At present Lake Mead and Lake Powell on the Colorado River distribution system are at record lows (Lake Mead 34% and Lake Powell 27%).
From 1990 to 2008 I called Arizona home. I lived first in Yuma where the Colorado River channels into myriad canals to water America’s vegetables and grains in the Imperial Valley of California.
It was in this vast valley that I first encountered the Colorado, unrecognizable to me as it was sprayed at high velocity from circulating sprinklers. Precious water evaporated in the dry hot atmosphere before falling to the ground. Row upon row of lettuce, broccoli, and cabbages lapped up what water fell to ground. As far as the eye could see, this preposterous apparition filled my windshield as I drove through to Yuma at the confluence of Arizona, California and Mexico borders.
In its natural state, the Colorado River ran down through the Rockies, gathering size and speed, carving deep canyons in the red sandstone of northern Arizona. The river ran red where it dropped suddenly down toward the Sonoran Desert, flooding its banks in the spring as it flowed down into Mexico and emptied into the Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California). Where it slowed and spread from its banks, marshlands formed that were places of high biodiversity. Plenty of fish and game were found by Indigenous peoples and later explorers. All along the river near Yuma, forests of mesquite trees released bushels of nutritious bean pods. Later, university scientists discovered the pods, when ground and made into flour, provide local people with immunity to diabetes. Mesquite bread is naturally sweet and easily digested. River peoples grew crops in rich deposits of mud left by the receding waters. Legends of fish so large and numerous the people could walk across the river.
In our Anthropocene era, the river is most recognizable in its highest elevations where it continues to cut the stone of Colorado and Northern Arizona and carry it tumbling south. Hoover Dam at Lake Mead collects the lion’s share of water, but starting at Parker in Arizona, water is pumped 700 ft into the air where it dropped into an open canal system (Central Arizona Project or CAP) and travels by gravity toward Phoenix, shimmies through and on to Tucson and then drips into Mexico. Over decades after the canals grew with a burgeoning population and larger farms, the river never made it to the mouth of the Sea of Cortez. It petered out above the marshlands of northeast Mexico which slowly dried up. Recent efforts by environmentalists and indigenous communities managed to restore the flow enough to fill key areas of marshes again. The once rich biodiversity is returning.
At this date, two dams and their respective reservoirs, Lake Mead and Lake Powell, are at historically low levels. Hoover dam was built in the ’30s of the 20th century on assumptions made during an unusually high snowpack in the Rockies that was not the norm. The dam at Lake Powell was later built to collect water and generate electricity for business, farming and cities. Desert lands where the canals distribute water are biomes with limited water. Turns out that the Colorado River flows are normally lower than the projected. Long-term tree ring studies regular drought periods of up to 100 years. The area is in one now.
Warming from climate change is causing snowpack changes – faster melting rates and new evaporation of ice crystals directly into a gaseous state.
As American food security, economy, science and culture face a potential crisis, how will 40 million people live in a hot, dry desert? From LA to Phoenix to Tucson and points between, much will be unsustainable without reliable Colorado River water. Cities have mostly drained their ground water. Some like Tucson are replenishing it with CAP water but that, too, is a scenario with a short horizon.
Now the powers that made the Law of the River (Upper and Lower Colorado coalition of states, municipalities and tribal nations) are talking about draining Lake Powell and sending water to Lake Mead. All partners will see reduced acre feet per year, and some will no longer receive any water from the river. Ongoing talks and mediation have reached no agreement yet. Arizona’s tribal nations are adamant that they must be part of that negotiation.
Lake Powell in southern Colorado was constructed under a huge outcry by residents and tribal governments who ultimately suffered the sacrifice of their homes and property and traditional homelands to fill the huge reservoir. Traditional lands of Indigenous nations must be returned. What about all the people who lost their homes and farms?
Will humanity learn anything from this tragic miscalculation? I’m skeptical given history.
When Congress commissioned John Wesley Powell to survey the West and determine its potential for farming and building cities, he traveled extensively in the West and was one of the first expeditions to make the wild trip down the Colorado River from the headwaters to Yuma. Result? He reported to Congress that the area held limited water for most of the land mass and that if the government should sell lands to enterprising ranchers, farmers and speculators, they should bear the financial burden of providing what water supply they could find. Imagine if they had followed Powell’s advice. Many fewer people would reside in the Western deserts; the food supply would be regionally grown, and the international food markets would be in places where rain naturally falls. The River would run free, nourishing human and natural communities to the sea.
I once wrote a speculative fiction novel in which, due to changes in climate, local communities formed enterprises that fit the bioregions where they lived. Later, they became small nations with a shared ethic that recognized the ecology of place and innovated within natural limits.
Resources:
- Colorado River Management: https://www.azwater.gov/crm/dashboard#
- Bioregionalism: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bioregionalism
- The American Southwest: video on YouTube – https://youtu.be/K96ly_uLAPk
The American Southwest is a 2025 award-winning documentary with updated information and spectacular photography. It shows the biodiversity and the role of many animals, plants and insects adapted to the river, and how their lifeways provide sustainable strategies for human life in arid lands.
It traces the original agreements (The Law of the River) on how the Colorado River water would be allocated, the construction of Lake Mead, and subsequent construction of Lake Powell. I recommend the film for citizens and students of ecology and bioregionalism as we enter a defining period when we will all need to work together to mitigate and adapt to a changing climate. If we consider the land and water in that partnership, I believe we can live within the limits of the Earth while innovating in our communities.
Susan Feathers 