
Click the link to read the article on The Land Desk website (Jonathan P. Thompson):
September 12, 2024
Note to readers:ย Sorry this piece is late. I injured my hand in a way that makes typing a bit difficult and that has slowed me down a bit. And to non-paid subscribers: Sorry for the paywall and all, but we gotta pay the bills โ and give the paid folks their premium content! If youโre interested, consider knocking down that paywall and accessing all the archives by becoming a paid subscriber!
This spring, I had the pleasure to sit on a panel on water in the West with Paolo Bacigalupi and Heather Hansman, two writers Iโve long admired. During the question & answer period, a local woman lamented the fact that some ditches were being piped or lined with concrete, because it would dry out the wetlands and ecosystems that had come to rely on the leaky laterals and ditches. And she was angry because the point, as she understood it, was to save water only to send it downstream to California. Her beloved valley, it seemed, was being dried out to fill up LA pools, which just seems wrong.

Iโve thought about this a lot in the months since, because I think it gets down to the big, conceptual tug-of-war thatโs happening around the Colorado River. Thereโs one battle between the different users of the riverโs water. And then thereโs another in which the values different communities hold are clashing with the โlaw of the riverโ and the overwhelming math that is driving the need to make massive changes.
The following meditation on this clash was catalyzed by a slide a friend sent me from a Family Farm Alliance presentation at the Colorado Water Congressโs summer meeting. It accused me โ via a piece I wrote for High Country News โ of โdemonizingโ alfalfa.
Well, Family Farm Alliance, this is my response to you:
VALUES
The woman at the panel was referring to the North Fork Valley in western Colorado, a place with an extensive network of open canals, laterals, and ditches that irrigate peach, apple, and pear orchards, small vineyards, organic farms, and alfalfa fields. A handful of center-pivot sprinkler systems reveal themselves in the geometric perfection of their dependent fields, but most of the farms rely on older methods to bring water to the crops, namely by flooding the field or directing water down dirt rows where they soak into the plantsโ roots.
Most of the canals and ditches are unlined and uncovered, and have been that way since they were built over a century ago. Many of them leak, some prolifically, their fugitive water blanketing the beige-gray earth with grass and nourishing cottonwoods, feral apricot and plum trees, sunflowers, willows, cosmos, reeds, sweet peas, milkweed, and cattails โ along with a host of fauna that depend on those plants.
The intentional and accidental irrigation combine to form an irregular, pastoral patchwork of relative lushness amid the arid landscape of the kind that can be found in northern New Mexico, where a network of acequias irrigate long, rock-lined fields, or McElmo Canyon, where voluptuous pink sandstone rises up from a sea of emerald alfalfa. These places, where the cultivated and feral and wild collide, evoke the Provence of Jean Gionoโs novels.
These are artificial landscapes, colonial ones, even, created by damming rivers and diverting their waters away from the fish and aquatic life in the streams and throwing off the natural balance of things. They rely heavily on inefficiencies in the system, from leaky laterals and ditches to flood-irrigation runoff. But they are, to my eye, lovely nonetheless, and contrast favorably with the more efficient farming areas, where high-tech irrigation systems deliver every drop of water to the linearly planted crops in laser-leveled fields.

And yet, because of math and water laws and compacts and the need to devote every drop of the shrinking Colorado River to โbeneficial uses,โ the character of these landscapes is likely doomed. It wonโt happen next month or even next year, but over time. Nor will the lands be dried up altogether: In places like the North Fork the ditches โ at least the ones with senior water rights โ will continue to deliver water to the fields.
But more and more, those old leaky ditches will be upgraded, lined with concrete or other impermeable materials, or even put into pipes so that all of the water goes to those who hold the rights to that water, not to evaporation or the accidental ecosystems that have sprung up along the ditchesโ banks. The farmers, too, may be forced or incentivized to become more efficient, replacing the flood irrigation with sprinklers or drip lines. Some will be paid to not irrigate at all. Most of the open ditches like the ones my cousins and I held stick-boat races in on my grandparentsโ Animas Valley farm will be gone, along with the runoff of the kind that spilled from their corn and alfalfa fields to fill the cattail- and willow-tangled slough down below.
It is this loss that the woman in Paonia is mourning. It is heartbreaking. And itโs something I think about every time I write about the Colorado River and the looming crisis it and the communities and industries that rely on it face in the not-so-distant future.
If the crisis could only be solved โ and the needed cuts in consumption made โ based on our values alone, things would certainly be a lot easier. There would likely be fairly wide agreement that we should fallow the golf courses and drain the swimming pools before drying up the leaky-ditch wetlands and leaving the red-winged blackbird homeless. Farmers might join me in calling for tearing out thirsty turf lawns from Denver to San Diego, implementing progressive water rates to stem gluttony, and putting hard limits on household water use โ if it meant keeping the sprinklers flowing to food crops, including alfalfa and other forage. After all, I value cheese and ice cream and green-chile burgers over the Sultan of Brunei or Miriam Adelson, who guzzled 12 million and 10 million gallons of water, respectively, last year to keep their Las Vegas estates green.
Ah, and yes, if all of this could be solved by prioritizing cuts based on values, alone, the Family Farm Alliance would have no reason to accuse me of โdemonizingโ alfalfa and other livestock forage crops (though I imagine the golf groupies would get me for vilifying them). But, alas, itโs just not that simple. Why? Because even the most lofty values are trumped by the cold, hard math.
MATH
The pertinent numbers in the equation include:
- 16.5 million acre-feet: Total human-related consumptive use of Colorado River water in 2020. This means all of the water that was withdrawn from the river and not put back into it, including reservoir evaporation. It doesย notย include the 2.8 million acre-feet consumed via riparian and wetland evapotranspiration, nor does it include the 1.7 million acre-feet of water use from the Gila River, a tributary to the Colorado.ย
- 14.5 million acre-feet: The Colorado Riverโs median โnatural flowโ at the Lee Ferry stream gage, which is the official dividing line between the Upper Basin and Lower Basin, from 1906 through 2023. This is used as a measure of how much water is in the Colorado River, since downstream tributaries are relatively insignificant.ย
- 12.4 million acre-feet: The Colorado Riverโs average natural flow at Lee Ferry from 2000 through 2023.
This leaves us a few options for the big math problem that needs solving:ย
- The optimistic equationย (assumes the last 20 years was an anomaly and the river will go back to its old-normal flow soon, i.e. the median for 1906-2023):
- 14.5 million – 16.5 million = 2 million acre-feet deficit
- The new-normal equationย (assumes the next few decades will look like the most recent couple of decades โ which is to say a megadrought) :
- 12.4 million – 16.5 million = 4.1 million acre-feet deficit
- The pessimistic (realistic?) equationย (assumes human-caused climate change will continue to deplete the river):
- 10.4 million – 16.5 million = 6.1 million acre-feet deficit

Which is to say โฆ weโre screwed no matter how you juggle the numbers! Sorry, thatโs not very solution-oriented is it? No matter how you cut it, though, the Colorado River budget is running a massive deficit and has been for a while. Thatโs why Lake Powell, the Upper Basinโs savings account, has been shrinking and now is less than 40% full โ even after a couple of decent winters. A couple of consecutive new-normal winters could bring the reservoir down below minimum power pool, shutting down the hydropower turbines and potentially setting the scene for a mega plumbing disaster.
While itโs highly unlikely that the Colorado Riverโs flows will increase enough to fill Lakes Powell and Mead to capacity anytime soon, itโs not impossible. During the extraordinarily wet and snowy four years between 1983 and 1986, nearly 80 million acre-feet of water ran into Lake Powell โ which should be enough to fill both reservoirs and still deliver adequate flows downstream. If it happens, great! It would be foolish and potentially catastrophic to bet on a repeat, however.
That means the users of the river must erase the deficit by cutting anywhere from 2 million to 6 million acre-feet of consumption annually. The big question, and one that the basins and their member states have been debating, is: Where will those cuts come from? Iโm not going to get into the many layers of these negotiations here, as thatโs not the purpose of this essay, which is a bit of a thought experiment. Suffice it to say itโs complicated, and made more so by glaring errors and injustices committed when the Colorado River Compact was originally crafted.
Letโs say weโre going to make these cuts based on values. Obviously everyone has different values, so weโll just go with those expressed at the Q&A session I lead this piece with, which can be summed up as prioritizing rural farmland, food crops, and the artificial wetlands that can be found in the North Fork Valley over urban lawns, golf courses, and billionairesโ estates.
Where better to begin than Las Vegas? Letโs pull up some water user data and, holy cow! Look at those numbers. The Vegas resorts and the rich sure know how to use water:

When folks start throwing $25 million around for an unfinished house is when you know itโs time for a wealth tax. And when they use 100 times as much water as the average home, itโs also time for a new, progressive water rate structure, that incentivizes conservation and punishes gluttony. Las Vegas already has something like this, but the rates in the upper tiers are too low to be meaningful; they need to be so high that this kind of profligacy will sting even a billionaireโs pocketbook. Hell, better yet, why not just fallow these properties and xeriscape them?
When the numbers are added up, youโve got:
- 227,243,000 gallonsย Top 100 Las Vegas residential water usersโ combined consumption in 2023.ย
- 3,774,780,000 gallonsย Top 10 Las Vegas non-residential water usersโ combined consumption in 2023.ย
Wow, so by shutting down just these folks, we could save 4 billion gallons of water, or โฆ 12,275 acre-feet? Oh, thatโs not as much as it seemed.
So how about we go to other cities and tear out turf, mandate low-flow appliances, ban lawn watering and swimming pools. I mean, if you could get Scottsdale and St. George residents to cut back to Tucson or Los Angeles per capita water levels, youโd make some more huge cuts.

You could save millions of gallons through that effort, which is great. The problem is, this problem requires bigger thinking โ youโve got to make multiple cuts in the tens of billions of gallons range for it to make a significant difference. Once again, math, the ultimate buzz killer, raises its ugly head. See, as noble as all of these efforts might be, there just isnโt enough overall water use in the urban sector to come up with all the necessary cuts. You could drain the pools, dry up the lawns, seal up the Bellaggio fountains โ hell, even shut off the massive pumps that convey water from Lake Mead to the Las Vegas metro area altogether โ and you would still need to come up with at least another 1.6 million acre-feet of cuts. Entirely cutting off all of the Basinโs cities and industrial applications wouldnโt even get you to 4 million acre-feet of cuts. But boy, it sure would be interesting to watch โ from afar.
To conclude Part I, some charts that drive the point home:



SOURCES:ย New water accounting reveals why the Colorado River no longer reaches the sea,ย by Brian Richter et al.;ย Decoupling Urban Water Use from Population Growth in the Colorado River Basin, by Brian Richter; Bureau of Reclamation, Las Vegas Valley Water District, Southern Nevada Water Authority, Zillow.ย























































































































