High in the Colorado Rockies, Grand County lives up to its name. Each year, from elevations of up to 14,000 feet, the snowpack from this formidable range melts to form the headwaters of the Colorado River, whose basin supplies water to more than 40 million people in a thirsty American West.
In 2020, the East Troublesome fire tore through Grand County and Rocky Mountain National Park, scorching nearly 200,000 acres of wilderness and sending sediment cascading into the rivers and reservoirs below.
“In terms of the loss and ferocity of this fire, you almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing,” says Sean Henry, environmental planning manager for Northern Water, the local public agency that manages and delivers the resource.
“We were already in extreme drought, and bark beetles had destroyed 70% of the trees in the years before.”
New vegetation grows around the burn scar of the East Troublesome fire that torched 200,000 acres in Colorado in 2020. Photo credit: Walton Family Foundation
Without water and roots in the soil, the resulting sediment and ash slid right off the burn scar and into the water supply, causing “tremendous water quality problems.”
At the same time, Henry says that the disaster kick-started momentum to find a lasting solution. “There was a huge feeling of motivation. We knew it was time to get to work.”
Sediment and ash from the East Troublesome fire that washed downstream caused severe water quality problems. Photo credit: Walton Family Foundation
When it comes to regulating water flow, beavers are naturals. Their once-prolific North American population created more than 300,000 square miles of wetland in the United States.
A range of groups including Grand County, Middle Park Conservation District, National Forest Foundation, Northern Water, Three Lakes Watershed Association, The River District, Trout Unlimited and the U.S. Forest Service are supporting strategies to restore the landscape.
Sean Henry is environmental planning department manager with Northern Water, a public agency helping restore the landscape damaged by the East Troublesome fire. Photo credit: Walton Family Foundation
The work includes installing natural structures called Beaver Dam Analogs, Simulated Beaver Structures and Post-Assisted Log Structures within the burn scar. The installations weave wood and soil together to mimic the ecological role of natural beaver dams by slowing down moving water and rehydrating the landscape.
Adde Sharp is a watershed program specialist for the National Forest Foundation, the nonprofit arm of the U.S. Forest Service. She says these low-tech structures act“as a speed bump to the water.”
“When you slow down the flow of water, two things happen,” Sharp says. “One, all of the sediment that the water is carrying is dropped onto the structure, slowly accreting in these deep channels. Once that happens, the water is able to access the floodplain and spread out more and more, nourishing the plant and animal communities around it.”
Adde Sharp is a watershed program specialist at National Forest Foundation. She says low-tech structures that mimic beaver dams help restore water quality by slowing down flows and filtering damaging sediment.
Paired with forest management approaches such as targeted thinning, these efforts are restoring nature’s ability to protect itself from extreme weather, all while providing clearer, sediment-free water for users downstream.
In just a few seasons of work, thousands of tons of sediment from fire runoff is already piling up against the new structures, raising the stream beds in some places by two or three feet. “It’s happening faster than we thought,” says Henry.
In just a few seasons of work, thousands of tons of sediment from fire runoff is already piling up against the new structures, raising the stream beds in some places by two or three feet. “It’s happening faster than we thought,” says Henry. Photo credit: Walton Family Foundation
Paired with forest management approaches such as targeted thinning, these efforts are restoring nature’s ability to protect itself from extreme weather, all while providing clearer, sediment-free water for users downstream.
For Sharp, the work is proof that with a little nudge in the right direction, it’s possible to reverse course on even the most devastating natural disasters.
“I was driving recently, and there are already small trees coming up in the burn scar. The aspen are beginning to change color, like a little pot of gold in the black landscape.”
In the wake of Colorado’s East Troublesome fire, restoration work included the construction of beaver dam analogs, manmade structures that slow down and purify on streams and rivers. Photo credit: Walton Family Foundation
These same strategies are being used in nearby Kawuneeche Valley–not to recover from fire, but to protect against it. Beavers used to thrive in the Kawuneeche Valley, with scattered ponds hydrating the land.
But decades of human impacts and overgrazing by moose and elk depleted the tall willows beavers use both for food and to build their dams. As a result, crucial habitat was lost, beaver populations plummeted, and the land dried up and eroded. This left behind a vastly altered, less resilient landscape.
Restoration work has helped speed up post-fire recovery efforts. “There are already small trees coming up in the burn scar,” says Adde Sharp. “The aspen are beginning to change color, like a little pot of gold in the black landscape.” Photo credit: Walton Family Foundation
The Kawuneeche Valley Restoration Collaborative was formed as a partnership between Colorado State University, Grand County, National Park Service–Rocky Mountain National Park, The Nature Conservancy, Northern Water, Rocky Mountain Conservancy, the town of Grand Lake and the U.S. Forest Service. The group is working to restore the valley’s natural system to improve water quality, support wildlife and recreational opportunities, and make the area more resistant to future wildfires.
The collaborative hopes that the work will also entice more beavers to return to the valley and maintain the new structures, allowing nature to take the lead.
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
Click the link to read the article on the KOAA website (Liv Wood). Here’s an excerpt:
October 5, 2026
A plan to revitalize two of Colorado Springs’ major waterways is generating both excitement and anxiety among residents who would be most affected by the changes. Pikes Peak Waterways, the city of Colorado Springs, and Colorado Springs Utilities are partnering on the COS Creek Plan, a long-term effort to revitalize portions of Monument Creek and Fountain Creek. A feasibility study is currently underway to determine how the vision will come to life. President of Pikes Peak Waterways said the study will be complete in 2027. Other priorities include:
Nature and Habitat Restoration
Flood Resilience
Water Quality
Trails and Connectivity
Parks and Gathering Spaces
Recreation and Safe Creek Access
Economic Development
Neighborhood Revitalization
Public Art and Culture
At the end of a 20-year timeline, the hope is that eight new and revitalized parks will be established.
Pine trees killed by mountain pine beetles cover the hillside on Tuesday, May 12, 2026 near Foxton, Colorado. Ponderosa pine forests in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains are experiencing elevated mortality rates from the pine beetles as their populations expand in part due to a warming climate and drought conditions. (Photo by Michael Ciaglo/Capital and Main/LightHawk)
The white Cessna banked right to reveal dense forests of Douglas fir, pines and quaking aspen in varying shades of green bathed in the early morning light. Yet secreted under the layered bark of some pines is a pest whose upcoming flight places Colorado’s highest concentration of real estate and infrastructure values at risk.
Damage wrought by the mountain pine beetle is already evident in thousands of dead and dying red-needled ponderosa pine knitted throughout these stands. Their gray skeletons line highways, heighten already elevated wildfire risk and threaten watersheds that millions of residents rely on for clean drinking water.
On some mountain properties about 40 miles west of Denver most every pine is dead. Many residents cannot afford to remove the infested century-old ponderosas. One quote ran $15,000 an acre. The growing price tag to mitigate the damage and protect high-value trees from the next onslaught presents a quandary for local, state and federal agencies.
An historic drought weakened ponderosa pines, allowing the beetles to chew their way through hillsides of trees bordering mountain towns at the gateway to popular ski areas and hiking trails. Impacted acreage increased 148% to 5,544 acres in 2025, when compared with 2024, alarming foresters, communities and lawmakers.
This year, the breadth of the insect’s footprint and the intensity of its attack is expected to expand exponentially. At stake: More than 600,000 acres of ponderosa pine forest woven throughout areas where about 4 million people live in nine counties on both sides of the Rocky Mountains.
“We anticipate there to be anywhere from twice as much, to three times as much, activity as we saw last year,” Dan West, an entomologist with the Colorado State Forest Service, told Capital & Main in June.
“That is startling.”
A U.S. Forest Service map of the endemic pest’s potential to spread through 2030 is equally startling: Dark red blotches indicating infestation intensity cover forests at every latitude from Boulder, north of Denver, to the Black Forest, where high-end suburbs hug Colorado Springs, to areas behind Pikes Peak to the south. The counties most at risk contain thousands of acres of ponderosas. Some of the pines sit just outside the state’s Capitol.
To minimize the spread, foresters are prioritizing early detection and response. It’s no easy task. Forests harbor twice as many trees as those better able to resist a beetle outbreak. A century of fire suppression and more intense and extreme weather caused by heat-trapping emissions from expanding oil and gas extraction in Colorado and elsewhere contributed to the dire outlook.
Across the country, climate change is ravaging ecosystems, bringing more robust storms, rising sea levels, record-setting conflagrations and fatal heat waves. In Colorado, the staggering die-off of the majestic pines is difficult to stomach.
To track the outbreak, West regularly hikes to infected stands to inspect last year’s broods. What he found this spring surprised him: Females who burrowed into large green trees in 2025 laid double the number of larvae the scientist observed in previous infestations. The lack of sub-zero temperatures this winter — which marked the state’s lowest snowpack on record — ensured their survival.
Peeling the bark off ponderosa pines with his hatchet, West counted between 60 and 120 larvae coming off each female pine beetle. The insects tunnel their way into the trunk, impeding the tree’s water and nutrient supply and killing it within a year. During wetter years, trees are healthier and can more easily repel the beetle with sap. This year, many are defenseless against the rice-sized insect’s relentless assault.
Mountain Pine Beetle kill via USGS.
Its small stature belies its ability to wreak havoc. The last major outbreak, which spanned 1996 to 2013 and decimated about 82%, or about 3.4 million acres, of the state’s pine forests, is fresh in Coloradans’ minds. In some ski communities, such as Winter Park, entire mountainsides of trees perished, dramatically altering the landscape.
The Cameron Peak fire soon after it started on Aug. 13, 2020. By Sept. 11, the fire had grown to more than 102,000 acres (now >200,000 acres) and was not expected to be considered out until Oct. 31. Photo credit: InciWeb via The Colorado SunEast Troublesome Fire. Photo credit: Northern Water
Dead lodgepole pines intensified the two largest wildfires in state history in 2020. The Cameron Peak Fire swept through 326 square miles of forest in Larimer and Jackson counties and Rocky Mountain National Park, along with 492 structures, while the East Troublesome Fire burned through Grand County and Rocky Mountain National Park, reducing to ash over 300 square miles and 500 structures and killing two.
The insects started to migrate from higher elevations to coniferous forests, but a historic 2013 rainstorm stopped their advance. Now, following the state’s warmest climatological spring on record, the beetles are poised again to expand their territory.
Left: Pitch tubes, small nodules of yellowish-red sap, are an external sign of a beetle infestation. Photo: Steve Rudolph, CSFS. Right: Bark removed from a lodgepole pine tree reveals burrowing mountain pine beetles. Photo: CSFS.
Their advance threatens Denver Water’s 2.5 million acre watershed — at least a quarter of which is covered with ponderosa pine. The utility has spent $96 million since 2010 to restore forests in this region, including spraying some pines in hopes of protecting them from infestation, said Madelene McDonald, watershed planning manager.
“The threat of high intensity wildfire is not theoretical — it’s one we’ve experienced,” she added. “High intensity fires lead to brown, sediment-laden water flowing into treatment plants, which is really expensive to treat.”
McDonald is among 39 people who sit on a Ponderosa Mountain Pine Beetle Task Force created by an executive order Democratic Gov. Jared Polis issued in December after West, the entomologist, and the state forester warned him to get ahead of the outbreak.
The governor stressed an urgent need to educate residents, protect high value pines and prioritize the removal of diseased trees that harbor broods. This work must be planned around the insect’s annual flight to find new trees between June and September. The task force is charged with quickly mobilizing resources to mitigate the infestation, which has overwhelmed residents and muncipalities alike.
“It’s hard emotionally as somebody who cares deeply about our forests — in areas of our district there’s not a tree left,” said Jess Moore, wildland project coordinator for Evergreen Fire & Rescue. “We encourage homeowners to reach out to contractors, arborists and foresters so they can get the best support they can to protect their current trees.” The “sheer volume of impact” has prompted some residents to take such steps, and to thin their trees, she said.
It’s expensive and time consuming. Just ask retired environmental science professor Harv Teitelbaum, who lives in Evergreen on a wooded property that’s long, narrow and hilly. He teaches people how to climb trees, including pines. Yet the infestation required him, with the help of volunteers and a tree care service, to remove 45 ponderosas from his land. The bill: $10,000. Another 40 or so are dead or dying.
“This has been a lot more devastating — in the past, you would have isolated trees here or there that were killed,” he said. “This is more widespread.”
A few years ago, Teitelbaum lost his favorite training tree, a ponderosa nicknamed “Gramps,” to the beetle. This year, to protect his remaining pines he stapled pheromone packets to their trunks and injected some with a chemical treatment. He hopes it works so he can continue to train new generations to climb on his property.
“Up there, you see a country you haven’t seen,” he said. “The tree is a living, breathing thing. You feel it swaying, and you’re breathing oxygen it’s giving off from its crown.”
About a dozen miles south near Conifer, Brad Huddleston used similar methods to protect pines on his property. The arborist founded Splintered Forest, a fire mitigation company, 22 years ago after losing his family home in a wildfire. He advises clients to inject large pines with insecticide before the tree’s green needles start to change color. The every-other-year treatment runs up to $300 per tree. Pheromone packets and spraying, which cost up to $25 a tree, are other alternatives. The pheromone treatments release a scent that tricks beetles into thinking a tree is full, causing them to go elsewhere.
“A lot of homeowners take solace when I tell them that despite them seeing major beetle destruction along our two main corridors, their properties are not destined for the same thing,” he said. “We can turn the tide on individual trees.”
Trees killed by mountain pine beetles crisscross the forest floor in Grand County. Photo: CSFS.
Huddleston’s company has been busy removing hazardous diseased trees near homes and access roads and thinning overgrown stands. The downed wood must be covered to smother the beetle, or hauled away to sites designed to handle infested timber, known as “hot logs.”
Such work increased this year. Jefferson County, home to both Evergreen and Conifer, collected 10.3 million pounds of slash, or woody debris, in 2025, up from 9.5 million in 2024. The response underscored the stakes — the region’s wildfire risk is 98% higher than that of counties nationwide, said Jefferson County Commissioner Lesley Dahlkemper, who is the Democratic nominee for lieutenant governor.
“I went to a recent breakfast at the Conifer Chamber of Commerce, and the scale of the crisis and how its impacting constituents became crystal clear,” she recounted. “I asked who was dealing with mountain pine beetles on their land and every hand went up.”
Little infrastructure exists statewide to accommodate the amount of wood now coming off properties. The dry winter prompted counties statewide to ban slash burning, which some rural landowners rely on in part to dispose of beetle-kill. This practice allows property owners to burn small piles of wood on their property, in some cases with a permit and during certain weather conditions.
Clear Creek watershed. Credit: Upper Clear Creek Watershed Association
In smaller counties, a reduced tax base provides officials no wiggle room for mitigation funding. About 24 miles northwest of Conifer in Idaho Springs, lawmakers are seeking funds to mitigate the damage and to take protective measures. Of major concern is the stability of the Clear Creek Watershed, which 450,000 people rely on for drinking water.
“We are kind of raising the flag — we just need more work, faster,” said George Marlin, a Clear Creek County commissioner. “It’s complicated to accomplish mitigation on interlocking federal, state and private land — we need all of these entities to have adequate funding to get it done.”
The challenge Marlin and his colleagues face is evident from the white Cessna’s window. Red and brown ponderosas crown hillsides ringing the former mining town. The mosaic prompted pilot Evan Anderman, a volunteer with LightHawk, a nonprofit that works with pilots who donate their time and aircraft for conservation causes, to bank his craft yet again.
What’s most worrisome is not yet visible from his aircraft. For every red tree, there are between 2½ and 10 green infested trees. In the early stages of infestation, these trees are only identifiable by sawdust at their base, sap on the trunk, or tunnels under the bark. West urges homeowners to prioritize these trees for removal.
Residents in Jefferson and Clear Creek counties are getting the message. People in both areas approved tax increases in 2025 for fire protection services. Identifying additional funding for wildfire mitigation is among action items Polis’ task force included in a June 30 work plan. The document identified numerous gaps in the current outbreak response.
These included “fragmented public communication,” inconsistent coordination across governmental boundaries, a constrained workforce and “uneven community and landowner engagement.” It also contained a stark warning: “The outbreak will persist for a decade or more, trees will die at a visible scale, and fire risk will remain elevated.”
Keith McMillan knows how beetle-kill influences fire risk. The former fire captain worked 21 years with Breckenridge’s Red, White & Blue Fire Protection District. The ski town lost 90% of its lodgepole pines between 1999 and 2013. Fire risk is highest when red and brown needles remain on the pines — they can help speed a blaze through the canopy, he said.
McMillan, who today is the only fire mitigation specialist for a homeowner’s association in the West, is using his experience to encourage residents in Ken-Caryl Ranch, a 4,400-home Denver subdivision, to protect their ponderosa pines.
The retired firefighter advises homeowners in what he calls an “urban forest” to spray or use pheromone packets on trees, or to remove them if they are too close to homes. It’s emotional work. People are attached to trees they planted when they moved in, or to celebrate a child’s birthday. And he doesn’t have enforcement power.
“We are trying to stay ahead of it — my No. 1 challenge is public perception” of public safety risks that accompany large tree die-offs, McMillan said. “We are just on the edge of the mountain pine beetle epidemic making it to our land.”
A young Ponderosa Pine at the Dolores Canyon Overlook September 16, 2026.
Abby Burk with Audubon Rockies leads a tour of a flagship stream restoration project on Dry Fork Creek in Western Colorado. The project, located on High Lonesome Ranch, is one of the first completed under SB 270. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
After the 2020 Pine Gulch Fire scorched 95,000 drought-stricken acres of High Lonesome Ranch in Garfield and Mesa Counties, the rainstorms that followed eroded hillsides and washed mud and rocks into the Dry Fork Creek valley bottom.
“It was a major impact to operations here,” said High Lonesome’s General Manager Travis Brooks. “The wildlife habitat obviously was erased, populations disappeared… The flooding, the debris flows, the devastation that comes after the fire is almost as bad as the fire itself and we’re still seeing the effects of that.”
Brooks has overseen work to repair the riparian corridor and control erosion; now the area is green and wildlife – including beavers – have returned to the watershed. The area’s recovery is due, in part, to a piece of 2023 legislation that cleared the way for minor stream restoration projects in Colorado. High Lonesome Ranch is the site of one of the first of these types of projects completed since the passage of Senate Bill 23-270.
In 2023, Colorado lawmakers recognized the need to restore the environmental health of the state’s waterways, especially after wildfires. The legislation allows minor stream restoration projects to take place without being subject to water rights administration, provided they meet certain criteria. But this is uncharted legal territory and early projects are highlighting old tensions between water rights holders and proponents of stream restoration.
The Dry Fork Creek project, which is wrapping up its third and final year of work on High Lonesome Ranch, was spearheaded by Audubon Rockies.
Over three years, crews installed about 200 simple, porous structures over two miles of stream, with the goal of trapping sediment, slowing the flow of water, raising the water table and rewetting the sponge of the floodplain. The structures, sometimes called Beaver Dam Analogues for the way they can mimic beaver activity, are built by weaving willows and tree branches across the channel between posts hammered into the streambed.
The official name for these low-tech, process-based restoration methods is Post-Assisted Log Structures, and they can turn a deeply incised, V-shaped stream with steep banks into a wider, gently sloping, U-shaped streambed. The structures act as speed bumps for the torrents that wash down the valley during summer storms and can improve watersheds that have been degraded by fire as well as human activities like road building and cattle grazing.
“I really do believe that we’re improving the water quality out here by doing this work, which is helpful to everybody downstream,” Brooks said. “I think that’s the biggest takeaway.”
On a sunny day in late September, Abby Burk, Western Rivers program director for Audubon, led a tour of the flagship project, showing how stream restoration is put into practice under the new legislation.
“All of these different types of structures are really looking at arresting sediment, holding sediment, spreading water on the landscape and slowing it down so that we can have a bit more of a connected floodplain,” Burk said.
Beavers have recolonized part of the Dry Fork Creek valley after restoration work. The burn scar from the 2020 Pine Gulch Fire is visible on the hillside. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Putting policy into practice
Senate Bill 23-270 allows for six categories of minor stream restoration activities, such as stabilizing the banks or reconstructing a channel of a natural stream system. If a project falls under one of the six categories, it is presumed to not harm other water users and can move forward with little scrutiny from state officials.
Environmental groups that worked on the legislation had originally wanted to set a size standard for stream restoration based on the historical footprint of the floodplain before it was degraded. But opponents, some of whom were agricultural water users, argued this area was too large and ill-defined, and floated the idea of placing a cap on how much new surface area of water that projects were allowed to create. Their concern was that projects could create more surface area for evaporation and reduce streamflows.
That’s a problem because in Colorado’s system of water law where the oldest rights get first use of rivers, water is usually already spoken for by someone downstream. Without SB 270, stream restoration proponents could have to go through an expensive and lengthy process to buy into an augmentation plan, which replaces the water consumed by evaporation.
The final bill represented a compromise between the two sides, and required that these minor restoration projects don’t back up water past the “ordinary high-water mark” of the stream.
“I think this is an elegant compromise,” said Burk, who helped shape the bill. “We landed at a bipartisan solution that was unanimously supported.”
Immediately after the passage of the bill, stream restoration proponents were disappointed in the final version. But in the three years since, SB 270 seems to be providing the necessary legal and political cover for groups to move forward with low-tech, process-based projects, with several underway on the Western Slope.
“We started taking more time to process it and read it, and then we actually realized, you know, I think we actually got something pretty good here that we’re going to be able to do some great stuff with,” said Jackie Corday, a natural resources consultant who worked on the bill and the Dry Fork Creek project.
Clay Ramey with the U.S. Forest Service works on a stream restoration project with volunteers at the headwaters of Middle Thompson Creek in August. The project installed about 40 post-assisted log structures, designed to repair degraded streams. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Downstream conflicts
As more groups take on projects under SB 270, it means the bounds of the legislation will be tested as potential conflicts arise with downstream water users.
On a Saturday in late August, the National Forest Foundation and Roaring Fork Outdoor Volunteers kicked off another restoration project, installing about 40 PALS in the White River National Forest in the headwaters of Middle Thompson Creek, a tributary of the Crystal River. The area was identified as a prime spot for stream restoration in a beaver inventory conducted in 2023 and 2024 by the U.S. Forest Service and funded by Pitkin County.
“Ideally, the changes in the channel that these [structures] provoke, and the changes in the vegetation will be enough to make those areas attractive to beaver again and beaver will just recolonize the site,” said Clay Ramey, a fisheries biologist with the White River National Forest.
The Forest Service is planning another, similar project next year in the headwaters of Four Mile Creek, one drainage over from Thompson Creek. But the size and scope of the proposed project has raised concerns from a local water conservancy district. The Rifle-based West Divide Water Conservancy District owns several small reservoirs and provides supplemental irrigation water and augmentation water for domestic water users.
West Divide says the project could impact water supply for its planned expansion of Martin Reservoirs. It contends the work would increase both the surface area of the stream, which causes evaporation, and the water consumed by wetland vegetation.
In a January letter to the state Division of Water Resources Division 5 Engineer Tyler Benton, the conservancy district said that the 152 structures planned over three phases is outside the scope of what is allowed by SB 270 and asks state officials to assess the project’s potential for injuring water rights holders.
“It’s not the healthiest stream by any stretch and so some restoration efforts are in order,” said West Divide board member Chris Treese. “But we don’t want those efforts to result in an impact to our water rights or any other water rights downstream that are within the West Divide district.”
This post-assisted log structure was installed on the headwaters of Middle Thompson Creek in August. The stream restoration project aims to rewet the sponge of the degraded watershed. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
More data needed
Part of the source of the disagreement comes from a lack of data about how exactly these types of projects that mimic beaver activity influence how water moves through valley bottoms.
Joel Sholtes, a water resources engineer and instructor at Colorado Mesa University, is aiming to answer that question. In August he was awarded a three-year $15,000 grant from Pitkin County Healthy Rivers to study how beaver activity alters ecosystems in the North Thompson Creek area. The sites with beavers can be a reference point to compare with areas restored by humans.
Sholtes will take seasonal measurements to try to better understand how much water beaver ponds detain, how it changes throughout the year and the differences in stream conditions between areas with resident beavers and those without. Sholtes’ early findings on a long-term study of headwaters across the state show that restoration projects do not produce large or sustained reductions in streamflow.
“The evolution and passing of SB 270 became contentious, and that conversation brought to bear a lot of knowledge gaps that we have related to stream restoration in headwaters,” Sholtes said. “There’s just not a big, robust body of literature, so the study’s number one effort is to address that in whatever ways we can. It’s not going to answer the question definitively, but it’s going to bring more data and nuance to the conversation.”
The Forest Service is monitoring and measuring the streamflows at the Four Mile project site to see what they are dealing with and the effects of their work – information West Divide is also interested in – with the intention of installing the first structures next summer.
For now, Burk says SB 270 is a good tool to accomplish 75% to 80% of the stream restoration projects that happen in Colorado. Most of these fall under three of the legislation’s six categories: stabilizing the streambanks with natural materials that allow water to flow downstream and don’t back up water past the ordinary high-water mark; stabilizing an intermittent stream by installing porous structures into the banks; and installing structures or reconstructing a stream channel for recovery from a wildfire or flood.
“This was designed for a subset of projects that are the majority to go forward because of the ecological and community benefits and watershed benefits,” Burk said.
A working group led by Burk and Corday has also created a training manual for best practices that groups can use to make sure their projects stay within the bounds of SB 270.
Abby Burk with Audubon Rockies stands in front of a post-assisted log structure, part of a restoration project on Dry Fork Creek. The project is one of the first completed under new state legislation that allows for minor stream restoration activities. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Communication with DWR essential
So what happens when restoration proponents believe their project fits within these parameters, but downstream water users argue the project goes too far?
Division of Water Resources officials have a limited role in refereeing these types of disagreements. Project proponents are not required to get approval from state officials and state officials do not have the authority to approve or deny projects. But as the administrator of the state’s water rights, DWR officials could still force a project to be removed if they determine it is harming downstream water users or require the project to get an augmentation plan from a water court that replaces the water it uses.
In the case of the Four Mile project, Division 5 Engineer Tyler Benton wrote in a February letterto Ramey that he does not have sufficient information to determine if the project would harm downstream water users, but that the Forest Service should communicate with the local DWR water commissioner to ensure the project complies with the law.
Both Burk and Ramey stressed the importance of communication and transparency with DWR officials to ensure the projects are in compliance with SB 270 from the beginning. Ramey said the water commissioner has visited both the Middle Thompson and Four Mile sites and is familiar with the projects.
Back at High Lonesome Ranch, beavers have moved back into the restored area and created ponds, amplifying the humans’ restoration work. Brooks said the project fits with the ranch’s philosophy of conservation and regenerative ranching, and he has aspirations of doing more work to revitalize the property’s other fire-damaged drainages in the future.
“The beaver activity that we saw is a big indication that we’re doing something right,” Brooks said. “Wildlife are coming back and utilizing the space the way a healthy riparian system should be utilized.”
Colorado Parks and Wildlife recently released a Beaver Conservation and Management Strategy to help beaver coexist with human activity in the state. | Credit: Colorado Parks and Wildlife
Click the link to read the article, and listen to the radio program, on the H2ORadio website (Frani Halperin):
September 20, 2026
Long hunted for their fur or extinguished as a nuisance, states like Colorado are promoting coexistence policies for the animals in recognition of their engineering abilities to move water where it’s needed most—especially in times of drought and increasing wildfires.
Honestly, I thought it was a prank. Running in my park in southeast Denver this summer, I saw several small cottonwood trees cut down along the creek. They had that distinctive hourglass-shaped stump that beavers make, but I live in an urban area, so clearly not felled by large aquatic rodents with buck teeth?
“So many people that live in Denver don’t even realize that beaver live in our creeks,” says Vikki Vargas-Madrid, the wildlife program manager for Denver Parks and Recreation.
Count me among those who did not know that anywhere there’s a creek, river, or stream along the Front Range of Colorado, (a term many people use to describe an urban corridor that stretches from Fort Collins to Colorado Springs and includes cities like Denver) you will find the animals.
Have water, will travel—but the beaver are not always welcome. Vargas-Madrid says her office gets calls every day from the public asking, for example, “why aren’t you protecting the trees in Bear Creek? The beaver are eating them all.” In the old days, Vargas-Madrid says, “the easy answer was, well, we’re just going to kill them all.”
But times have changed and management practices have evolved—something I was able to see firsthand. I met Vargas-Madrid at a creek called Sanderson Gulch that runs through a park in a residential area of southwest Denver. On a summer morning, we bushwhacked through some willows on the bank to get a closer look at a beaver dam with a large corrugated PVC pipe running through it that allows water to pass while maintaining the pond that the beaver created.
Denver Parks and Recreation wildlife & open space team install a pond leveler in a beaver dam at Sanderson Gulch that will allow water to pass. | Credit: Vicki Vargas- Madrid, wildlife program manager
Vargas-Madrid explains that the intent of installing the flow devices, which are made up of a pipe with cages to keep the structures in place, is to allow the beaver to remain. She says that beaver are important for ecological benefits, but some of the public don’t necessarily see that.
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
North American beaver (Castor canadensis), which are a “keystone species” in riparian communities, create wetlands that support aquatic vegetation that provide food for other wildlife, like the Swainson’s hawk that Vargas-Madrid spots overhead. She says her staff see more diversity in the birds, fish, and waterfowl that exist in the pools of water that the beaver create.
It’s not just the city of Denver that sees the value of beaver in the urban landscape. Kris Inman with Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW), a division of the Colorado Department of Natural Resources, says that urban areas are great places to see beaver doing what they do well.
Inman is the new beaver conservation program manager for the agency. Her job is to implement the new Beaver Conservation and Management Strategy released in March. The state wants to promote coexistence practices with beaver and she’s in luck, as beaver are having a moment. States, especially across the West but also around the country and even places internationally, are recognizing how the animals help protect ecosystems. Inman says that when beavers construct dams, they reconnect surface water to the pond that forms behind it with groundwater, and that enables the ground to act as a sponge. It can hold onto winter snowpack a little bit longer, and then slowly release it back into streams, providing us water when we—especially in the arid West—need it most.
Inman says there’s also been a lot of momentum to use beaver and their engineering prowess to help with wildfire prevention. Beaver efforts can be a natural way in which to store water longer, potentially having natural fuel breaks. She says the state can take advantage of this attribute by mimicking beaver dams and putting beaver dam “analogs” out in the field.
According to Inman, the hope is that beaver will adopt the human-constructed dams—the analogs—and maintain them, but that still doesn’t eliminate the potential conflicts with landowners, especially agriculture. Beaver “basically eat themselves out of house and home,” comments Inman, and then move on, adding that “they’re constantly doing forays and traveling up and down rivers and streams looking for new places to live.”
That new place could be someone’s private pond or fishery where beaver have moved in because water flows have become too low during droughts. Deep water is one of the primary protections beaver have against predators, but undoubtedly, it’s frustrating when dams disrupt water flows. Inman notes that a farmer might have a canal that’s blocked preventing water from going where it’s needed. Also, beaver activity could cause trails to flood or bridges to be washed out.
The Colorado beaver management plan includes strategies to relocate beaver, take out troublesome dams, paint trees with a sand-like texture to make them less tasty, install fencing around culverts—or add flow devices like the one at Sanderson Gulch.
Back at Sanderson Gulch in Denver near the beaver dam, a jogger along the adjacent path stops to talk to Vargas-Madrid and me. She says she sees the creatures early in the morning when she walks her dog. They’ll be on the side of the creek or occasionally in deeper water, and spotting them, she says, is “pretty cool.”
Her appreciation for having beaver in her local park was a sentiment expressed by other residents of the area when a project for the creek was being considered at a recent Denver City Council meeting. On September 14, 2026, the Denver City Council approved $20.6 million for improvements along Sanderson Gulch. As Denveritereports, among other improvements, the money will be used to deepen the creek. The city won’t remove the beaver but did acknowledge that the project will likely mean they will relocate. Gordon Robertson, of Denver Parks and Recreation said at the meeting that the goal was to widen the creek, and make it flatter to create more ecological benefits. Other work in city parks has disrupted beaver to leave temporarily, but, Robertson said, they will likely eventually return and this project will create more opportunity for them and hundreds of other species.
At the council meeting, beaver advocates from the local neighborhood organization voiced their concerns with some saying the project was not designed with beaver in mind. The group’s interest in coexisting with the animals and being eager to have beaver as their neighbor, makes the new state management plan’s objectives that much closer to being met.
A beaver dam on the Gunnison River. Photo: Brent Gardner-Smith/Aspen Journalism
In the struggling Colorado River basin, where water is scarce, the White House has signaled its priorities for how to use the remaining gallons.
Even as scientifically-determined thresholds have been met for releasing water from Glen Canyon Dam for ecological and recreational benefits in Grand Canyon, the Trump administration has decided against those actions in this record-hot year – deciding not to release cold water from deep in Lake Powell to aid the humpback chub, a threatened fish species, and not to authorize a high-volume release of water to rebuild Grand Canyon’s eroded beaches, which are in terrible condition, according to federal monitoring.
These environmental releases would not change the total volume of water flowing out of Lake Powell over the year, just the timing.
Because the releases bypass the dam’s turbines and reduce hydropower generation, which is part of the administration’s “energy dominance” agenda, the Bureau of Reclamation, the federal agency that manages Glen Canyon Dam, will not be doing them.
“After evaluating management alternatives and considering all authorized purposes, the decision was made based on significant hydropower generation concerns under already strained system conditions,” Reclamation said in a statement in August.
The administration’s decisions foreshadow more difficult choices ahead. Due to climate change and overuse, the Colorado River is shrinking and warming. Its dams were built and river management goals were laid out during an era that anticipated healthy reservoirs. That is no longer the case. Because Lake Powell and Lake Mead are about a quarter of their capacity or less, the hydrological assumptions that inform current management strategies are outdated, said Jack Schmidt, a scientist who has spent his four-decade career studying the Colorado River.
“Everything needs to be revisited because the driving factors of the Colorado River ecosystem in Grand Canyon are now completely changed and probably forever changed,” said Schmidt of Utah State University’s Center for Colorado River Studies. “Everything was developed in a world of full reservoirs. And now the reservoirs are empty.”
Tradeoffs Plague Water Managers
Even in the best of times, managing a large dam on a major river is not easy. Dams alter the river’s natural patterns of flow and temperature. Operators must weigh one set of benefits against another group of costs.
Glen Canyon Dam is one of the thorniest management conundrums. Located near the Arizona-Utah border, the 63-year-old structure has emerged as the most significant water-supply choke point in the Colorado River basin and it is the focus of clamorous debate about water and power infrastructure in a drier climate.
As managers grapple with how much water to release, Glen Canyon Dam is also choking the river of its natural supply of sediment. Without new inputs, sand bars and beaches in Grand Canyon are at risk of disappearing. These features provide habitat, give boaters a place to camp during river trips, and protect archaeological sites.
Most of the river’s sediment now comes from the Paria River and Little Colorado River, downstream of Glen Canyon. Periodic high-flow water releases from the dam mimic the thunderous floods of the past that carried sediment through Grand Canyon to fortify eroding beaches.
There is enough sediment in the Colorado River below Glen Canyon today to warrant a high-flow release. Yet Reclamation has not done one since 2023. Experts agree that Reclamation is highly unlikely to conduct one this fall either. A final decision will be made in the next few weeks.
The need for a high-flow release is mounting. In August, David Topping, a research hydrologist at the U.S. Geological Survey’s Grand Canyon Monitoring and Research Center, presented data showing the ill health of Grand Canyon beaches. A typical sand bar is smaller now than in 2016, when the current management plan that established the high-flow triggers was finalized.
The lack of high-flow releases has deprived researchers of crucial data on how the size and duration of these mini-floods, usually one to four days in length, aid beach-building.
Before and after photos of results of the high flow experiment in 2008 via USGS
“What can we do if the administration isn’t willing to allow us to use the bypass tubes for high-flow experiments, if that’s going to be off the table, at least for a while?” said Wayne Pullan, Reclamation’s Upper Colorado Region director, at a Glen Canyon management meeting in August, asking attendees to consider management options under political constraints.
“We’re in a pinch point,” Pullan added. “A real pinch point.”
Degraded beaches result in a degraded river experience, said David Brown of the Grand Canyon River Guides, a recreation advocacy group. Rafting groups have to compete for limited real estate in what is generally regarded as one of the world’s premier river corridors.
“When there’s less campable area, that means everyone’s kind of getting squished together or your toilet is next to where people are sleeping,” Brown said.
Non-Native Species Thrive in Warm Water
In addition to sediment, water temperature is the other blinking red environmental indicator.
Air temperature records in the basin are being obliterated this year. Colorado, home to the river’s headwaters, had its hottest summer ever. Scorching air temperatures are reflected in water. The Colorado River below Lake Powell is the warmest since Glen Canyon Dam was completed.
Smallmouth bass were introduced as a sport fish in the upper Colorado River basin in the late 1960s. Voracious feeders, smallmouth bass view other fish as the sport, happily preying on threatened native species like the humpback chub, an eighteen-inch fish in Grand Canyon with a distinctive smooshed silhouette.
Listed as endangered in 1967, the humpback chub has now bounced back thanks to tens of millions of dollars of conservation investment. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service upgraded the humpback chub to “threatened” status in 2018.
Diagram showing critical reservoir levels at Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell. Land Desk diagram with data from the Bureau of Reclamation.
Smallmouth bass live in Lake Powell, preferring the layer of warm water closest to the surface. As the lake shrinks, that warm layer has now reached the level of the penstocks, which pull water into Glen Canyon Dam’s turbines for hydropower generation before being released downstream.
In these low-water conditions, the fear is that more smallmouth bass will be delivered into the Colorado River below Glen Canyon.
Once there, they will find a habitable environment. Smallmouth bass spawn when water temperatures exceed 60 degrees Fahrenheit. This year, that mark was breached in June. Today, the river at Lees Ferry, about 16 miles downstream of Glen Canyon Dam, is about 70 F.
These conditions – when the river temperature is above 60 F for three consecutive days – are supposed to trigger a release of cold water from deep in Lake Powell. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service says that this “cool mix” is the “only conservation measure proven to limit smallmouth bass reproduction.” Evidence from cool mix releases in 2024 and 2025, which knocked down smallmouth bass numbers, supports that conclusion.
Cool mix, however, will not happen in 2026 due to the Trump administration’s desire to generate hydropower.
The last cool mix flow, in 2025, cost the Western Area Power Administration, which markets federal hydropower, $6.1 million to replace that electricity for its contractors.
Instead of cool mix, Reclamation says it is focusing on other options to keep smallmouth bass from establishing downstream of Glen Canyon and to preserve the humpback chub’s hard-won conservation gains. In the short term that means stunning the bass with electric-shock tools and physically removing them from the water.
In the longer term, Reclamation is considering installing infrastructure to regulate the temperature of the water that passes through Glen Canyon. The agency calls this one of its “durable structural solutions.”
An Uncertain Future
Cool mix and high-flow releases are an attempt to rebalance an ecosystem that the dams destabilized. Congress passed the Grand Canyon Protection Act of 1992, which orders Reclamation to operate Glen Canyon Dam in a manner that protects and reduces harm to the “natural and cultural resources and visitor use.” That is, fish, tribal archaeological sites, and rafting.
The act required an environmental impact statement for Glen Canyon Dam that would analyze the actions required to achieve the broad environmental-protection goals set by Congress.
It was a “compromise to really put all the resources on the same playing field,” said Jen Pelz of the Grand Canyon Trust. In her view, decisions this year tilt in one direction – hydropower. “I don’t feel like they’re being balanced right now.”
Because the river guides were instrumental in lobbying for Grand Canyon protections, the present-day failures to uphold the act’s goals are all the more galling, Brown said. “It’s very hard to watch it get ignored.”
The administration is prioritizing hydropower when hydropower is at a pivot point.
Generation at Glen Canyon is down more than 40% from when Lake Powell was full. Utilities are turning to solar and wind to cover some of the generation losses, while utility-scale batteries are helping to replace the capacity and grid-regulating functions that a large dam provides.
The decision to favor hydropower over ecology reflects bigger problems with the Colorado River’s infrastructure. Glen Canyon Dam is not designed for the river as it exists today. Reclamation wants to keep Lake Powell high enough to generate hydropower because the dam’s other outlets to deliver water downstream are untested over long periods and were damaged in a previous high-flow release.
Lower basin states and tribes, including Arizona, California, Nevada, and the Gila River Indian Community, have asked the federal government to update Glen Canyon’s infrastructure for water delivery and power generation. Reclamation is assessing three options and expects that study to be released in early 2027. Any additional action will require congressional approval and funding.
Along with the infrastructure problems, man-made climate change is sapping the river and heating up its water. Ecologists consider the Grand Canyon a “novel ecosystem,” meaning its native species and natural processes have been disrupted and rearranged by human meddling.
To Schmidt, the former chief of the U.S. Geological Survey’s Grand Canyon Monitoring and Research Center, this suggests a wholesale rethinking not just of the river’s infrastructure but also of our ecological goals for the Colorado River.
“We as a society get to play God in deciding what attributes of that ecosystem we value, which ones we want to work hard to preserve and which ones we don’t,” he said. “The answer is not an obvious one.”
This story was produced by Circle of Blue, in partnership withThe Water Deskat the University of Colorado Boulder’s Center for Environmental Journalism.
The U.S. Supreme Court’s 2023 decision on Sackett v. Environmental Protection Agency dramatically weakened protections for millions of acres of the West’s essential wetlands and streams. Under the ruling, only bodies of water with a “continuous surface connection” to a “relatively permanent” traditional, navigable water body can be legally considered part of the waters of the United States (WOTUS) and therefore covered by the Clean Water Act.
The court’s definition excludes wetlands with belowground connections to bodies of water as well as those fed by ephemeral or intermittent streams. In effect, an estimated 60% of wetlands have lost federal protection, according to a National Resources Defense Council report. The language in the decision was ambiguous — exactly how wet a wetland has to be to fall under WOTUS and qualify protections was left up to federal agencies.
Wetlands are critical to both human and ecosystem health as well as for climate change mitigation. But they are also prime targets for dredging, filling and other disruptions because of their proximity to water and rich, fertile soil.
Under President Biden, the EPA broadly interpreted Sackett, focusing on protecting wetlands adjacent to bodies of water, with no explicit threshold for how often they had to be flooded. In March, however, Donald Trump’s EPA released a memo indicating that it plans to restrict all WOTUS, although it’s not yet clear by how much.
“The current EPA seems to be using Sackett as a springboard to find any perceived ambiguities and narrow the definition of WOTUS further,” said Julian Gonzalez, senior legislative counsel at Earthjustice.
“The current EPA seems to be using Sackett as a springboard to find any perceived ambiguities and narrow the definition of WOTUS further.”
In the absence of federal regulations, state dredge-and-fill permitting programs can protect wetlands, and California, Oregon and Washington all have broad protections for non-WOTUS wetlands and streams. And since the Sackett decision, Colorado and New Mexico have passed laws restoring clean water protections for waters excluded from WOTUS. “It’s a dereliction of duty on the federal government’s part by not appropriately protecting the waters of the U.S. and that leaves it up to the states to fill in those protections,” said Rachel Conn, deputy director of Amigos Bravos, a New Mexico conservation organization.
The result is a patchwork of laws protecting the nation’s wetlands. But if more Western states were to emulate their neighbors’ efforts and take action, millions of acres of wetlands could be saved, even in the absence of strong federal protections.
National Resources Defense Council estimates are based on scenarios in which the federal government adopts two interpretations of Sackett that are supported by industry and some states: one, excluding wetlands adjacent to intermittent or ephemeral streams (bottom of range), and another, excluding wetlands that are not wet or flooded most of the year (top of range). According to legal experts, the EPA’s current guidance suggests that the administration will limit WOTUS significantly, excluding most wetlands. Alaska is excluded from this graph due to lack of data.
Credit: High Country News
Arizona
Wetland oversight is primarily conducted through the Surface Water Protection Program (SWPP), administered by the Arizona Department of Environmental Quality. House Bill 2691, passed in 2021 before Sackett, established the SWPP, which allows the state to protect some waters not covered under the Clean Water Act.
Wyoming
While Wyoming lacks a permitting program, it does bar the discharge of any pollution or wastes into its waters without a clean water permit. In addition, Wyoming established a Wetland Banking Fund before Sackett to encourage individuals and companies to preserve wetlands. It enables entities to bank wetland credits earned from wetland conservation projects and use them later to offset a development’s impacts on wetlands, with the goal of achieving “no net loss of wetland function and value in the state.”
Colorado
Wetland protections are primarily governed by House Bill 24-1379, a law passed in 2024 that aims to restore Clean Water Act protections to state wetlands that lost them owing to Sackett. It establishes a state permitting program.
New Mexico
The Pollutant Discharge Elimination System Act (SB 21), which was signed into law on April 8, gives the state authority to regulate surface waters. It creates a statewide permitting program and addresses polluted groundwater that falls outside federal programs.
Credit: Hannah Agosta/High Country News
How wetlands work
Approximately 40% of species, including half of all federally listed species, rely on wetlands, which act like sponges for excess water, offering billions of gallons of flood protection and storing this water for later use. Their plants, roots and microbes filter pollution from drinking water and also store 20%-30% of the world’s total soil carbon. But Western states have lost 50% of their wetlands since colonization, and roughly half of the region’s remaining ones are degraded.
Illustrations by Hannah Agosta/High Country News
SOURCES: From Gold, 2024 in Science/Environmental Defense Fund, National Resources Defense Council, U.S. Fish and Wildlife National Wetlands Inventory, Wetlands International.
Iron Fen. Photo credit from report “A Preliminary Evaluation of Seasonal Water Levels Necessary to Sustain Mount Emmons Fen: Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison National Forests,” David J. Cooper, Ph.D, December 2003.
Tens of millions of people across the West depend on the Colorado River for drinking water, food, power and their livelihoods. But years of drought, rising temperatures and declining reservoirs have put that lifeline under extraordinary strain. The newly released Record of Decision and federal Operating Guidelines for the river provide a framework for operations, but they cannot resolve the region’s underlying challenges on their own. The work that happens next will determine the future of the river and the communities that rely on it.
2026 marks one of the worst water years on record for the Colorado River Basin and throughout the American West, as river flows dwindle and megafires consume landscape after landscape. Water in Lake Mead, the largest reservoir in the U.S., has dropped to its lowest level since it was filled more than 90 years ago. Long-term planning and investment is critical to stabilize the river while protecting communities from increasingly severe fire, floods and drought.
Reclamation announces 2026 operating conditions for Lake Powell and Lake Mead. Hoover Dam. Photo credit: USBR
The release of the guidelines is a milestone, not the finish line. A document can’t ensure safe water supplies or combat the impacts of severe drought and wildfires. Significant federal, state and local funding needs to be directed towards strategies that make the health of rivers, forests and wetlands a priority. Without it, the Basin will remain at risk of chronic shortages, food supply disruption, energy grid vulnerability and rising economic instability that breed disruption and conflict for the entire region.
It is critical that we take this opportunity to invest in work that focuses on ensuring healthy watersheds, sustainable water use and collaboration between Colorado River Basin states and Tribal Nations.
Nature-based solutions—including river and forest management and wetland restoration—are a crucial part of the Basin’s infrastructure. They enable dependable water supplies, reduce threats from wildfires and flooding, sustain fish and wildlife and support local communities and economies. With so much attention focused on water allocations, reservoir levels and operational decisions, the role of these natural systems cannot get lost in the mix.
Fortunately there are projects throughout the Colorado River Basin that offer a blueprint for how to work with the power of nature to create a more sustainable path forward.
Projects designed to better manage forests and restore wetlands can improve water quality and create natural firebreaks. Regenerative agriculture practices like growing crops that use less water, and limiting the disruption of soil, can help create healthier farmland that better absorbs and retains water so farmers can use less. These approaches are an important part of a broader portfolio of tools that help communities conserve water, reduce risk and strengthen watersheds.
As the Colorado River endures one of its worst water years on record, long-term planning and investment is critical to stabilize water supplies while protecting communities from increasingly severe fire, floods and drought. Grand Canyon and Colorado River by Brian Richter
Transparency and collaboration between the federal government, Basin state leaders, Tribal Nations and Mexico is essential. We know that those closest to the problem are closest to the solution and that we will be more effective when we draw on the collective expertise of everyone who relies on the river. Basin states have not yet been able to negotiate a long-term management plan but that cannot stand in the way of continued work to create a more reliable and resilient Colorado River system.
Philanthropy also has a vital role to play in the future of the Colorado River. We are continuing to collaborate with our grantees to advance innovative, nature-based solutions for the region. Philanthropic investment can help test and scale approaches, fill gaps, build partnerships and demonstrate what is possible in complement to the much-needed federal, state, Tribal and local investments. Together we can help make sure the river can continue to provide for the next generation.
The U.S. Forest Service-owned parcel known as Janeway is adjacent to the Crystal River. A potential nature-based aquifer recharge project could reconnect the historic floodplain to the river and retime spring flows as part of a water supply replacement plan. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
“Game on!” as a friend texted yesterday afternoon. Credit: John Fleck/InkStain
Click the link to read the article on the InkStain website (John Fleck):
September 2, 2026
At 2 p.m. Monday (Aug 31, 2026) the Albuquerque Bernalillo County Water Utility Authority, along with the Middle Rio Grande Conservancy District and Audubon Southwest, began releasing a pulse of water from Abiquiu Reservoir on the Rio Chama in Northern New Mexico as an experiment – what might a several day pulse of water do to help the aridification-starved riverside forests along New Mexico’s Middle Rio Grande?
Here’s Bernalillo County Commissioner Barbara Baca, chair of the ABCWUA board:
As I and others have written previously, we’re seeing extraordinary stress on the riverside trees, the ribbons of green that flank the Rio Grande through New Mexico’s largest city.
The tradeoffs that we talk about every fall semester in the water resources class I teach, tradeoffs among competing and conflicting values, are becoming real. The motivating question I’ve used in my writing on water since my old newspaper days was to ask, as pointedly as I could, “When supplies run sort, who actually doesn’t get water?”
Two answers have become increasingly obvious in recent years along the Middle Rio Grande. What we’ve come to call the “accordion” of irrigated agriculture is squeezing, as pastures and fields without the super-senior water rights that apply to some of the irrigated lands of New Mexico’s Middle Rio Grande (or a supplemental well) go dry.
“The environment” is the other.
The question has never been “What do we say we value?”, but rather “What do we value enough to give up water in some other place?” This is about tradeoffs. More water in one place – an irrigated field or the river channel itself – necessarily means less water in some other place. My “what do we value enough to give up water” formulation shifts this from a question of what we say we value to what we actually value enough to give up water to preserve?
Behind the scenes for the last couple of weeks there has been an extraordinary effort underway to scrounge up some water currently in storage upstream for other purposes, and to rapidly put in place the tools to monitor the results. Nobody’s quite sure how much water will get how far into the bone dry Albuquerque reach of the river, how far downstream the pulse will make it, what the results might be for the riverside forest.
For my whole professional life, long before I shifted from newspapers to writing books, I had a joke when something remarkable happened: “That’ll be great material for my book!” This is that.
Sun’s almost up, I’m off to chase the water.
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
On its surface, Sloan’s Lake is a beautiful oasis that offers a refuge from city life. Part of one of the largest parks in Denver, it features glistening water, mountain views and plenty of paved paths to walk a dog, catch up with a friend or train for a race. But just beneath its gentle waves is a murky, sometimes smelly truth. The [North] Denver lake is slowly filling in with stormwater sludge. The surprisingly shallow water is often quite warm, making it a difficult environment for fish to survive and an easy place for dangerous algae blooms to thrive. If the accumulating muck isn’t addressed soon, the lake is at risk of becoming fully stagnant and bereft of life. On Wednesday, Denver Mayor Mike Johnston stood alongside members of the City Council and advocates for the lake’s future to announce a plan to invest tens of millions of dollars to prevent that from happening.
“A lake that used to be 12 feet deep is in some places only 4 feet deep. It affects the lake’s health. It affects algae blooms. It affects our most beloved events,” Johnston said from the lake’s shore. “We think there’s nothing more important for the long-term health of this neighborhood than to support the long-term health of this lake.”
Dragon boat practice at Sloan’s Lake August 29, 2026.
To raise more money for the cleanup effort, Johnston’s administration will ask the Denver Urban Renewal Authority to add the lake to a nearby urban renewal district south of the park. That would allow it to benefit from money raised through an already-approved tax incentive in the area…The 177-acre lake, which plays host to the annual Colorado Dragon Boat Festival, is only 3 feet deep on average…Swaths of neighborhoods in Denver, Edgewater, Lakewood and Wheat Ridge drain into the lake, bringing sand, sediment and street crud. Over time, that has built up and begun filling in the bottom of the lake. The cleanup project will include dredging sediment out of the bottom of the lake and disposing of it. Crews will also work on ways to prevent more sediment from building up in the lake. Kurt Weaver, the executive director of the Sloan’s Lake Park Foundation, asked the community to keep advocating for the project throughout the entire construction process to ensure it’s completed.
“To be able to have an opportunity to write a new future for the lake is massive for us, the community around it and everyone who spends time here at the lake,” he said.
Cormorants on old pier pilings at Sloans Lake April 12, 2026.
From its start as a pure snowflake in the Rocky Mountains of Montana to its clouded, churning confluence with the Mississippi River in St. Louis, the “Big Muddy” has for centuries been incrediby impactful to the communities that call it home. Native Americans were first to recognize the importance of the Missouri River, with twenty-nine Tribal Nations recognized to hold cultural, economic, or water rights to this current day. Followed by Lewis and Clark on their historic “Corps of Discovery Expedition”, the river opened up a new horizon for the newly established United States of America to expand.
As time moved on, the Missouri and its floodplain became more developed, heavily farmed, tightly constricted, and eventually dammed. The Pick-Sloan Flood Control Act of 1944 changed the wild and free Big Muddy like never before; building massive dams and reservoirs, and thousands of miles of levees to facilitate flood control, farm irrigation, commercial navigation, and hydropower generation. While it can be debated as to the successes of Pick-Sloan, one thing is certain, a new wave of threats to the health and function of the river itself was set in motion and continues to grow today.
Confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers, Missouri | Mitch Paine Photography
One of the first major rivers that was a focus of conservation efforts by American Rivers, we pushed for the endangered species listing of the pallid sturgeon, piping plover, and interior least tern. Changes in the river connectivity, historic hydrology, and natural sandbar creation severely impacted these species’ ability to survive. We were also a primary advocate in the subsequent actions for the Congressional creation of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ (USACE) Missouri River Recovery Program (MRRP).
Pallid sturgeon
The MRRP is focused on:
(1) avoiding actions that jeopardize federally listed species, and
While advances have been made, including the de-listing of the interior least tern and the slow completion of levee-setbacks to establish floodplain re-connection, there is still over halfway to go to complete the total 166,750 acres of Missouri River floodplains that were approved to be acquired and restored as part of the BSNP.
Coyote Gulch and daughter at the confluence of the Missouri River and Mississippi November 25, 2022. The Mississippi is to the left and the Missouri is to the right. Note the huge gaging station on the far bank.
Without increasing taxes, Prop 137 would invest an estimated $175 million annually to reduce wildfire risk, protect and conserve water and land, strengthen watershed and forest health, expand access to the outdoors, and sustain Colorado’s outdoor economy.
“Your vote of ‘yes’ on Proposition 137 supports local, regional, and state-level change that prepares our communities for wildfires and keeps our homes, lands, and waters protected. Wildfire preparedness is generational; community-based solutions and state-led funding are key,” said Jennifer Mueller, CEO of The Ember Alliance . “If you want to ensure that our kids and future generations can also enjoy the places we love as Coloradans today, then a ‘yes’ on Prop 137 is a priority.”
Prop 137 would redirect money from the state’s existing sales tax on sporting goods and outdoor equipment, and dedicate those funds to protect drinking water, prevent catastrophic wildfires, and preserve Colorado’s forests, lands, and open spaces.
“Colorado’s lands and water are foundational to our communities, economy, and way of life,” said Robyn Paulekas, executive director of Keep It Colorado . “We have a unique opportunity to make smart, long-term investments that conserve working lands, protect water resources, expand access to the outdoors, and reduce wildfire risk. Prop 137 would provide dedicated, year-after-year funding to help meet those goals without raising taxes.”
Colorado is running out of time to protect the lands, water, and forests that define our state. As temperatures rise and drought places increasing pressure on rivers and water supplies, and wildfires intensify, this initiative will safeguard water for all.
“Denver Water is responsible for delivering clean water to more than one and a half million Coloradans. Our drinking water starts as snowpack and rainfall in the mountains, filters through our forests and flows into the rivers that supply our communities,” said Alan Salazar, CEO of Denver Water . “But bigger, more intense wildfires are increasingly damaging our forested watersheds and degrading our source water supplies. Proposition 137 would provide crucial funding to restore our forests and make them more resilient against the threat of catastrophic wildfire, helping ensure the high-quality water supply that Coloradans depend on.”
A broad and growing coalition of water and wildfire experts, outdoor recreation leaders and small businesses, community advocates, and conservation organizations from across Colorado has endorsed the measure, which would support:
Watershed protection projects that safeguard drinking water supplies
Work to help prevent severe wildfires and restore forests in fire-prone watersheds
Conservation protection of working lands and ranches
Trail and park improvements and new state parks and open space
Wildlife corridor, habitat restoration projects, and invasive species removal
Support for Colorado’s growing outdoor recreation economy and gateway communities
Enhanced outdoor recreation opportunities across the state
“Colorado’s outdoors are the foundation of our recreation economy and a defining part of what makes our state such a special place to live, work, and play. As someone who has spent a career helping people experience these landscapes firsthand, I know how important it is to invest in protecting them for future generations,” said Bill Gamber, co-founder of Big Agnes , a Steamboat Springs-based outdoor gear company. “Funding from Proposition 137 would enable us to conserve our land and water and expand outdoor recreation opportunities, all without increasing taxes. That’s a win for our communities, our economy, and for Coloradans now and in the years to come.”
The campaign has received dozens of endorsements to date from groups that include: American Rivers, Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, Colorado State Grange, Community Agriculture Alliance, Conservation Colorado, Denver Water, Ducks Unlimited, Eagle Valley Land Trust, The Ember Alliance, Environmental Defense Fund, Great Outdoors Colorado, Keep It Colorado, Mountain Towns 2030, National Wildlife Federation, Wildfire Mitigation Council, Rural Is Rad PBC, The Conservation Fund, The Greenway Foundation, The Nature Conservancy, Pikes Peak Outdoors, Routt County Wildfire Mitigation Council, San Luis Valley Great Outdoors, Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership, Tri-State Generation and Transmission Association, Trust for Public Land, Western Resource Advocates, and The Wilderness Society.
In areas that experience low-severity burns, fire events can serve to eliminate vegetative competition, rejuvenate its growth and improve watershed conditions. But, in landscapes subjected to high or even moderate burn severity, the post-fire threats to public safety and natural resources can be extreme. Photo credit: Colorado State Forest Service
Coyote Gulch along the Yampa River Core Trail August 20, 2026.
Wildfire mitigation was front and center yesterday. Click here for my BlueSky feed. Click the link for the conference hash tag feed (click the “Latest” tab).
The Farm Collaborative is headquartered at Cozy Point Ranch, an open space property owned by the city of Aspen. The nonprofit serves as not only a regenerative farm but a camp, school and resource center for the local community and farmers. The Farm Collaborative/Courtesy Photo
Click the link to read the article on The Aspen Times website (Lis Longwell). Here’s an excerpt:
August 12, 2026
Three years ago, beavers returned to an Aspen-area testing ground for regenerative agriculture. What’s happened since has been nothing short of transformative, according to Eden Vardy, who started The Farm Collaborative in 2008 with the ambitious goal of finding solutions to climate change.
When beavers returned to The Farm Collaborative in 2023, it was a sign that the regenerative agricultural practices were having the intended effects. The Farm Collaborative/Courtesy Photo
“Everything has transformed, there’s been just so much new growth in the riparian area. We’re starting to see predatory birds explore; I’ve seen a handful of golden eagles and bald eagles and a lot more coyotes and foxes coming into the area. But the most significant is the growth of the water table…This year, when we were anticipating our smallest year of water ever — which it still is, we are now starting to go dry — we had easily two months of more water than we thought we would this year as a result of really the storage systems that the beavers developed for us,” Vardy said…
Beavers’ role as a keystone species and ecosystem engineers has been increasingly recognized by scientists, environmentalists and water providers as an effective means of increasing drought resiliency. A project at Rocky Mountain National Park mimicking beavers has received notoriety for its early success in restoring wetland benefits to a drying landscape. Colorado Parks and Wildlife, during a time when Vardy served on its commission, responded to beavers’ growing popularity with a strategy to guide future species’ conservation and management. In July, the state agency also released beavers in two state wildlife areas near Rifle amid some man-made beaver structures to restore riparian ecosystems…
The Farm Collaborative’s learning center in Aspen was designed as a living classroom to connect individuals with food systems and explore regenerative agriculture practices. The Farm Collaborative/Courtesy Photo
Today, The Farm Collaborative — through youth and community programming as well as farmer support efforts — is focused on helping individuals explore and understand regenerative agriculture. The practice includes efforts to improve soil health, restore biodiversity and enhance water management…
“We are in a dust bowl again right now, just like we were during the Great Depression,” Vardy said. “Our tactics in agriculture, while productive, can have an adverse impact on the land in a way that prohibits our capacity to grow food, and regeneration is just utilizing the land differently, incorporating different techniques — instead of tilling, you can crimp from a grain operation, adding animals to the landscape for fertilization and soil building, cover cropping, crop rotations.”
Regeneration is not, however, simply an altruistic endeavor, he said.
“A beaver doesn’t show up in a water system because it’s altruistic and it wants to see more trout, more insects or more biodiversity; the beaver shows up because it wants to eat willow and it wants to raise its family in a healthy and comfortable way,” he said. “The byproduct of that work is that all these cascading biological effects take place.”
In the same way, regenerative agriculture is about making farms productive in the long term in a way that “restores the cascading effects for biology around the farm,” he added.
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
Kim Lennberg from Alba Watershed Consulting, Luke Kimmes from Colorado Mountain College, and John Kemper from Utah State University, collect data on the Elk River in 2025. Photo credit: Friends of the Yampa
Here’s the release from Friends of the Yampa:
July 29, 2026
Results for the 2025 Yampa River Scorecard Project focusing on the Elk River Segment are now available. This segment stretches for about 32 miles from the confluence with the South Fork Elk River to the confluence with the Yampa River. The main stem of the Elk flows through a mixture of private property and the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest, past Glen Eden and Clark, and through a variety of large working ranches and small private developments. It also passes through the Christina State Wildlife Area, a Colorado Parks & Wildlife fishing easement, before reaching the main stem of the Yampa River east of Milner.
A complex combination of parameters is measured and considered when determining the score for any of the project segments. These parameters include flow and sediment regimes, water quality, habitat and riverscape connectivity, riparian conditions, river form, micro and macro habitat considerations, and the biotic community.
The overall score for the Ecological Health and Function of this segment was a “B.” This represents an overall healthy river. Findings show that this segment should continue to be protected as an example of a well-functioning system that supports both a healthy and productive human community and a relatively natural ecosystem.
Key findings:
Channel morphology largely intact
Limited invasive plant species present
Water quality generally excellent
Some periodic exceedances of temperature thresholds downstream
Bank armoring is the main detrimental factor that negatively influences organisms’ ability to move between aquatic habitat and riparian habitats
Native fish data is sparse and there is widespread and unregulated stocking of non-native fish species
The overall score of “B” refers to the Ecological Health and Function of the Elk River. Other attributes scored included People and Community Benefits and River Uses and Management. Photo credit: Friends of the Yampa
Why Do a River Health Assessment?
The Yampa River Scorecard Project is the implementation of a goal set forth in the Yampa White Green Basin Roundtable “Integrated Water Management Plan.” It is an ongoing river health assessment that will eventually provide data on the health of the Yampa River in its entirety. The goals for this project are to:
1) Provide a source of ongoing data collection related to river health that can document change over time.
2) Improve public understanding of river processes, river use, and river ecosystem services through an engaging public interface that communicates our findings at yampascorecard.org.
3) Provide information related to river health that may be used voluntarily by landowners/land managers to inform river and land-management decisions.
To accomplish these goals, Friends of the Yampa and Scorecard partners have divided the river into six segments. One segment is assessed each year so that after six years, the health of the entire river will be assessed.
The Yampa Basin is divided into 6 focal segments. The year listed is when the majority of the data is collected, and most reports will come out early the following year. Credit: Friends of the Yampa.
Denver Water is throwing its weight behind and spreading the word about a proposed ballot initiative that would ask voters to redirect a portion of state sales tax revenue on sleeping bags, hiking boots and skis to help fight wildfires, reduce risk of additional blazes, and restore mountain watersheds already damaged by fire.
It’s a rare move for the state’s largest water provider, which serves 1.5 million customers in the metro area, and has been hard hit by major blazes, with thousands of acres of land scorched and reservoirs filled with debris. Tens of millions of dollars have been spent restoring land in the South Platte River Basin, where major events, such as the Hayman Fire in 2002, devastated key mountain lands and the streams that feed its collection system.
“For us it is a major infrastructure need,” said Alan Salazar, Denver Water’s general manager.
Proposition 308 is not yet on the ballot. Signatures were submitted to the Colorado Secretary of State’s office July 27. The office has until Sept. 2 to review the signatures.
For the past 20 years, as deep droughts have periodically gripped the state, wildfires have emerged as a major threat to the mountain watersheds that deliver fresh water across the state, from Durango, to Aurora, Denver and Fort Collins.
Denver Water operates a special fire mitigation project each year in partnership with other state and federal agencies, known as Forests to Faucets. But even with this collaborative approach, there isn’t enough money or labor to do all the work on the ground, Salazar said.
Proposition 308 would provide about $175 million annually that would go toward water and land conservation, according to Aaron Citron, The Nature Conservancy’s Natural Resources Policy Adviser in Colorado. The Nature Conservancy is one of the backers of 308, alongside Conservation Colorado, the Trust for Public Land and Western Resource Advocates.
The money would be taken from state coffers in years when there is a budget surplus. Though the proposal is not a new tax, it could reduce the size of refunds taxpayers normally receive in years when there is a surplus.
“Four of the largest wildfires have ignited in the last six years, burning 1.5 million acres. That has brought these issues more into the public consciousness … We know we have to act now if we want to protect resources and wildlife,” Citron said.
The money would be controlled mostly by GOCO and the state Natural Resources department
If approved, Proposition 308 would give about half of the sales tax revenue generated, $83 million, to Great Outdoors Colorado and another $83 million to the Colorado Department of Natural Resources, to expand land and water conservation programs these agencies already operate. Another $4.3 million would go to promoting outdoor recreation and the remaining $4.3 million would be spent to increase families’ access to the outdoors.
The ballot measure would exempt taxes collected on some sporting goods from the Taxpayer’s Bill of Rights, or TABOR, in a process known as de-Brucing, which is named after Douglas Bruce, the architect of the 1990 TABOR amendment.
Aurora Water staff has recommended that the city also endorse the measure but no formal action has been taken by city council, according to spokeswoman Shonnie Cline.
Budget hawks, such as Jon Caldara, president of Denver’s Independence Institute, said the citizen initiative is likely a reflection of voter frustration with state lawmakers, who he says haven’t done enough to fund the state’s basic need for water infrastructure, public safety and roads.
“Whether it is water or transportation infrastructure, we’re seeing that people are getting tired of the legislature not budgeting for basic needs. We shouldn’t be surprised people are taking their funding back,” Caldara said.
Unlike Denver and Aurora, Northern Water has not endorsed Proposition 308, General Manager Brad Wind said. Its board will likely receive a briefing on the topic in September.
Northern, too, has been hard-hit by wildfires. It has spent upwards of $100 million to restore and better protect its sprawling watershed west of Rocky Mountain National Park, which was scorched by the East Troublesome and Cameron Peak fires in 2020. Still, Wind said, that cash has allowed them to do only the bare minimum.
“We’re just touching the higher risk areas,” Wind said, “The cost is immense. I can’t imagine any utility has the money to make the investments needed.”
How voters will respond to Proposition 308 in November isn’t clear. Salazar said he isn’t aware of any organized opposition yet, but several other initiatives are also headed for the ballot, making a long list of things for voters to consider.
“It appears to be a crowded ballot,” Salazar said. “We want to make sure that when people get to this they are not exhausted.”
You know the Colorado River crisis is serious when the Trump administration is willing to use hundreds of millions of dollars from President Biden’s climate law to help to solve it.
As of Wednesday night, federal officials had yet to release their plan for mandatory water cutbacks along the Colorado — a crucial water source for tens of millions of people and millions of acres of farmland across the American West. But with a plan expected later this week, details were starting to trickle out.
The L.A. Times’ Ian James reported that Trump’s Interior Department would accept a proposal submitted by California, Arizona and Nevada — the Lower Basin states — to slash their water use by 12%, 31% and 28%, respectively, through 2028. They’ll receive $350 million from Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act to support water conservation.
The Upper Basin states — Colorado, Utah, New Mexico and Wyoming — will get $100 million in conservation funding. But unlike their downstream neighbors, they won’t face mandatory water cuts. However much water they end up saving, that will be good enough.
It’s always possible the plan will change. I’m eager to see the final details.
While we wait, let’s hear from one of the West’s most thoughtful and well-informed Colorado River chroniclers.
That would be Zak Podmore, author of “Life After Dead Pool: Lake Powell’s Last Days and the Rebirth of the Colorado River.” Earlier this week, he and I talked for an hour and took audience questions on Zoom; it was a great time. Thank you to everyone who joined us. Paid subscribers to Climate-Colored Goggles can scroll up to watch the full video.
Here are five lessons that stood out to me from our conversation — all of which are relevant to the high-stakes conflict playing out among the states.
1. We’re not doomed. Earth is resilient
My favorite thing about “Life After Dead Pool” is its hopeful message.
Most headlines about the Colorado River these days are gloomy. For instance, the last time Lake Mead and Lake Powell held as little water as they do right now was 1956 — before Lake Powell existed, meaning all the water was in Mead. Powell is currently 23% full; Mead is 27% full. These are the largest reservoirs in the United States.
A river returns. Almost 50 miles of the San Juan, once inundated by Powell Reservoir, are flowing free. Photo credit: Morgan Sjogren
But Podmore’s book flips the script, offering a firsthand look the amazing ecological recovery taking place as Lake Powell shrinks.
In and around the reservoir, which was flooded by Glen Canyon Dam more than 60 years ago, native vegetation is returning much faster than scientists thought possible — especially in narrow side canyons inundated by Powell. Exploring these remote, newly accessible places inspired Podmore to write his book.
“Instead of hearing the story that I grew up hearing — which was that Glen Canyon Dam had all these negative environmental consequences, it drowned this beautiful place — I was hearing these conversations from these researchers who were talking about the landscape that was coming back, and how excited they were about the way the ecology was recovering, and the way the endangered fish were expanding their habitat,” Podmore said.
“Instead of a story about being too late, it was a story about realizing that I was right on time, as we all are, to see the rebirth of Glen Canyon,” he added.
The Colorado River flows through Glen Canyon in 1958, before the dam was built. (Photo via Wikimedia Commons)
2. Those who don’t learn from history…
Podmore starts the book by imagining what Indigenous life might have been like in and around Glen Canyon nearly 1,000 years ago — when the region had a far larger population than it does today.
He wanted to show that the Colorado River Basin’s human history began long before white settlement — and that even environmentalists have often ignored the watershed’s Indigenous past.
“I was definitely indoctrinated into the mainstream environmental school of thought as I was growing up,” he said. “I had a copy of the really famous book about Glen Canyon called, ‘The Place No One Knew,’ which was published by the Sierra Club in the ’60s and talked about how nobody cared enough about Glen Canyon to protect it. And then I realized later on that [the] title was very offensive, and [in fact] there were people who knew Glen Canyon very well and lived there for thousands of years, and who were displaced as the waters of Lake Powell started to fill, in the case of many Navajo families.”
Podmore’s opening scene describes a 10,000-gallon stone water tank built by Ancestral Pueblo farmers, the ruins of which were eventually buried by Lake Powell. The tank’s key feature: a drain at the bottom, so that irrigation could continue no matter how low water levels got.
Diagram showing critical reservoir levels at Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell. Land Desk diagram with data from the Bureau of Reclamation.
Lake Powell doesn’t have a drain at the bottom. It could certainly use one.
3. The Upper Basin states aren’t doing enough
If Powell’s water levels sink much lower, water won’t be able to pass through the dam’s hydropower turbines, which generate cheap electricity for communities across the West. That wouldn’t be a “dead pool” situation; water could still flow downstream to the Grand Canyon and Lake Mead through bypass tubes lower in the dam. But the bypass tubes are surprisingly frail and could break with sustained use.
Translation: We are frighteningly close to “de facto dead pool.” That’s why the Trump administration is ordering everyone to use less water.
Well, not everyone. California, Arizona and Nevada are willing to cut back dramatically, and federal officials seem happy to make them do it. The Upper Basin states — the ones upstream of Lake Powell — say they shouldn’t have to commit to mandatory reductions, in part because they already consume a lot less.
[ed. It is not possible to measure or marshall water to Lake Powell (lack of infrastructure, gaining and losing reaches, priority, no way to color water in the river). Inflows are calculated values, or the height of the column at the dam. The Upper Basin consumes a lot less than their allocation under the compact, so yes, much less than the Lower Basin. Here’s an AI recap of inflows to Lake Powell.]
In a New York Times opinion piece earlier this year, I argued that the Upper Basin states need to do more. Podmore agreed.
“It’s a tricky situation, because the Lower Basin has always used more water, and that’s a convenient argument for the Upper Basin,” he said. “But also, there’s more people in the Lower Basin. And the most productive agricultural land that’s irrigated with Colorado River water is located in the Lower Basin.”
“Even with the cuts that the Lower Basin has offered, we still have a long way to go to balance the water budget,” he added. “Everyone needs to pitch in.”
Farmland in California’s Imperial Valley, irrigated with Colorado River water. (Photo by Sammy Roth)
4. Alfalfa isn’t (always) the enemy
Farmers are often vilified for sucking up copious amounts of water — and with good reason. Irrigated agriculture consumes more than half the water in the Colorado River Basin, with alfalfa and other cattle feed accounting for a stunning 32% of overall water use. (This is one of several good reasons to eat fewer hamburgers.)
The Colorado River’s largest water user, by far, is California’s Imperial Valley, where farmers grow vegetables, alfalfa and other crops. There’s no sustainable future for the American West that doesn’t involve Imperial using less water.
But easy as it is to hate on Imperial, Podmore pointed out that when the Lower Basin uses water, that water stays in the river for a long time, supporting healthy ecosystems along the way. And because Imperial is very far downstream, water flowing to alfalfa farmers there carries huge environmental benefits.
“The way that water gets from the Rocky Mountains to the Imperial Valley — or to Los Angeles or Las Vegas or Phoenix — is through the Grand Canyon. It’s through Glen Canyon. It’s through Canyonlands National Park,” Podmore said. “It’s through all these important and beautiful places.”
“If the Lower Basin agrees to a bunch of cuts — if L.A. builds tons of desalination plants — that would in theory be good, because you have to divert less water from the river,” he added. But at the same time, “that means less water in the river.”
Colorado River “Beginnings”. Photo: Brent Gardner-Smith/Aspen Journalism
On July 8, the Getches-Wilkinson Center visited the Kawuneeche Valley restoration site at Beaver Creek in Rocky Mountain National Park. Upon arriving at Beaver Creek, the team met with Isabel de Silva Shewell, the lead ecologist on the project with a background in riparian restoration, who gave us a tour of the restoration site.
The 30-acre area is located at the headwaters of the Colorado River, and is surrounded by an exclosure fence tall enough to prevent moose and elk from jumping over. While we were fortunate enough to meet with Isabel and receive a guided tour, members of the public are welcome to enter through the gates and see the restoration efforts firsthand.
The Kawuneeche Valley Restoration Project/Beaver Creek Site Description
The Kawuneeche Valley restoration project is an effort to restore the ecosystem impaired by human activity and the climate-driven stressors such as an unpredictable snowpack and overbrowsing by moose.
Nestled at the base of the Never Summer Mountains, Beaver Creek is one of four tributaries to the mainstem of the Colorado River included in the project’s restoration efforts. Since the 1950s, there has been a loss of 94% of surface waters associated with beaver ponds, and a 77% loss of tall willow acreage since 1999. As a result, the Kawuneeche Valley has transitioned from its historical beaver-willow wetland ecosystem with a high water table, that supported hydrophilic vegetation and was dominated by tall willow.
These changes have been driven by human diversion of water, the effects of climate change, and the loss of tall willow due to the influx of large populations of moose. The once-booming beaver population in the area declined with the loss of suitable habitat. Without beaver dams, the water saturation in the soil became insufficient to support a stable riparian buffer. Beaver Creek became loaded with sediment, and water quality declined. The site has been identified as a major contributor of sediment to the mainstem of the Colorado River.
The Impacts of Moose and Elk at Beaver Creek and Potential Solutions
In 1978-1979, moose were re-introduced into Rocky Mountain National Park on the west side. https://www.nps.gov/articles/moose-research-in-rocky-mountain-national-park.htm. Initially, only 24 moose were released and largely remained on the west side of the park. Id. Moose are typically solitary animals; however, warmer, shorter winters allowed moose to congregate and populations to boom. Id. Easier passage facilitated the movement of moose across the continental divide to the east side of the park. Id.
As of 2025, there were 240 moose estimated to be in the park. Id. Willows are a primary food source for moose. However, willows, whose stems only grow about six inches per year, do not regenerate quickly enough to support such a large moose population. Today, the site is marked by what Isabel referred to as “zombie willows,” or willows that have been chewed down by moose, leaving only the woody stems of the plants.
Evidence of the former beaver-willow ecosystem is found throughout the site. Depressions indicate where beaver dam surface waters had existed in previous decades; willows that had been chewed down to woody stubs have new growth, and wetland vegetation such as sedges dominate the area.
In addition to constructing beaver dam analogs, the park service is attempting to address moose populations. Exclosure fences have been successful in keeping moose and elk from entering the restoration site. However, this is only one component of long-term population management measures. Discussions of potential solutions include measures put in place in 2008 by the Elk and Vegetation Management Plan (EVMP). In addition to exclosure fences, these efforts also include the culling of individual moose. Hunting is not permitted in the park, and moose have no natural predators in the area to keep populations in check. Therefore, such measures may be necessary to restore balance to the ecosystem.
“Beaver Dam Analogues” or “Temporary Wood Grade Structures,” or TWGS, (pronounced like twigs), are designed to help back up water and create a lively wetland habitat that encourages healthy biodiversity not just for the cutthroat, but the entire ecosystem. They are being employed in what’s called “Process-Based Restoration.” These man-made structures are relatively easy and straightforward to make. They are built with natural resources such as wooden posts, willow branches, aspen branches, and rocks. Though they are simple to create, Remshardt said “we’re not as good at building them” as the beavers. Photo courtesy Rio Grande Headwaters Restoration Project
Beaver Dam Analogs
The main tool utilized to restore the site to a functioning beaver-willow wetland ecosystem are beaver analogs. Beaver analogs are wooden structures that span the creek in a manner that mimics beaver dams. They raise the water table upstream, increase channel complexity, promote resilience to high runoff in the snowpack, trap fine sediment, and store water across the floodplain. The analogs were built using lodgepoles from the surrounding area to mimic the natural ecosystem sourced from fuel-mitigation events in the park.
Restoration efforts are already yielding encouraging results. Groundwater quantity is continuously monitored at the site. Since the installation of the analogs in 2024; levels have slowly and steadily risen. Water quality at the site has improved, and benthic microorganisms highly sensitive to water quality have reappeared in the creek.
With the diminishment of willows over the years, invasive plant species such as the Canada Thistle flourished. Since the start of the project, Isbabel said there has been an evident decrease in Canada Thistle, leaving more room for willows to grow.
Takeaways and Further Information
Overall, the GWC would like to thank Isabel and all those at RMNP and the Kawuneeche Valley Restoration Project for this fantastic opportunity. The team greatly enjoyed seeing the site first-hand, looking at the impact of overbrowsing, and how the ecosystem has begun to heal. Being on the headwaters of the Colorado River was a reminder of all the components that go into maintaining a healthy, thriving river that can support the surrounding habitat and those downstream.
If would like to help out, please consider volunteering at a future event. Previous volunteer opportunities have included revegetation efforts such as willow staking. There is potential for volunteers to help build and maintain materials for dam infrastructure at events in the future. More information can be found here: https://www.nps.gov/romo/getinvolved/volunteer.htm
REMINDER: There’s just [2 days] left to comment on the Trump administration’s proposal to rescind ban on new oil and gas leases and mining claims within a 10-mile radius of Chaco Culture National Historical Park. The BLM is accepting public comment until July 29 on three alternatives: 1. keeping the ban in place; 2. shrinking the 10-mile buffer zone to just five miles; 3. eliminating the ban altogether. To comment, click on this link and then click on the “Participate Now” button at the top of the page.
🐓 Regulatory Capture Chronicles 🦊
Wall at the Twin Angel site, a Chacoan outlier that lies along the Great North Road. Note the oil and gas facility in the background. Jonathan P. Thompson photo.
President Donald Trump’s proclamations virtually eliminating Grand Staircase-Escalante and Bears Ears national monuments this month listed several arguments purportedly justifying the shrinkage. One of those was that national monument protections aren’t necessary, because the land and antiquities in question are already protected by various federal laws. The same argument is used to justify revoking the mining-claim and mineral-leasing ban around Chaco Culture National Historical Park.
There is some truth in this: There is a suite of federal laws, from the Federal Land Policy and Management Act to the Endangered Species Act, that are intended to protect environmental and cultural resources on all federal land, whether it’s in a national monument or not. But those laws aren’t always adequate, and now the administration is actually working to weaken Section 106 of the National Historic Preservation Act, which would be key to protecting the cultural sites in the former national monuments and the Chaco “buffer zone.”
When a mining or drilling company proposes a project on a mining claim or mineral lease on public land, the National Historic Preservation Act requires the jurisdictional agency to determine whether the proposed development might affect historic properties. If so, it triggers Section 106 of the law, which requires the agency to consult with tribal nations or other potential stakeholders, to identify potentially affected properties, and to work to avoid, minimize, or mitigate adverse effects on those properties.
Section 106, commonly referred to as “identify and avoid,” requires oil companies or other developers to conduct a cultural inventory of all land in the path of development. If the surveyors happen upon a “significant” site, the well pad, road, or pipeline must be relocated. This can prevent direct impacts to larger sites; you’re not likely to see a Chacoan great house bulldozed for a well pad, for example. But archaeological surveys can miss more subtle cultural features such as stone shrines, Chacoan “road” segments, or ancient cornfields. And the agencies aren’t likely to let a cultural landscape get in the way of the drill rigs or their “multiple use” mandate. Section 106 has not prevented gasfield roads from cutting across Chaco’s Great North Road in several places, nor has it kept several oil and gas wells from being drilled within a half mile of Pierre’s Site, a Chaco outlier within the 10-mile buffer zone.
Ruth Van Dyke, a professor of anthropology at Binghamton University cataloged the impacts of oil and gas development on the sound- and view-scapes at Pierre’s. “I found that, despite the due diligence agencies have exercised to protect the ground footprint of Pierre’s, there have been significant impacts,” she wrote. Twelve pumpjacks are visible from the Acropolis, and it’s likely that . When I visited a few years back, the whir-pop-pop-whir of the machines was irritatingly audible, affirming Van Dyke’s observation: “Rather than a sacred landscape and part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Pierre’s community had the feeling of an industrial park.” (While many people have pointed out that there’s scant recoverable oil within the buffer zone, there is plenty of natural gas, which could be targeted if and when commodity prices increase).
Given the inadequacies of Section 106 now, it has stunned historic preservation advocates to learn that the Trump administration’s Advisory Council on Historic Preservation is proposing to weaken the law even further by giving the agencies more power, while taking input away from the public and other stakeholders, including tribal nations.
That last clause is especially important when it comes to the lands cut out of the two Utah national monuments and the Chaco “buffer zone,” if it were to be rescinded as the administration proposes. We have seen that this for this administration, the quixotic quest for “energy dominance” outweighs nearly every other consideration, at least when it comes to public lands. That means that if the changes to Section 106 go through, we can no longer rely on that law to even partially protect the vast, numerous, and cultural sites and landscapes within Bears Ears, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, and the Greater Chacoan Landscape. It makes the mineral withdrawals more important than ever.
Several years back, when writing about the Greater Chacoan Landscape, I spoke with Theresa Pasqual, former director of Acoma Pueblo’s Historic Preservation Office, about Chaco, the landscape, and how federal laws weren’t enough. I’ll leave you with a sagacious quote from her:
⛈️ Wacky Weather Watch⚡️
It’s feeling downright apocalyptic lately. We’ve had crippling drought, hellish temperatures, locust plagues, cataclysmic fires,pestilence, and all that was just prelude to an especially sporadic and violent monsoon, so far, which helped some firefighting efforts, but also unleashed flash flooding in Arizona, Utah, and Colorado.
The most severe flooding generally occurred on burn scars left by this season’s wildfires, but the intensity of the downpours also wreaked havoc in unburned areas, including Telluride and, most tragically, outside Bicknell, Utah, where a family of five was killed by a flash flood.
Here’s a rundown of some of the most notable flooding:
In Telluride, a downpour kicked off flash floods and debris flows that shut down the Tomboy Road (it remained closed as of Monday morning), temporarily closed Hwy 145, and inundated the Telluride Middle/High School, where three to four feet of mud and water blasted and oozed into the Palm Theatre.
The Cottonwood Fire burned through more than 97,000 acres in southwestern Utah before being mostly contained. Over the past several days, it has been the recipient of heavy rainfall, which have turned area streams, including the Beaver River, into raging, slate-gray-colored, debris-clogged torrents. The flooding closed down I-15 for a period of time, and forced the evacuation of parts of Beaver City. I should make some crack here about semiaquatic rodents that build dams, but I will refrain.
A cloudburst let loose on a year-old burn scar near the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, spurring major debris flows that covered roads with rocky detritus and forced the evacuation of about 20 people from a campground.
I-70 in western Colorado was shut down when water and mud washed onto the highway between New Castle and, appropriately, Silt, on Monday evening.
Flash flooding in the Prescott Valley in central Arizona was big enough to turn at least one large shipping container into, well, a ship floating down the road. The Prescott area remained under a flood watch on Tuesday and Tuesday night, while the Phoenix area was facing an extreme heat watch later this week.
Any amount of moisture is welcome on the drought-desiccated earth, but if the videos of raging rivers in what usually are nearly dry arroyos give you the idea that the water woes are alleviated, think again. So far these cloudbursts are just that: Short, intense, and isolated bursts of precipitation that get arroyos and debris flows running, but only cause quick spikes in nearby river streamflows. Yes, that’s better than nothing, but no, it’s not going to halt Lake Powell’s precipitous decline.
All of those Telluride-area storms, for example, only pushed the San Miguel River near Placerville to about 160 cubic feet per second for a few hours. That’s about double what it had been running at, but just over half of the median flow for this time of year.
We’re also seeing a lot of precipitation inequality. While Telluride and the surrounding mountains were hammered, locales to the southwest of there remained relatively dry. The Dolores River gage at Slick Rock (downstream from the burn area) remained at a steady and unblinking zero cfs, although just a little ways downstream the gage at Bedrock registered 100 cfs, which is pretty good for the Lower Dolores in July.
Still, this does appear to be only the beginning of the monsoon. If the past is any indication, then the storms are likely to become more frequent and more widespread, and hopefully a little less intense, in the coming weeks.
Meanwhile, in the Northwest, lightning has sparked dozens of blazes that are growing together into massive complexes. The Hay Creek Complex in Gilliam, Wasco, and Sherman counties in Oregon is up to 92,000 acres and the Rowe Creek Complex to the south of there is at about 143,000 acres with 0% containment as of Monday night. Further east, the Powder River Fire in Baker County near the Idaho border was up to 20,500 acres.
Razorback sucker. Credit: The Land Desk
🦫 Wildlife Watch 🦅
The Trump administration’s U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service last week quietly downgraded Environmental Species Protections for the razorback sucker, a fish native only to the Colorado River Basin, from endangered to threatened.
“This remarkable fish is very abundant in the river channels of the Colorado Basin,” wrote David Starr Jordan in his 1889 report on the fish of Colorado and Utah. “It reaches a weight of 8 to 10 pounds and is largely used for food.” The razorback sucker, or Xyrauchen cypho, once thrived in the mid- and lower-elevation portions of the Colorado River and its tributaries. But human activities such as dumping mine waste into streams, irrigation diversions, dams, and stocking of non-native fish that prey on the sucker’s eggs and young diminished the population of razorback sucker and other native fish.
So in 1991, the USFWS listed the fish as endangered under the ESA, bringing it extra protections and resources toward its recovery. A propagation and stocking effort helped bring the population back, and fish stocked in the Colorado and Green Rivers have been found to be reproducing, according to Colorado River Endangered Fish Recovery Program. As a result, the USFWS determined that the species is “not currently in danger of extinction throughout all or a significant portion of its range,” and in 2021 proposed “downlisting” it to “threatened” status. That action was finalized last week.
Advocates understandably question the timing of the move. One of the main threats to the sucker is low streamflows, and we’re seeing some of the lowest streamflows on record throughout the Colorado River Basin right now, and climate change is likely to make them worse. The non-native fish that prey on the sucker tend to thrive in warmer water, also a result of climate change (Colorado wildlife officials have enacted voluntary fishing closures on several rivers in the state due to high water temperatures).
“The razorback sucker’s outlook is no better today than when the fish was originally protected under the Endangered Species Act in 1991, so this move makes no sense,” said Taylor McKinnon, Southwest director at the Center for Biological Diversity, in a written statement. “It’s still in danger of extinction throughout its range, which should preclude this downlisting.”
If you happen to be anywhere near Mancos, Colorado, from mid-August to the end of September, I urge you to visit the Sundog Gallery to see the “Portal” exhibit, featuring oil paintings by the late Stanton Englehart. I consider Englehart to be thepainter of the Four Corners Country — no one captures the light, and darkness, of the Great Sage Plain, the mesas, the canyons, and even the waters of Lake Powell quite like Englehart did.
The show opens Aug. 14 with a reception from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. at the Sundog Gallery on Grand Avenue in downtown Mancos and runs until Sept. 30.
Click the link to read the release on the USDA website:
July 24, 2026
USDA is investing $3 million to support the development of wetland mitigation banks for agricultural producers. through the Wetland Mitigation Banking Program (WMBP).
The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) is investing $3 million to support the development of wetland mitigation banks for agricultural producers. Through the USDA’s Wetland Mitigation Banking Program (WMBP), wetlands are restored, created or enhanced, generating credits that can be purchased by producers looking to compensate for unavoidable impacts to wetlands at another location.
“Wetland mitigation banks provide farmers and ranchers a clear and efficient compliance pathway, while at the same time helping to restore and protect vital wetlands and all the benefits they provide,” said USDA’s Natural Resources Conservation Service (NRCS) Chief Colton L. Buckley. “Through the Wetland Mitigation Banking Program, we can help ensure the long-term resilience and productivity of American working landscapes.”
WMBP awardees work with NRCS to develop a mitigation banking instrument that provides details for developing, establishing and operating a mitigation banking program. Priority will be given to banks in states with significant numbers of individual wetlands, wetland acres and conservation compliance requests. Based on NRCS data, these states are Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Nebraska, Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Dakota and Wisconsin.
City and county governments, organizations, tribal governments and other entities are eligible to apply. See the notice of funding on Grants.gov for a full list of eligible entity types.
Applications are due by September 8, 2026. Visit the Grants.gov opportunity for additional details and to apply.
More About WMBP
To participate in most USDA programs, agricultural producers agree to comply with the wetland conservation provisions, meaning producers will not plant agricultural commodities on converted wetlands or convert wetlands to enable agricultural production. In situations where avoidance or on-site mitigation is challenging, the Farm Bill allows for off-site mitigation through the purchase of mitigation banking credits.
Purchasing credits from a wetland mitigation bank provides a legal mechanism for agricultural producers to maintain their eligibility for USDA program benefits if they convert agricultural wetlands.
WMBP award recipients can use the funding to support the costs of developing and establishing a mitigation bank, like costs for site identification, development of a mitigation banking instrument, site restoration, land surveys, permitting and title searches, and market research. WMBP funding cannot be used to purchase land or a conservation easement.
NRCS awarded the first WMBP grants in 2016. Since then, NRCS has awarded 39 projects supporting the creation or expansion of wetland mitigation banks in 14 states.
Awardees can request up to $1 million for a project. Projects may last up to four years.
When a mitigation bank is established, the landowner retains ownership and use of the property, while a conservation easement protects the wetlands from incompatible degrading activities.
To learn more about the Wetland Mitigation Banking Program, and how wetland mitigation banks work, visit the WMBP webpage.
For more than 90 years, NRCS has helped farmers, ranchers and forestland owners make investments in their operations and local communities to improve the quality of our air, water, soil, and wildlife habitat. NRCS uses the latest science and technology to help keep working lands working, boost agricultural economies, and increase the competitiveness of American agriculture. NRCS provides one-on-one, technical advice and financial assistance and works with producers to help them reach their goals through voluntary, incentive-based conservation programs. For more information, visit nrcs.usda.gov.
Wetlands, like these in the Prairie-Pothole Region of North Dakota, may capture and store nutrient runoff from cropland fields. Photo Credit: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service
The cuts followed a long campaign by Utah’s Republican leadership to remove the designation and reopen the land for mining. Gov. Spencer Cox and members of the state’s congressional delegation stood with Trump at the signing, and Sen. Mike Lee said he had been working toward the reduction for roughly 18 months.
They argue that the original monuments were far larger than the Antiquities Act allows, since the law limits a monument to the “smallest area compatible” with protecting the objects inside it. Grand Staircase-Escalante was designated by Bill Clinton in 1996, and Bears Ears by Barack Obama in 2016. Cutting the monuments’ size opens the excluded land to mining. The Bears Ears proclamation points to the minerals underneath, including copper and uranium, as critical to national security.
As a scholar of Native American and Indigenous Studies I see this decision as part of a pattern that is more than a century old: the United States repeatedly acknowledges that these lands are sacred. Yet, that recognition never comes with lasting protections.
What makes these places sacred
Bears Ears takes its name from twin buttes that resemble the head and ears of a bear rising above the canyon country of southeastern Utah.
For the Pueblo nations among them, the Hopi and Zuni, Bears Ears is inseparable from their own origin stories. The Zuni account of their origin holds that people came up into this world from beneath it, arriving in the Grand Canyon, and that the long migration afterward carried them across the plateau and into the Bears Ears country.
The Zuni built villages, shrines and altars in that country, and what they built stayed sacred. “Once those structures were built, they were consecrated,” Jim Enote, a Zuni tribal member and former director of the A:shiwi A:wan Museum, told National Geographic in 2018. “Once they’re consecrated they become sacred forever. We never consider them abandoned.” The Zuni still return, making pilgrimages to the region to affirm what their oral history tells them, reading petroglyphs – images carved into the rock by their ancestors – that match those at their present-day home of Zuni Pueblo in New Mexico.
Anthropologists working with the Kaibab Paiute tribe and the monument’s own staff reported that Southern Paiutes understand their traditional lands as a “holy land” where the Creator originally placed them, and that Grand Staircase is part of it. The bond, the tribe believes, was established at Creation and passes to every generation that follows. The federal government funded that research.
The practices continue across Bears Ears. Members of the five nations gather ceremonial plants, minerals and water, and cut herbs, firewood and cedar poles for ceremonies, as they have for generations. A 2021 study in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that at least 31 culturally significant species, among them the Four Corners potato, grow abundantly at the ancient habitation sites and are rare elsewhere, evidence that the people who lived there planted them. Each summer, runners carry prayers more than 50 miles from the town of Bluff, Utah, to the high country below the buttes, and the White Mesa Ute community beside the monument holds its Bear Dance each year.
Southern Paiutes still travel to ancestral sites across Grand Staircase for ceremonies, prayer and gathering, and they understand the plants and water of the Holy Land as living beings, able to speak to people and willing to give life to them.
Not a point on a map
Both monuments also hold a history of refuge. In the 1860s, the U.S. Army forced the Diné, also known as the Navajo, from the Four Corners country where the borders of present-day Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico meet, marching thousands of people more than 300 miles (480 km) east to Bosque Redondo in what became known as the Long Walk.
Families who evaded the removal hid in the Bears Ears canyons, where they found deer and roots for food and plants for medicine. The Paiute, whose sacred places include Grand Staircase, sheltered others fleeing the same soldiers. As Davina Smith-Idjesa, who represents the Navajo Nation on the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition, has recounted, when the government drove the Navajo from their homelands, “the Paiute Nation fed and clothed and sheltered us.”
These histories of origin, ceremony and refuge point to something U.S. law has never fully grasped: For these nations, the sacred is not a shrine that can be fenced off while the land around it is opened to mining. It is the whole living landscape. Enote puts the distinction plainly: “These are sacred places, not sacred sites. A site to me is a point on a map.”
A boundary can protect a point. It cannot protect a relationship that runs through an entire landscape, which is why lines drawn and redrawn on federal maps keep failing to hold what they are meant to protect.
A century of recognition
The government has recognized this land’s importance longer than almost any place it manages. As early as 1904, advocates told Congress that cultural sites across the Southwest were being destroyed and named Bears Ears one of seven areas needing immediate protection. That campaign helped spur passage of the Antiquities Act of 1906, which made it a federal crime to loot or destroy antiquities on public land.
But the government moved to protect the artifacts, not the living religion that made them meaningful. In those same years the same government was jailing traditional healers under the Religious Crimes Code of 1883, which outlawed Native ceremonies and dances, including the Sun Dance, and punished participants with imprisonment or the withholding of food rations. The ban held for over 50 years.
Congress appeared to correct course with the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978, declaring it U.S. policy to protect Native peoples’ right to exercise their traditional religions, including access to sacred sites.
Ten years later, however, the U.S. Supreme Court set the national rule allowing a federal road through high country sacred to the Yurok, Karuk and Tolowa peoples of Northern California, even though a government study found that it would devastate religious use of the area. Blackfeet scholar Rosalyn LaPierargues that the tribes lost because the court viewed the 1978 act “as a policy and not a law with legal protections.” The land was recognized as sacred and could be destroyed anyway.
Bears Ears in 2016 looked like the moment that pattern might finally break. For the first time, the tribal nations most tied to a landscape did not just ask the government to respect it. They asked it to be protected as a national monument, with the force of law behind it. The five nations – the Hopi Tribe, Navajo Nation, Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, Ute Indian Tribe and the Pueblo of Zuni – petitioned for the monument together, the first ever created at tribal request.
But a monument is not a national park. Congress creates parks, and only Congress can undo them. Presidents create monuments by proclamation, which leaves them far more vulnerable to changes in administration.
The Native communities’ ceremonies will continue after September, as they continued through the decades when such practices were criminalized. Zuni pilgrims will still read the petroglyphs. The runners will still set out from Bluff, Utah. Southern Paiutes will still hold Grand Staircase as the holy land where the Creator placed them.
For these tribal nations the sacredness of the land does not change. What changes in September is whether the law stands between the ground the tribes consider to be sacred and the mining that lifting these protections might enable.
Every year, billions of migratory birds connect the world’s continents, oceans and ecosystems as they undertake epic journeys between their foraging habitats and their breeding grounds.
A bobolink (Dolichonyx oryzivorus) leaves its breeding grasslands of North America for the Pampas of South America. A Newell’s shearwater (Puffinus newelli) spends months soaring across the North Pacific before returning to the Hawaiian Islands to breed. A spoon-billed sandpiper (Calidris pygmaea) travels from Arctic Russia to the rapidly disappearing tidal mudflats of Southeast Asia for its nonbreeding season.
These birds could hardly be more different. They occupy different habitats, follow different migratory routes and face different threats. Yet they share one remarkable characteristic: Their survival depends on networks of habitats stretching across thousands of miles and multiple countries.
The bobolink breeds in the grasslands of North America, but it makes an epic migration journey to South America each year. Grayson Smith/USFWS.
Today, all three species and many others are in trouble. Their migrations remain among nature’s greatest spectacles, but the birds themselves are increasingly at risk as the habitats and ecological connections they depend upon are lost or degraded and threats to their survival and ability to reproduce increase.
The results are sobering. We found that more than half of the world’s migratory bird species are declining because of an array of threats, including habitat loss, invasive species that harm birds, collisions with buildings, hunting, the pet trade, toxic pesticides and, in some cases, being caught in commercial fishing nets.
But our study offers a second conclusion with more hope. The science around migratory birds has changed dramatically over the past two decades, and conservation can help save these incredible species – if governments act before they become endangered.
Protecting birds across their epic journeys
If migratory bird conservation is refocused on the birds’ full annual cycles, it can protect birds and their habitats throughout the year, from their breeding grounds to their nonbreeding homes and their migratory routes in between.
This approach combines protecting and restoring important places, reducing threats wherever they occur. It also relies on international cooperation and proactive conservation led by engaged governments before species become endangered.
Some of the amazing migrations that take place around the world. (a) The lines reflect prebreeding (solid) and postbreeding (dashed) migration routes of several birds. (b) Some birds, like the Hudsonian godwit (Limosa haemastica), a member of the sandpiper family whose annual cycle is shown here, travel thousands of miles. (c) The Barau’s petrel (Pterodroma baraui) spends much of its nonbreeding time over islands and open water. (d) Other species, like the giant hummingbird (P. gigas) found in the Andes mountains, travel to higher elevations after breeding. Nature Reviews Biodiversity/Peter P. Marra, et al., 2026
The encouraging news is that humans have never been better equipped to reverse these species’ declines.
Researchers attach a satellite transmitter to the back of a red knot, a rapidly declining migratory species. Tiny trackers like these show migration routes and help locate the potential harms and ways to help these species. Tim Romano, courtesy of the Smithsonian InstitutionTrackers on birds are like tiny backpacks. Smaller than a penny, birds can carry them hundreds of miles, giving scientists insight into their patterns and habitats and ways to help them survive. Tim Romano, courtesy of the Smithsonian Institution
For the first time, scientists can follow individual birds across continents and determine where conservation actions will have the greatest impact.
A new strategy
For much of the past century, migratory bird conservation focused on protecting important places, such as the breeding grounds, wetlands, nonbreeding habitats and migration stopover sites birds depend upon.
That strategy has been enormously successful and remains indispensable. Protected areas have prevented countless extinctions and will continue to be a cornerstone of biodiversity conservation.
A scientist releases a Kirtland’s warbler with its tracker attached. Tim Romano, courtesy of the Smithsonian Institution
But research has revealed something equally important: Protecting places, while essential, is often not enough to conserve species whose lives unfold across continents and oceans. It’s also important to understand where and when populations are most at risk and address those constraints across the birds’ entire annual cycle.
The three species that opened this story illustrate why.
Bobolinks breed across North American grasslands but spend much of the year in South America. Conserving breeding habitat alone cannot reverse their declines if grasslands continue to disappear or if birds are poisoned by pesticides.
Critically endangered spoon-billed sandpipers depend on a shrinking network of tidal mudflats that serve as stopover sites between their breeding grounds on Russia’s Chukotka Peninsula and their nonbreeding areas in Southeast Asia. Losing even a handful of these staging areas can jeopardize one of the world’s rarest migratory birds.
Each species requires a different conservation strategy, but all require the same way of thinking: conserving their entire annual cycle rather than focusing on a single place, season or threat.
Fortunately, this approach is already starting to take hold in the United States and demonstrates what is possible.
What success can look like
Road to Recovery is an international initiative designed to reverse the losses of North America’s fastest-declining bird species before they require protection under U.S. endangered species legislation.
Rather than waiting for populations to collapse, Road to Recovery brings together scientists, governments, conservation organizations, landowners and local communities to form species working groups. These groups help identify the harms bird populations are facing and how to be more surgical in where limited conservation dollars are invested.
However, the convention’s effectiveness is severely hindered when many of the world’s largest, wealthiest and most influential countries have not signed on to it. That includes the United States, Canada, Mexico, Russia and Japan.
Broader international participation and sustained investment from governments can help translate scientific knowledge into coordinated conservation action across the full annual cycle.
Around the world, conservation initiatives repeatedly demonstrate that when threats are identified and addressed, bird populations recover. The pesticide DDT almost caused the extinction of species such as the bald eagle, peregrine falcon and osprey, but humans stepped in, banned its use, and all species recovered.
The challenge now is applying what science has found.
Next spring, bobolinks will once again return to North America’s grasslands. Newell’s shearwaters will navigate thousands of miles of open ocean back to Hawaii. Spoon-billed sandpipers will once again attempt one of the world’s most extraordinary migrations.
Whether future generations can continue to see these magnificent migrations will depend on the choices of current generations and the steps they take to save them.
Attorney: ‘In order to evaluate the current state of the aquifer in context, you would need to know how much the aquifer holds, wouldn’t you?’
Engineer: ‘I don’t believe so’
How much water is in the storage area of the unconfined aquifer? That was a question SWAG attorney Brad Grasmick posed to state Division 3 Water Engineer Craig Cotten and left the Alamosa water court hanging on at the conclusion of Wednesday’s day in water court.
In his first full day of cross examining Cotten, Grasmick covered a variety of territory from surface water credits to the one-to-one pumping feature of the new plan to Cotten’s responsibility to administer the plan. At times he got so deep into the proverbial weeds in grilling Cotten that Gonzales spoke of his own frustration in trying to follow along.
“You’re losing me on focus,” Gonzales told Grasmick as he called for a lunch break.
The question Grasmick posed at the end of his nearly six hours of cross examination offered a unique exchange. Grasmick started by saying he hasn’t seen a figure on how much water the unconfined storage area can hold. It’s been well-established in the testimony of Cotten and HRS hydrologist Matt Seitz that the unconfined aquifer functions as an underground reservoir and was built up initially through early subirrigation practices and then canal diversions.
Storage readings of the unconfined aquifer that go back to 1976 show it responsive to strong spring runoff seasons but now transitioning through the process of aridification to the San Luis Valley floor as it adapts to 25 years of drought and the lack of consistent snow melt.
“Nor have I seen how much water is presently in storage in the unconfined aquifer. Do you agree with that?” Grasmick asked.
Cotten: “Well, we have the Davis Engineering service change in storage, so we know the change in storage from 1976. The total amount of water in storage at the present time, I’m not aware of that number.”
Grasmick: “OK. In order to evaluate the current state of the aquifer in context, you would need to know how much the aquifer holds, wouldn’t you?”
Cotten: “I don’t believe so.”
Grasmick: “Well, and you would also need to know how much is in the aquifer in order to evaluate this decline in context, correct?”
Cotten: “No, I don’t believe so.”
Grasmick: “Well, as an example, if there was a one million acre-foot decline in storage, that’s very different if the reservoir holds one and a half million acre-feet than if it holds say four million acre-feet, isn’t it?”
Cotten: “There again, I don’t believe so if you’re shooting for an actual storage amount, change in storage amount as your goal.”
In the Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management under consideration, Subdistrict 1 is charged with recovering the unconfined aquifer to a “sustainable” level of negative-200,000 to negative-400,000 acre-feet of water storage.
Grasmick continued his questioning: “So you disagree that contextual analysis of data is necessary to ensure that it’s not misinterpreted?”
Cotten: “I don’t agree that we need to know the total storage or the actual storage right now in developing this plan.”
The exchange continued for about another three minutes before Grasmick began to shift to another subject and Gonzales intervened.
“I apologize. I think it’s been a long day, so I think it’s probably a good place to stop,” the judge said.
The water trial on the Subdistrict 1 Fourth Amended Plan of Water Management resumes Thursday [July 9. 2026].
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
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.
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
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
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
“Colorado River Negotiators” in Cataract Canyon. No clue how the gal in the Earth First! shirt slipped in there? Photo credit: Wild Words
Click the link to read the article on the Wild Words website (Morgan Sjogren):
On Monday, June 15, a new cadre of representatives from seven Colorado River Basin states convened below Cataract Canyon for water negotiations. The open-air meeting was held in an eddy flanked by a thick layer of the Dominy Formation.1 Silt tumbled into the banks in low runoff conditions as the Upper Basin (Colorado, Utah, Wyoming, New Mexico) and Lower Basin (California, Arizona, Nevada) prepared statements about how to reduce over-consumption of the shrinking Colorado River.
The impromptu Colorado River standoff theater was not real. It was a beach game intended to explain water overallocation. That it still resulted in imaginary litigation speaks loudly to this moment in history. The ability to take this lunchtime activity a little too literally was also because the participants were members of Glen Canyon Institute and guides for Holiday River Expeditions. These shenanigans took place in the final hours of a five-day river trip in Cataract Canyon to support GCI’s ongoing efforts for the restoration of Glen Canyon.
The group was certainly highly astute to Colorado River current events to throw down such an intricate dialogue on the spot. Instead of making a list of the very real solutions to distribute Colorado River water to forty million people, the group recognized what is literally standing in the way: seven state representatives who are just as responsible for the looming potential for a Colorado River crash as Glen Canyon Dam.
The basin-wide impasse is by far the most frustrating aspect of explaining the current problems and future management of the Colorado River. The potential solutions are abundant, even obvious. Everyone in the basin needs to use less water.
Other critical changes, like giving all thirty Colorado River-connected tribes a seat at the negotiating table and updating the 1922 Colorado River Compact to actually meet river flows where they are at in 2026 (an average of 12.5 million acre-feet down from 15 million acre-feet a century ago), are long overdue. Not to mention, ensuring the Colorado River’s right to flow, in line with the Colorado River Indian Tribe’s legal personhood status for the river under their Tribal law.
Beyond the dam, is the Colorado River’s most glaring problem, both concealed and amplified by the water crisis-–is this what democracy is supposed to look like? And what can a citizen of the Colorado River watershed actually do about it?
Despite this broken system, advocacy, especially in the long-term, can move the needle. Until recently, opposition to Glen Canyon Dam was viewed by some as a fringe environmental cult.
Yet Glen Canyon Institute has maintained a constant presence on the front lines of this issue. Since 1996, GCI “embarked upon a multi-year campaign to protect and restore Glen Canyon and reverse the decline of Grand Canyon’s fragile ecosystem.” The Fill Mead First plan takes a hard look at the long-term realities of keeping two major reservoirs, Powell and Mead, more than half empty. Then, in 2024, the Bureau of Reclamation made an announcement that opened minds (and some hearts) to consider that Glen Canyon Dam is a major part of the current problem.
Through persistent love and devotion of these advocacy efforts, awareness for the recovery of Glen Canyon continues to gain momentum. So does dealing with Glen Canyon Dam’s outdated infrastructure which is becoming more mainstream and realistic everyday. In a recent letter, the Lower Basin states urged the Bureau of Reclamation to make dam modifications.2
While it is electrifying to be on the pulse of a major change that stands to benefit Glen Canyon and the lower Colorado River, the current negotiation process is still a dystopian nightmare circus.3
Holiday named a new raft Dominy to spur conversation among guests. Some of us felt superstitiously avoidant of this boat during the rapids. Photo credit: Wild Words
Did I mention mud? Our put-in situation at Mineral Bottom on the Green River was enhanced by recent emergency releases and fish management pulse flows from Flaming Gorge Dam. Holiday’s guides insist this put-in is more challenging than the old North Wash Boat Ramp, which is now repaired and fodder for a different story. Photo credit: Wild Words
For some folks, like myself, this shit show is so fascinating that we are keen to immerse ourselves in the muck. However, even if you care deeply for the Colorado River, this can be overwhelming, especially amid the persistant horrors of this era. Naturally, our instinct may be to turn away. This came up during a riverside policy talk on the trip led by GCI’s projects and development manager Anna Penner and me. With so much going on and the constant information overload online, it is important to trust your gut instinct and give yourself space away from the news. Just don’t pull your heart from the Colorado River itself. [ed. emphasis mine]
The Colorado River carries hope. The side effects of drought, overallocation, and indecision is the steady return of a free flowing Colorado River and Glen Canyon emerging from a shrinking reservoir. I’ve written before that many of us were too late to experience Glen Canyon before the dam, but we are now right on time to witness its resurrection. Cataract Canyon is an ideal place to experience the changes in motion. From muddy sediment-rich river flows and returning rapids to strongholds of native plants like box elders and seep willows propagating in tributary canyons.
Photo credit: Wild Words
For one guest, Tom, these watershed moments for Glen Canyon are major bookends in his life. As a young lad, his family crossed the old Hite Ferry at Dandy Crossing in their station wagon during a road trip. They then drove up the rock-rutted and sandy North Wash, sans road, before it became Highway 95. He also boated on Lake Powell in 1965, before it filled completely, and vividly recalls seeing the fully exposed Hole-in-the-Rock site. Now age seventy seven, Tom and his lifelong friend Paul make time every year to return to the Colorado River with GCI. He has been a member for twenty-one years
Photo of Dandy Crossing: Photo credit: Cindy Stafford
North Wash travel. Credit: Cindy Stafford
This was Aaron’s first Cataract River trip, and a deserved reward for living with my Colorado River obsession. His perpetual and ever-widening smile affirmed how important quality time with the river is, now and always. Post-trip, he told me his favorite part of the trip was “watching the swirling eddy lines at sunset, while sitting on the beach with the group.”
Right now, we are all in an eddy. The decisions made, or not, in 2026 will ripple beyond our lifetime. But so will our unrelenting love for the river and the water that sustains life in the West. Impossible dreams, like the EarthFirst! symbolic crack in the dam, may come to life in yet unimagined ways, so long as we do not give up.
Glen Canyon Institute 2026 river trip group photo. Photo credit: Wild Words
Charles L. Bernheimer. Credit: “Path of Light” — Morgan Sjogren
To this, I pause and take another swig of whiskey and muddy water. This spring, I had more than one interview with so-called major environmental groups that sounded more like public relations agents for Glen Canyon Dam and Lake Powell.
Lee continued:
Exhausting? Perhaps. But better tired than apathetic. With tin cups filled with muddy water, this moment asks us to stand with all who have defended the Colorado River in the past and will continue on into the future. Protecting what we love is a journey without end.
To support efforts to restore Glen Canyon and ensure continued water deliveries below Glen Canyon Dam, consider becoming a supporter of Glen Canyon Institute.
Wild Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
1 The reservoir sediment left behind as Lake Powell drops is not so affectionately named in reference to Floyd Dominy, the former Bureau of Reclamation Director responsible for the creation of Glen Canyon Dam. Some of us have thoughts about this. I am saving these for my next book, Riverside, to be published by Torrey House Press in 2027.)
A rainstorm over southern Colorado. Photo: Abby Burk
Click the link to read the article on the Audubon website (Abby Burk):
May 7, 2026
Drought in Colorado isn’t abstract—it’s shaping decisions right now, from headwater streams to major reservoirs. And this year, the signals are hard to ignore. At the same time, conversations about water are tightening. There’s more concern and more sensitivity—especially around anything tied to water availability.
Snowpack across the Upper Basin has dropped to record or near-record lows. By early April, snow water equivalent in many areas fell to a fraction of normal, and snow cover reached the lowest levels observed in the satellite record. At the same time, this winter ranked among the warmest on record—reducing snow accumulation, accelerating melt, and increasing evaporative losses. These patterns are consistent with the impacts of climate change across the Colorado River Basin, where rising temperatures are diminishing snowpack reliability and reducing overall runoff efficiency.
June 1, 2026 seasonal water supply forecast summary.
Those conditions are now reflected in forecasts. Runoff across the Upper Basin watersheds is expected to be among the lowest on record, with sharply reduced inflows into Lake Powell. Meanwhile, Lake Powell and Lake Meadcontinue to sit near historic lows—leaving very little buffer in the system.
Even where spring storms have brought some relief, the underlying deficitremains. Dry soils, warm temperatures, and reduced snowpack mean less water ultimately reaches rivers.
This is not just a dry year. It’s a system under compounding stress.
Why This Matters: Ecological Drought
Ecological drought helps explain what those conditions mean on the ground.
That definition matters because it expands how we think about drought.
It’s not just about precipitation. It’s about how drought moves through a system:
From snowpack to soil moisture
From soil moisture to vegetation and habitat
From ecosystems to the services people depend on
Modern droughts are also changing. They are becoming hotter, longer, and more widespread, with impacts amplified by both climate conditions and human water use.
And those impacts don’t stay contained.
Ecological drought is fundamentally about connected systems. When ecosystems cross critical thresholds—losing wetland function, shifting vegetation, or degrading habitat—those changes feed back into water supply, with wide-ranging implications to agriculture, wildfire risk, and community stability.
What it Looks Like Right Now
In Colorado, ecological drought is showing up as a shift in timing, duration, and connectivity.
Even with recent moisture:
Peak river flows are shorter and less effective
River baseflows drop earlier
Floodplains connect less often
Wetlands and side channels dry sooner
These aren’t always dramatic changes—but they compound, especially when they occur in back-to-back years, reducing recovery time.
That’s a critical shift. Drought is no longer just episodic. It’s increasingly persistent, with ecosystems spending less time in recovery and more time under stress.
Birds Are Early Indicators
For birds, these shifts are immediate.
Migratory species depend on wetlands that function like stepping stones across the landscape. When those wetlands shrink or disappear earlier, habitat becomes compressed.
Riparian birds like the Northern Yellow Warbler and Song Sparrow rely on dense, water-supported vegetation during breeding season. Earlier drying reduces both cover and food availability.
And beneath all of this, food webs shift. Aquatic insects emerge differently under drier conditions, creating mismatches with nesting cycles.
Birds are often the first to show us what’s changing—but they’re not the only ones affected.
People Are In This System, Too
Ecological drought makes one thing clear: this is a single, connected system responding together. The same processes that shape habitat also shape outcomes for people. Soil moisture influences forage conditions for agriculture. Water timing and availability affect the reliability of community supplies. River flows support recreation and local economies, while connected floodplains help reduce risk and support recovery after disturbance.
This is what we mean by ecosystem services—the benefits people receive from functioning natural systems. When those systems are strained or begin to break down, those benefits decline as well.
What This Means for the Basin
The science is pointing to something bigger than a single dry year.
The Colorado River Basin is increasingly operating in a warmer, drier regime, where snowpack is less reliable and variability is higher. Recent conditions mirror some of the most consequential low-flow years in recent history—and they are becoming more frequent.
At the same time, current operating guidelines are set to expire, and the decisions made now will shape how the system responds to these conditions going forward.
What’s needed is a shift—from reactive, year-to-year crisis management to more durable and flexible operations; from short-term fixes to sustained investment in long-term resilience; and from fragmented efforts to stronger alignment across states, Tribes, and water users.
There is growing recognition that solutions must include conservation, efficiency, infrastructure, and watershed health—including restoration that improves how water is stored and functions across the landscape. Without that kind of alignment, risks will continue to compound—ecologically, economically, and socially.
A Clearer Lens for What’s Ahead
Ecological drought is not a new agenda. It’s a way to understand how drought actually works in today’s world—how water shortages move through ecosystems, how impacts cascade, and how those impacts ultimately reach people.
It connects snowpack to rivers, rivers to habitat, and habitat to communities. And it underscores something essential: when ecosystems are pushed beyond their limits, the consequences don’t stay ecological—they become systemic.
That’s why this matters now. Because the question in front of us isn’t just how we respond to this year’s drought. It’s whether we’re building a system that can function—ecologically and socially—under the conditions we know are coming (or are here).
Underwater until recently, a biodiverse ecosystem has quickly re-established in this particular side-canyon of Glen Canyon. Along with a whole host of plant life, I’ve documented crayfish, otters, beavers, deer, coyotes and tracks of mountain lions and bobcats throughout Glen Canyon’s wet tributaries. Photo credit: Elliot Ross/Glen Canyon Institute (GlenCanyon.org)
Click the link to read the article on The Denver Post website (Elise Schmelzer). Here’s an excerpt:
June 7, 2026
The tops of trees, dead since Lake Powell’s levels rose decades ago, poked through mud and ooze at the silent mouth of Davis Gulch, where the side canyon met the reservoir’s still waters. But just around a few bends in the sandstone walls, life began to appear. First, a fuzz of inch-tall greenery. Then, knee-high cattails and primrose, followed shortly by small cottonwoods and willows, then by towering gambel oaks. The silence of the canyon mouth was replaced by the soft rush of a creek, bird songs, and the constant cacophony of dragonflies and gnats. Scattered throughout the canyon, an ecologist, bug scientists, birders and advocates for Glen Canyon were working to document the ecosystems emerging as Lake Powell’s water levels have dropped after decades of drought and water overuse.
“Hiking the side canyons is like going through ecological time travel,” said Eric Balken, the executive director of the Glen Canyon Institute, a nonprofit dedicated to restoring the canyons inundated by Lake Powell, as he hiked up Davis Gulch…
The falling water levels have also steadily revealed long-submerged canyonlands: red slot canyons, sandstone amphitheaters, waterfalls that tumble over slickrock cliffs. The reemerging landscapes provide a new opportunity to study life in Glen Canyon, which sits just upstream of the iconic Grand Canyon. Little scientific work was completed in Glen Canyon before the federal government flooded it — an event seen by environmentalists then, and now, as an unmitigated ecological disaster, a paradise lost…But for a new generation of advocates, regaining paradise seems possible as the reservoir’s shorelines recede, bringing more than 100,000 acres of rugged terrain out of the water. The Glen Canyon Institute and canyon activists for years have argued that Lake Powell should be drained and the Colorado River allowed to again flow freely through Glen Canyon. Now, their argument is also bolstered by the fact that Lake Powell is emptying — whether Colorado River managers like it or not. For those advocates, recent years have provided a rare chance to study life in the emerging canyonlands and to make their case to basin leaders who are contemplating the long-term future of Colorado River management…
A map of Glen Canyon National Recreation Area produced by the U.S. National Park Service. The map shows the shoreline of Lake Powell as it was when it was full — the water level is now more than 170 feet lower. Click image to enlarge map. (National Park Service via Wikimedia Commons)
A large crowd listens to a presentation at the University of Colorado Boulder law school about securing powerful new water rights on Colorado’s West Slope to benefit the health of the Colorado River. Scott Franz/KUNC
June 5, 2026
This story is part of ongoing coverage of the Colorado River, produced by KUNC in Colorado and supported by the Walton Family Foundation. KUNC is solely responsible for its editorial coverage.
Water negotiators, river enthusiasts, Native tribes and lots of lawyers convened at the University of Colorado Law School on Thursday to take stock of the future of the dwindling Colorado River.
Here are five things KUNC’s water and environment reporter learned on the first day of the gathering.
There’s a thirst for treating the river as more than something to be consumed, and monetized and stretched out
Dale Sinquah, a tribal council member for Arizona’s Hopi tribe, is among a growing number of people who view the Colorado as a living being that should have the same rights as a person.
“If you look at it at that level and you allow it to, then it starts changing the ways in which you think about it, and maybe your actions,” he said.
Late last year, the Colorado River Indian Tribes of Arizona and California voted to give their namesake waterway the same legal rights as a person, saying the ‘living being’ deserves more protection while it’s being threatened by overuse and drought.
Sinquah said he had mixed reviews of the discussions at the water conference halfway through the first day.
“I’m kind of wondering if we’re stuck in that mode where you know personal interest (is winning) instead of how do we fix this as a whole, as a group,” he said. “It works better when you work together as a group.”
There’s still no finalized federal plan for the river yet, and the White House could have the final say…
Scott Cameron, the acting commissioner of the Bureau of Reclamation overseeing the operations of Lake Powell and Lake Mead, said the Interior Department is expecting to publish a short term operating plan for the reservoirs by “mid-summer.”
He said the plan would have to be renegotiated every two years and could be replaced at any time with one that the seven states can agree on.
“The good news is that the White House is very interested in what’s going on with the Colorado, so we’ll probably have to brief the White House on the (Secretary of the Interior’s) decision before it’s final,” Cameron said.
U.S. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum, center, speaks during a gathering with governors from six states in the Colorado River basin on Friday, Jan. 30, 2026. Photo credit: Lowell Whitman/Department Of Interior
River negotiations are ongoing, but details are scarce…
First governors from all seven states in the river basin were summoned to Washington, DC, ahead of the Feb. 14 deal deadline they missed.
Then, after that didn’t work, came the Microsoft Teams meeting.
Scott Cameron, the acting commissioner of the Bureau of Reclamation, said Interior Secretary Doug Burgum recently talked with the seven governors again on the virtual meeting platform.
“The fact that he is trying to wrangle his gubernatorial colleagues twice, I think, indicates how seriously Secretary Burgum takes what’s happening in the Colorado River,” Cameron said.
However, no deal has yet to materialize as the states remain at an impasse, and some in the upper basin have called for a different mediator to intervene.
June 1, 2026 seasonal water supply forecast summary.
One thing is clear.
Forecasts for the river have gotten worse in recent months. And there was an acknowledgement that the status quo is not sustainable.
Graphic via Holly McClelland/High Country News.
Could the feds get more involved in the management of upper basin reservoirs like Flaming Gorge? The answer is murky…
The audience asked Cameron, the Bureau of Reclamation official, about his thinking on how Interior should manage four large reservoirs in the upper basin that are collectively known as the upper initial units (they include Flaming Gorge on the Wyoming-Utah border).
Flaming Gorge is currently being partially drained so water can be sent down to Lake Powell so it doesn’t get so low that it stops producing hydropower.
Cameron said the Interior Secretary could exert more control over the reservoirs in the future in the event of an “emergency.”
“And what an emergency is, I think, is probably in the eyes of the beholder,” he said. “Now, you put four or five lawyers in a room. You’ll probably get nine answers on how much discretion the secretary has or doesn’t have in the upper initial units.”
Parts of the lake that have only recently been uncovered are full of old beer cans and other relics of boating escapades, including sunken boats.
But deeper down, Podmore shared photos of Native artifacts that have survived decades of being submerged.
New ecosystems are also taking shape.
The Colorado River Basin spans seven U.S. states and part of Mexico. 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)
Specialists surveying Colorado’s forests know this year will be challenging. Snow melted too quickly, strong winds dried out the trees, and the early signs of danger are already settling across the landscape. Wildfire season is no longer confined to a few months — it’s a year‑round reality, they said…And this year, the risk is even higher. Snowpack peaked at just 58% of normal — and weeks earlier than usual. An unusually warm March accelerated the melt, and parched soils absorbed much of the runoff before it reached streams and reservoirs, leaving less water to flow downstream. While much of the public conversation focuses on drought, dry fuels, and wildfire danger, another worry runs deeper — what happens to the state’s water supply if a major fire strikes?
[…]
When a large fire burns, the flames strip hillsides of vegetation, said Weston Toll, a watershed program specialist for the Colorado Forest Service. Once rainstorms arrive, there’s nothing left to hold the soil in place.
“When we have a storm event, all the sediment that is now exposed typically runs downhill and … will fill up reservoirs, which is bad from a water quality and quantity standpoint,” Toll said…
A 2023 report by the U.S. Geological Survey echoes that warning.
The agency found that wildfires pose a significant risk to water supplies by triggering severe flooding, erosion, and the delivery of sediment, nutrients, and metals into rivers, lakes, and reservoirs.
According to the USGS, these changes can degrade water quality, reduce reservoir storage, harm stream habitats, and drive up treatment costs for drinking‑water providers. The effects can vary widely — from barely noticeable shifts to 100‑fold increases in sediment, nutrients, and other contaminants. In the worst cases, experts said the water can resemble “chocolate milk.”
Ash and silt pollute the Cache la Poudre River after the High Park Fire September 2012. Photo credit: USDA
Click the link to access the report on the Frontiers in Environmental Science website (Laura M. Norman, Michael M. Pollock, Francina Dominguez, Michael A. Crimmins, David Lawrence5 and Michael Dettinger). Here’s the abstract:
Drylands across the globe are experiencing intensifying water scarcity, land degradation, and hydroclimatic extremes. This review integrates evidence from multidecadal field studies, hydrologic monitoring, geomorphic and ecological assessments, remote sensing, and land–atmosphere science to evaluate how restoration influences key components of the terrestrial water cycle. Low-tech natural infrastructure in dryland streams (NIDS)—including check dams, leaky weirs, one-rock dams, and gabions—has emerged as a promising but under-synthesized nature-based solution for restoring hydrologic function in these environments. We describe the mechanisms through which these interventions modify runoff detention, infiltration, sediment and alluvial storage, shallow-groundwater recharge, vegetation recovery, and surface-energy partitioning, and we summarize outcomes across diverse dryland settings. Findings consistently show increased water residence time, enhanced soil-moisture storage, expanded riparian vegetation, extended flow duration, and shifts toward greater latent-heat flux—producing localized cooling and strengthened ecohydrological feedbacks. Building on these localized effects, we articulate a hypothesis that links the spatial extent of restoration, the density of NIDS per unit drainage area, and the magnitude of the latent-to-sensible-heat contrast generated by wetter post-rainfall conditions. Specifically, we hypothesize that when NIDS are implemented at densities permitted by topography and across areas large enough to maintain elevated soil moisture after storm events, the resulting increases in latent heat flux, surface cooling, and boundary-layer moistening may enhance moisture convergence and boundary-layer development, potentially increasing the likelihood or stability of convective precipitation, analogous to how reductions in these processes have contributed to regional drought intensification. These land–atmosphere feedbacks remain untested at scale but represent an important research Frontier. By integrating hydrologic, geomorphic, ecological, and atmospheric perspectives, this review provides a comprehensive framework for considering how low-tech, landscape-scale interventions can strengthen watershed resilience and contribute to climate-relevant nature-based solutions.
Today, Governor Polis and Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW) announced the first round of wildlife and habitat projects funded through Senate Bill 24-230, which created new production fees on oil and gas development to mitigate the adverse impacts of oil and gas operations on wildlife and habitats.
CPW’s initial allocation of SB24-230 revenue will fund seven wildlife and habitat initiatives designed to address the impacts of habitat fragmentation, climate change and ecosystem degradation.
“Colorado is known for our iconic outdoor spaces, recreation, and wildlife viewing. Greenhouse gas emissions have a direct impact on our environment and all who call Colorado home. By investing in protecting habitats for Colorado’s wildlife, we are decreasing our carbon footprint, protecting native species, and keeping Colorado beautiful for generations to come,” said Governor Polis.
“SB24-230 provides an important new tool to invest directly in the health of Colorado’s wildlife and habitat,” said CPW Director Laura Clellan. “These initial projects demonstrate how funding generated from oil and gas operations can help restore habitat, improve ecosystem resilience and support wildlife across the state.”
Senate Bill 24-230 established two fees on oil and gas production in Colorado. One fee is administered by the Clean Transit Enterprise, and the other by Colorado Parks and Wildlife to support wildlife and land remediation.
The legislation recognizes that oil and gas development is a significant source of greenhouse gas emissions and habitat degradation, and it directs new investments toward mitigating those impacts and strengthening wildlife and ecosystem resilience.
Under the law, the CPW Director is authorized to set production fees within statutory ranges based on quarterly oil and gas spot prices published by the Colorado Energy and Carbon Management Commission.
The initial CPW production fee was established in October 2025 and generated $5,477,765 in revenue from oil and gas production between July 1 and Sept. 30, 2025.
To put the new revenue to work immediately in order to mitigate the impacts of oil and gas operations, CPW’s Executive Management Team identified seven projects and programs for early investment during fiscal year 2026.
The first round of funding will support:
Barr Lake State Park Habitat Enhancements ($1,500,000)
Beaver Restoration Program Implementation – Initial Phase ($1,174,111)
Operating Increase for Park Pollinator Gardens ($300,000)
Operating Increase for Wildlife Movement Coordination ($100,000)
Wildlife TRACKER Hosting and Maintenance ($125,000)
Together, these projects provide remediation services, including habitat restoration, wildlife monitoring, species conservation and strategic land and water protection efforts across Colorado.
CPW will continue to work closely with industry partners, conservation organizations and local communities to ensure that funds generated through SB24-230 are invested in projects that deliver measurable remediation services that mitigate the impacts of oil and gas operations.
“As Coloradans, we all value the outdoors and the wildlife that makes our state so special. When responsible oil and natural gas production can help support these kinds of projects, protecting the wildlife and habitat we all care about, that’s a huge win for all of Colorado,” said Dan Haley, Executive Director, Coloradans for Responsible Energy Development.
“The science is clear that climate change is negatively impacting Colorado’s wildlife and the ecosystems on which they rely,” said Tarn Udall, senior attorney at Western Resource Advocates. “That’s why the state created the oil and gas production fee in 2024, requiring the industry to partially cover the cost of its emissions and impacts through habitat protection and restoration. It’s rewarding to see Colorado Parks and Wildlife put the first tranche of those dollars to good use, and the agency is just getting started.”
Additional projects funded through the program will be evaluated and announced as future revenue is collected.
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
Rio Grande levy near Alamosa, November 2024. Photo credit: The Alamosa Citizen
The theme this year was “Where Water Connects Us: Past Meets Present in the San Luis Valley”. Paul Formisano and the staff and volunteers from the Salazar Rio Grande del Norte Center delivered a varied, timely and interesting agenda!
San Luis People’s Ditch March 17, 2018. Photo credit: Greg Hobbs
Ken Salazar set the stage for the sessions, reminding attendees that, “Early settlers knew the only way to bring prosperity to the valley was to do it collectively as the early acequias did.”
Upper Rio Grande snowpack March 29, 2026. Credit: NRCS
The first session was titled, “State of the Rio: The 2026 river outlook general basin and compact projections” and the general consensus from the speakers was, as Brad Udall recently said about the Upper Colorado River Basin, “There is no historical analog,” for these conditions. Snow drought is front and center in the San Luis Valley these days.
Upper Rio Grande accumulated precipitation March 29, 2026. Credit: NRCS
Precipitation in the basin started out the water year in great shape due to a big rain event in early October. Since then there have been modest accumulations but has flattened out since late February to date.
Colorado SNOTEL basin-filled snowpack map March 28, 2026. Credit: NRCS
Division Engineer Craig Cotten started off his presentation with the basin-filled snowpack map for Colorado. He joked that, “The good news is, the Rio Grande is not the worst in the state.” It is not a good year as far as #snowpack and many SNOTEL locations are already melted-out.
Slide credit: Craig Cotten
Projected streamflow is not looking good and the forecast will likely be worse when the April 1, 2026 numbers are released by the NRCS. However, streamflow right now is looking okay, there is a lot of water in the #RioGrande at this time for example. That means that the little snowpack in the basin is already coming off.
Slide credit: Craig Cotten
Reservoir storage is in good shape (as a percent of average) except Sanchez Reservoir which has been drawn down for maintenance and repairs.
Current compliance numbers for the Rio Grande Compact from Craig Cotten. Photo credit: Chris Lopez/Alamosa Citizen
Colorado’s Rio Grande Compact compliance numbers heading into the scary diversion season are a positive. There is no debt owed to New Mexico and Texas. With the early onset to runoff season the State Engineer allowed irrigation to start on March 23, 2026. Current estimated streamflow for the Rio Grande at Del Norte (the compact USGS gage used for the river) is 305,000 acre-feet which carries a compact obligation of 76,000 acre-feet to New Mexico and Texas. For the Conejos River the estimated upper index annual flow is 165,000 acre-feet and the downstream obligation is 27,500 acre-feet. However, water levels are going to drop in the unconfined aquifer significantly this year due to low flows in the river. The situation in the aquifer is bad and it is going to get worse.
Cotten updated the attendees about the Rio Grande Compact lawsuit status. It is mostly a fight between Texas and New Mexico and the latest stipulated agreement has been approved by the Special Master. The U.S. Supreme Court is expected to approve the agreement.
Nathan Coombs, in keepting with the symposium theme said, “I believe we’re going to be alright this season we’re going to survive. People in the San Luis Valley are working together and we’re going to get through it.”
Slide credit: Heather Dutton
Heather Dutton gave an overview of reservoir operations for 2026. It is possible that all irrigation water will be released in April and May. She added, “If you’re going to fish the streams emphasize fishing in the morning and visit one of our valley breweries in the afternoon. It’s going to be tough year for all of us. Please keep the farmers in mind.”
Reclamation informed attendees about the current status of the Closed Basin Project. Project priorities are:
Colorado’s compact deliveries
Mitigation for construction and pumping
Eliminate Colorado’s Rio Grande Compact deficit
Other beneficial uses/irrigation
Slide from Amber Pacheco
The session “Twenty years of subdistricts” illustrated how the well owners have been working together over the years to determine a solution to the declining unconfined aquifer. Because groundwater is not separate from surface water the lowered levels in the aquifer affect surface streamflow in the Rio Grande. Valley pumpers have formed several sub-districts fashioned around the different hydrology in areas of the aquifer and are retiring some wells and taking land out of production. Another strategy used has been o develop augmentation plans to offset pumping. All of the strategies involve fees to sub-district members. There is extensive coverage of the issue on Coyote Gulch if you are interested in taking a trip down memory lane.
Slide credit: Rachel James
The session “Flowing together: Agriculture, rivers, and communities in partnership” was an overview of collaboration between the City of Alamosa, the West Side Ditch, and Rio Grande Headwaters Restoration Project on the river at the east side of Alamosa. It included a new headgate for the ditch company and will include a new levy orientation and access to the river from Cole Park. The speakers emphasized that it would not have happened without collaboration and the emphasis on creating a win for all stakeholders. For example, Bill Schoen credited the Rio Grande Headwaters Restoration Project for finding funding for the new headgate which is often a problem for mutual ditch companies. Daniel Boyes of the Restoration Project said that the new headgate helps fish and safety for boaters.
Rio Grande, Colorado | National Park Service
The final session before the keynote was “Perspectives on valley recreation” where access to public lands and the value of building a recreation economy to bolster valley opportunities were discussed. While 39% of Colorado’s agricultural output is from the valley economic activity is seasonal. The discussion centered around bringing tourism to the valley to improve the outlook for employment and economic growth.
The keynote speaker was Ben Golfarb and it was a real treat. I never tire of learning about “Nature’s Engineers” and the amazing effect this keystone species has on hydrology and habitat. Trapped extensively by fur traders to enable the fashion industry in the 19th century the species was nearly extirpated from the North American West. Along with a torrent of information and photographs, Goldfarb informed attendees that the native tribes did not participate in trapping because of their understanding of beaver’s role in the arid lands.
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
A team of nine CPW staff walked stretches of the river channel and collected as many fish as they could on Monday, Feb. 16. CPW staff reported ‘too many dead fish for the team to collect them all.’ Credit: CPW
Rio Grande Headwaters Restoration Project work near Del Norte results in 7.2-mile stretch of the river being dried up; biologists say it could take three to five years to recover the fishery
Colorado Parks and Wildlife has confirmed a “large-scale fish kill” along the Rio Grande below Del Norte that was the result of a 7.2-mile stretch of the river being dried up as part of a river restoration project.
The Rio Grande Headwaters Restoration Project has its Farmers Union Canal Diversion and Headgate Improvement project underway in the area. During construction on this project a decision was made that caused the ecological disaster.
A significant number of the fish populations in this stretch died across all age classes. Brown and rainbow trout as small as two inches and up to 24 inches have been found, along with all sizes in between. Credit: CPW
On Monday, a team of nine CPW staff walked stretches of the river channel and collected as many fish as they could, said John Livingston, southwest region public information officer for CPW.
“There were too many dead fish for the team to collect them all,” Livingston said in an email exchange with Alamosa Citizen.
The state agency was notified by a landowner on Feb. 3 that the north branch of the Rio Grande east of Del Norte was being dewatered, and fish were dying or dead.
Through its investigation, CPW determined that the species impacted include sportfish such as brown trout and rainbow trout, brook stickleback, longnose dace, fathead minnow and white sucker. Additional species such as northern leopard frogs and aquatic invertebrates such as mayflies, caddisflies and stoneflies, among others have also been found dead, according to Livingston.
“A significant number of the fish populations in that stretch died across all age classes. Brown and rainbow trout as small as two inches and up to 24 inches have been found, along with all sizes in between,” he said.
Brown trout spawn in the fall and this year’s eggs that were laid in the rocky bottoms of the river most likely have been lost, CPW reported.
“CPW faces challenging conditions to determine how many fish perished from the rapid dewatering. Many dead fish have also been scavenged by birds, raccoons, skunks, and foxes flocking to the area and others have been isolated in frozen pools,” Livingston said.
The Rio Grande Headwaters Restoration Project has its Farmers Union Canal Diversion and Headgate Improvement project underway in the area. Credit: CPW
Farmers familiar with the project told Alamosa Citizen a “hasty decision” was made to move ahead on the project during a cold spell this winter, resulting in the drying of the river through private corridors of the Rio Grande.
“There’s a lot happening behind the scenes to remedy this. Landowners are pissed,” one rancher told the Citizen.
CPW is concerned about the fish kill and potential impacts to other species, such as amphibians and aquatic invertebrates, and the potential impacts to the riparian corridor. An aboriginal population of Rio Grande chub, a Tier 1 Species of Greatest Conservation Need, has been documented in this reach of the Rio Grande, according to state parks and wildlife.
“This stretch of river is habitat for the federally endangered southwestern willow flycatcher and the federally threatened western yellow-billed cuckoo. While flycatchers and cuckoos do not overwinter in this reach, they rely on this habitat for nesting and rearing their young every spring and summer,” said Livingston.
Fish have been isolated in frozen pools. Credit: CPW
Aquatic biologists estimate it could take three to five years to recover the fishery, he said.
“CPW wants to thank the landowners along the river for their cooperation and for providing access to the river for this investigation, and CPW shares their concerns regarding this incident,” Livingston said.
Alamosa Citizen is seeking comment on this from Daniel Boyes, executive director of the Rio Grande Restoration Project.
Sunset from the western shore of Antelope Island State Park, Great Salt Lake, Utah, United States.. Sunset viewed from White Rock Bay, on the western shore of Antelope Island. Carrington Island is visible in the distance. By Ccmdav – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2032320
Utah Gov. Spencer Cox has proposed a plan to fill the Great Salt Lake by 2034, aiming to restore the lake that currently supports approximately 7,000 jobs…
Brian Steed, the Great Salt Lake Commissioner, highlighted efforts to conserve water among local residents and the agricultural community. “I think we have a lot of work to do to get there obviously we all work for the governor and I’m really happy to set that as our metric and we’re going to strive really hard to make that goal,” said Steed. He noted that the goal is not just about filling the lake but also about encouraging sustainable water use practices in the surrounding communities.
Steed indicated that strategic plans have been in place for years to identify areas where water can be shared with the Great Salt Lake. This includes working with local agriculture to promote efficient water usage that benefits both farmers and lake levels.
A recent study by Colorado Parks and Wildlife and a Colorado Springs Tribune article by Jonathan Ingraham have raised concerns about the adverse effects certain whitewater parks might have on local fish populations – but local CPW officials said they are pleased to report Salida and Buena Vista’s parks aren’t among them. For Salida’s Scout Wave, CPW collaborated with Mike Harvey’s company to design the fish passage part of the wave, CPW aquatic biologist Alex Townsend said. “It definitely took some forethought.” Though there are examples of whitewater parks that are not built with fish welfare in mind, Townsend said the parks in Salida and Buena Vista are built that way, and other whitewater park designers need to be sure to work with biologists and wildlife experts…
When building the fish passage, they have a gradient that extends a little further than the wave itself, with planned drops and pools below those drops. They also created rough elements, which create vortices for the fish to have flow refuge, he explained, resulting in the fish passage being nowhere near the same velocity as the wave…
Mike Harvey, project manager of Recreation and Engineering Planning, who constructed the Scout Wave and fish passage, said, “We’ve been working with CPW over 15 years. This is not something that is new to us.” In regards to the Tribune article, he said, “It’s a little surprising that this is coming up again,” he said…
Building the fish passage did not require any extra labor on their part, nor was it difficult, he said. “You’re going to set rocks anyway, so you just set them in the configuration that they need.”
A beaver dam analog in Rocky Mountain National Park’s Kawuneeche Valley. Photo by Eric Brown, courtesy of Northern Water
Click the link to read the article on The Denver Post website (Elise Schmelzer). Here’s an excerpt:
December 30, 2025
High in the mountains west of Fort Collins, teams of scientists and engineers are pretending to be beavers.
They may not be swimming or chewing trees, but researchers with the U.S. Forest Service and Colorado State University are building [beaver dam analogs] in burn scars to study how wetlands created by the dams impact ecosystem restoration and water quality after wildfires. The research led by Tim Fegel is some of the first of its kind, he said. Scientists have studied how meadow and wetland restoration affects wildlife habitat, but there’s been little exploration of how wetlands created by beaver dams could change water quality post-wildfire, said Fegel, a biogeochemistry lab manager with the Forest Service who is leading the project.
“It’s kind of a brave new world for us with this type of work,” said Fegel, who is also a doctoral candidate at Colorado State University.
Wildfires destabilize soils and make them less capable of absorbing rain and snowmelt, resulting in higher runoffs and increased flood probability. High volumes of water, combined with a lack of vegetation roots to hold soil in place, mean that more sediment and debris travel downstream, impacting water quality and water treatment systems.
A burnt sign on Larimer County Road 103 near Chambers Lake. The fire started in the area near Cameron Peak, which it is named after. The fire burned over 200,000 acres during its three-month run. Photo courtesy of Kate Stahla via the University of Northern Colorado
Five years ago, the Cameron Peak and East Troublesome wildfires ripped through Colorado’s northern mountains, charring more than 620 square miles across watersheds that provide water for hundreds of thousands of people who live along the Front Range. That’s where Fegel and other researchers think the [beaver dam analogs] can help. Fegel hopes the work will provide land managers and water utilities with more data and, potentially, another water-quality tool. The team installed beaver-style dams across the Cache la Poudre and Willow Creek watersheds — both burned in the 2020 wildfires — to help slow water flow and instead spread the water over a floodplain. Engineers designed the dams, which are generally made of large logs hammered into the earth with branches and other material.
Ash and silt pollute the Cache la Poudre River after the High Park Fire September 2012. Photo credit: USDA
Negotiations among the Magnificent Seven representing the seven states of the Colorado River region begin to resemble the ongoing negotiations between the military and diplomatic representatives for North and South Korea, where negotiations for something beyond an armistice have been going on for more than sixty years. Here, as there, the negotiations have reached a stalemate, and both sides are now engaged in an information war. Between the two Koreas, this war takes the form of everything from huge arrays of speakers blasting pop music across the demilitarized zone to smuggled USB drives with movies and TV shows. Here, it is mostly just propaganda bombs tossed over our ‘DMZ,’ the Grand Canyons, about each side’s virtue and the other side’s obstinacy, depending on their regional media’s love of conflict and tendency to support the home team. The missed November deadline has been seamlessly replaced – as we all suspected it would be – by a February deadline. But otherwise – nothing new on that front. We can just hope it doesn’t go on for another fortysome years.
So I’m going to take advantage of the stalemate to ask the reader to think about a bigger picture that may be more interesting. It stems from a comment from my partner Maryo, from whom I learn too much to dismiss anything she says. ‘Why are you “romancing the river”?’ she asked the other day. ‘Romance is such a cheapened concept today – bodice-ripping stories of ridiculous antagonistic love. You’re undermining the value of your work, calling it a “romance.”’
‘Well,’ I said – figuring that if she feels that way, maybe my readers raise the same question – ‘maybe one of the things a writer ought to try to do is restore the value of words and the concepts they once represented that have become devalued through misuse.’ Spoken like a true Don Quixote, another old man who took arms, sort of, against abuse of the concept of ‘romance.’
I do think that one of the things that ‘civilization’ does in civilizing us is to simplify things for us, including words whose complexity and depth embrace concepts, ideas and feelings that can be inconvenient to an orderly civilized society. A ‘romance,’ from the medieval era on into the early 20th century, was a story of an adventure in pursuit of something mysterious, exciting, challenging, something beyond everyday life. That could be the pursuit of a love relationship that was life-changing (and maybe life-endangering) for its participants – Tristan and Isolde, Launcelot and Guinevere, Romeo and Juliet, Bonnie and Clyde.
But on a much larger scale, the romantic adventure can be establishing a relationship with anything outside of ourselves that intrigues or challenges us. The relationship can emerge with a place, a house, a horse, a car, a continent, a river, an idea, as well as another person, anything that intrigues us, wakes up our imagination – arational or prerational relationships that make the civilizing forces nervous. The relationship can run the quick dynamic spectrum from arational love to its flip side arational hate, through all the intermediary love-hate variations. It can also have a mythically selective or even creative attitude toward the gray-zone relationship between ‘truth’ and fact. Which leads those trying to develop an orderly civilization to dismiss anything (ad)venturing into the mythic as a lie. It just seems simpler that way.
The Powell survey on its second trip down the Colorado River, 1871. Photo credit: USGS
The first comprehensive study of the Colorado River region was uncivilized enough to state upfront its romantic origins: Frederick Dellenbaugh’s Romance of the Colorado River. Dellenbaugh’s book (available online for a pittance) delved as deeply as was possible at that time into both the First People prehistory in the region and the early history of the Euro-American invasion, from the Spanish trying to work their way up the river from its contentious confluence with the Gulf of California (‘Sea of Cortez’ to them) to the trappers imposing the first major Euro-American change on the river, stripping its tributaries of their beavers which increased the size and violence of the river’s annual spring-summer runoff of snowmelt. But the heart of the book is John Wesley Powell’s explorations to link the upper river and the lower river through its canyons.
Dellenbaugh, as a seventeen-year-old, accompanied Powell on his second Colorado River expedition, a ‘baptism under water’ (often literally) that shaped his ‘romantic’ vision. In his ‘Introduction,’ after observing that most of the great rivers that humans encountered in exploration and settlement gradually became like foster parents to those who settled along them, carrying goods for them and generally watering and growing their settlements, he says of the Colorado:
Dellenbaugh’s Romance was published in 1903. That same year, another great southwestern writer, Mary Hunter Austin came out with her Land of Little Rain, a fascinating collection of her explorations in the deserts of the lower Colorado River region. In that book she offered what might be a cautionary note about ‘romancing the river,’ in an observation about a small Arizona tributary of the Colorado River, ‘the fabled Hassayampa… of whose waters, if any drink, they can no more see fact as naked fact, but all radiant with the color of romance.’
I will now indulge my tendency to take a ‘tectonic’ look at history – looking for large chunks colliding or grating together or subducting under each other. I see the history of our engagement with the Colorado River dividing into three ‘tectonic romances’: first, the Romance of Exploration, which is chronicled in a couple different ways by those two explorers, Dellenbaugh and Austin; their 1903 publications summarize that age and put a semi-colon at the end of the period, as it were.
Second, the Romance of Reclamation: 1903 also marks the year the U.S. Reclamation Service came into being, an organization created almost specifically for settling the Colorado River deserts. Civilized people on both sides of the question would deny that there was any ‘romance’ to reclamation, but one early Bureau engineer would publicly disagree, writing in 1918 about ‘the romance of reclamation’:
C.J. Blanchard of the U.S. Reclamation Service authored that steaming verdure. The Service at that time was under the U.S. Geological Survey, a scientific organization disciplined to the ‘look before you leap’ methods of science, discerning the reality of a situation and adapting to that; but the Reclamation Service, frustrated by the seasonal flood-to-trickle flows of the Colorado, thought that changing that reality (through storage and redistribution) was a more promising route than adapting to it, and so was on its way to becoming independent of the USGS when Blanchard wrote his ‘romance of irrigation’ for an educational journal called The Mentor(thanks, Dave Primus, for calling it to my attention).
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
The best-known document of the Romance of Reclamation was of course the Colorado River Compact – a document in which the romance of reclamation overrode any relationship to ‘naked fact’ about the river and its flows, a situation that is now biting our collective ass.Yet an Arizona water maven said recently that any Bureau of Reclamation solution to the seven-state impasse would have to cleave closely to the Compact…. The history of the Romance of Reclamation has been written in the gaggle of Congressional acts, court decisions, treaties, regulations and directives that make up the ‘Law of the River’ (recitations of which never seem to include the 1908 Winters Doctrine allocating assumed water to federal reservations, including to the First Peoples).
The end of the Romance of Reclamation would be in the 1960s, pick your date: publication of Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring in 1962, passage of the Wilderness Act in 1964, passage of the Environmental Policy Act in 1969 – a decade in which the general American perception of the West underwent a sea change, from seeing it as a workplace for producing the resources to feed the American people and industries, to seeing it as a great natural playground to which America’s predominantly urban population could go to recharge, with a resulting desire to protect it from the very industrial consumption that supported the American ‘lifestyle.’.
This was the dawn of the third romantic epoch in our relationship with the river (and the continent in general) – the Romance of Restoration and Revision, driven by a belief that we have sinned against capital-N Nature – with many naked facts as evidence – and can only expiate our sins by preserving what remains of the nonhuman environment, restoring what we can of the damage we’ve done, and revising our own systems for consuming nature (e.g., renewable energy).
Aesthetics are at the root of our romance with capital-N Nature, aesthetics best served by the (increasingly rare) opportunity to be alone with and ‘silent on a peak in Darien,’ as Keats put it. We have a large (and growing) number of excellent writer[s] who work to elaborate on that aesthetic – Ed Abbey first, Craig Childs, Heather Hansman, Kevin Fedarko, to name a few.
But the aesthetic yearning to ultimately ‘put it back the way it was’ does not extend to other equally naked facts, like the dependence of the outdoor recreation industries on the creation of big mountain-highway traffic jams pumping big quantities of carbon and nitrogen gases into the already overladen atmosphere, as we all load up our cars with expensive gear to go off to commune with Nature. Or the naked fact that maintaining civilization-as-we-know-it for 300 million people involves a lot of nonrewable extraction from Nature that it will be very difficult to move away from entirely – unless we figure out how to control our breeding.
Just as significant achievements were achieved under the Romance of Reclamation, so significant achievements have been achieved under the Romance of Restoration and Revision – the setting aside of millions of acres of still-sort-of-wild land, instream flow laws, increasingly responsible forest management, et cetera. But we are clearly still in the early transition – half a century later – to a more realistic romance with restoring and revising to a kinder gentler relationship with the nonhuman systems of nature. And right now, we are experiencing a major counter-attack from the societal forces whose aesthetics still imagine a ‘working landscape’ of derricks, mines and other industrial-scale harvests, all suffused with the ‘smell of money,’ societal forces that believe the best of times were before we woke up to the increasingly fragile finitude of our planet under the burden of us. Let’s all go back and make America great again!
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
I cannot now imagine when and how this third epoch of our romance with the river will end. I think this aesthetic romance might peak with the ‘breaching’ of Glen Canyon Dam, an action that has taken on a somewhat mythic quality for today’s river romantics. I don’t think we will tear it down – let it stand as a monument to…something. But I suspect that even the Bureau of Reclamation is exploring some way of tunneling around it at river level, as we continue to flirt with the disaster of dead pool behind the dam. It will not be easy, due to the silt already piled up at the dam – but really, nothing is going to be easy anymore; that blessed civilization is now in the rear-view mirror.
I’m going to take advantage of the lull in the short-term news about the river’s management for maybe the next decade, to take a look at each of these three epochs of ‘romancing the river’ and their relationship to the ‘naked facts’ of the river – mostly see if there might be something there we’ve overlooked that might help us move forward in our ever-emerging relationship of this ‘First River of the Anthropocene.’ Onward and outward.
Map of the Colorado River drainage basin, created using USGS data. By Shannon1 Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0
The project will be on 480 acres of degenerated land, in between Stanley Road, the 105, and the 106. The property sits within Subdistrict 1, and its water rights, all groundwater access and wells, were sold to the Rio Grande Water Conservation District in December of 2024. Credit: The Citizen
Down the Stanley Road looking north in central Alamosa County are the massive solar panels that offer an unusual but common skyline in the high mountain desert west of Mosca. In the foreground of the solar structures, on 480 acres of degenerated land, is a grand new experiment by the Colorado Land Board that promises to offer new insights into carbon, the Valley’s soil, and the growing but complicated “carbon market.”
In September the state land board inked a partnership with Land & Carbon Inc., a carbon project development company, to revegetate and restore the land under an initial 15-year partnership, and then a 40-year monitoring period to determine long-term success.
This is the first contract of its kind in the Valley, but it definitely won’t be the last. With more land and water being retired from irrigation every year, the question of how to revegetate only becomes more urgent. Revegation helps not just to improve carbon sequestration, but also to prevent dangerous dust-bowl conditions that threaten an increasingly dry Valley. The water on the Stanley Road property was retired to the Rio Grande Water Conservation District in 2024, and the partnership has committed to using only the allotted 18 inches of water over the first 3 years for revegetation. This project will illuminate the possibilities for revegetation in the Valley, and is likely to lead the way for more innovative partnerships and projects focused on both land restoration and carbon sequestration in the coming years.
The Colorado State Land Board manages lands that were granted to the state in a public trust from the federal government back in 1876. It operates as the second-largest land owner in the state, holding 2.8 million acres of surface land and 4 million acres of subsurface assets. Its land management practices aim to both steward the land and produce reasonable and consistent income, a majority of which gets distributed to the Colorado Department of Education’s Building Excellent Schools Today (BEST) program.
The Land Board established an ecosystem services program, focused on generating revenue from nontraditional products, like wetland and carbon credits, as opposed to more traditional products like agriculture, grazing, mining, oil and gas, hunting, recreation and renewables. A few years ago, through this program, the Land Board started exploring the prospect of carbon sequestration and carbon credits.
“We hired a group of consultants to help us enter this market. It’s new and not well understood by most people. It’s kind of on the leading edge of being developed, what we sometimes call an emerging market,” said Mindy Gottsegen, the State Land Board’s Stewardship and Ecosystem Services manager.
The carbon market has emerged as a viable way to simultaneously restore damaged lands, while generating valuable revenue. While there are government regulations around carbon emissions and compliance with certain environmental standards, the carbon market is an entirely voluntary system that operates without large government oversight. Companies buying and selling carbon credits can join the market, and participate, as long as they meet certain standards, set by third-party organizations.
While it is a complicated system, this is generally how it works for soil carbon credits in the Valley: Every piece of land has some amount of carbon in the soil because plants take in CO2 from the atmosphere, photosynthesize, and store it. Through plant roots, and the decay of other organic matter, the soil ends up holding on to a certain amount of carbon. Different land management practices can increase or decrease the amount of carbon sequestered.
To quantify carbon sequestration and sell credits, verified companies (or land owners) must first establish a baseline carbon measurement. Then, carbon gains are estimated over time using a combination of measurements and modeling. These numbers are reviewed, and based on the additional amount of carbon stored, carbon registries issue a proportionate amount of carbon credits. These credits can be sold on the market to entities looking to offset their carbon emissions. The revenue from carbon credits helps to fund and sustain carbon sequestration and land restoration projects.
“The Biological Carbon Program framework that our board approved in April of this year was kind of saying ‘This is how we’re going to get involved in the carbon market,’” said Gottsegen.
The program allows agricultural and land lessees to partner with board-approved Qualified Project Developers (QPDs) to create and implement restorative project plans. These companies work as the middle man between land owners and the carbon market, helping to make successful and sustainable changes, while also navigating the approval and acquisition of carbon credits.
Enter Land & Carbon Inc. Founded by Dave Lawrence in 2023, Land & Carbon is an innovative project development company, restoring highly degraded lands with low-cost, science-driven solutions. The company works to regenerate and revegetate land while offsetting and storing CO2 in the soil, using carbon credits to help pay for the projects.
“I used to — well I still do — drive around the country quite a bit. I’ve observed just how much degraded and barren land there is, without healthy crops or native vegetation — brown trampled land all around the country,” said Lawrence.
Lawrence had previously served as both the chairman of the Yale Climate & Energy Institute and the executive director of the Salk Institute Harnessing Plants Initiative. In these roles, he was actively involved in carbon projects, and realized that reducing atmospheric carbon would require more than just emissions reduction.
“I recognized that there were a number of different solutions available, and that they could be used in combination,” said Lawrence. “I started Land & Carbon with this idea that we would use a combination of practices, and collaborate with communities, ranchers, farmers, land holders, and experts — local, regional, national, and global — pulling all of this together to do the best job that we could restoring degraded land, and at the same time taking carbon out of the atmosphere.”
A significant amount of the degraded land across the West is largely agricultural and sits with different state land boards. Land & Carbon reached out to the Colorado State Land Board with hopes of collaborating to regenerate these lands in a way that was mutually successful, taking advantage of best practices to sequester carbon, restore ecosystem health, and help fund the state’s public education system.
Land & Carbon got approved as the Land Board’s fourth QPD in August and the deal, officially titled Grassland Carbon Ecosystem Services Production Lease, ES 117611, came soon after.
Of the land in the State Land Board’s portfolio, the Stanley Road property was selected because of a combination of factors. The property consists of 480 acres, in between Stanley Road, the 105, and the 106. It sits within Subdistrict 1, and its water rights, all groundwater access and wells, were sold to the Rio Grande Water Conservation District in December of 2024. This means moving forward there are severe limitations to the amount of water that can be used to revegetate. The land is highly degraded from decades of agricultural use, and has been barren for years. In that time, a takeover of invasive weeds, along with harsh soil and climate conditions, have prevented any sort of natural recovery.
This property had been a challenge for the Land Board, because of the amount of damage. While this level of degradation can be seen as a deterrent for other QPDs, these types of highly degraded properties are exactly what Land & Carbon seek out. When the Land Board asked if it would be interested in taking on the challenge, the answer was a resounding “Yes.”
In any project for Land & Carbon, the first steps include a “scope and discovery” research deep dive, to better understand what has already been done, and learn how its efforts will be situated in the broader context of work in the region. In the Valley, this means looking at CSU Extension information, published papers, USDA, State Land Board and Conservation District data, conducting their own boots-on-the-ground field visits, and also engaging with the community. All of it is pulled together to assess initial land characteristics.
“We’re a big believer in talking with people and learning from people who are actually doing the work. So we participated in workshops, convened by Colorado State, that allowed us to get to know different individuals and people and groups who were already doing things,” said Lawrence. “We don’t believe we have the corner on the market on all expertise. We really try to tap into as much local knowledge as we can, as to what has worked, what hasn’t worked and why.”
After that, an exhaustive evaluation of all available data and information is done, pulling in literature, field data, and models to create an initial plan, taking into consideration resource availability and supplies. Then they take baseline measurements to determine the starting amount of carbon in the soil that is crucial to then quantify improvements and carbon credits.
The Stanley Road project is still in these early stages, and they are working to collect data, determine land characteristics, and establish a carbon baseline, before considering different solutions and strategies.
“We tailor our solutions to the land. Not everything grows everywhere and not all grazing practices work everywhere. So how can we tailor the best combination to this land?” said Lawrence.
The next steps will come in the spring, at the start of the growing season, when Land & Carbon plans to establish what it has trademarked as Innovation Sites. These five- to 20-acre patches on the property are used to test out new ideas and different combinations, seed mixes, and technologies, in order to learn what works best on this specific land. These experimental sites will run for three to five years, after which the best, most successful techniques will be used on the larger property. Many of the tests will not work, but some will, and those are what get implemented broadly.
In the years to come, these plans will continue to develop. Final decisions around irrigation, and how to use the 18 inches of water allocated for the first 3 years of the project, have not yet been made. Nor have more definitive restoration plans, though in the press release by the Land Board, it was stated that the property is expected to support regenerative grazing within four to eight years.
The project is estimated to sequester greater than 10,000 metric tonnes of CO2 in the first 15 years, which is when the initial contract ends. This will be followed by a 40-year monitoring period to ensure the permanence of the soil carbon storage.
With the state of water in the Valley, and efforts to retire agricultural land for water conservation purposes, the amount of land in need of revegetation and restoration will only continue to grow over the next few years.
Both the State Land Board and Land & Carbon expressed interest in expanding the reach of this project and methodology, once it has been established. But that will take time.
“I always think it’s good to try to do one thing very well, and to kind of get a proof point. We are very focused on this property, and of course we would love to work with others as we move along in this, and show what we have going,” said Lawrence.
“We’re just getting started. The first few take extra time, but we’re hoping that once we get these few under our belt, we’ll be able to expand,” said Gottsegen. “Hopefully we can continue to build the carbon program with more leases in the coming years.”
Lawrence emphasized that Land & Carbon aims to make this project the template for affordable, quality land regeneration using carbon credits, that will work for people in the Valley.
“The idea is that what we learn, we share. We can serve as just advisors if that’s what somebody who has all the capabilities wants, and there’s a ton of people with capabilities, or we can actually do the work,” said Lawrence. “I think we all know the challenges that we face with water in the San Luis Valley. It’s important that we take whatever we learn, in collaboration with others, and work with them to try to implement this at scale.”
Evan Arvizu is a recent graduate of Colorado College with a degree in Environmental Anthropology and minor in Journalism. She is a former intern with the Rural Journalism Institute of the San Luis Valley. More by Evan Arvizu
Dust event from thunderstorm Great Salt Lake. Photo credit: Kevin Perry/University of Utah
Click the link to read the article on the Grist website (Leia Larsen):
December 1, 2025
Instead of waiting for more data, a new report lays out the case for action.
This coverage is made possible through a partnership between Grist and The Salt Lake Tribune, a nonprofit newsroom in Utah.
The dust blowing from the dry bed of the Great Salt Lake is creating a serious public health threat that policymakers and the scientific community are not taking seriously enough, two environmental nonprofits warn in a recent report.
The Great Salt Lake hit a record-low elevation in 2022 and teetered on the brink of ecological collapse. It put millions of migrating birds at risk, along with multimillion-dollar lake-based industries such as brine shrimp harvesting, mineral extraction, and tourism. The lake only recovered after a few winters with above-average snowfall, but it sits dangerously close to sinking to another record-breaking low.
The report from the Utah Physicians for a Healthy Environment and the Utah Rivers Council argues that Utah’s “baby steps” approach to address the dust fall short of what’s needed to avert a long-term public health crisis. Failing to address those concerns, they say, could saddle the state with billions of dollars in cleanup costs. “We should not wait until we have all the data before we act,” said Brian Moench, president of Utah Physicians for a Healthy Environment, in an interview. “The overall message of this report is that the health hazard so far has been under-analyzed by the scientific community.”
Click the image to download the report.
After reviewing the report, however, two scientists who regularly study the Great Salt Lake argued the nonprofits’ findings rely on assumptions and not documented evidence.
The report warns that while much of the dust discussion and new state-funded dust monitoring network focus on coarse particulates, called PM10, Utahns should also be concerned about tiny particulates 0.1 microns or smaller called “ultrafines.” The near-invisible pollutants can penetrate a person’s lungs, bloodstream, placenta, and brain.
The lake’s dust could also carry toxins like heavy metals, pesticides and PFAS, or “forever chemicals,” Moench cautioned, because of the region’s history of mining, agriculture, and manufacturing.
“Great Salt Lake dust is more toxic than other sources of Great Basin dust,” Moench said. “It’s almost certain that virtually everyone living on the Wasatch Front has contamination of all their critical organs with microscopic pollution particles.”
If the lake persists at its record-low elevation of 4,188 feet above sea level, the report found, dust mitigation could cost between $3.4 billion and $11 billion over 20 years depending on the methods used.
Exposed shoreline of the Great Salt Lake in Utah (USA). The lake’s level has dropped over the past three decades, creating an enormous public health threat from windblown dust disrupting a continental migratory flyway. Photo by Brian Richter
The Great Salt Lake needs to rise to 4,198 feet to reach a minimum healthy elevation, according to state resource managers. It currently sits at 4,191.3 feet in the south arm and 4,190.8 feet in the north arm.
The lake’s decline is almost entirely human-caused, as cities, farmers, and industries siphon away water from its tributary rivers. Climate change is also fueling the problem by taking a toll on Utah’s snowpack and streams. Warmer summers also accelerate the lake’s rate of evaporation.
The two nonprofits behind the report, Utah Physicians and the Utah Rivers Council, pushed back at recent solutions for cleaning up the toxic dust offered up by policymakers and researchers. Their report panned a proposal by the state’s Speaker of the House, Mike Schultz, a Republican, to build berms around dust hot spots so salty water can rebuild a protective crust. It also knocked a proposal to tap groundwater deep beneath the lake bedand use it to help keep the playa wet.
“Costly engineered stopgaps like these appear to be the foundation of the state’s short-sighted leadership on the Great Salt Lake,” the groups wrote in their report, “which could trigger a serious exodus out of Utah among wealthier households and younger populations.”
Bill Johnson, a professor of geology and geophysics at the University of Utah who led research on the aquifer below the lake, said he agreed with the report’s primary message that refilling the Great Salt Lake should be the state’s priority, rather than managing it as a long-term and expensive source of pollution.
“We don’t want this to become just about dust management, and we forget about the lake,” Johnson said. “I don’t think anybody’s proposing that at this point.”
It took decades of unsustainable water consumption for the Great Salt Lake to shrink to its current state, Johnson noted, and it will likely take decades for it to refill.
Kevin Perry, an atmospheric scientist at the University of Utah and one of the top researchers studying the Great Salt Lake’s dust, said Utah Physicians and Utah Rivers Council asked him to provide feedback on their report in the spring.
“It’s a much more balanced version of the document than what I saw last March,” he said of the report. “It’s still alarmist.”
Perry agreed with the report’s findings that many unknowns linger about what the lake bed dust contains, and what Utahns are potentially inhaling when it becomes airborne. He said he remains skeptical that ultrafine particulates are a concern with lake bed dust. Those pollutants are typically formed through high-heat combustion sources like diesel engines.
“In the report, they just threw it all at the wall and said it has to be there,” Perry said. “I kept trying to encourage them to limit their discussion to the things we have actually documented.”
The report’s chapter outlining cost estimates for dust mitigation, however, largely aligned with Perry’s own research. Fighting back dust over the long term comes with an astronomical price tag, he said, along with the risk of leaving permanent scars from gravel beds or irrigation lines on the landscape.
“Yes, we can mitigate the dust using engineered solutions,” Perry said, “but we really don’t want to go down that path if we don’t have to.”
Sunset from the western shore of Antelope Island State Park, Great Salt Lake, Utah, United States.. Sunset viewed from White Rock Bay, on the western shore of Antelope Island. Carrington Island is visible in the distance. By Ccmdav – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2032320
Browns Canyon National Monument protects a stunning section of Colorado’s upper Arkansas River Valley. The area is a beacon to white water rafters and anglers looking to test their skills at catching brown and rainbow trout. Photo by Bob Wick / @BLMNational
Andre Spino-Smith scoots his Waka kayak into the trickling Arkansas River. It’s barely flowing at 350 cubic-feet-per-second in the river above the Pine Creek stretch. The rapids below are meek, far from the raging rowdiness of a couple months earlier when the steep section of Class V rapids here peaked at nearly 1,700 cfs.
“You know, it doesn’t matter what the flow is,” says Spino-Smith, a former professional kayaker who has probably paddled this stretch more than anyone else in the last quarter century. “I always have fun on this river.”
Today, the Upper Arkansas River between Leadville and Pueblo is the source of a lot of fun. While it primarily serves as a source of urban water, that tumbling snowmelt delivers a secondary but critical benefit of countless good times.
The river boasts one of the most vibrant trout populations in the land and floats more paying rafters than any stretch of river in the country. The Upper Arkansas River’s modern-day role of floating rubber and sating cities has evolved over many centuries.
The Arkansas River from Leadville down to Pueblo sustained Indigenous people for most of that time. Then came the miners and railroad builders and high country settlers. The waterway was a thoroughfare for floating beaver pelts and fresh hewn lumber to market. Then it was a dumping ground for miners scouring deep holes for gold and silver. Its meandering path through craggy gorges marked an easy route for railroad builders who breathed new life into former mining towns at the dawn of the 20th century.
The Upper Arkansas River continues to feed its communities, but residents extract less from the endlessly rolling water. Before reaching taps in thirsty cities and sprinklers on the arid plains, the river is celebrated for being, well, a river. Recreation in the water has expanded to trails above the canyons, anchoring economies that are increasingly dependent on natural beauty.
That embrace of the lifeblood of the Upper Arkansas Valley continues to evolve as communities grapple with larger and larger crowds and new residents flocking to a place where water runs and stars sparkle.
Mike Harvey leans on his shovel, whistles and points.
Tommy Garcia, piloting a John Deere 345 excavator in the middle of the Arkansas River, turns his head and swings his boulder-pinching bucket toward Harvey. Garcia, with Lowry Construction, deftly drops a massive stone in the river, right where Harvey is pointing.
“That machine is pretty impressive to watch, isn’t it?” says Harvey, standing atop a gently sloping, freshly poured slab of concrete in September.
In a few days, Garcia will shift more boulders and the Arkansas River will flow over that slab, creating a glassy standing wave. Even with super-low fall flows, the surfers will flock, just as they do downstream at Harvey’s slab-formed Scout Wave in his hometown of Salida.
This is the third time in more than a decade that Harvey has tinkered with the Pocket Wave in the Buena Vista Whitewater Park. Buena Vista locals — led by the Friends of the Buena Vista River Park — raised more than $150,000 to support this year’s $240,000 rebuild of the Pocket Wave.
Harvey and the park builders at the pioneering Recreational Engineering and Planning firm have deployed the heavy equipment operators from Lowry Construction to build both the Buena Vista and Salida parks. Piloting quarter-million-dollar excavators, they nimbly pluck giant boulders as if they were pepper shakers, twisting and turning them to fit so just in the river puzzle. Harvey directs the rocky Tetris like a maestro, pointing and whistling over the machine’s rumbling diesel engine.
A standup surfer in the Arkansas River at Salida during Fibark, the river celebration held in late June 2017. Photo/Allen Best
Two decades ago, nascent whitewater parks on Colorado rivers were largely about economics and luring visitors. Now they are more about local amenities and community-based recreation. That resonates with communities in the Midwest, says Harvey, who has designed and built more than a dozen river parks in Colorado as well as parks in Arkansas, Iowa, Nebraska, Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Texas.
“Salida and Buena Vista are national models for what people want,” says Harvey, noting the cooperation of the local South Main developer, a nonprofit and the Buena Vista recreation department in designing and building the Buena Vista Whitewater Park and miles of hiking and biking trails spiderwebbing above the river.
Mike Harvey has worked with many communities to successfully guide whitewater park, dam modification and river corridor improvement projects through planning, permitting, public-process, funding, design and construction phases. Mike Harvey Badfish SUP and Whitewater Park Designer at REP from his LinkedIn feed.
Salida and Buena Vista are “making their river the focal point of their community in a way that drives economics and works for locals.” And other riverside communities are watching.
“For towns in the Midwest, we are seeing communities trying to figure out how to keep young people around and they want to make their town as attractive as possible,” Harvey says. “And younger generations don’t necessarily want golf courses. They want bike trails and surfable waves.”
Harvey said river parks have “democratized the river” for the recreation generation, the growing demographic of young and old championing outdoor play as a sort of life purpose. Being able to safely play in swift water once required years of practice with wise mentors. Now, river park lineups, like at the Scout Wave in Salida, include school kids carving potato-chip surfboards next to middle-aged moms and land-locked surfer bros.
“I think there’s going to be a profound impact in the coming decades as these kids grow older and start businesses and families here,” says Harvey, whose son, Miles, grew up surfing his dad’s waves in Salida and now ranks as one of the world’s top river surfers. “These kids are going to be business leaders who clearly recognize the value of the river.”
Private investment, public reward
Like Harvey, Brice Karsh has spent long days improving his stretch of the Arkansas River. Karsh just dropped about $100,000 to improve riparian habitat along 300 yards of Arkansas River at his 262-acre Rolling J Ranch at the confluence of the river and the Lake Fork of the Arkansas and Halfmoon Creek. He hosts anglers and is planning another $200,000 to improve the fishing on the property downstream of Leadville he bought in 2016.
“There are 300 head of elk in the willows outside my window right now,” he says on a warm Tuesday in late October.
He’s used mapping technology to plan his million-dollar restoration effort on nearly 2.5 miles of riverfront. His ranch is just downstream from the 30-year, $40 million Superfund project in the 18-square-mile California Gulch, where federal cleanup of more than 2,000 mine waste piles and miles of toxin-leaking underground mines dating back to the 1860s is nearing its end.
His property, Karsh says, has been transformed “from outhouse to penthouse.”
“The people who do have access to the public areas below me and above me, just below Turquoise Lake, they catch my fish all the time,” he says of prized golden palomino trout he’s released into the river. “Private land owners who put a lot of money into their watersheds should not be forgotten when we celebrate trophy waters in the Arkansas and elsewhere. When we invest, everyone wins.”
Photo credit: Rolling J Ranch
“Every pan is a scratch ticket”
Kevin Singel is a guardian of one definitively old-school use of the Arkansas River. The Silverthorne resident and guidebook author is highly respected among the thousands of recreational gold panners who poke through eddies in Colorado rivers every year, sifting through sediment in search of shiny flakes swirling in their ridged pans.
“It doesn’t take a very big piece to be exciting,” Singel says, poking a shovel into a pile of rocks just below a shack-sized boulder on the Arkansas River. “I’ve had some amazing experiences just downstream of big rocks.”
Singel has more than 28,000 members who follow his Facebook posts detailing how to find gold in Colorado. His 2018 “Finding Gold in Colorado: Prospector’s Edition” details 186 sites he’s visited in his search for gold. His 2023 “Finding Gold in Colorado: The Wandering Prospector” details 270 legal-to-pan locations where Singel suspects there could be gold.
Not much has changed for how placer mining prospectors pan for gold. But everything else around the rivers has changed.
The 1859 gold rush in Colorado followed economic distress back East that sent countless young people West in search of fortune waiting in rocky landscapes. Many mountain communities were established during that rush as miners stuck around after scouring the hills.
“The history is powerful. We all feel it,” says Singel.
After many decades of poking and prodding through the rivers, the frequency of finding life-changing nuggets has faded. A full day of panning typically yields flecks that make up a fraction of a gram. It’s been many years since a Colorado panner scored big.
Most panners count a win with tiny hydrophobic grains that flicker in a swirl of sandy sediment.
“We call it flour gold or even fly-poop gold,” Singel says. “You just never know. This is like scratch lottery tickets. Every pan is a scratch ticket.”
Suddenly, the sun glints in black sand swirling in his blue pan.
“There we go. That’s what we are chasing,” he says, scooping the speckles into a tiny vial.
After a couple decades of prospecting, Singel tips his vials of gold flakes into jeweler melting pots. He turns his bits of gold collected from a couple dozen rivers across Colorado into wedding rings and pendants for his wife, nieces and nephews.
“I make them come digging with me too,” Singel says. “It’s become a thing for our family.”
A 100-mile video map of the Ark
Brian Ellis and his team at Wilderness Aware recently floated the Arkansas River from Granite through Cañon City with a 360-degree camera. The uploaded photos provide a foot-by-foot Google Street View of more than 100 miles of the river and its rapids. Ellis hopes the video can expose more potential rafters to the thrills of whitewater.
“We are thinking this could open the river to a lot more people,” says Ellis, who started guiding on the Arkansas River in 1999 and he bought the venerable Wilderness Aware rafting company in 2019.
In the late 1990s, whitewater rafting was on the edge; “kind of an extreme sport,” says Ellis, sitting on a rock down by the Wilderness Aware boat ramp.
Today, it’s much more mainstream and there are a lot more folks paddling their own rafts. Wilderness Aware, on the banks of the Arkansas River at the put-in for the easy Milk Run downstream of Buena Vista, offers boaters private river access and a parking lot. Back in the 1990s, there were maybe 100 boaters using that put-in every season. Today, more than 100 boaters pass through the Wilderness Aware boat ramp every summer weekend.
And that growth in private traffic has accompanied a general flattening and even a decline in the number of commercial rafters. Still, the more than 200,000 paying customers rafting with 45 outfitters every year makes the Arkansas River the most commercially rafted stretch of water in the country.
The Arkansas River Headwaters Recreation Area, which spans 152 miles and 5,355 acres along the Arkansas River between Leadville and Florence, hosted 1.13 million visitors in 2024. That’s up314,000 — or 40% — from 2014.
The management system for the AHRA is a national blueprint for regional and federal collaboration. The recreation area is managed by Colorado Parks and Wildlife and covers four counties as the river winds through Forest Service and BLM land and a national monument.
In the early 1990s, rafting outfitters proposed a one-of-a-kind arrangement with the federal Bureau of Reclamation, the Colorado Department of Natural Resources and the powerful Southeastern Colorado Water Conservancy District, which manages the complex Fryingpan-Arkansas Project that diverts water from the Western Slope into the Arkansas River drainage to water some 900,000 users along the growing Front Range.
Since the early 1990s, the Voluntary Flow Management Program has rafts floating on about 700 cfs every day between early July and the middle of August by timing the release of up to 10,000 acre-feet of water each year from Twin Lakes. The program gives the Arkansas River one of the most reliable boating seasons in the state. In 2022, nearly 200,000 commercial rafters on the Arkansas River spent about $39 million, supporting 498 jobs and creating a $50 million economic impact in the region. Almost all of that impact is delivered in June, July and August.
“The folks who have the biggest interests in this river — the owners of all the water rights and the Front Range municipalities— they have a much greater understanding of what this resource means to recreation now than they did 20 years ago,” Ellis says.
Harvey, standing in the Arkansas a few miles upstream of Ellis’ rafting company headquarters, agrees. He too is seeing a bit of a local pushback on development that draws tourists to the Arkansas River when tax funds could maybe be better spent on things like housing and infrastructure. That’s certainly the case across most of Colorado, where a growing number of communities are redirecting lodging tax dollars once dedicated to tourism marketingtoward things like early education, housing and trails.
“It’s funny how you can actually kick out the other side of the economic development argument into a place where people are saying ‘Hey pump the brakes,’” Harvey says.
But it’s coming from a deepening local attachment to the Arkansas River, Harvey says.
“What’s changed here is the level of collaboration,” he said. “What’s impressive here and probably is a model for other places is how these varied interests work together to meet their own needs while protecting the resource. I’m not sure other communities have such an impressive coalition around their river.”
Both Harvey and Ellis appreciate the renewed vigor in supporting the river but they fret the accompanying shift that is scrutinizing the visitors who flock to the valley.
The summer months are, obviously, exceptionally busy along the Arkansas River. And that is stirring a bit of a shift in communities hosting all that traffic. While lots of people visit the Arkansas River, today, a lot of people are moving closer to the river. The population in Chaffee and Fremont counties is up 20% in the last decade. That growth has shifted public sentiment around the river.
“People have moved here to better appreciate the river and its resources. But back in the 1990s and early 2000s, that often meant a lot of support for rafting. But that’s changing now,” says Ellis, who employs 40 workers at the height of summer. “That’s a little bit of backlash against rafting and visitors. Some people want town to be quieter in the summer because the restaurants are too full and the streets are too crowded. It’s an interesting dynamic, with a growing number of folks who are maybe not in the working world around them. And maybe they don’t recognize how badly we need that tourism flow to support the local economy.”
In the dark
Browns Canyon National Monument, nearly a decade after it was designated by President Barack Obama, secured International Dark Sky Park certification in December 2024. The campaign was organized by the nonprofit Friends of Browns Canyon, which regularly hosts night-sky gatherings and hired tech-equipped light measuring scientists to earn the recognition by DarkSky International.
The Friends of Browns Canyon group also was instrumental in forcing the Surface Transportation Board to scrutinize a plan to revive railroad traffic over Tennessee Pass and along the Arkansas River through Browns Canyon, the Royal Gorge and Cañon City. The board in 2021 nixed a request for expedited approval of trains on the Tennessee Pass Line, which has not seen trains since 1997.
While that 2021 decision was a victory for communities vehemently opposed to restoring train traffic along the Arkansas River, the threat is not dead. The Tennessee Pass plan was proposed by Colorado Midland & Pacific, which promised it would only transport people and perhaps construction materials, but not crude oil on the mountain route owned by Union Pacific.
The company that owns Colorado Midland & Pacific is the planned operator of the Uinta Basin Railway in Utah. That controversial 88-mile railroad was approved by the Surface Transportation Board in 2021 but a federal appeals court overturned that approval in 2023. The U.S. Supreme Court overturned that 2023 court decision earlier this year, resuscitating a plan that would route 2-mile-long trains loaded with Uinta Basin waxy crude along the Colorado River and through the Moffat Tunnel and metro Denver en route to Gulf Coast refineries. A secondary route for that eastbound crude could be over Tennessee Pass; a possibility that galvanizes communities who fear oil-train traffic along the Arkansas River would be a step back to that industrial use of their quiet, natural waterway.
“We have come such a long way from the mining and the railroads being economic drivers to the rafters and anglers, who pioneered recreation as the new economy in this valley,” said Michael Kunkel, who cofounded Friends of Browns Canyon and has lived in Chaffee County for more than 25 years.
“Depending on how the chips fall with the Uinta Basin Railway, I think trains on Tennessee Pass could come back. And we’ve got to fight that. There is no more precious resource than water.”
That water — for drinking, farms, fish and fun — has shaped unique communities along the Arkansas River. And those communities are increasingly ready to step up and protect the lifeblood of their valley.
“It’s still the river that is driving everything here,” Kunkel said.
The Uncompahgre River flows from Colorado’s San Juan mountains through the towns of Ouray and Ridgway and then into Ridgway Reservoir, which stores water for farms and households downstream. The river is beautiful, but also troubled; runoff from old mines carries heavy metals into the river, and it is pinched into an unnaturally straight and simple channel as it passes from mountain canyon headwaters into an agricultural valley.
As the river moves through the modified channel, it carves deeper into the valley floor and less frequently spills over its bank. As a result, the local water table has dropped, and riverside trees such as cottonwoods have died, impoverishing this important habitat. Water users on the Ward Ditch at the top of the valley were also struggling with broken-down infrastructure, making it difficult to access and manage water for irrigation. This confluence of challenges created a landscape of opportunity for the Uncompahgre Multi-Benefit Project, which addresses environmental problems along the river and water users’ needs, while also improving water quality and reducing flood risks downstream.
Uncompahgre River, Colorado | Hannah Holm
The Project, managed by American Rivers, took an integrated approach to restoring a one-mile stretch of the river, which included replacing and stabilizing the Ward Ditch diversion, notching a historic berm to reconnect the river to its floodplain, and placing rock structures in the river that both protect against bank erosion and improve fish habitat. Meanwhile, ditch and field improvements make it easier to spread water across the land for agriculture and re-establish native vegetation.
Photo credit: American Rivers
Photo credit: American Rivers
In addition to the direct benefits this project delivers for on-site habitat and landowners, the enhanced ability of the river to spread out on its floodplain, both through the ditch diversion and natural processes, also provides downstream benefits. As the water slows and spreads across the floodplain during high flows, its destructive power to erode banks and damage infrastructure downstream is diminished. The same dynamics enable pollutants and sediment from upstream abandoned mines or potential wildfires to settle out before the river flows into the downstream reservoir.
Uncompahgre River, Colorado | Hannah Holm
With construction wrapping up in November 2025, the transformation of this stretch of river and its adjacent floodplain is nearly complete. Fields of flowers and fresh willow plantings are replacing invasive species and dead cottonwoods, and new pools, sandbars, and riffles are providing instream habitat, complementing other organizations’ work to remediate old mines upstream. As a bonus, when the water level is right, the reach has become an inviting run for skilled whitewater boaters.
The San Juan Basin in northwestern New Mexico and southwestern Colorado is known for producing oodles of fossil fuels over the last century. But it is really so, so much more than that: An epicenter of cultures, lovely landscapes, and geological wonders. It is also a hotspot for fossils, some of which recently have yielded new information about the dinosaurs’ last days on earth.
While it’s generally accepted that non-avian dinosaurs were wiped out by an asteroid some 66 million years ago, researchers have long debated whether the big reptiles were doing well leading up to the cataclysmic event, or were already in decline and headed for extinction. A study published last month in Science, based on the fossil record of the San Juan Basin, finds that a diverse array of dinosaurs were actually flourishing at the end of the Cretaceous period. Had it not been for that asteroid, they might have stuck around for quite a bit longer.
And that’s not all for San Juan Basin dinosaur news! In September, a team of researchers announced they had identified a new species of duck-billed dinosaur in northwestern New Mexico. The Ahshiselsaurus, an herbivore, weighed up to nine tons and spanned up to 35 feet from bill to tail.
In a news release, the New Mexico Department of Cultural Affairs notes that the bones that led to the identification were unearthed in 1916 in what is now the Ah-shi-sle-pah Wilderness in San Juan County. “In 1935, the fossils were classified as belonging to another hadrosaurid called Kritosaurus navajovius. However, this new research identified distinctions between these fossils and all known hadrosaurids, including several key differences in the animal’s skull.”
Cottonwood trees in full autumn splendor in the Paradox Valley, Colorado. Jonathan P. Thompson photo.
🥵 Aridification Watch 🐫
This past weekend, my sister held the annual garlic-planting and apple cider-making ritual at her farm in the North Fork Valley in western Colorado. Folks from all around gather to help put thousands of garlic cloves into the ground. At the same time, a handful of us crank the handle and toss apples into the 125-year-old cider press that my ancestors brought to the Animas Valley from Pennsylvania in the early part of the century.
It was a lovely day, with an intensely blue, cloudless sky and high temperatures in the 60s. We felt lucky to have such conditions in early November, but they weren’t wildly abnormal. Though a few places in the region set daily high temperature records, at least as many also set daily low temperature records as the mercury dipped down to around 22° F, even in the lowlands, overnight.
More striking to me was when I stopped in Silverton on the trip back to Durango to take a bike ride on the new trails on Boulder Mountain. That mountain biking is even an option in Silverton in early November is a little odd. That the trails were bone dry at 10,600 feet in elevation is even odder. And that I was not just warm, but downright hot and sweaty in just short sleeves and shorts felt downright weird.
A cursory look at the data reveals that this has been one of the wettest — and least snowiest — starts to a water year on record, at least in southwestern Colorado. The huge, flood-spawning rains of October pushed the accumulated precipitation levels up into record high territory. But most of that liquid abundance fell as rain, not snow, even at high elevations. And the warm temperatures that followed has deteriorated what little snowpack existed. It’s striking to see only a thin layer of white painting its designs on north-facing slopes at 12,000 or 13,000 feet. And without a radical shift in weather (which is certainly possible), it’s hard to imagine ski areas opening by Thanksgiving.
Still, we’re only about one month into the 2026 Water Year, so it’s far too early to draw any conclusions from the data. Last year started out as one of the snowier seasons on record, before fading out into a pretty sparse snow year.
North-facing peaks in the San Juan Mountains, late October 2025. There’s snow, but a lot less than one would expect. Jonathan P. Thompson photo.
📖 Reading Room 🧐
Nick Bowlin and ProPublica just published an extensive investigation into oil and gas field “purges,” which is when injecting produced wastewater underground forces toxic water to spew out of old wells in mind-blowing volumes, killing vegetation and trees and contaminating the earth.| Bowlin’s investigation focuses on Oklahoma — where regulators are doing little to address it — but these purges occur anywhere that produced wastewater is injected into the ground as a way to dispose of it, which is to say every oil and gas field from Wyoming to New Mexico. Each barrel of oil pulled from the ground is accompanied by anywhere from three to 30 barrels of brackish wastewater that can be contaminated with an assorted soup of hazardous chemicals. This means that hundreds of billions of this stuff must be disposed of each year, usually by deep injection. As oil production continues, and as more and more wells are “orphaned” or abandoned without being plugged, the purge problem will only grow worse.
KUNC’s Alex Hagar has a nice, good-news piece on how beavers are returning to Glen Canyon and its tributary canyons as Lake Powell’s water levels recede. It’s yet more evidence that if — when — Lake Powell disappears, the canyons it and ecosystems it drowned will eventually recover, and may do so far more quickly than might be expected.
🔋Notes from the Energy Transition 🔌
Those of you who watch Denver television will certainly recognize longtime Denver 7 weather forecaster. He retired a little while back and has taken on a sort of second career advocating for a Super Grid — an integrated, nationwide, direct current, underground power grid designed to move power from where it’s generated to where it’s needed when it’s needed.
It’s a cool idea, but also a very, very ambitious one. Instead of rehashing all of the details, I’ll let you watch this video of his presentation, which gives a very informative overview of the whole energy situation.
Colorado is in its first year of responding to a zebra mussel infestation in a big river, the Colorado River. State staff say they have what they need to handle the high-priority needs — they just need their funding to stay off the chopping block.
The fast-reproducing mussels, or their microscopic stage called veligers, were first detected in Colorado in 2022. Since then, the state’s aquatic nuisance species team and its partners have been working to monitor water, decontaminate boats, and educate the public to keep the mussels from spreading. That effort logged a serious failure this summer when state staff detected adult zebra mussels in the Colorado River, where treatment options are limited.
CPW sampling on the Colorado River found zebra mussel veligers. The river is now considered “positive” for zebra mussels from its confluence with the Roaring Fork River to the Utah state line. CREDIT: PHOTO COURTESY OF COLORADO PARKS & WILDLIFE
“We’re continuing to sample the Colorado from below the Granby Dam all the way out to the [Utah-Colorado] state line,” said Robert Walters, who manages the invasive species program for Colorado Parks and Wildlife.
Adult zebra mussels, about the size of a thumbnail with a zebra-striped shell, reproduce quickly and can clog up pipes, valves and parts of dams, costing millions of dollars to remove. They also suck up nutrients, out-eating other native aquatic species, and their razor sharp shells cause headaches for beachgoers.
The state’s first adult zebra mussel showed up in Highline Reservoir near Grand Junction in 2022. But even after the lake was drained and treated, the mussels appeared again.
Colorado has been working to keep these invasive species out of its waters since 2007, when a task force was created to coordinate management efforts.
In 2008, Colorado approved a law that makes it illegal to possess, import, export, transport, release or cause an aquatic nuisance species to be released.
Now, the program completes over 450,000 inspections each year, according to Colorado Parks and Wildlife’s website. The teams have intercepted 281 boats with zebra or quagga mussels attached.
But their treatment options are limited on the Colorado River. CPW does not intend to treat the main stem of the Colorado River due to multiple factors, including risk to native fish populations and critical habitat, the length of the potential treatment area and complex canal systems, the agency said in a mid-September news release.
The goal continues to be educating the public — including lawmakers who are scheduled to hear an update on the zebra mussel issue during the Oct. 29 Water Resources and Agriculture Review Committee meeting.
“What I think that we really need to help us more effectively tackle this issue is a higher level of public awareness,” Walters said.
The first year of infestations
For invasive species teams, the first year involves a lot of monitoring, according to Heidi McMaster, the invasive species coordinator for the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation.
Quagga mussels were discovered in Lake Mead, Lake Mojave and Lake Havasu on the Colorado River in January 2007. The mussels were later confirmed in Lake Powell in 2013, according to the Bureau of Reclamation.
Hoover Dam with Lake Mead in the background December 3, 2024.
Colorado River water from Colorado’s mountains eventually collects in Lake Powell before flowing through the Grand Canyon to downstream states, Lake Mead and Mexico.
“I would think that the first response is probably panic, especially if people are not prepared for it,” McMaster said. “Once that initial panic wears off, it is tapping into the existing resources, the preparedness plans that state or managers have on how to deal with it.”
During the first year, specialists are looking at existing rapid response plans, vulnerability assessments and communication plans. They take samples and track life cycles to try to understand how the mussels reproduce, how environmental conditions impact breeding and what kinds of treatments might work to stop the spread.
In the Southwest and along the Colorado River, the temperature of the water allows invasive species to breed multiple times a year, McMaster said. Each one can produce a million larvae. Not all survive: There are turbulent waters, areas with fewer nutrients, and other threats, like predators. But if they grow to adulthood they can layer on top of each other on underwater surfaces.
If left unchecked, invasive mussels could clog up pipelines that carry cooling water to turbines used to generate hydroelectric power. Without the cooling effect of the water, the turbine would “burn up” and power generation would shut down, McMaster said.
The goal at the end of the first year is mainly to inform the public. That means repeating the “clean, drain, dry” refrain as often as possible to anyone moving watercraft from one body of water to another, she said.
After that, a successful first-year response will also include setting up inspection and decontamination stations. Then, specialists move onto treatment options, McMaster said.
At Hoover Dam and Lake Mead, on the Nevada-Arizona border, managers took an aggressive treatment approach to avoid damage to the dam, she said. They used UV lights to stun and temporarily paralyze the microscopic veligers so they cannot attach inside the dam.
“Prevention is still the No. 1 goal,” McMaster said.
It’s the cheapest and least risky option, she said. Once an invasive mussel species arrives in an area, however, the costs can ramp up exponentially into the millions of taxpayer dollars. The goal is always to keep them at bay as much as possible, she said.
“They might be in the state of Colorado,” McMaster said, “but if you look at the overall percentage of uninfested areas, that’s still a lot of maintenance that’s not having to happen.”
Pest control on a private lake
On July 3, Colorado Parks and Wildlife staff discovered adult zebra mussels in a privately owned lake in western Eagle County, according to a news release.
CPW also identified additional zebra mussel veligers in the Colorado River near New Castle, Highline Lake and Mack Mesa Lake at Highline Lake State Park, the release said.
There were too many mussels in the Eagle County lake to count, Walters said in late August. Any hard structure in the lake and any underwater rocks were relatively covered in adult mussels, he said.
An invasive species specialist said in July that they believed the lake was an upstream source of the mussels in the Colorado River, and that an outlet from the lake was bringing zebra-mussel-infested water into the Colorado River, according to news reports.
Walters said that has not been confirmed.
“We are just continuing to try to monitor,” Walters said during an interview Aug. 29. “What I can say is that, to the best of our knowledge, there currently is no connection from this privately owned body of water into any of the river systems of the state.”
The state’s team spent about eight hours on Aug. 25 treating the lake with a copper-based molluscicide, a substance used to kill mollusks, he said.
Staff also sampled the private lake’s water Aug. 27 to make sure the treatment’s concentration was at the right level and planned to continue monitoring and treating the water throughout September, Walters said.
No boats or other watercraft were entering or exiting the lake, he said.
“It’ll be a long time before we know if it was truly effective at eradicating the zebra mussels,” he said.
Zebra mussels. Photo credit: Colorado Parks & Wildlife
The state focuses its monitoring efforts on public waters, mainly those with high recreational use. Motorboats and other types of boats are the main way the mussels spread, he said.
However, that doesn’t mean the teams don’t survey private ponds and lakes, Walters said.
After the state discovered zebra mussel veligers in the Colorado River and Grand Junction area, they started asking landowners if they could survey private lakes, ponds, gravel pits and more near the river. They often survey privately owned recreational areas, like water skiing clubs, he said.
“We have been trying to work with those private landowners to allow us access to come out and sample them for invasive species,” Walters said.
We need to keep our existing funding
But with thousands of private and public water bodies in the state, CPW alone is never going to be able to monitor all of them as frequently as the high-risk water bodies, he said.
The staff normally work in teams of two to inspect reservoirs and lakes. They pull fine mesh nets through the water to try to find microscopic veligers. They do shoreline surveys to look for razor sharp shells and other signs of invasive species.
On a small pond, the process can take one to two hours. On a big reservoir like Blue Mesa, Colorado’s largest reservoir, it would take six to eight hours, he said.
“I don’t think that there is ever going to be capacity to monitor every public and private body of water in the state of Colorado. And I don’t think that that’s ever going to be our expectation,” Walters said.
The aquatic nuisance species program has more resources than ever, but there’s always room for more, Walters said.
“At this time, we feel like we do have a good amount of resources to be able to sample the waters that we consider to be the highest priority,” he said.
Formerly, the team was based in Denver. Now, the state has established a traveling team to cover the Western Slope and another focused on the Grand Junction area.
They don’t need more authority to monitor private water bodies, he said.
“What we need is to continue to receive the funding that we are receiving today, and hope that does not get threatened if there’s any sort of budget cuts that are considered,” Walters said.
Aquatic nuisance species stamp sales cover about $2.4 million, or 50%, of the program’s annual funding needs. All motorboats and sailboats must have this stamp before launching in state waters, according to the CPW website.
Colorado state law calls on federal agencies, like the Bureau of Reclamation and U.S. Forest Service, to cover the other half of the funding needs since many high-risk waters in Colorado are federally owned or managed.
How are other water providers responding?
Zebra mussels go with the flow. They naturally move downstream with the river’s current, but boats traveling from one lake to another can carry them upstream.
That has upstream water managers, like Northern Water and Denver Water, keeping a close eye on developments along the Colorado River.
The Northern Colorado Water Conservancy District works with the federal government to transfer Colorado River water on the Western Slope through a series of reservoirs, pump stations and tunnels — called the Colorado-Big Thompson Project — to farmland and over 1 million residents from Fort Collins across northeastern Colorado.
Horsetooth Reservoir looking west from Soldier Dam. Photo credit: Norther Water.
Zebra mussels are such prolific reproducers they can clog up water delivery pipelines, the main concern for a water manager like Northern Water, spokesman Jeff Stahla said.
The C-BT project is no stranger to invasive species. In 2008, quagga mussels showed up in several reservoirs, including Grand Lake, Lake Granby and Shadow Mountain Reservoir. Another reservoir, Green Mountain, was also positive for quagga mussels in 2017.
All of the lakes are mussel-free and delisted, Stahla said. Now they’re tightening up security.
“The biggest task we can right now is to inspect those boats going into the reservoirs to make sure that they’re not going to be causing the problem,” he said.
Dillon Reservoir in Summit County is Denver Water’s largest reservoir. Photo credit: Denver Water.
Denver Water, which serves 1.5 million people in Denver and nearby suburbs, is also focused on inspecting and decontaminating boats.
“It’s a little unnerving. That’s for sure,” Brandon Ransom, recreation manager for Denver Water, said. “It’s certainly not welcome news that anybody in the state wants to see.”
The water provider also transfers Colorado River water through mountain tunnels and ditches to Front Range communities. Not only are the invasive mussels a concern for gates, valves, pipes and tunnels, they also cause problems for recreation. The shells are sharp enough to cut feet and the decaying mussels and old shells “smell to all heck,” Ransom said.
They haven’t launched new prevention efforts in response to zebra mussels reports, but that’s because the provider and its partner agencies already had fairly controlled boat launch and inspection procedures, he said.
A view of part of Eleven Mile State Park in Park County, Colorado. The view shows the Eleven Mile Canyon Dam and part of the Eleven Mile Canyon Reservoir. By Jeffrey Beall – Own work, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=154086653
They already intercepted adult zebra mussels on boats this year, he said. The latest catch was at Eleven Mile Reservoir in early October.
They’re trying to get the word out to people to make sure their boats and gear are clean, drained and dry. The zebra mussels like to hide in dark cavities, particularly around motors.
The good news is that Denver Water’s reservoirs, pipelines and tunnels on the Western Slope are upstream from the main infested areas, Ransom said.
“It doesn’t help me sleep at night, let’s put it that way,” he said. “We know that it’s closer and closer, and we’re trying to be extra vigilant when it comes to prevention in our waters.”
The Colorado State Board of Land Commissioners (State Land Board) has approved the acquisition of the approximately 800-acre Lake Fork Ranch, located just west of Leadville in Lake County. The purchase represents a strategic reinvestment of trust land proceeds into a high-quality property with strong natural and agricultural values, diverse income potential, and long-term value-appreciation prospects. Through this acquisition, continued agricultural use and carefully planned recreation access will ensure that the ranch remains an active and productive part of the local economy.
“With this acquisition, we are protecting a special and amazing outdoor space in Lake County, expanding recreational opportunities, investing in Colorado students, and supporting economic success in our rural communities. Today’s announcement highlights our work to bolster local communities, protect Colorado’s natural resources and lands, and ensure long-term funding and preservation for the next generation and in Lake County,” said Governor Polis.
“I’m proud of the work the State Land Board is continuing to do to preserve agricultural use and to thoughtfully plan recreation activities,” said Dan Gibbs, Executive Director of the Colorado Department of Natural Resources.
“Lake Fork Ranch exemplifies how we’re building a more resilient and forward-looking land portfolio for Colorado’s public schools,” said Dr. Nicole Rosmarino, Director of the State Land Board. “It’s an investment in both the economic and ecological future of our trust lands—balancing water, recreation, and natural-capital assets that will generate returns for generations to come.”
A Strategic Investment
The acquisition aligns with the agency’s current strategic plan—to grow recurring, diversified revenue through entrepreneurial, non-extractive ventures.
Located three miles west of Leadville and framed by dramatic views of Mt. Elbert and Mt. Massive, Lake Fork Ranch includes irrigated meadows, creek bottomland, and forested uplands served by numerous water rights. The property is one of the last large, intact, non-eased ranches near Leadville and offers year-round access via state and county roads.
The purchase was funded through Non-Simultaneous Exchange (NSE) proceeds—funds generated from prior trust-land dispositions that must be reinvested into new properties within two years. If NSE proceeds are not invested in real property within this timeframe, the funds are transferred to the Permanent Fund—an inviolate fund invested in financial instruments.
Building a Modern Land-Use Portfolio
The State Land Board will implement a phased business plan for Lake Fork Ranch through 2028, designed to engage multiple lines of business and with the goal of achieving recurring annual yields of 2 percent or greater, with the potential for outsized one-time returns through ecosystem-services projects. “This acquisition reflects the significant collaboration and analysis by our dedicated team working group that looked closely at how Lake Fork Ranch could strengthen our portfolio as a long-term asset,” said Matt LaFontaine, Acquisition and Disposition Manager for the State Land Board. “Our staff will continue to meet and develop the business plan for this property. I’m particularly proud to add a property that not only fits our investment strategy, but will also generate future opportunities for the schoolchildren of Colorado—the ultimate beneficiaries of every decision we make.”
Potential future initiatives on the property include:
Mitigation Banking: Lake Fork Ranch has strong potential for ecosystem services projects and associated revenue. In particular, the west side of the property contains significant riparian area and wetland soils.
Soil Carbon Sequestration: Staff believes that implementing a soil management carbon protocol can provide a reasonable income stream.
Biodiversity Voluntary Market Project: The property has the potential to generate biodiversity credits and soil carbon credits, due in part to the property’s two fens and several areas of high priority wildlife habitat.
Agritourism-Ecotourism and Short-term Rentals: Agritourism/ecotourism is an increasingly desirable recreation opportunity. The existing residential structures can provide a nucleus, and select development of a few small cabins and a two-unit bathhouse would ideally position the property for this use.
Traditional Recreation: One of the property’s greatest natural resources is Lake Fork Creek. A rod-fee based fishing lease on the creek to outfitters would be easy to implement in the Board’s first year of ownership. In addition, Staff believes that a small campground could be ideally located on the north side of the property.
Water Development: Lake Fork Ranch benefits from numerous water rights. There are potential leasing opportunities for the rights including for the irrigation of the property to produce hay.
Cultural Resource Preservation: The property’s historic ranch structures, including improvements dating to the 19th century, add cultural depth to its natural and financial value. Their restoration could support heritage tourism, interpretive programming, or similar offerings, complementing recreation and agritourism uses. Staff will assess the feasibility of these efforts.
Initial capital improvements—estimated at $2 to $3 million—could address infrastructure needs and position the property for these new revenue streams. Staff will return to the Board in the future to request expenditure authorization once project scopes are finalized.
A Smart Investment in Colorado’s Future
Through thoughtful management, Lake Fork Ranch will serve as an example of how working lands can produce income for Colorado’s public schools while simultaneously advancing the State’s broader goals for recreation, biodiversity, and water conservation.
“From wetland restoration to fishing access, Lake Fork Ranch gives us a living laboratory for nature-based enterprise,” said Eliot Hoyt, Assistant Director for Sustainability and Working Lands. “It’s part of our commitment to generate dependable revenue while protecting the landscapes that define Colorado.”
Future investments in habitat restoration and wetland protection will not only enhance the property’s long-term value, but also position the State Land Board for participation in emerging conservation markets that reward landowners for measurable ecological outcomes. Meanwhile, continued agricultural use and carefully planned recreation access will ensure that the ranch remains an active and productive part of the local economy.
Arkansas River Basin — Graphic via the Colorado Geological Survey
Riparian ecologists David Cooper, left, and David Merritt take stock of the tree root crowns collected from the banks of the Crystal River the last week in October. They will take the trunks back to the lab in Fort Collins to study the tree rings, the first step in understanding how floods impact riparian vegetation. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Over three sunny-but-cool October days, a team of scientists and volunteers dug up and hauled away the root crowns of trees along the Crystal River, a first step toward a potential strategy to protect flows on one of the last free-flowing rivers in Colorado.
David Cooper, a senior researcher on wetland and riparian ecology at Colorado State University, studies how spring floods affect riparian vegetation. His van was full of the tree samples that he would take back to the lab in Fort Collins to study their rings.
“We want to know the year the plant was established because once we know the year the plant was established, then we could relate that to the flow record that’s recorded by gauges,” Cooper said. “Then we can speak to the role of floods, which is important for the public to understand and for river managers to understand.”
The banks of the Crystal just upstream from Redstone are lined with narrowleaf cottonwood and blue spruce. Cottonwoods in particular need the rushing flows of spring runoff for their seeds to germinate and have evolved to disperse their seeds just after the high point of snowmelt each year. The seeds, carried along the wind by a bit of fluff, land in the bare, wet, mineral soil of streambanks where some of them take root.
Peter Brown with Rocky Mountain Tree Ring Research takes a core sample from a tree on the banks of the Crystal River. A type of instream flow water right that protects peak flows could help maintain spring floods, which are essential for growing new cottonwoods. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Cooper’s work, which is estimated to cost $26,300, was commissioned by a subcommittee of the Crystal River Wild and Scenic and Other Alternatives Feasibility Steering Committee, which is looking at different tools that could be used to protect the river. The Crystal, which flows about 40 miles from its headwaters in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness through the towns of Marble, Redstone and Carbondale before its confluence with the Roaring Fork, is one Colorado’s last undammed major rivers.
Environmental and recreation advocates and local municipalities, as well as many residents of the Crystal River Valley, have long sought to protect the river from future dams and diversions — infrastructure projects that have left many other Western Slope rivers depleted.
Those who want to protect the Crystal River have for the past few years been exploring the best ways to do that. Although proponents say a federal Wild and Scenic designation would do the best job of protecting the river, that has been met with resistance from some property owners, leading the steering committee to explore other options, in addition to pursuing Wild and Scenic.
Scientists dug up this root crown next to the Crystal River in order to study the tree rings and how they relate to flood years. The Crystal River Wild and Scenic Instream Flow Subcommittee is looking at how to protect spring peak flows in the river. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Instream-flow subcommittee
After a year’s worth of meetings with a facilitator, the steering committee chose to pursue three potential ways forward: a “peaking” instream-flow water right; an intergovernmental agreement; and a federal Wild and Scenic designation. None of the methods would preclude the others; there could eventually be layers of protections for the Crystal.
The instream-flow subcommittee, which includes representatives from American Whitewater, and local governments and residents, is exploring how to keep water in the river by using the Colorado Water Conservation Board’s instream-flow program.
The CWCB is the only entity allowed to hold water rights that keep water in rivers and are designed to preserve the natural environment to a reasonable degree. A “peaking” instream-flow water right would keep in the stream all of the water not claimed by someone else during years with high spring runoff, thereby maintaining these periodic floods, which are essential for growing new cottonwoods.
The idea is that if these peak spring flows are already spoken for by the environment, they can’t be claimed by future reservoir projects, which also tend to capture water at the height of spring runoff and store it for use later in the year.
“If you want to be a little more objective about it, it’s an argument for or against floods and natural river processes,” said David Merritt, a riparian ecologist and former instream flow coordinator for the U.S. Forest Service who has worked on other instream-flow projects around the state. “The dam goes in, it’s going to interrupt that and you’ll end up with a different ecosystem.”
If there is less water available to develop, it could make a particular river less attractive for building a reservoir, said Laura Belanger, a senior policy adviser with Western Resource Advocates. The environmental nonprofit has worked on these types of peak instream-flow projects in the Gunnison River basin.
“Infrastructure is expensive, so you need to get a certain yield out of it,” Belanger said. “That could potentially make a project not be cost effective and not have sufficient yield to be pursued. … Around the state, so much water is already claimed, and so, for a lot of new reservoir projects, the peak is the only thing that’s available.”
So far, this tool for protecting the peak is little used, but there are three recent examples on streams that drain the Uncompahgre Plateau: Cottonwood Creek, Monitor Creek and Potter Creek. In 2024, these three creeks secured an instream-flow water right for their spring peak flows in years with high runoff. All three still allow for some amount of future water development.
“They don’t kick in every year; they’re definitely unique,” Belanger said. “It doesn’t kick in until you hit a certain high flow and then it protects the hydrograph all the way up and then back down to a certain value.”
Wetland and riparian ecologist David Cooper, left, and campaign director at Wilderness Workshop Michael Gorman look for the best place to cross the Crystal River. Scientists and volunteers collected tree root crowns from the riverbanks the last week of October, the first step in understanding how floods impact riparian vegetation. CREDIT: HEATHER SACKETT/ASPEN JOURNALISM
Subcommittee still looking at Wild and Scenic
The steering committee’s work, including the tree-ring study, is funded by Pitkin County Healthy Rivers, by the Mighty Arrow Family Foundation, and in-kind donations from Western Resource Advocates and American Whitewater. But the majority of the funding – $99,699 according to Hattie Johnson, southern Rockies restoration director with American Whitewater and member of the instream flow and Wild and Scenic subcommittees – is through the state’s Wild and Scenic Rivers Fund.
The CWCB generally advocates for using state mechanisms such as the instream-flow program to protect rivers because it would rather avoid a federal Wild and Scenic designation. With increasing competition for dwindling water supplies, the state has been reluctant to support Wild and Scenic designations, which could lock up water and prevent it from being developed in the future.
The U.S. Forest Service determined in the 1980s that portions of the Crystal River were eligible for designation under the Wild & Scenic River Act, which seeks to preserve, in a free-flowing condition, rivers with outstandingly remarkable scenic, recreational, geologic, fish and wildlife, historic, and cultural values. Wild and Scenic experts say the “teeth” of the designation comes from an outright prohibition on federal funding or licensing of any new Federal Energy Regulatory Commission-permitted dam. A designation would also require review of federally assisted water resource projects.
Any designation would take place upstream from the big agricultural diversions on the lower portion of the river near Carbondale.
The subcommittee that is still looking at a Wild and Scenic designation has hired a facilitator team from the Keystone Policy Center to help the group produce a report of its findings at a cost of about $45,000. And the instream-flow subcommittee has also hired Ecological Resource Consultants to do a sediment-impacts study, which is set to begin before winter and is estimated to cost about $30,000.
Wild and Scenic subcommittee chair Michael Gorman said members have taken a deep dive into policy and legislation, and have learned a lot from stakeholders along the river.
“We’ve got more work to do and we’re excited to have the skilled facilitators at Keystone to help us compile what we’ve learned about how Wild and Scenic legislation ties into our specific priorities on the Crystal River,” Gorman said in a prepared statement. “We look forward to having a report that we can share with our community and inform future discussions.”
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