathan a ring at the Landline, 970-648-4472, or send us an email at landline@hcn.org.
Note: This story was corrected to fix a duplicate paragraph that was accidentally appended to the end of the story.
Becky Mitchell. Photo credit: Allen Best/Big Pivots
Click the link to read the article on the Big Pivots website (Allen Best):
June 25, 2026
In haggling with their down-river states about sharing the rapidly shrinking Colorado River, the headwater states have delivered a consistent message.
We don’t have two big reservoirs named Mead and Powell sitting upstream from us, they say. Mostly we must make do with what the sky delivers.
At the Upper Colorado River Commission meeting in Denver this week, the states reiterated this message, offering ample evidence from places like Emery, Utah, and Kemmerer, Wyo.
Lest anybody miss the message, Chuck Cullom, the director of the upper-basin commission, showed aerial images of farming areas in Colorado and the other upper-basin states. Far less green was evident in the Montrose area and on the Ute Mountain Ute Reservation during June than in 2024.
This exceptional year for drought and heat was described by several speakers in Denver as dire. “I want you all to recognize the significance and severity of the things we’re dealing with,” said the Utah representative, Gene Shawcroft. “Totally unprecedented.”
In western Colorado, a Meeker rancher used the same word to describe withered streams. “The situation here has gone from bad to dire.”
Upper-basin states have been in a tug-of-war for the last three years with lower-basin states about how to share this diminished river. As Becky Mitchell (above), Colorado’s representative, says repeatedly, we have a math problem. It’s impossible to continue releasing more water from reservoirs than flow into them. Upper-basin states, she says, “live within the means of the river.”
Udall/Overpeck 4-panel Figure Colorado River temperature/precipitation/natural flows with trend. Lake Mead and Lake Powell storage. Updated through Water Year 2025. Note the tiny points on the annual data so that you can flyspeck the individual years. Credit: Brad Udall
In crafting the Colorado River Compact in 1922, delegates assumed annual flows of roughly 17 to 18 million acre-feet annually at Lee Ferry, the legal division point separating the upper and lower basins. The 20th century delivered naturalized flows of 15.2 million on average.
In this century, flows have slackened even more. Since 2019 they have averaged 10.2 million acre-feet. This year less than 1 million acre-feet is expected to flow into Lake Powell other than releases from upstream reservoirs.
The compact pledged 7.5 million acre-feet to each of the two basins. The lower-basin states for many years over-used their allocation. Upper-basin states topped out at about 4.5 million acre-feet, using 3.5 million acre-feet in drier years.
Colorado and other basins states insist upon the right to use more water — if it’s there. Pre-compact rights of all Native American tribes have yet to be realized. All this creates a different math problem.
When the four upper basin states adopted their own compact in 1948, they wisely chose to use a percentage not an absolute number. That would make sense for the Colorado River Basin altogether — if the two basins could agree upon it. Tensions have elevated. Outwardly this marriage looks very rocky.
Might there be another way? Tanya Trujillo, New Mexico’s new representative, offered an intriguing statement at the Denver meeting.
“I think we need to think differently about some things,” she said. “In New Mexico, we’re going to be taking a fresh look at some of the issues that we are facing and really try to look for a collaborative process going forward.”
In time of crisis, she added, it’s important to “project calm, knowledgeable reassurance and try to be part of the solution, not part of the problem.”
For whom was that message intended? It was not clear. However, even in Colorado, some have suggested upper-basin states have overstated their case.
What cannot be contested is Mitchell’s assertion that demands cannot exceed supplies. This year, we’re robbing Peter to pay Paul. Water is being taken from Flaming Gorge and other federal upstream reservoirs to keep water in Powell. Blue Mesa Reservoir near Gunnison may have too little water to release any downstream, a condition called dead pool. The Bureau of Reclamation similarly sees that possibility for Navajo, the reservoir on the Colorado-New Mexico border.
The Bureau intends to release six million acre-feet from Powell for the lower-basin, leaving Powell 80% empty. The agency’s “most probable” projections see reservoir levels at Glen Canyon Dam early next year being too low to generate electricity.
In Grand Junction this week, people stood in the rain with sheer delight. It was a feel-good moment. But will El Niño save us from calamity? Maybe, but don’t bet on it. The warming climate seems to be rewriting the rules about how much water from the Pacific Ocean arrives on our mountains.
hat was the takeaway from a recent presentation by Brad Udall, a scientist scholar affiliated with Colorado State University. El Niños in the past have produced big water years. One was in 1983, the year that flood waters nearly broke Glen Canyon Dam. Often, though, an El Niño produces no more moisture than a La Niña.
“The real question” said Shawcroft, the Utah representative, “is what happens if next year looks like this?”
Map of the Colorado River drainage basin, created using USGS data. By Shannon1 Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0
The Pagosa Area Water and Sanitation District (PAWSD) entered stage two drought on June 22 due to decreasing water levels in Hatcher Reservoir and the San Juan River. Drought stage two imposes a variety of additional restrictions on water use in addition to the restrictions from drought stage one…
On Wednesday morning, the San Juan River in Pagosa Springs was flowing at approximately 35 cubic feet per second (cfs), about 5 cfs above the record low flow of 30.4 cfs, which the river reached in 2002. The mean flow for the river on June 24 is approximately 952 cfs…Two of PAWSD’s three water plants draw water from different locations on the San Juan River, while the third takes water from Hatcher Reservoir. The water level in Hatcher on June 22 was about 13 inches below full pool, which is down about 5 inches from June 9. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s National Integrated Drought Information System (NIDIS), 64 percent of Archuleta County is in severe drought, while 36 percent of the county is in extreme drought.
This field of alfalfa near Carbondale is grown with water from the Crystal River. Some Colorado River experts are advocating for a permanent reduction in the use of water by agriculture. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Some Colorado River experts are floating a concept to address the basin’s water woes that is both radical and mundane: permanently reducing the amount of water used by agriculture.
Many cities have already reduced their water use in recent decades while adding residents, proving that population growth doesn’t have to be tied to an increase in water use. A 2024 study by Colorado River scientists found that agriculture is responsible for about 74% of water used by people in the basin, meaning urban conservation alone cannot solve the crisis.
“I think we need to have permanent reductions in use on the table and agriculture will have to be part of that,” said Anne Castle, a Colorado River expert and a former federal representative to the Upper Colorado River Commission.
Castle was the lead author on a June 1 paper that urgently called on the entire basin to permanently decrease consumptive uses to avoid the worst impacts to reservoirs and water users. Castle and the paper’s other authors are Colorado River experts and academics, and are the brain trust of the basin sometimes referred to as the Traveling Wilburys, a joking reference to the rock music supergroup. But their message is anything but humorous.
The latest paper says another dry winter would deplete remaining storage and result in devastating consequences like run-of-the-river operations where the nation’s two largest reservoirs can only release downstream the same amount of water that flows into them. It’s the last stop before deadpool, when levels are too low to release water. The authors urge water managers to act immediately to reduce use and avoid a system crash.
But permanently cutting the amount of water that goes to agriculture remains a controversial topic, and water managers from both the Upper and Lower basins say drying up land is not a solution for their basin. Most conservation programs up until now either have been temporary or have allowed the saved water to be used elsewhere. Castle said the problem is especially difficult when people’s livelihoods are on the line.
“The folks who are vulnerable to those kinds of permanent reductions are understandably resistant,” Castle said. “But there’s not enough water. The river won’t allow us to use the same amount of water that we’ve been accustomed to using in the past.”
The seven states that share the Colorado River are under increasing pressure to cut water use as one of the worst droughts on record threatens the water supply for millions of people. On the heels of one of the hottest and driest winters since measuring began, spring flows into Lake Powell this year are projected to be the lowest on record.
Much of the $4 billion from the Inflation Reduction Act earmarked for drought mitigation has gone toward short-term conservation. Water users in the Lower Basin states (California, Arizona and Nevada) were paid to temporarily leave water in Lake Mead. And in the Upper Basin (Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming), the feds paid irrigators $45 million to leave fields dry during a two-year reboot of a pilot conservation program.
But in the midst of a climate change-fueled megadrought that has already robbed the river of at least 20% of its flows, experts say temporary measures no longer cut it. Water managers are reckoning with the reality that the river will probably never again deliver what was promised a century ago by the Colorado River Compact. The demand for water now far outstrips the dwindling supply.
“Are we going to continue to spend hundreds of millions of dollars a year and not have a permanent solution?” said author and Colorado River expert Eric Kuhn. “I think, at some point, it just makes economic sense to go ahead and say, ‘Let’s buy out the existing demand.’” [ed. emphasis mine]
These hay bales stand ready to be collected on a ranch outside of Carbondale. Credit: Heather Sackett/Aspen Journalism
Buying out demand
Against this backdrop, some in the academic community are advocating for the federal government to either set up a voluntary program to buy and retire lands that use a lot of water or pay landowners who agree to permanent restrictions on water use.
A paper released last year and authored by Kathryn Sorensen and Sarah Porter, who are Colorado River experts at the Kyl Center for Water Policy at Arizona State, lays out how this could be done. Eligible land would have to meet certain characteristics, including being in an area where the economic impacts of not using water are least painful and where impacted crops could be feasibly grown outside of the Colorado River basin, among others.
According to Porter, the federal government should be the entity that buys down demand. The large infrastructure projects funded by the feds in the 20th century are what created booming irrigated agriculture in the West to begin with. And the other entities in the basin that have the ability to buy agricultural water want to use it themselves, not keep it in the system.
“A reset in the Colorado River basin really is needed,” Porter said. “We have a lot of agriculture that’s really a legacy of how the United States was settled… . And now we’re grappling with overallocation and shortage and struggling to figure out a way to manage the Colorado River.”
The proposal is different from the much-derided “buy-and-dry” which usually involves an opportunistic transferring of water from agriculture to cities, not an overall reduction in water use. Still, the potential negative impacts to rural communities have to be considered.
“You have to have a provision for what happens to the land when you remove agriculture and what happens to the local economy when you remove agriculture,” Porter said.
And experts say there is a precedent for the type of federal buyouts that could help the drought-stricken river: the Bankhead-Jones Tenant Farm Act from 1937. This New Deal piece of legislation was a response to the Dust Bowl and allowed the federal government to buy and retire badly eroded or economically unproductive farmland.
The paper says a Colorado River program could start not with those that grow valuable vegetables in winter but, rather, with lands that use a lot of water but have low economic output. The paper says retired agricultural lands could be used for alternative purposes that support local economies such as recreational opportunities or low water-use industries.
Figuring out how to implement conservation programs without harming rural agricultural communities has been a main focus in recent years of the Colorado River Water Conservation District, which works to keep water on the Western Slope. River District General Manager Andy Mueller said that agriculture has a role to play in reducing water consumption, but that permanently retiring agricultural land is a misguided approach that will put the country in danger of not being able to feed itself. Programs should remain temporary, and focus on efficiency improvements and growing less-thirsty crops, he said.
“If it’s temporary, if it’s well-designed in a way that respects local communities, traditions and practices, is custom-built for each community in a way that really tries to do as little economic damage as possible — potentially even bringing some benefits to those farming families that participate — there are ways to do it,” Mueller said.
A tractor on a farm in California’s Imperial Irrigation District, the largest user of agricultural water in the Colorado River basin. A California representative says there is no interest in drying up ag land because it’s so extremely productive. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
On the fringe
Although certain academics and experts are talking about permanently drying up agricultural lands as a means of saving water, the concept remains on the fringe of Colorado River politics. It’s both the third rail and the elephant in the room.
“It’s going to pull away from the fringe really quickly when you’ve got to really justify continuing to pay on an annual basis forever,” Kuhn said. “We’re just trying to get the discussion out there, make it acceptable to have the discussion.”
On top of the abysmal hydrologic conditions, the basin is also in the midst of a management crisis. After two years of negotiating, the Upper Basin and Lower Basin states have failed to reach a consensus on how they will share future cuts and have blown past deadlines to come up with a plan. The responsibility for river management now falls to the federal government, which is scheduled to release this summer a short-term operating plan for Lake Powell and Lake Mead.
Part of what makes the problem so tricky is that water managers are still guided by the Colorado River Compact, a century-old agreement that splits the river’s flows evenly between the two basins. Upper Basin water managers still cling to the notion that because their states are already living within the 7.5 million acre-feet of water allotted to them annually, cutbacks are the responsibility of the Lower Basin, which they say uses more than its fair share.
Becky Mitchell, Colorado’s lead negotiator in talks among the seven states, said that permanent dry-up of agriculture in the Upper Basin isn’t necessary because the Upper Basin states already send more than 8 million acre-feet — more than legally required — of water downstream per year. Dry-up may be part of the overall solution, she said, but each state should take its own individual approach to making cuts.
“Those durable reductions are going to be required (for the Lower Basin) to first get in line with their apportionment, but then getting in line with the available supplies is a whole ’nother conversation,” Mitchell said.
California’s representative, JB Hamby, said permanent fallowing doesn’t have a place in reducing the state’s demand either. California is home to the biggest urban and agricultural water districts, as well as the largest allocation of Colorado River water of any of the seven states that share the river.
“In the case of California, there’s no real discussion or interest whatsoever in the retirement of ag lands,” Hamby said. “Land in Southern California that receives Colorado River water is so extremely productive. There is a year-round growing season where every single day of the year there are things being grown.”
Past water savings in Southern California have mostly come from efficiency improvements on farms and in delivery systems, and from deficit irrigation programs in which water is temporarily taken off fields for part of a season. In the absence of a seven-state deal, the Lower Basin states have offered up 700,000 acre-feet of cuts per year through 2028, which is on top of an initial 1.5 million acre-feet in cuts. Most estimates say the basin needs to cut water use by 2 million to 4 million acre-feet.
“There’s full agreement that water should be reduced,” he said. “There’s not agreement in how or where it should be reduced. So the Lower Basin is moving forward, doing our thing, making reductions.”
Cowgirls wrangle a calf at a Delta County ranch. Farming and ranching are an important part of the heritage of the American West, which makes permanently reducing water for agriculture a tricky issue. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Ultimately, discussions about permanently reducing the amount of water that goes to farmlands in the basin remain difficult, in part because agricultural water rights are some of the biggest, oldest and most politically powerful in the basin. But there is also an attachment to the American West’s farming and ranching heritage.
“We love agriculture; it’s part of our roots,” Porter said. “We don’t like to think about losing agricultural production. I think we are generally hesitant to have that conversation, and we really haven’t had it as a basin.”
Map of the Colorado River drainage basin, created using USGS data. By Shannon1 Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0
Dillon Reservoir reached 80% capacity on June 17, the highest elevation it is expected to see in 2026. Dillon is the largest reservoir in Denver Water’s collection system, storing roughly 38% of the utility’s water supply. Photo credit: Denver Water.
Water levels in the Dillon Reservoir have now peaked for the summer, having reached a maximum 80% capacity on June 17 before decreasing over the coming months. It’s a 19.5% drop — as well as an earlier peak — compared to last year, when water levels reached 99.5% capacity on June 27, 2025.
“Last year, we were about 1,000 acre feet from full,” said Nathan Elder, Denver Water’s water supply manager. “This year will be about 50,000 acre feet from full. So that’s a pretty significant amount down.”
Elder said that this is a “bottom-four or five year for Dillon Reservoir storage,” due to this winter’s record-low snowpack, but is still currently far from the lowest water levels that the reservoir has ever seen.
“The lowest level it got was about 35% full, and that was in the spring of 1978 that followed the really bad, really dry year of 1977,” Elder said, noting that 1977’s snowpack was actually higher than this year’s, despite resulting in lower water levels. “We’ve seen it lower again, following a low snowpack in 1981 and then also in 2002 going into 2003.”
Elder said that part of the reason levels have been able to hold steadier than in other drought-afflicted years is because of lower demand for the reservoir’s water, particularly from consumers on the Front Range.
“People are aware of the drought restrictions in place so far this year, compared to normal weather,” he said. “We’ve seen our demands down about 18% and we’ve seen a really large decrease in demand from the past drought in 2002.”
The Havasupai Tribe is concerned about a proposed increase in the allowable arsenic level near the Pinyon Plain uranium mine.
State regulators claim the increased arsenic is naturally occurring, not a result of mining pollution.
Tribal leaders and environmental groups worry the change could contaminate Havasu Creek, the tribe’s sole water source.
The Havasupai Tribe has raised new concerns about a proposal to allow higher levels of arsenic in a groundwater monitoring well near the Pinyon Plain uranium mine south of the Grand Canyon, warning that the changes threaten Havasu Creek, the tribe’s sole water source. A proposed amendment to a state Aquifer Protection Program permit would revise the mine’s alert level and aquifer quality limit for arsenic after groundwater monitoring detected changes in arsenic concentrations in the well. According to the Arizona Department of Environmental Quality, the changes were not the result of pollutants discharged from the mine into the aquifer, but naturally occurring.
In a June 25 public notice, the agency said that Energy Fuels Resources, Inc., the mine’s operator, and ADEQ have entered into a changed application agreement for an amendment to the Pinyon Plain Mine’s permit.
“The Havasupai Tribe first learned of the proposed amendment, which appears to have been a private deal between ADEQ and Energy Fuels, only after a concerned citizen discovered this new amendment on ADEQ’s website and promptly notified the Tribe,” said Havasupai Tribal Chairwoman Melinda Yaiva.
The Havasupai Tribe was shocked by ADEQ’s decision, she said, citing longstanding concerns that the Pinyon Plain Mine could contaminate Havasu Creek, the tribe’s only water source. Tribal leaders said the creek is vital to the community, its culture and its tourism economy, and reiterated their opposition to the mine.
Last Monday was the opening of conservation photographer Dave Showalter‘s exhibit, Living River: The Promise of the Mighty Colorado at Colorado Mesa University‘s Tomlinson Library! Visit the second floor to view this 20-piece visual journey and see how it encapsulates the resilience of the Colorado River and its keepers, illustrating how we can create an enduring watershed. The exhibit is free to the public, and free parking is available in specified lots until August 16th! We are excited to host this exhibit in partnership with the Tomlinson Library with the support from Braided River, and we look forward to sharing it with you all!
A lack of available groundwater is threatening the future of domestic lithium extraction. Lithium is a mineral that’s currently an essential component for the storage of clean energy. 1
Aerial photograph of evaporative lithium ponds at Silver Peak Nevada. Photo by Robert Marcos.
By Robert Marcos, photojournalist
A study conducted by Jennifer Dunn – a professor of chemical and biological engineering at the Center for Engineering Sustainability and Resilience at Northwestern University in Illinois, said that the future of water availability may constrain whether new lithium mines will have sufficient water to operate.2
Three lithium operations in the American West that could be negatively affected by water restrictions –
Silver Peak, Nevada
Silver Peak – which is operated by Albemarle Corporation, is the only active producing lithium mine in the United States. Silver Peak uses evaporative technology that pumps lithium-rich geothermal brine from underground aquifers into a massive network of shallow, open-air surface ponds, where natural solar energy slowly evaporates the water which concentrates the dissolved lithium, which is later processed. The site has been in operation since the 1960s. Albemarle, which acquired the mine in 2015, has begun an expansion which will drastically increase their domestic production capabilities.3 Because Silver Peak’s extraction process relies on pumping billions of gallons of underground brine into solar evaporation ponds, a reduced amount of groundwater directly affects production capacity. The ongoing depletion has dried up local monitoring wells, sparking intense pushback from environmental groups, county officials, and competing mining projects.4
Salton Sea, California
Controlled Thermal Resources is developing the Hell’s Kitchen project at California’s Salton Sea, an innovative facility designed to utilize direct lithium extraction to recover battery-grade lithium from superheated geothermal brines while simultaneously generating clean, baseload electricity.5 Unfortunately this high-technology process still requires a lot of fresh water. It requires billions of gallons of freshwater primarily for evaporative cooling to manage the extreme temperatures of the geothermal fluids, and for purification and chemical washing to scrub impurities like iron and manganese from the extracted lithium. Additionally, massive amounts of freshwater are consumed during steam generation and the final chemical transformation needed to synthesize the lithium into a highly pure, battery-grade lithium hydroxide product.6
Thacker Pass, Nevada
The Thacker Pass mining operation is located in Humboldt County, Nevada. It’s owned by a joint venture between Lithium Americas (62%) and General Motors (38%).7 The facility will extract lithium via open-pit “hard rock” mining and will then process the claystone ore using a sulfuric acid leaching method, in order to produce battery-grade lithium carbonate.8 Fresh water is required at multiple opertional stages, though the Lithium Americas project has plans to recycle over 85% of the water that’s required, which includes:9
Ore Processing & Leaching: Water acts as a carrier for claystone ore and is consumed during sulfuric acid production, leaching, and downstream neutralization to isolate lithium carbonate. 10
Evaporative Cooling: Significant quantities of water evaporate during the cooling phases of chemical processing and on-site power generation. 11
Dust Mitigation: Water is continuously sprayed on open-pit mining roads, ore stockpiles, and waste piles to suppress hazardous dust. 12
Tailings Management: While filter presses squeeze out water for reuse, a portion of water remains permanently trapped as moisture within the dry-stack tailings pile. 13
The Thacker Pass operation’s difficulty in securing fresh water stems from a series of high-stakes legal and logistical disputes regarding regional groundwater depletion. The mine’s plans to extract up to 5,200 acre-feet of water annually draw from the heavily over-allocated Quinn River Valley aquifer, prompting multi-year legal challenges from environmentalists, Indigenous groups, and local senior water rights holders like rancher Edward Bartell, (who documented declining natural spring levels) and successfully triggered a state-issued cease-and-desist order that temporarily halted unauthorized pumping in mid-2025. While Lithium Americas ultimately bypassed immediate pumping blocks by purchasing Bartell’s water rights in an August 2025 court-approved settlement and securing a favorable Nevada Supreme Court ruling in 2026, state regulatory restrictions still forbid them from drawing water close to the mine site. Consequently, the company has faced soaring infrastructural challenges, forcing them to construct a costly, 8-mile-long uphill pipeline to transport their newly relocated water supply from the valley basin up to the active construction site. 14
Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell, one of the nation’s largest-capacity reservoirs whose operation has been a point of contention between the Upper and Lower Basins of the Colorado River. (Alexander Heilner, The Water Desk)
Western Water In-depth: A ‘wild idea’ to defuse the colorado river compact’s legal time bomb has been kept alive by seasoned observers who believe it could still save the river
For the past 20 years, the Colorado River has been operated under a set of guidelines negotiated between the seven states that depend on the river. Those guidelines expire this year, and after five years of grinding negotiations over a new agreement, the upstream states of Colorado, Wyoming, Utah and New Mexico remain deadlocked against the downstream states of California, Arizona and Nevada.
Some 40 million people and 5.5 million acres of farmland depend on the river’s water. But after the states failed to meet two federal deadlines in three months, the river is in a moment of unprecedented crisis. A dire snowpack has left flows just 15 percent of normal, many farms without water and several cities scrambling to secure water supplies as they gird themselves for shortages.
That has set up a showdown over a legal time bomb that’s been ticking away at the heart of the Colorado River Compact since the river’s guiding document was signed more than 100 years ago. The Lower Basin states believe the Compact promised them a minimum delivery of water sent down the river from the Upper Basin. The Upper Basin states believe the Compact promised them a fixed amount of water that they could rely on to meet future growth. As the river’s flows have dwindled, those two supposed guarantees are proving to be irreconcilable.
Experts have seen the showdown coming for a long time, but climate change has accelerated the day of reckoning. In 2000, a drought sunk its teeth into the river and hasn’t let up. Dubbed the Millennium Drought, it is now recognized as one of the worst droughts on the river in more than 1,200 years — and may actually be the beginning of a long-term shift to a drier reality.
Despite near-endless negotiations to find a way to keep the river’s massive reservoir system from crashing — an effort that began over two decades ago — the drought may have finally pushed the Colorado River Compact to its limit. Now, the system is nearly empty and runoff from this winter’s snowpack, the source of any water that might offer even a small hope of relief, will be among the lowest since Glen Canyon Dam was built near the Arizona-Utah border, creating Lake Powell, more than 60 years ago. Flows in the river are perilously close to hitting the primary legal “tripwire” in the Compact. Once that’s crossed, the Lower Basin states would likely try to force the Upper Basin to deliver their water apportionment downstream — a prospect long considered unthinkable.
“All those negotiations helped push the day of reckoning back further, and helped delay the inevitable,” says Doug Kenney, who heads the University of Colorado’s Western Water Policy Program. “But at some point, you just have to acknowledge the fact that the numbers don’t add up and you’re going to have to deal with it. We’re at that point.”
Two obvious paths now lie ahead. One is a courtroom fight, either against the U.S. Secretary of the Interior or a challenge between two states under the terms of the Colorado River Compact, which would go directly before the Supreme Court. A high court case would be a doomsday scenario, a messy and protracted legal battle that, until now, the seven states desperately sought to avoid. The other potential path is a stopgap fix, a short-term interim plan negotiated between the states or imposed by the Interior secretary. That could, at least temporarily, forestall a trip to court, but it wouldn’t resolve the fundamental conflict.
For more than two decades, however, the possibility of a third path has stubbornly persisted in the background: A “grand bargain,” an idea first proposed in 2005 by Colorado’s negotiating team early in the effort to grapple with the worsening drought. The concept was an unorthodox bid to defuse the ticking time bomb — but it would require each basin to trade away its most cherished claim on the river.
‘A WILD IDEA’
Roughly 90 percent of the Colorado River’s flow originates as snowpack in the Rocky Mountains. One of the principal goals of the 1922 Compact, which is essentially a seven-state treaty, was to avoid future legal battles by creating an “equitable division and apportionment” of water between the Upper Basin states in the river’s headwaters and the faster-growing Lower Basin. The Compact apportioned 7.5 million acre-feet a year from the mainstem of the river to each basin. (An acre-foot is 325,851 gallons, enough to supply the average annual needs of roughly 3 households, depending on their location and climate.)
The Colorado River Basin spans seven U.S. states and is divided into Upper and Lower Basins. Lake Powell, upstream from the Grand Canyon, and Lake Mead, near Las Vegas, are the two principal reservoirs in the Colorado River water-supply system. (Bureau of Reclamation)
The Compact also contains a requirement that the headwaters states not deplete the flow of the river below 75 million acre-feet, plus another roughly 7.5 million acre-feet (half of the apportionment earmarked for Mexico), on a 10-year running average. Those provisions were intended to provide surety to the downstream Lower Basin states that they would receive their 7.5 million-acre-foot annual apportionment and that the basins would share equally in the Mexican obligation. If the 10-year running average requirement is violated, the Lower Basin states could — at least in theory — initiate a Compact “call” against the Upper Basin in an attempt to force the headwaters states to deliver more water downstream.
For roughly 80 years after the Compact was signed, the prospect of a Compact call was purely theoretical. Then the Millennium Drought set in. By 2005, the two flagship reservoirs on the Colorado River — Lakes Mead and Powell — were half empty.
The drought was pushing the river’s flows closer to a Compact violation trigger, making the risk of a call by the Lower Basin a growing probability. The Lower Basin, particularly Arizona, was insisting on guaranteed releases of water from Lake Powell. And because Colorado has the biggest share of the river within the Upper Basin and uses a greater portion of its apportionment than the other upstream states, it is most at risk. It began searching for a way to slip out of the legal noose of a Compact call.
In September 2005, the seven states’ top negotiators met in Albuquerque, New Mexico. During a lunch break, Colorado’s team made its pitch. The state’s negotiators proposed that the Lower Basin waive its right to force a downstream delivery through a Compact call. In exchange, the Upper Basin states would limit their water use to less than what’s strictly apportioned in the Compact, thereby reducing potential demand in the headwaters of Colorado and Wyoming that supply nearly the entirety of the river’s flow.
The offer was essentially a simplification and reframing of a dizzying array of technical disagreements over various provisions of the Compact — an attempt to throw spaghetti at the wall to see if it would stick.
Jim Lochhead, who had previously been Colorado’s top negotiator and in 2005 was serving as a legal advisor on the state’s team.
“My recollection was that it was a pretty spontaneous proposal,” says Jim Lochhead, who had previously been Colorado’s top negotiator and in 2005 was continuing to serve as a legal advisor on the state’s team. “We weren’t making any progress, and it was pitched as, ‘If you really want to cut through all of this and get to the bottom, here’s a wild idea.’”
The proposal sparked discussion among all the parties at the negotiating table but also raised difficult issues.
“It was a great concept on paper,” says Pat Mulroy, who was the head of the Southern Nevada Water Authority and Nevada’s principal negotiator at the time. “Whether it was politically doable or not is a whole other ball game.”
In large part, that’s because a grand bargain would have forced both basins to give up assurances in the Compact that they consider sacrosanct.
“I’m not sure the Upper Basin would ever have agreed to limiting their ability to fully develop their 7.5. It’s like giving up your birthright — I’m not sure they could have sold that at home,” says Mulroy. Conversely, she says, “giving up that call provision is really the only weapon the Lower Basin has.”
And, indeed, following its spontaneous birth in Albuquerque, the proposal ran into stiff political headwinds back home in Colorado, where it failed to get then-governor Bill Owens’ blessing.
“I wasn’t directly representing the state of Colorado at that time; I was representing Colorado water users,” Lochhead says. “And when I brought the idea back to the state, it pretty quickly got shot down: ‘No, we can’t agree to anything that would not keep the dream alive of 7.5 million acre-feet being developed in the Upper Basin.’”
The prospect of a grand bargain itself faded from discussion. And yet, in ways that aren’t often acknowledged, it continued to shape the broad contours of the negotiations that unfolded over the next two decades.
The quest to escape the noose of a Compact call has remained central to Colorado’s bargaining position.
“The concept of a waiver of a Compact call is alive and well,” says Anne Castle, a former assistant Interior secretary who is now a senior fellow at the University of Colorado. “The quid pro quo for that waiver has taken different forms.”
To a large extent, the details of the various offers the Lower Basin has made in exchange for a possible waiver — which have sometimes been characterized within the negotiations as “mini grand bargains” — have never become public. What is clear is that the two basins have consistently failed to cut a deal.
Instead, the seven states adopted a more incremental approach, negotiating a series of drought-protection agreements based on smaller, more politically palatable deals. While that’s been a safer path for everyone politically, it has brought other kinds of risk.
“It just added layer upon layer of Gorilla Glue and Band-Aids that’s made it much more complicated to try to unwind or develop new agreements,” Lochhead says, “and has obviously proven to be inadequate in protecting the system.”
A SECOND LIFE
While the concept of a grand bargain led a short life at the negotiating table, it has gone on to live a remarkable second life. The idea was picked up and revived by a loose-knit group of seasoned observers of Colorado River issues who, for years, have called for more durable alternatives to the patchwork of ideas [ed. “The Law of the River”] in play among negotiators.
Eric Kuhn was a member of Colorado’s negotiating team when the grand bargain was proposed in 2005. At the time, he was the general manager of the Colorado River Water Conservation District based in Glenwood Springs and he has written thoughtfully and voluminously about the river’s problems. After his retirement in 2018, he partnered with John Fleck, a former journalist who is now author-in-residence at the University of New Mexico’s Utton Center, to write Science Be Dammed: How Ignoring Inconvenient Science Drained the Colorado River.
Kuhn and Fleck concluded the book by observing that “there is not enough water in the Colorado River for all the lawyers to be right,” and suggested the grand bargain as a way to avoid the courtroom.
“The basic idea of a grand bargain is, in lieu of litigation, we’re going to agree to something that both sides want,” says Kuhn.
He and Fleck weren’t the only ones who pushed for more serious consideration of the idea. Doug Kenney at the University of Colorado also has championed the concept. In 2012, he enlisted Kevin Wheeler, a widely respected engineer and fellow at Oxford University, to undertake modeling analysis of the kinds of trade-offs a grand bargain might require.
Persistent drought has lowered Lake Powell’s water level and exposed land that was once submerged at Wahweap Marina, as seen in this 2022 photo. (Bureau of Reclamation)
In 2021, Wheeler — together with a group of collaborators including Kuhn, climate scientist Brad Udall and Jack Schmidt, the director of Utah State’s Center for Colorado River Studies — published a white paper called “Alternative Management Paradigms for the Future of the Colorado and Green Rivers.” It was a comprehensive assessment of more ambitious strategies for weathering the drought and climate change than had emerged from now-perpetual negotiations between the states.
“New approaches that are responsive to significantly drier climate conditions and changing patterns of consumptive uses may require bolder policy initiatives that exceed the incremental approach of modern management,” the group wrote. “It is critical to explore alternative water management strategies that may extend beyond the framework of the Law of the River as presently interpreted.”
The following year, the team published a paper in the journal Science titled “What Will it Take to Stabilize the Colorado River?” And, it turned out, stabilizing the system would take something that looked a lot like a grand bargain.
Assuming the drought persists as it has since 2000, Wheeler and his partners identified two scenarios that would stabilize the river, both of which assumed the Lower Basin had waived its ability to make a Compact call. In one, the Lower Basin would need to decrease its water use by about 2 million acre-feet a year when Lake Mead and Lake Powell reach low levels. That would assure it of about 78 percent of its apportionment — an amount roughly in line with cuts it has already committed to taking. In exchange, the Upper Basin would have to cap its water use at 4 million acre-feet. But that’s only slightly more than half of its 7.5 million-acre-foot Compact apportionment, and roughly 300,000 acre-feet less than what it currently uses.
The second scenario — call it the “near-parity scenario” for simplicity — more equally distributed the Upper and Lower Basins’ relative cuts in apportionment. In it, the Upper Basin would cap its use at 4.5 million acre-feet, leaving it with 60 percent of its Compact apportionment. The Lower Basin would be able to use about 67 percent of its Compact apportionment when reservoirs are low, just slightly more percentage-wise than the Upper Basin. But it would have to cut its uses by 3 million acre-feet below its apportionment.
That would stabilize the system — or at least go a long way toward doing so — while largely meeting existing water demands in both basins. The Upper Basin currently uses about 4.3 million acre-feet per year. The Lower Basin, after ramping up an aggressive water conservation effort since 2007, has driven its annual use down to about 6 million acre-feet per year, and has signaled that it could likely reduce demand further.
But it would leave practically no leeway for future growth, at least without reshaping the socioeconomic landscape across the entire Basin. In particular, any future urban growth could come only by shifting significant amounts of water from farms to cities.
HARD MATH
Today, there is a simple, hard reality on the Colorado River: The available water supply is already maxed out. Water use throughout the basin needs to be reduced by roughly 25 percent just to make the numbers work now — to say nothing of the future, which is likely to be significantly drier.
In Colorado, that has raised hard questions about fairness, the “equitable division and apportionment” provision of the Compact, and the assurance the state thought it had that its water would be there to develop when it’s finally ready.
“Everyone agrees that there should be an equitable division of water, and the word ‘equity’ is one that everyone will rally around,” says Kenney. “But does equitable mean equal? That’s the crux of the issue.”
Over the past several years, Colorado’s attorney general, Phil Weiser, has been building his office’s staff of water lawyers. This January, Weiser, who is currently running for governor, appeared before a joint hearing of the state legislature’s judiciary committees.
“If we can’t get a deal — and I’m committed to not getting a bad deal just to get a deal — we’ll be in litigation. We’re ready for it,” he said. “If and when we can get a reasonable deal based in reality, I’m for it. But if we can’t, then we will be falling back on our rights under (the) 1922 Compact.”
Because of the peculiarities of the water-rights hierarchy in the Lower Basin, Arizona is arguably most at risk there. In March, that state — whose governor, Katie Hobbs, is running for re-election — retained the high-powered law firm Sullivan & Cromwell to represent it in potential Colorado River litigation. At the time, a spokesman for the governor said, “it’s critical that Arizona be prepared to defend ourselves in court if an agreement cannot be reached or the Law of the River is violated.”
Anne Castle, a veteran of Colorado River issues. Former U.S. Commissioner, Upper Colorado River Commission • Former Assistant Secretary for Water and Science, U.S. Department of the Interior. (Source: Water Education Foundation)
“It is very difficult for a political figure — and they’re all political figures, even if they’re not elected — to agree to reduce the water use of their constituents and keep their career alive,” says Anne Castle. “They have to be able to tell their constituents, ‘I’m fighting for your water. I’m doing everything I can to keep your water secure, and it’s the other guy’s fault.’ The political incentives are directly at odds with the kind of compromise that’s needed in this type of hydrologic situation.”
Following the breakdown in negotiations between the Colorado River states, the federal government has announced its intention to step in. In May, the Bureau of Reclamation, on behalf of the Department of the Interior, revealed that it is preparing the first of what could be a series of five two-year interim plans for the river.
The final details are expected to be released this summer. But the federal government has indicated that the Interior secretary could cut water deliveries to the Lower Basin states by up to 3 million acre-feet — 40 percent of their Compact apportionment. During a briefing for Arizona water users in May, Brenda Burman, the head of the Central Arizona Project, presented modeling analysis of the proposed reductions and noted that, given the diminished releases from Lake Powell, the Upper Basin is “in a definite breach of the Compact by Sept. 30 of 2026.”
Owing to some quirks of river history, the secretary debatably has less authority in the Upper Basin, and so Reclamation has proposed no cuts there. But as climate change continues to eat away at snowpack and river flows, the Upper Basin states will likely be forced to cut back their uses anyway. Regardless of what the Compact says the Upper Basin gets, the water simply won’t be there.
And so now the seven states are facing a situation eerily similar to those in the near-parity scenario Wheeler and his colleagues laid out in their Science paper four years ago — but without a bargain.
COMING FULL CIRCLE?
In many ways, the prospects have never been worse for something like a grand bargain. Yet the fundamental problems the grand bargain was intended to solve have only grown sharper in the 20 years since it was first proposed.
“The grand bargain has gotten a bad name,” Kuhn says. “But if these issues aren’t resolved through a grand bargain, they’re going to be resolved through litigation.” In 2007, he says, the river’s reservoirs still had ample water to work with. “With empty reservoirs, you cannot finesse these issues.”
Glen Canyon Dam creates water storage on the Colorado River in Lake Powell. Credit: U.S. Bureau of Reclamation
Litigation could come as soon as August, when Reclamation will likely release a record of decision for its proposed new operating plan. Legal action could take one of several paths. The one with the highest stakes would be direct enforcement of the Compact, likely in the form of a Compact call brought by Arizona and the other Lower Basin states against the Upper Basin states. Because the Compact is essentially a treaty between multiple states, that would go directly before the Supreme Court. But such cases are often grindingly long: Arizona’s 1952 lawsuit against California over Colorado River rights took a dozen years to resolve. A case in the Supreme Court could put the river in protracted litigation during a time of profound crisis.
Other, more limited challenges are possible, most likely against the Bureau of Reclamation or the secretary of the Interior for failure to comply with the Compact or violating environmental laws. But they, too, are not without risk.
“I have a hard time believing you could keep litigation contained, once that genie’s out of the bottle,” says Kenney. “I just have to believe that inevitably blows up into a full-fledged interstate litigation and it bumping right up to the Supreme Court.”
As the odds rise of a legal challenge to the Compact that could ultimately wind up before the highest court in the land, the fundamental tension the grand bargain was intended to resolve will likely be front and center before the justices. And, paradoxically, that could force the states themselves to finally make the really tough sacrifices they’ve been trying to avoid.
“I think that a road to a grand bargain runs through litigation,” says Kuhn.
That’s because in past interstate fights over shared rivers, the Supreme Court has typically appointed a water-law expert known as a special master to referee such cases. The most recent example is the dispute between Texas, New Mexico and Colorado over the Rio Grande. In that case, Kuhn notes, “the special master said, ‘You don’t want me or the court to decide this; get in a room and negotiate it.’ The special master kept the pressure on the states to negotiate.”
This May, the Supreme Court approved a settlement between those three states. Still, even that resolution only came a full 13 years after the case was initially filed, and it involves relatively small reductions in overall water use.
On the Colorado River, both water and time are in far shorter supply.
Western Water, our flagship publication by Foundation journalists, is available online. Check out our latest articles. Reach writer Matt Jenkins at mjenkins@watereducation.org.
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Colorado River “Beginnings”. Photo: Brent Gardner-Smith/Aspen Journalism
Last post here, I suggested that at least some of the ongoing failure of the seven Colorado River states to reach agreement on a river management plan for even the next several years, let alone new century, stems from some ‘elephants in the river.’ You know – the big things that nobody wants to look at because they are so big. So big that some of the rules and guidelines we operate under were created to avoid having to address them.
The first ‘elephant in the river’ I discussed last time was the single-minded focus on the Colorado’s surface waters, and a failure to begin considering the whole integrated water supply, surface water and groundwater – of which the surface water is a relatively minor part, with users going to the groundwater in a haphazard way when the surface water is insufficient.
I did make an incorrect statement in that analysis, however. I said that Colorado was the first, and thus far only, state to begin integrating groundwater into its appropriation priority system statewide. (Arizona developed – by federal mandate – a Groundwater Management Plan circa 1970 for those specific parts of the state served by the Central Arizona Project.)
This is true about Colorado – but I was mistaken in implying that the all groundwater use was integrated into its appropriation system by 1969 legislation. Only alluvial groundwater is covered by that law – groundwater that is naturally integrated with surface water, either trickling into the surface streams when the groundwater table is high or drawing riparian water from the surface streams when the water table is low.
Not covered by the Colorado law are ‘non-tributary’ aquifers that have no natural interaction with the surface waters – aquifers like the Oglalla Aquifer in eastern Colorado, or the Denver Basin aquifer. Most of their water filters down from the alluvial groundwater, and only modern pumping technology makes that groundwater accessible to surface use. Most of these deep aquifers have accumulated their water slowly over geological periods of time, and even moderate use of their water dips quickly into ‘water-mining.’ Colorado law for such aquifers attempts to limit annual use to a hundredth of a presumed 100-year supply, but no one knows for sure how much water is really down there, or whether it will truly constitute a 100-year supply.
The standard response throughout much of the basin to shortages in surface water is to go to groundwater pumping; if ‘tributary’ (alluvial) groundwater is tapped, the pumping will gradually lower the water table – which in turn will begin to diminish the surface streams, which in turn will increase the pumping – et cetera, a vicious downward cycle. And the pumping of ‘non-tributary’ aquifers is largely unregulated in the basin.
At any rate – apologies for the error, and thanks to John McClow for pointing it out.
And on to another elephant in the room. Is it finally time to determine limits on the presumed universal applicability of the appropriation doctrine? To avoid being shot before I finish the paragraph, I will say immediately I am not suggesting doing away with the appropriation doctrine; it is a good enough last resort down on the ground where the appropriation doctrine started, for working out local problems of water use on a surface stream when neighborliness fails – that is, when old grumps and feuds preclude the ‘gentlemen’s agreement’ on sharing out what water is available, rather than shutting down the junior users with a ‘call’ so the seniors can get all their decreed water. After two or three generations, seniority can be acknowledged, but is too abstract to apply against your neighbors, if a plan for sharing blameless misfortune can be worked out.
The abstraction, however, becomes more applicable when it is distant water organizations calling out other water organizations upstream, or an earlier developed watershed placing a call on users in an adjacent more recently developed watershed. And when a stream is declared by the district engineer to be over-appropriated – not enough water to fill everyone’s decrees in a near-average year – it becomes even more abstract, a tool for enforcing a status quo, and nothing anywhere about what represents the best uses of the water.
There are, in other words, some areas in which the appropriation doctrine gets stretched beyond its elastic limits by emerging challenges of water use; any questions about ‘best and highest use’ have been essentially declared unanswerable as a matter of conflicting values, and it just seems easier to let seniority of use be the ultimate determinant of priorities.
A century ago, with California quintupling its population in the first two decades of the 20th century, the other six of the seven states in the Colorado River Basin (Arizona, Nevada, Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming) began to worry that California might put so much of the river’s water to use that there would not be enough unappropriated water for them to put to use when their time of growth came. They were all committed to versions of the appropriation doctrine within their states, but came to believe that reliance on the appropriation doctrine alone at the interstate level could cause more regional problems than it would resolve.
That concern was affirmed in 1922 when the U.S. Supreme Court resolved a conflict between Colorado and Wyoming over a Laramie River tributary that started in Colorado but was put to use first in Wyoming; the court declared that states who used the appropriation doctrine intrastate would also have to respect each other’s appropriations interstate. This made real the specter of slow-growing upstream states having to let all their Colorado River water go downstream to fill huge Arizona and California decrees.
So they assembled in 1922 to try to do something about that – a fundamental fact about the Colorado River Compact commission that we tend to forget: the original intent of the compact commissioners in 1922 was to develop an alternative to the appropriations doctrine at the interstate level. They came together with the intent of working out a seven-way division of the use of the river, based on possible future development, that would eliminate a horse-race of interstate appropriative competition. Six of the states convened the commission because they feared California, and California reluctantly participated because it knew the feds would never build the big control and storage dam they needed until all seven states were on board with it. That seven-way division trumping interstate appropriation was what the Compact Commissioners assembled to do –and spent a frustrating week early in 1922 trying to do.
They were unable to effect a seven-way split for a couple of reasons: for one thing they had no good measure of how much dependable water was in the river; estimates at the time ranged from 12 to 20 million acre-feet (maf). But for a second thing, the sum total of the water they each felt their state needed, based on rosy early-20th-century estimates, was closer to 24 maf – and nobody wanted to go home having backed down from their carefully imagined numbers.
Members of the Colorado River Commission, in Santa Fe in 1922, after signing the Colorado River Compact. From left, W. S. Norviel (Arizona), Delph E. Carpenter (Colorado), Herbert Hoover (Secretary of Commerce and Chairman of Commission), R. E. Caldwell (Utah), Clarence C. Stetson (Executive Secretary of Commission), Stephen B. Davis, Jr. (New Mexico), Frank C. Emerson (Wyoming), W. F. McClure (California), and James G. Scrugham (Nevada). CREDIT: COLORADO STATE UNIVERSITY WATER RESOURCES ARCHIVE via Aspen Journalism
What they did instead – in order to persuade Congress that there was general agreement – was to cobble together the Compact we are burdened with today; they created what Commission Chair Herbert Hoover called a ‘temporary equitable division’ of the seven states into Upper and Lower River Basins, until ‘ those men who may come after us, possessed of a far greater fund of information’ could do the ‘further division’ of the river among the states.
They also decided – as early 20th-century Americans would – to lean toward the more optimistic estimates of river flow, dividing ‘equally’ between the Basins only 15 maf of a river they presumed would continue running 16-20 maf – hence the 7.5 maf for each Basin written into the compact, to be further divided among the states of each Basin in their own good time. That left some water for Mexico, but they did nothing specific for the Indian tribes in the basins because national Indian policy at that time was ‘soft genocide’ – full assimilation (‘kill the Indian, save the man’), leaving tribal water a concern they thought would disappear.
This all made reasonable sense with a river running a quarter-century average of just under 18 maf – but then through the 1930s the river experienced a drought unsurpassed until the past quarter century. By the end of World War II, Colorado river water users had a ‘far greater fund of information’ about the river’s flow, which would have made it a good time to have ‘fixed’ the Compact – but the growing fund of information was all bad news that no one wanted to incorporate into a more realistic policy. So by default the ‘temporary equitable division,’ with its mythic 18 maf river, took on the permanence of something carried off a sacred mountain carved in stone.
And now – we are seeing it reduced to a sad irony. The states of the Lower Basin had their fears too, and wanted a clause in the Compact stating that, should the Upper Basin states have a wild spurt of growth, they should not ‘deplete the flow’ to the Lower Basin below an average of 7.5 maf a year. But now – when it looks like diminished flows throughout the basin might really drop the flow at the division point between basins below that average – the Lower Basin is threatening the Upper Basin with an Article III(d) ‘call,’ saying the upper states will have to cut their own uses enough to meet the lower states’ fantasy 7.5 maf. States that set out a century ago to create a compact that would transcend the appropriation doctrine at the interstate level are now trying to turn that ‘temporary equitable division’ into what amounts to a senior interstate water right.
There has to be a level, or category, of action in which the law of first-come first-served is transcended by other considerations. And can we not say, at this point a century later, that the original intention of the compact commission has been achieved de facto? No state will ever get the use of more water than it had (or believed it had) around the turn of the century because there is even less water now. For better or worse, the use of the river has been distributed among the states (including some of the tribes) and Mexico.
Udall/Overpeck 4-panel Figure Colorado River temperature/precipitation/natural flows with trend. Lake Mead and Lake Powell storage. Updated through Water Year 2025. Note the tiny points on the annual data so that you can flyspeck the individual years. Credit: Brad Udall
Whether this is an equitable division is arguable; the states of the Lower Basin have been using roughly two-thirds of the river’s water, the Upper Basin states around one third, rather than the 50-50 split explicit in the Compact (7.5 maf per Basin). But arguably that does reflect the relative productivity of Lower Basin agricultural use (by far the largest use) and also its millions of urbanites drawing on it for at least part of their municipal water. It was a huge step toward reality when the Lower Basin states finally agreed that they must absorb the Lower Basin’s system losses (mostly evapotranspiration) and their half of Mexico’s allotment out of their own shares of the river, rather than relying on a fictional surplus to cover it – a fiction that combined with drought to draw down both Powell and Mead Reservoirs to the dangerous level where they linger today.
Yampa River Basin via Wikimedia. Note the Little Snake River crossing the Colorado-Wyoming line.
The 1948 Upper Colorado River Compact was the first reality-based document in the ‘Law of River’ portfolio because its negotiators knew by then – that ‘greater fund of knowledge’ – that it was doubtful that there would always be 7.5 maf for their use, and actually accepted that as their reality. So the divided their ‘half’ of the river into percentages for each state of whatever was left for the upper states after the Lower Basin got it Boulder Canyon Project Act waters. After three-quarters of a century, the four states are not too far from those percentages in their development of around 4.5 maf; only Wyoming is significantly under its 13 percent; Utah is a little below its 23 percent; and Colorado is a little over its 51.75 percent. Given the geographic irrelevance of western state boundaries (the Little Snake River crosses the Colorado-Wyoming border half a dozen times), this was pretty good 1948 estimating.
The reality today is that all Colorado River water users in all seven basin states are using a finite and measurable resource that will probably continue to diminish for the foreseeable future as we continue to heat up the planet, and we need to come to an agreement on what that means for all users. [ed. emphasis mine]
It seems to me there are three ways to address that diminishing flow. One way is to continue to accept the divine sanctity of the Colorado River Compact, with the Upper Basin states forced by the Supremes (they ride for power, not for the law) to cut back their own uses to meet the 7.5 maf average delivery to the Lower Basin – basically the interstate nightmare (for the upper states) the Compact was meant to address. Call this the stubborn denial option.
A second way would be to accept the evolved eight-way division (seven states plus Mexico) of the use of the river’s water, which was what the seven states wanted to do in 1922, instead of the ‘temporary equitable’ compact they came up with. Percentages for each basin state could be set according to the amount each state was using at the end of the major river development era, say in Y2K (remember that?), when the 70-year average annual flow was ~14.5 maf (1930-2000). Those state percentages of the river’s consumptive use could be retained – but the actual volume of water for each state would gradually diminish as the combination of ‘dry drought’ and ‘heat drought’ continues to diminish the river. Given that losses attributable to climate warming are both everybody’s and nobody’s fault, the losses to each states would be proportionate to their percentage of the river’s consumptive use, with no falling back on seniority, as though it were just a squabble between users. Each state could then either stay with the appropriation doctrine intrastate with junior users bearing the loss, or equitably share out the loss proportionate to use. Call the latter the shared reality option.
Photo of Crowley County by Jennifer Goodland
A third way lies between stubborn denial and shared reality, and will probably prevail as the default American Way: let money work it out. Municipal and industrial users will continue to work out money-for-water deals with agricultural users, like San Diego and the Metropolitan Water District have done with the Palo Verde and Imperial Valley ag districts, with responsible districts using the money for systemic improvements that minimize the impact of lost water. This is by no means going to ‘dry up’ agriculture. With 75-85 percent of the river’s water being used by agriculture, a doubling of M&I use would only require transfer of 10-15 percent of ag water, although (money being blind to all but profitability) the transfers would probably cause some local tragedies like Crowley County in Colorado where too much water was bought out of a single small irrigation district by Front Range entrepreneurs.
The appropriation doctrine, with its strange ‘property right’ independent of the property for which it was granted, is quite compatible with the money option for resolving water distribution, once over-appropriation is achieved. The idea that water’s seniority in a certain use can be transferred to a totally different use along with the water strikes me as strange – shouldn’t a new use initiate a new right? It is also contradictory to the doctrine’s initial democratic-populist effort to prevent the dominance of big money in water distribution by limiting water rights to what one could put to use. But it does seem to be the American way that everything eventually comes down to money as the base determinant of value.
Enough for today. The elephants in the river. I obviously favor ‘ratifying’ the evolved split of the use of the river, and an equitable proportionate sharing among all states – and within all states – of the consequences of our cultural climate changes. But that will not fly among those who have steadfast faith (senior water right holders) in the appropriation doctrine as the answer to all problems.
The river? It abides, rises and falls with the water table in its surrounding groundwater, and it may occasionally disappear, but it won’t have died, it will just have gone underground until the water table rises again and the ground can’t hold all the water – if we figure out how to let that happen.
Map of the Colorado River drainage basin, created using USGS data. By Shannon1 Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0
America’s Civil War in 1861 overshadowed an earlier conflict in the American West – The Utah War. In 1857 Congress funded a reconnaissance mission that sent a steamship up the Colorado River in support of the U.S. Army’s plan to invade the Utah Territory and to depose Brigham Young, its governor.
by Robert Marcos, photojournalist
The Mormons, first led first by Joseph Smith and later by Brigham Young, were systematically driven from a series of American settlements by hostile neighbors and governmental action between 1831 and 1847. Their forced migration began in Kirtland, Ohio, and Jackson County, Missouri, where religious friction, economic disputes, and political rivalries sparked violent expulsions which included Missouri’s infamous Extermination Order in 18381. The Mormon refugees found temporary asylum in Nauvoo, Illinois, but the murder of Joseph Smith in 1844 reignited anti-Mormon violence that resulted in February 1846 with a Mass exodus out of the United States. An initial group of 1,650 Mormon pioneers traveled westward across the Great Plains in grueling conditions until they reached the Great Salt Lake in July 1847, which they hoped would become a permanent sanctuary for them. Over the next twenty years as many as 70,000 additional Mormons moved into the region which Mormons alternatively called the “State of Deseret” or “Zion”.
Portrait of Brigham Young, the second President of the Church of Latter Day Saints, provided by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Historic Maps show the dramatic changes taking place in the American West
Maps that show the American West in 1847 reveal a dynamic landscape that was on the brink of a profound transformation. Texas had been given statehood in 1845, Oregon was incorporated as a territory in 1848, and California became a state in 1850. The end of the Mexican-American War and the signing of the Treaty of Hidalgo had finally opened the door for the U.S. to expand into the vast Indian lands that had previously been claimed by Mexico.
1847 map of the United States shows an enormous (Mexican owned) California and a very strange looking Texas
Congress annexes the Utah Territory
In 1849 Brigham Young proposed that the United States incorporate his massive provisional state, which encompassed almost all of modern Utah, Nevada, and Arizona. Congress rejected his idea and instead created a much smaller Utah Territory. To salve the insult to Brigham Young President Millard Fillmore appointed him as the Territorial Governor. But these federal actions outraged voters in the Eastern half of the United States who claimed that by incorporating Utah as a Territory the federal government had in effect sanctioned polygamy and other practices that voters found repugnant, and they demanded that punitive action be taken to put a stop to it.
President orders the Department of War to invade the Utah Territory
On May 28th 1857, President James Buchanan ordered one-third of the U.S. Armyto invadethe Utah Territory and to depose Brigham Young as its governor. In Utah this action sparked mass hysteria among its citizens, who braced themselves for a full-scale military invasion. In response, the Mormon militiaburned US Army supply trains and practiced “scorched earth” tactics which were highly effective in delaying the arrival of the incoming troops.
In support of the invasion Congress passed an Army Appropriations bill that provided $75,000 for a Colorado River Exploring Expedition that would survey the southern end of the Colorado River along with Utah’s southern borders. The Army wanted to find out about the river’s ability to convey troops and supplies from the south, and they also wanted to eliminate a potential escape route that Brigham Young and his militia might make use of.
The $75,000 which Congress had provided was to spent to build and transport a custom steamship that would be rugged enough to survive collisions with rocks and other obstacles known to exist in the Colorado River. The U.S. Secretary of War John B. Floyd appointed Lieutenant Joseph Christmas Ives to command the expedition and to oversee the construction and the transport of the ship they would use to steam up the Colorado River.
The steamboat Cochan on the Colorado River near Yuma, Arizona in 1900. Photograph provided by Wikipedia.
The Construction and unbelievable transit of the iron-hulled steamship
Lieutenant Ives chose to have his custom-made 54-foot long steamboat built in Philadelphia. After a successful trial run on the Delaware River, the heavy metal vessel was disassembled, loaded in crates, and transported to a steamship which that brought it south to Colon, Panama. From Colon it was hauled overland on the Panama Railroad to a port on the Pacific where it was loaded onto another steamship bound for San Francisco. Once there the heavy crates were moved to the schooner Monterey, which was sent racing back down the Pacific coast, around the tip of Baja California, then northward to the top of the Sea of Cortez. The schooner would’ve slowed to a crawl as it approached Robinson’s Landing, its destination, where the little iron-clad steamship would be reassembled then finally put to work.1
The Explorer begins its journey with 27 heavily-armed men on board
Thirty days later the Explorer departed from Robinson’s Landing with Lieutenant Joseph Christmas Ives in command and a heavily-armed 27-man crew. David C. Robinson – an experienced sailor who’d served on the riverboat General Jesup piloted the small vessel. Robinson’s ongoing challenge was making headway against fierce oncoming currents that were hellbent on driving all of them back to the Sea of Cortez. There were also shifting sandbars sometimes just inches below the water level, and dramatic tidal bores that rose up from behind them twice a day as the high tides poured in. But thanks to Robinson’s diligent piloting the ship and its crew arrived at Fort Yuma intact – but embarrassed – because Robinson drove them into a sandbar in full view of the hundreds of onlookers who’d gathered at the dock to watch their arrival. Adding insult to injury, upon docking Lieutenant Ives learned that another riverboat Captain George Alonzo Johnson, had beat them by becoming the first steamship captain to have made it all the way north to the infamous Black Canyon, (where Hoover Dam sits now).2
The Explorer Expedition spent two weeks at Fort Yuma before launching northward into (what would’ve been) uncharted territory. Members of the crew who were experienced with cartography took notes of the geography and the river conditions as the Explorer made its way slowly upstream. The crew pulled over multiple times to see what they could learn from Native American tribes who were camped along the river’s shoreline. Nobody knows if Lieutenant Ives was aware that when they passed the confluence of the Gila River they were in the same spot where Hernando de Alarcon had anchored318 years earlier when he deposited supplies for members of the Coronado Expedition.3
As the crew of the Explorer continued up the Colorado River they observed the landscape transform into a dramatic, forbidding chasm dominated by towering walls of dark, volcanic rock. Lieutenant Joseph Christmas Ives and his men noted that the river grew increasingly narrow, swift, and treacherous, forcing the small steamboat to battle fierce rapids and other hazards lying just beneath the surface. The crew included the geologist John Strong Newberry and the illustrator Balduin Möllhausen, who documented the striking, raw geological formations and the unique desert vegetation that they saw clinging to the sheer cliffs. The crew felt an overwhelming sense of isolation and awe as the sun disappeared every day behind monumental cliffs that seemed to press down on them. Lieutenant Ives famously remarked the “profitless, chaotic locality seemed intended by nature to remain forever unvisited and unmarred by civilization“.4
The voyage ended abruptly on March 8, 1858, when the Explorer struck a sunken rock in the infamous Black Canyon, at the exact spot where Captain George Alonzo Johnson had chosen to turn around, four months earlier. The violent collision dislodged ship’s iron bow, and after reaching the shore the crew realized that their steamboat could travel no further. Lieutenant Ives and several men proceeded to row a small skiff another thirty miles upstream. They mapped the mouth of the Virgin River. The crew finished the expedition by hiking overland to Fort Defiance in Northwestern Arizona.
Meanwhile – theUtah War had come to a complete standstill after harsh winter conditions forced the U.S. Army and the Mormon Brigades to hunker down for the winter. The delay provided time for Thomas Kane – a prominent civilian mediator, to negotiate between both parties which ultimately ended with a peaceful resolution being reached. The Mormons agreed to submit to federal authority, and in exchange they received a full pardon from President James Buchanan.
AlthoughBrigham Young continued as the president of the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he stepped down as the Territorial Governor after the Utah War ended, and he passed away on August 29, 1877. The federal government admitted Utah as a stateon January 4, 1896, after decades of denial due to the Mormon practice of plural marriage. The polygamy issue was finally resolved in 1890, when Church President Wilford Woodruff issued a manifesto that declared that the church had ceased teaching and practicing plural marriage. This religious shift, combined with Utah later writing a strict anti-polygamy clause into its 1895 state constitution, finally satisfied federal demands for cultural assimilation and cleared the path for statehood.5
Dillon Reservoir reached 80% capacity on June 17, the highest elevation it is expected to see in 2026. Dillon is the largest reservoir in Denver Water’s collection system, storing roughly 38% of the utility’s water supply. Photo credit: Denver Water.
Click the link to read the article on the The Aspen Times website (Ryan Spencer). Here’s an excerpt:
June 21, 2026
Summer is off to a hot start in the Colorado mountains as soaring temperatures, a lack of precipitation and wind are worsening already severe drought conditions and exacerbating wildfire concerns. Across most of the mountain region, June has featured near-record temperatures and little — if any — precipitation, according to Colorado State Climatologist Russ Schumacher. One weather station in Dillon with 130 years of temperature data recorded the second-hottest first half of June ever, and just 1/100th of an inch of rain so far this month.
“On the one hand, June tends to be the driest month on the Western Slope before the monsoon season starts, but the average is not zero — we usually get some rain in June,” Schumacher said. “It’s been warm and dry up to this point in the month, and at least for the next several days to a week, it looks like that is going to continue.”
After the exceptionally hot and dry winter, May offered temperatures and precipitation levels that were closer to normal for most parts of the mountains. Some parts of northwestern Colorado saw above-average precipitation, offering a slight reduction in the drought conditions…Still, exceptional drought — the highest level — continues to impact vast swathes of Summit, Grand, Eagle, Pitkin, Garfield, Rio Blanco and Moffat counties, according to the U.S. Drought Monitor report published Thursday, June 18. Schumacher noted that the drought conditions on the Western Slope didn’t begin this past winter but carried over from last summer, when above-average temperatures and dry weather also dominated. He said the hot weather that Colorado has seen is a symptom of climate change and the amount of heat-trapping gases, like carbon dioxide, that humans have pumped into the atmosphere by burning fossil fuels.
Click the link to read the article on the Vail Daily website (Ali Longwell). Here’s an excerpt:
June 19, 2026
“This valley was once a really significant wetland in Colorado … it was just this really thriving beaver-willow-wetland complex, and very biologically diverse,” said Kimberly Tekavec, the senior source water protection specialist for Northern Water. “And over the last 100 years or so — and really significantly in the last few decades — this valley has been severely disrupted, and we’re essentially witnessing, and have witnessed this ecosystem collapse.”
The Kawuneeche Valley exists just downstream from the Colorado River headwaters in the Never Summer Mountain Range, following the river through Rocky Mountain National Park to Shadow Mountain Reservoir near Grand Lake. As Tekavec described, the valley was once home to dense stands of tall willows, hundreds of beavers and wetlands that stretched 8 miles long and half a mile wide…In an attempt to restore this landscape — and create a habitat beavers can, and will, return to — Northern Water, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado State University, Grand County, Rocky Mountain Conservancy, the town of Grand Lake and the Arapaho-Roosevelt National Forest and the Nature Conservancy came together and formed the Kawuneeche Valley Restoration Collaborative in 2020. To date, the collaborative has raised over $4 million to not only construct its first project, but plan for three additional sites in the national park…On June 2, representatives from Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado State University and Northern Water gave state water experts and elected officials a tour of the collaborative’s first project site at Beaver Creek to share how they’re learning from nature and beavers to build resiliency amid the state’s critical drought conditions.
“Here, with all these structures and resistating these processes that are beaver-dominated systems (the goal) is to slow the water down, let it linger on the landscape longer and rehydrate these wetlands and just create healthy habitats and functional wetlands that provide clean, reliable water sources to downstream users,” Shaw said…
The first thing you notice at the Beaver Creek project site is a tall fence extending around a 35-acre perimeter. It’s meant to prevent overgrazing by the park’s ungulate populations, particularly moose — which Chris Clatterbuck, the natural resources program manager at Rocky Mountain National Park, called “a perfectly designed willow-eating machine.”
“During the summer, they’ll eat over 90% of their diet in willow,” Clatterbuck said. “As a result, one moose is about the equivalent of 15 elk in terms of willow impact. They convert over 50 pounds of willow every day.”
A beaver dam analog in Rocky Mountain National Park’s Kawuneeche Valley. Photo by Eric Brown, courtesy of Northern Water
One of the reasons that the tall willows transformed into “zombie willows” — ancient, heavily browsed willow structures that are surviving on long-held sugar stores — was overgrazing following Colorado’s reintroduction of moose starting in the late 1970s. Before 1978, there were no breeding populations of moose, and when they arrived without any natural predators — wolves or grizzlies — into a national park where hunting is banned, populations flourished and the willows declined, Clatterbuck said. Elk herds have also flourished and impacted the natural flora. Without tall willows, beavers lost the large wood they needed to build dams and lodges, and they lost their winter food supply, Shaw said. “So they left.” Within the fence, the collaborative has done a lot of work to reinvigorate the landscape near the stream. This includes the creation of almost 30 structures that mimic beavers. Before the collaborative’s work, Beaver Creek was a single tributary where one molecule of water would speed quickly to the Colorado River, Shaw said…It also spreads the water across the surface, rehydrating the wetlands and increasing groundwater storage, decreasing sediment flows downstream in the reservoir — all of which has numerous benefits, not only for drought mitigation, but wildfire risk as well…The Beaver Creek site is the first of four planned within the national park. The collaborative is set to begin work this fall on the second project down valley called Onahu Creek. Beyond that, Shaw said the goal is to look for similar projects outside of the park with private landowners in the valley.
American beaver, he was happily sitting back and munching on something. and munching, and munching. By Steve from washington, dc, usa – American Beaver, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3963858
Tropical Storm Arthur briefly formed near the middle Texas coast on June 17, hours before wobbling inland near Galveston. However, a precursor low-pressure system delivered heavy rain in parts of southern Texas, followed by a post-tropical deluge from the central Gulf Coast region into the lower Southeast. Totals of 4 to 8 inches or more were common across the Deep South, with higher amounts observed in several spots. Although flash flooding and lowland flooding occurred, overall impacts were muted by antecedent drought, which until recently had spanned the South. Farther north, a series of cold fronts sparked occasional showers and thunderstorms, resulting in localized wind and hail damage but maintaining favorable soil moisture reserves for most Midwestern summer crops. The Plains also received scattered showers, amid variable impacts related to lingering drought on rangeland, pastures, and summer crops. Meanwhile, the Plains’ winter wheat harvest quickly advanced between showers, as the drought-affected crop dried down ahead of the normal pace. In the western U.S., hot, mostly dry weather prevailed. Complications related to Western heat included heavy irrigation demands and a broadly elevated wildfire threat. One of the region’s most significant wildfires, the Iron Fire near Eureka, Utah, ignited on June 19 and quickly burned more than 37,000 acres of grass and chaparral…
The region’s eastern states reported drought improvement or unchanged conditions, with a few exceptions. Streaks of heavy rain led to one-category improvement in a swath across central Nebraska and western and central Kansas. However, the rain arrived too late to help winter wheat and has only recently begun to revive drought-stricken rangeland and pastures. With the winter wheat harvest well underway (40% complete, nationally, on June 21), 46% of the crop was rated in very poor to poor condition. More than one-half of the crop was rated very poor to poor in Nebraska (83%), Colorado (63%), and Kansas (55%). On June 21, statewide rangeland and pastures were rated at least one-half very poor to poor in Nebraska (73%), Colorado (63%), and Wyoming (60%). In contrast to areas farther east, drought deterioration was observed in parts of Colorado and Wyoming…
Colorado Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 23, 2026.
Hot, dry weather boosted irrigation demands and resulted in a broadly elevated wildfire threat. Drought deterioration was commonly observed across roughly the northern half of the region, amid significantly above-normal temperatures and mounting water-supply concerns. However, water supplies are highly basin-dependent and often complicated by water rights and other local, state, or regional regulations. Some of the West’s most significant drought—with embedded pockets of extreme to exceptional drought (D3 to D4)—stretched from Oregon to Wyoming, southward into portions of the Four Corners States. By June 24, at least a half-dozen active Western wildfires had burned more than 10,000 acres of vegetation—three in Utah, two in Nevada, and one in Washington. Additionally, the U.S. Department of Agriculture reported on June 21 that statewide rangeland and pastures were rated 75% very poor to poor in Arizona, along with 63% in Colorado, and 60% in Wyoming…
Downpours related to frontal interactions with tropical moisture, including Tropical Storm Arthur, delivered drought relief but caused local flooding. In fact, the western and central Gulf Coast regions became mostly drought-free, following the latest deluge, with broad one-category improvement noted from eastern Texas into central and southern Alabama, as well as northern Arkansas and western Tennessee. By June 21, with periods of heavy rain still falling, statewide topsoil moisture in agricultural regions had increased to 35% surplus in Louisiana, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. The region’s most significant remaining drought existed across parts of Arkansas and environs, along with the northwestern half of Oklahoma…
Looking Ahead
A cool pattern from the northern and central Plains into the Northeast will begin to break down during the weekend, as heat builds northeastward. During the next few days, triple-digit (100-degree) heat will be mostly limited to the southern High Plains and the Desert Southwest. Late in the weekend, however, temperatures could reach 100°F as far north as the upper Midwest and as far east as the Carolinas. Meanwhile, markedly cooler air will overspread the West. Increasingly showery weather will accompany the Western cool spell, particularly from the Pacific Northwest to the northern Rockies, although dry weather will continue in much of California and the Desert Southwest. Unsettled weather will also prevail east of the Rockies, except for hot, dry conditions in the western Gulf Coast region. Five-day rainfall totals could reach 2 to 4 inches or more from the central Plains into the Ohio Valley, and 1 to 2 inches in parts of Montana and North Dakota.
The NWS 6- to 10-day outlook for June 30 – July 4 calls for the likelihood of below-normal temperatures in much of the West, while hotter-than-normal weather will prevail from the Plains to the Atlantic Coast. Meanwhile, near- or above-normal rainfall across much of the country should contrast with drier-than-normal conditions in a few areas, including the Great Basin and portions of the Southeast and Intermountain West.
US Drought Monitor one week change map ending June 23, 2026.
Click the link to read the study (and check out the operating plans for the Colorado River system reservoirs) on the Bureau of Reclamation website:
June 15, 2026
The operation of Lake Powell and Lake Mead in the June 2026 24-Month Study is pursuant to the December 2007 Record of Decision on Colorado River Interim Guidelines for Lower Basin Shortages and the Coordinated Operations of Lake Powell and Lake Mead (Interim Guidelines),1 the Supplemental Environmental Impact Statement for Near-term Colorado River Operations Record of Decision (2024 Interim Guidelines SEIS ROD),2 and reflects the 2026 Annual Operating Plan (AOP). Pursuant to the Interim Guidelines, the August 2025 24-Month Study projections of the January 1, 2026, system storage and reservoir water surface elevations set the operational tier for the coordinated operation of Lake Powell and Lake Mead during 2026.
The August 2025 24-Month Study projected the January 1, 2026, Lake Powell elevation to be less than 3,575 feet and at or above 3,525 feet and the Lake Mead elevation to be at or above 1,025 feet. Consistent with Section 6.C.1 of the Interim Guidelines, and Section 6.E of the 2024 Interim Guidelines SEIS ROD, the operational tier for Lake Powell in water year (WY) 2026 is the Mid-Elevation Release Tier and the water year release volume from Lake Powell was originally projected to be 7.48 million acre-feet (maf). Further, given the hydrologic variability of the Colorado River System and potential for declining reservoir conditions, Section 6.E of the 2024 Interim Guidelines SEIS ROD allows for Lake Powell’s release in WY 2026 to be less than 7.48 maf. Consistent with Section 6.E of the 2024 Interim Guidelines SEIS ROD, Reclamation will consider all tools that are available during the interim period to avoid Lake Powell elevation declining below 3,500 feet.
To protect a target elevation at Lake Powell of 3,525 feet, adjustments to Glen Canyon Dam monthly volume releases for the months of December 2025 through April 2026 were implemented in the December 2025 24-Month Study, reducing the release volume for these months by 0.598 maf. As historically dry conditions persisted in WY 2026 and reservoir conditions were projected to decline below 3,500 feet at Lake Powell, the Department of the Interior implemented an action under Section 6.E of the 2024 Interim Guidelines SEIS ROD by reducing Lake Powell’s annual release from 7.48 maf to 6.00 maf in WY 2026.3 This action was taken in conjunction with the 2026 Drought Response Operations Plan which will release between approximately 660,000 acre-feet to 1.00 maf of additional water from Flaming Gorge reservoir to Lake Powell by April 2027.4 The May 2026 Most Probable 24-Month Study reflects a 1.00 maf Drought Response Operations release.
The August 2025 24-Month Study projected the January 1, 2026, Lake Mead elevation to be below 1,075 feet and above 1,050 feet. Consistent with Section 2.D.1 of the Interim Guidelines, a Shortage Condition consistent with Section 2.D.1.a will govern the operation of Lake Mead for calendar year (CY) 2026. In addition, Section III.B of Exhibit 1 to the Lower Basin Drought Contingency Plan (DCP) Agreement will also govern the operation of Lake Mead for CY 2026. Lower Basin projections for Lake Mead take into consideration additional conservation efforts under the DCP and the Lower Colorado River Basin Conservation and Efficiency Program (LC Conservation Program).
Current runoff projections into Lake Powell are provided by the National Weather Service’s Colorado Basin River Forecast Center. The observed unregulated inflow into Lake Powell for the month of May was 0.383 maf or 18% of the 30-year average from 1991 to 2020. The June 2026 unregulated inflow forecast for Lake Powell is 0.170 maf or 7% of the 30-year average. The 2026 April through July unregulated inflow forecast for Lake Powell is 0.950 maf or 15% of average. The WY 2026 unregulated inflow forecast for Lake Powell is 3.40 maf or 35% of average.
In this study, the CY 2026 diversion for Metropolitan Water District of Southern California (MWD) is projected to be 0.941 maf. The CY 2026 diversion for the Central Arizona Project (CAP) is projected to be 0.924 maf. Consumptive use for Nevada above Hoover (SNWP Use) is projected to be 0.188 maf for CY 2026.
Due to changing Lake Mead elevations, Hoover’s generator capacity is adjusted based on estimated effective capacity and plant availability. The estimated effective capacity is based on projected Lake Mead elevations. Unit capacity tests will be performed as the lake elevation changes. This study reflects these changes in the projections.
For questions on Upper Colorado River Basin (UCB) reservoir operations, please contact Alex Pivarnik, the UCB River Operations Group Supervisor, at apivarnik@usbr.gov. For questions on Lower Colorado River Basin (LCB) reservoir operations, please contact Noe Santos, the LCB River Operations Manager, at nsantos@usbr.gov.
Hoover, Davis, and Parker Dam historical gross energy figures come from Power, Operations, and Maintenance reports provided by the Lower Colorado Region’s Power Office, Bureau of Reclamation, Boulder City, Nevada. Questions regarding these historical energy numbers can be directed to Rebecca Rogers (rrogers@usbr.gov) or Kyra Cubi (kcubi@usbr.gov).
1 For modeling purposes, simulated years beyond 2026 assume a continuation of the 2007 Interim Guidelines including the 2024 Supplement to the 2007 Interim Guidelines (no additional SEIS conservation is assumed to occur after 2026), the 2019 Colorado River Basin Drought Contingency Plans, and Minute 323 including the Binational Water Scarcity Contingency Plan. With the exception of certain provisions related to Intentionally Created Surplus recovery and Upper Basin demand management, operations under these agreements are in effect through 2026. Reclamation initiated the process to develop operations for post-2026 in June 2023, and the modeling assumptions described here are subject to change.
Click the link to read the article on The Denver Post website (Elise Schmelzer). Here’s an excerpt:
June 21, 2026
The two major reservoirs on the Colorado River face dire outlooks that will likely spur federal officials to restrict the amount of water flowing downstream — and decrease hydropower generation — in the coming months, even after they ordered recent emergency measures. Projections released last week by the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation show that if dry conditions persist, Lake Powell’s water level could dip below a threshold called “minimum power pool” as soon as February. That’s the level below which water can no longer flow through the reservoir’s hydropower turbines. Without intervention, the projections say, the lake will remain below the critical elevation for the foreseeable future.
Lake Powell key elevations. Credit: Reclamation
The threat of Powell hitting that threshold — 3,490 feet in elevation — has hovered above federal water managers for months as the reservoir has continued to drop to record-low levels. In April, U.S. Bureau of Reclamation leaders announced that they would send up to 1 million acre-feet of water from the upstream Flaming Gorge Reservoir to Powell and reduce the amount of water released from Powell to keep the reservoir’s level at 3,500 feet above sea level — which includes a small buffer Reclamation officials want to maintain to stay above the power pool level. Powell’s water levels continue to drop as Colorado River leaders deal with two crises: one climatological and one political. Long-term drought fueled by climate change has shrunk the Colorado River’s flows as federal officials and water leaders in the seven basin states — including Colorado, home to its headwaters — struggle to agree on longer-term plans for the river’s management. So far, they’ve failed to find agreement on how to divvy up the usage cuts necessary to adapt to lower flows that reduce the water supply for farmers and residents in a region that’s home to 40 million people.
The back of Glen Canyon Dam circa 1964, not long after the reservoir had begun filling up. Here the water level is above dead pool, meaning water can be released via the river outlets, but it is below minimum power pool, so water cannot yet enter the penstocks to generate electricity. Bureau of Reclamation photo. Annotations: Jonathan P. Thompson
When Lake Powell’s levels fall below minimum power pool, that means water can no longer flow through the intake tubes for Glen Canyon Dam‘s hydropower facility, which is the primary method for moving water downstream from the reservoir in southern Utah. Instead, water can move only through much smaller bypass tubes that, for years, have been considered unsafe for long-term use — though Reclamation officials now say they can be operated safely with continuous maintenance. The bureau’s most recent projections, released Tuesday, show that the emergency measures taken this spring will only be a stopgap, unless extremely wet weather returns…If Lake Powell falls below minimum power pool, the only way to release water downstream is through four 8-foot-diameter tubes called the river outlet works. For years, Bureau of Reclamation officials have said the tubes were not designed for long-term use at low water levels, and such use could cause structural damage to the dam. But officials now say there’s a way to safely use the river outlet works, if needed…Recent studies of the river outlet works have shown that managers can operate the backup tubes continuously in a safe way, said Katrina Grantz, the deputy regional director for Reclamation’s Upper Colorado Region, at a conference in Boulder earlier this month. But the outlets require frequent inspections and maintenance when used continuously, which means that one of the four conduits will routinely be offline. Over the course of a year, the maintenance rotation will result in an effective capacity of about three and a half outlets operating continuously, bureau spokesman Peter Soeth wrote in an email in response to follow-up questions from The Denver Post.
“The river outlet works were never designed to serve as the primary or long‑term release pathway,” Soeth said. “Relying on them continuously would reduce operational flexibility and, over extended periods, could introduce wear that requires more intensive maintenance.”
On Saturday, June 6, the Colorado River District, in partnership with the Colorado Water Conservation Board, began to release water from Wolford Reservoir as part of a collaborative effort to protect hundreds of water users who depend on the Colorado River from being curtailed due to exceptional drought conditions.
Extremely low snowpack and a warm winter, along with extreme heat in March, prevented the full storage of a critical water supply known as the Historic Users Pool (HUP) which is held in Green Mountain Reservoir (GMR), just north of Silverthorne. Without the protection provided by this supply, hundreds of entities, including towns, HOA’s, and local water districts could have faced curtailment in early June.
The success of this initiative depended on the cooperation of Grand Valley water users, who agreed to temporarily reduce the senior Cameo demand below its full legal limit so these protections could be implemented for other Colorado River water users. By voluntarily curtailing a portion of their own irrigation use, these districts helped keep upstream users whole and delayed a senior call on the river that would have otherwise required the curtailment of HUP beneficiaries.
“Irrigation entities across the Grand Valley chose to reduce water use early in the summer to help build the storage we rely on that was sorely lacking (almost non-existent) due to the warm and dry winter conditions that left us with very little snowpack,” said Roblee Talbott, president of the Orchard Mesa Irrigation District Board of Directors. “What we gained in storage will help carry us further into the season than originally anticipated. Beyond that, we’ve committed to work together to ensure we can finish crops later in the season. While this decision represents some very real risks for the family farms and ranches that sustain our local economy and food supply, it also reflects the strong spirit of collaboration in our Grand Valley agricultural irrigation community.”
“This year has reminded us how connected Western Slope communities truly are,” said Siri Roman, General Manager of the Eagle River Water and Sanitation District. “We are grateful to the Grand Valley water users who voluntarily reduced irrigation to help support upstream communities during these challenging conditions. As drought impacts become more prevalent, we all have a responsibility to use water wisely and support the long-term health of our communities, agriculture, and rivers. In the Eagle River Valley, we are actively working to reduce our outdoor water use and encouraging our customers to make lasting landscaping changes that will decrease water demand for years to come.”
“Having access to this program has been extremely important for our community in western Grand County, and we are grateful for the willingness of the Colorado River District and their partners to work with us,” said Brenda Kellen, board member for the Blue Valley Metropolitan District. “Without this support, we would have struggled to have access to adequate water supplies for our residents this summer. We recognize the challenges involved in managing and protecting water resources, and we appreciate the cooperation and partnership with CRWCD and water users from Grand County to Grand Junction.”
West Drought Monitor map June 16, 2026.
“The drought conditions affecting Colorado this year are creating immense challenges across the state,” said Lauren Ris, Director of the Colorado Water Conservation Board. “The CWCB was pleased to support this effort that demonstrates how partners can work together to develop creative, collaborative solutions that help address immediate drought impacts while providing multiple benefits for water users and the environment. As conditions continue to evolve, we remain committed to working with communities throughout Colorado to explore innovative approaches that strengthen drought resilience and help meet critical water needs.”
“Our duty is to help protect West Slope water users during exceptionally difficult conditions like the ones they are facing this year, and we have been navigating a complex and rapidly changing situation to determine how a limited supply of water can do the most good for the most people,” said ColoradoRiver District General Manager Andy Mueller. “These releases are designed to help a broad array of water users, but they are not a substitute for ongoing conservation. We expect that beneficiaries will do their part by reducing demand where possible, including cutting outdoor domestic watering to one day per week.”
At its April 2026 meeting, the Colorado River District Board of Directors approved $450,000 from the Community Funding Partnership program for use in emergency drought response efforts. The Colorado Water Conservation Board also committed just over $585,000 to the effort at its May meeting in recognition that the releases will be multi-beneficial, supporting in-stream flow benefits, along with municipal, domestic, and irrigation needs. These funds will support the release of over 15,000 acre-feet of water currently stored in Wolford and Ruedi Reservoirs to protect both municipal and agricultural users along the Colorado River and its major tributaries from Grand County to the Grand Valley. These releases will also support in-stream flow needs providing fishery benefits that mitigate high water temperatures and the loss of aquatic habitat due to critically dry conditions.
As of June 17, the HUP was a little more than half full with approximately 40,800 acre-feet of water stored.
The initial release from Wolford Reservoir, which began on June 6, is currently around 9 cfs, and is intended to specifically protect the indoor water uses in Summit, Grand and Eagle counties. Between now and next spring, approximately 3,000 acre-feet of water is available for this purpose from both Wolford and Ruedi Reservoirs.
An additional 12,000-acre-feet of water will also be made available for irrigation and agricultural production in the Grand Valley throughout the summer until supplies run out.
The Colorado River District appreciates the support of the leadership and staff of the Division 5 engineer’s office in the implementation of this effort, as well as the work of the Colorado Water Conservation Board staff and directors to expedite funding, a temporary loan for instream flow use, and emergency substitute water supply plan approval.
Colorado River Basin in Colorado via the Colorado Geological Survey
Click the link to read the article on the Big Pivots website (Allen Best):
June 23, 2026
Twenty years ago, some might have hoped that drought in the Colorado River Basin would diminish or disappear altogether.
Hope remains but of a distinctly diminished variety. Will the arriving El Niño will bring a rare deluge, bringing the water levels of Lake Powell from the brink of deadpool, too low to release water downstream?
Two books have been written in the last few years with “deadpool” in their titles, indicating how close to the edge we have been. If not for a very big snow year in 2022-2023, we might well have been there in 2023. Now, we’re in the same place or worse.
It’s very possible that Lake Powell will have too little water by September to generate electricity. That is called minimum power pool. Deadpool lies just a few steps below.
Unlike 20 years ago, nobody seems to harbor delusions that this problem will be solved by a turn of nature. As for the El Niño, it may help but Brad Udall advised against too much hope hedging.
Cavitation at the Glen Canyon Dam, the cause of the emergency in 1983 via Flow Science.
Speaking at the Colorado River conference at the University of Colorado Law School in early June, Udall explained that El Niño increased the odds of large impacts as it did in 1983. That year Glen Canyon Dam almost broke with the runoff of 24 million acre-feet. Another big year was 1997 with 19 million acre-feet. And then produced 13.4 million in 2016. Those exceptional years aside, El Niño can be sort of a bust, said Udall, a scientist and scholar affiliated with Colorado State University.
The evidence continues to strengthen that the warming climate — a climate caused by growing greenhouse gas emissions — will continue to rob the river of water. And, as in the past few decades, the warm temperatures will filch water at larger and large volumes.
Udall had been tasked with summarizing what the 2026 water year that ends in September could be in the context of long-term trends and short-term impacts.
NOAA’s Colorado River Basin Forecast Center had predicted 13% of average runoff flows, just 800,000 acre-feet, compared to the more average 6 million. “It’s below even 2002, which was the lowest year on record, just about a million,” said Udall.
Members of the Colorado River Commission, in Santa Fe in 1922, after signing the Colorado River Compact. From left, W. S. Norviel (Arizona), Delph E. Carpenter (Colorado), Herbert Hoover (Secretary of Commerce and Chairman of Commission), R. E. Caldwell (Utah), Clarence C. Stetson (Executive Secretary of Commission), Stephen B. Davis, Jr. (New Mexico), Frank C. Emerson (Wyoming), W. F. McClure (California), and James G. Scrugham (Nevada) CREDIT: COLORADO STATE UNIVERSITY WATER RESOURCES ARCHIVE via Aspen Journalism
As is now widely understood, those who met in Santa Fe in November 1922 to create a framework for sharing the Colorado River had assumed river flows from the upper basin states would be plentiful, 17.5 to 18 million acre-feet. They erred grievously on the side of optimism. The 20thcentury average was 15.2 million acre-feet, and this century bent downward even more. Since 2019, the average has been 10.2 million acre-feet.
Udall/Overpeck 4-panel Figure Colorado River temperature/precipitation/natural flows with trend. Lake Mead and Lake Powell storage. Updated through Water Year 2025. Note the tiny points on the annual data so that you can flyspeck the individual years. Credit: Brad Udall
Realizing how on-target climate change models have been both comforting and chilling, consider a chapter by the late John Opie, the author of several books about the Ogallala Aquifer. In his concluding chapter in a book published in 1998 called “Sense of he American West,” he mentioned predictions that global temperatures would rise1.5 degrees C by 2030. So far, we’re at 1.2 to 1.35 degrees C.
In the American Southwest, we’re heating more rapidly, about 3.5 degrees C per century, according to a paper issued by the Rhodium Group.
We had a sharp taste of that in March. Temperatures across the Colorado River Basin that month averaged 9 degrees F above the 20th century average. In Colorado, Fort Collins had a new record for the first day above 90 degrees in records going back to 1895. This year that first 90-degree day arrived in March. This year’s first skipped over April. The previous earliest was in May.
What will increased heat mean in terms of precipitation? The short answer is that it increases evaporation and transpiration. So, of the snow or rain that falls, less of it emerges as water in downstream reservoirs or, for that matter, in transmountain diversions.
Taking a more global perspective, Udall pointed to a natural phenomenon that became apparent to scientists only in 1997, called the Pacific Decadal Oscillation. It alters jet streams and storm tracks in the American West. Like El Niño and La Nina, it has different phases. The negative phase of the Pacific Decadal Oscillator pushes storm tracks north, meaning drier conditions in the Colorado River Basin.
Now it seems stuck, according to a paper issued by scientists in 2025. The scientists claim this trend is largely driven by human emissions of aerosols. They cooled the planet, but as we cease their emissions, the effect is to warm the planet. The takeaway from that paper is as long as greenhouse gas emission trends continue, the Pacific Decadal Oscillation will remain stuck, producing drought in the Southwestern states.
Another recent paper examined the North Pacific Ocean and the response to changes in the atmosphere during the last 6,000 years. The takeaway is that the models had under-appreciated the effect of warming, which causes 20% precipitation reductions.
“And I’ll note a 20% decline in precipitation is probably like a 50% decline in river flow,” said Udall.
In other words, 90% of the heat caused by the thickening concentration of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere goes into the ocean, and scientists are still piecing together how that heat in the ocean then affects the climate for the Colorado River Basin.
Even if we reduced our greenhouse gas emissions immediately, the heat will remain for hundreds and then thousands of years.
Think we might see a return to even the 15.2 million acre-feet of the 20th century at Lee Ferry? Forget about it. We might get lucky with an El Niño, but then again, said Udall, the evidence doesn’t support much optimism. The more grounded hope is that the meager snowfall and extraordinary warmth of the last year does not come with an echo this coming winter.
Map of the Colorado River drainage basin, created using USGS data. By Shannon1 Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0
Normally, there are world-class rapids just an hour away down Westwater Canyon or approachable overnight fun just up-river in Ruby Horsethief Canyon. One of the most accessible sections of the Colorado River runs right through the heart of Grand Junction. However, low water levels could mean smaller crafts and shorter trips…At a gathering of local water organization leaders back in May, the attendees characterized the conditions as “bleak.” They identified an earlier snowpack peak in March at around 8.9 inches of snow water equivalent (SWE). That is less than half of the state’s median, which peaks in April at 16 inches of SWE…According to the United States Geological Survey (USGS), the cfs of the Colorado River near the Colorado-Utah state line peaked at around 25,000 cfs on June 10, 2024. In 2025, it peaked on June 4 at 12,000 cfs. This year, it peaked on May 19 at 4,280 cfs.
What in the holy gentrification hell is this news?! The median price for a single-family in-town home in Durango, Colorado, surpassed $1 million this month. Yes, a million buckaroos.
Sure, Aspen and Jackson and Park City and Telluride surpassed that revolting number long ago. But this is the town where I was born, grew up, ran around in the streets, and played in the river. It’s where we messed around among the old workings of the power plant and climbed on the splintery railroad freight cars on the siding behind Kroegers, where we fished and waded in the shadow of the massive uranium tailings pile at the base of Smelter Mountain, and where we had sword battles and BMX rallies up at the Test Trax. It was a tourist town, sure, and kind of a regional hub for doctors and lawyers, but it was also a ski-bum town and a working-class town and an agricultural town and a college town and one-time mining-service town on the edge of the gas patch.
It was a place where my parents — a freelance writer and a freelance artist without any independent wealth — could afford to buy a historic home in a lovely neighborhood just across the swinging bridge from downtown. They were not an anomaly. Our neighbors were working folks, too, from a chef to a bank teller to a sanitation worker to a day-care operator to a retired coal miner.
The house needed some work, I suppose, but I didn’t notice. I was too busy running around in the big yard, or climbing the old apricot tree that we outfitted with a treehouse, or sitting on the low-angled roof on the addition in the back that needed to be shoveled during big snowstorms. There was room for a garden and even an old garage that was a pretty nice clubhouse, black widows and all. The big maple in the front yard served as a good base for epic block-wide hide-and-seek contests on long, summer evenings, and the side streets were perfect for soccer games or setting up bike jumps.
I realize I’m romanticizing a bit, but Durango, especially that neighborhood, was a great place to be a kid. I’m sure it still is, and may even be better now: Today’s young Durangotangs don’t have to worry about radon-emanating uranium dust blowing across town, they can ride their bikes all the way through town without ever encountering a car — stopping by the beautiful library and the rec center in the process, and the river water has less metal loading than it did back then.
But those amenities come with an ever-increasing price tag. In the mid-eighties, after they split up, my parents sold the house for something like $10,000. About a decade later, it sold for $122,500, and the new owner pretty much gutted, rebuilt, and added on to it. According to Realtor.com, the same house would sell today for about $1 million (it’s not on the market). There are seven single-family houses in that neighborhood listed for sale on Zillow. They range in price from $850,000 to $3.2 million; a townhome six blocks away from our former house is going for $635,000.
Clearly, these kinds of prices are far out of reach of most wage earners. Even if you could come up with a 10% down payment for the townhome, your monthly payment would still be almost $3,500, which is considered affordable for someone making about $200,000 or more per year. There are just three in-town homes on the market for under $300,000: Two single-wide mobiles with $800-$1,100 monthly lot rents, and a small 80s-era condo. Even these would be a tough haul for someone making the local median wage of about $45,000. Paying rent in Durango isn’t much better, with advertised long-term monthly rates ranging from about $1,100 for a studio, to upwards of $4,000 for a big house.
Obviously, Durango’s not alone. The entire nation is grappling with a housing unaffordability crisis. But Durango and the public lands gateway towns/amenity economies in the West are among the worst, because not only are housing prices rising more dramatically (the statewide Colorado median sales price is about $560,000), but wages are not increasing proportionately.
The reason prices are so high is simply because Durango’s a desirable place to live, not because it is a high-paying job hot spot. And this kind of desire is bottomless, limited only by the amount people are willing to pay to own a piece of the place. And, it seems, a certain percentage of the population has virtually unlimited funds for investing in real estate, whether it’s a primary residence, a second home, or a short-term rental income property.
To be clear, this is not a critique of folks buying or selling real estate, or of the people brokering the deals. I don’t blame people for wanting to live in Durango or for paying market rates to do so, nor do I fault anyone for selling out while prices are high. Real estate agents, meanwhile, are just doing one of the few locally based jobs that can support a life in Durango; they don’t set the prices, the market does. And because their income is derived from the community, they are more likely to invest back in that community via philanthropy, volunteering, or running for public office.
People who are attracted to Durango’s unique amenities and spend big bucks to be here are also more likely to support improvements, whether it’s pushing for better sidewalks and services and more trails and recreational infrastructure, spending money on better restaurants, or donating to the arts and charity and nonprofits. Maybe they’ll bring in money from outside to start up new businesses, creating jobs while also adding to the pool of amenities, thereby potentially improving all residents’ quality of life.
I don’t think I’m stretching when I say that this phenomenon is exactly what a lot of forward-thinking locals, including my parents, were going for back in the 1970s and 1980s. The extractive industries that had built the town — and polluted it — were on their way out. Tourism, alone, couldn’t fill the resulting void. So they planned on banking on quality of life, or the not-yet-named amenities economy, to attract new, cleaner industries and the people to run them.
They didn’t seem to anticipate that the resulting feedback loop rotates in both directions. As the place becomes more desirable, it drives up home prices. Higher prices dampen entrepreneurship and innovation and imperil economic class diversity. The working class is pushed out to the only slightly more affordable surrounding communities, increasing traffic and pollution and making the roads even more unsafe. Businesses have a harder and harder time finding employees. And, eventually, quality of life will begin to suffer, and the Durango that folks bought into for a million bucks won’t be so desirable anymore.
Durango’s not near the breaking point, yet. There are still plenty of locals, young and old, who have been around since long before the market went berserk, and who are committed to the community. There are a lot of established businesses and, somehow, a handful of new, innovative ones have managed to get going and even thrive. And the place still attracts enough new, full-time residents, even ones who can’t really afford to live there, to keep it dynamic and vibrant.
There are also inklings of efforts to ease the housing crisis. The local school district has raised teachers’ starting salary to just above $50,000, which is still way less than they deserve, but it’s significantly higher than a decade ago. And it purchased a 35-unit apartment building for workforce housing; Fort Lewis College also owns an apartment building for staff housing. The city has several affordable housing projects in various phases of development, and a number of non-profits and other organizations have their own workforce/affordable housing initiatives in place.
Whether these efforts will be enough to keep Durango whole amid the rapidly escalating prices isn’t clear. I just hope Durango’s kids of the future, regardless of economic class, will be able to derive as much joy from the place as I did a half-century ago.
A pumpjack in the Aneth Oil Field during a rain storm. Jonathan P. Thompson photo.
🐓 Regulatory Capture Chronicles 🦊
THE NEWS: The Trump administration moved yesterday to roll back Biden-era oil and gas leasing reforms for public lands, and to do away with the Bureau of Land Management’s oil and gas waste prevention rule. The two-pronged assault continues the administration’s relentless evisceration of regulations aimed at protecting the land, air, water, climate, and American taxpayers from oil and gas drilling. The administration claims the rollback is to clear the way for its “energy dominance” agenda, which is code for helping petroleum corporations to rake in even more obscene profits (which are already high thanks to Trump’s war on Iran).
THE CONTEXT: The environmental movement gave Joe Biden a lot of grief for failing to shut down oil and gas drilling on federal land, for permitting big projects like Willow in Alaska, and for handing out quite a few drilling permits.
But throughout his term, the administration was doing important work to reform oil and gas leasing and to try to get a handle on pollution from oil and gas wells on federal lands. These new or revised rules included:
The oil and gas waste prevention rule:required oil and gas operators on federal lands to find and repair leaks in their infrastructure and to phase out flaring and venting of methane — a.k.a. natural gas. The rules complement the EPA’s similar regulations.
Methane is a potent greenhouse gas, having about 86 times the warming potential of carbon dioxide over the near-term. Oil drillers tend to vent or flare it and other associated gases, since it isn’t as profitable as oil. Between 2010 and 2020, oil and gas operations on federal and tribal land vented and flared an average of 44.2 billion cubic feet of methane annually. That’s as bad for the climate as burning around 9 million tons of coal. And since operators don’t pay royalties on gas they throw away, that cost American taxpayers some $166 million in lost revenue over a decade.
The rules aimed to rein that in by gradually decreasing the maximum amount of methane that can be flared or vented and charging royalties on the gases that are wasted. It was expected to slash greenhouse gas emissions and result in about $50 million annually in added royalty revenue.
The changes also increased minimum bids, ended non-competitive lease sales, and raised the 12.5% royalty rate to 16.67% to give taxpayers a slightly better return on their oil and gas.
Those are not onerous changes, by any means. They really are incremental ones, that don’t go nearly far enough: A statewide reclamation bond of $500,000 is a mere drop in the bucket for a major oil and gas company, yet it will only fund the cleanup of a handful of wells (whereas a company can have dozens to hundreds of wells in a single state).
Nevertheless, the Trump administration has decided that the rules are “being weaponized to penalize energy development,” which can be translated as: They are marginally reducing petroleum corporations’ obscenely high profits.
And so, the administration is:
Reducing the statewide reclamation bond amount to just $25,000, which might cover one-third of the cost of reclaiming a single well, potentially leaving you and me and other U.S. taxpayers to pick up the millions of dollars remaining on a single company’s cleanup tab.
Bringing back non-competitive leasing.
Shortening public comment periods on proposed leases from 90 days to just 10 days, effectively cutting the public out of the process altogether.
Reducing filing fees, and more.
And gutting the waste-prevention rule by eliminating waste minimization plan requirements and otherwise opening the door to more venting and flaring.
The “Big Beautiful Bill” already slashed the royalty rates back to the 100-year-old 12.5% rate.
Oy.
⛈️ Wacky Weather Watch⚡️
The May data are in and it’s now official: The first eight months of the 2026 water year were the warmest on record for the Southwest and much of the Northern Rockies. This isn’t all that surprising, given that it was also the warmest meteorological autumn, winter, and spring for the same areas.
This explains why the snowpack was so weak, and streamflows are now so dismal, even though precipitation accumulation has been closer to — but still below — normal so far this water year. June appears to be on pace to set another record average high temperature for the region, and forecasts are calling for a warmer-than-average July and August, as well. El Niño-driven monsoons could cool things off a bit, however, and soothe drought conditions.
That monsoon can’t come too soon. Several large fires are now burning in the Interior West, with the highest concentration in western Utah. Active blazes include:
Colorado must have made a deal with the Devil? It’s surrounded by fires on three sides, yet has avoided any catastrophic blazes — so far. Source: Watch Duty.
The 10,000-acre Cottonwood Fire near Beaver, Utah, which just blew up on June 22. By the time you read this it likely will be far larger.
The 3,800-acre Sawmill Fire, just east of the Nevada-Utah line.
The 24,000-acre Iron Fire four miles from Eureka, Utah.
The 20,000-acre Hastings Fire south of the Great Salt Lake.
The 566-acre Bonneville Fire on the foothills in northeast Salt Lake City. This one is scary because of its proximity to neighborhoods, but it was 43% contained as of Tuesday morning and no evacuations were in place.
