How dry can Albuquerque be?

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It is a strange reality of our modern world that, in the face of a truly remarkable drought here in the Middle Rio Grande Valley of New Mexico, I was able to pour imported Colorado River water on purely ornamental plants in my garden yesterday morning. I’m thrifty with the water – a modest drip directly to the roots of a handful of shrubs in the backyard. But compared to the farmers I’ve been hanging out with of late, this is non-essential water.

The water comes from the headwaters of the San Juan River in southern Colorado, diverted via three small dams to the Azotea tunnel, into Heron, then El Vado and Abiquiu reservoirs, then down to a diversion dam on Albuquerque’s north side. From there, it is treated and mixed with fossil groundwater pumped from beneath Albuquerque so it can be applied to our mountain mahogany and New Mexico olive and a lovel piñon that once served duty as a Christmas tree before transplantation into the backyard.

Here is why I felt compelled to haul my trickling hose from plant to plant yesterday morning:

2012-13 Fleck House precip

2012-13 Fleck House precip

The total for the first six months of the 2012-13 water year at my house has been 0.84 inches (2.1 cm) of precipitation. That’s less than half of the previous dry year record in my 14 years of data collection, and less than a quarter the long term average of PRISM data for the neighborhood.

Water’s for not fighting over?

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If men will fight over water, they will also cooperate to conserve it and the history of water controversies is that, in the long run, the rule of cooperation prevails.

Yet another nugget from my current favorite book, Carey McWilliams’ California: The Great Exception. Do you think he’s right? (The quote’s the opening of a 1949 chapter on the Colorado River battle of Arizona v. California, which didn’t see its final decree until March 27, 2006. That’s 57 years.)

Fixing Northern California’s Delta: some process issues

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Matt Weiser at the Sacramento Bee offered up a fascinating framework in a piece last Sunday for thinking about California’s $23 billion (and counting) proposal to reshape the way water moves in and through the largest estuary on the western coast of North America:

[A]s the process now stands California voters will have no formal say in approving the plan. Nor will the state Legislature.

State officials believe they already have the statutory authority, under laws passed in 1933 and 1960, to do this project.

Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta

So we are left, as California slogs forward with this staggeringly important public policy decision, with a strange situation. Under the law, state officials believe the already have the necessary statutory authority, essentially, to remove large quantities of water from the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, shipping the water south to farms and cities in the Central Valley and Southern California. The officials Weiser is quoting believe the statutory authority already exists to build two giant tunnels beneath the delta to accomplish these ends. Again, Weiser:

[A]s now laid out, the only real veto power over the project lies with state and federal wildlife agencies: the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the National Marine Fisheries Service. These agencies are responsible for ensuring that the plan satisfies state and federal endangered species acts.

Thus we are in this strange statutory never-never land where what we’re really talking about here with the BDCP is not the development of giant water-moving infrastructure to ensure reliable supplies for water users to the south. Rather, we’re talking about the development of a “Habitat Conservation Plan” to ensure that existing state and federal statutory authorities to move water do not, in their execution, harm endangered species. If, to meet the requirements of that HCP, we have to build giant tunnels to move water, so be it.

I’ve written before about this fascinating conundrum. One could imagine an endangered species management process that concludes that the best habitat conservation approach would be to not move so much water. And yet here we are.

So let’s play alternate histories. What might a California water policy development process look like that was intended to deal with the problems of the delta, but wasn’t carried out within the framework of state and federal endangered species laws. My hunch is we’d still be talking about building a couple of big tunnels?

 

 

Stuff I wrote elsewhere: Powell warned us

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In 1889, John Wesley Powell tagged along as a group of US Senators toured the western United States in an effort to understand “the irrigation problem”. What Powell reported looks kinda familiar:

“The winds are drifting sands here and there,” John Wesley Powell said of his 1889 visit to the Lower Rio Grande Valley, where the river passes from New Mexico to Texas and Mexico. “The farms, orchards, and vineyards are perishing.”

More in the morning newspaper.

California and the invention of “sportswear”

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Catalina Sportswear (United States, founded 1907) United States, California, Los Angeles, late 1940s, courtesy Los Angeles County Museum of Art

Catalina Sportswear (United States, founded 1907)
United States, California, Los Angeles, late 1940s, courtesy Los Angeles County Museum of Art

In the enclosed shopping mall near our home is a Hollister store, which bills itself as “the coolest destination for genuine SoCal style clothes for guys and girls.” They sell surf-themed garments to residents of a landlocked state.

There is history here:

Novel conditions of living, reflecting climatic differences, created a compulsion to invent something new and different in the way of clothing. California manufacturers began to meet the need by designing new types of sportswear, which, being better adapted to local conditions than the standardized products offered by eastern manufacturers, promptly found a market. Certain of these products gradually began to move eastward, carrying the California label, and, here and there, small shops were opened in eastern cities for the sale of “California Sportswear.” In a a rather insidious mannfer, the world “California” became associated in the public mind with the word “sportswear.”

That’s Carey McWilliams in California: The Great Exception, 1949.

in praise of Juan Murrieta

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avocado, courtesy

avocado, courtesy Flickr user Muffet, licensed under Creative Commons

Despite growing up a little kid’s walk from an avocado grove, I didn’t discover their blessings until my late teens, when a college classmate from San Diego brought a car trunk load on a drive from Southern California to eastern Washington. We would lay them out on newspaper on our laps in the front seat of the car, slicing them open and sprinkling them with salt. Yum.

Carey Mcwilliam in 1949 explained the story behind California’s avocado industry:

In the early 1890’s, one Juan Murrieta of Los Angeles, imported a variety of avocado trees from Atlixco, Mexico, and from this group of seedling trees came the varieties that were first planted for commercial production. It was in Atlixco that scientists in 1911 discovered the Fuerte variety; today 85 per cent of the trees in Southern California’s 16,000 acres of avocado orchards are ofd this variety.

Juan also, I learn today via what appears to be a short essay written upon the occasion of Juan’s death, that the Spanish immigrant also is alleged to have been the first deputy sheriff of Los Angeles County. Of this claim I would remain skeptical until I saw more careful confirmation, but whatever his law enforcement credentials, for his importation of the first avocado seedlings, I remain forever in his debt.

stuff I wrote elsewhere: drought hits New Mexico’s famed Hatch Valley

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From the morning paper, a look at the effect of drought on farmers in southern New Mexico. It’s a more complex story than simply lack of water, and the impact depends a great deal on where you are:

The Franzoys’ problem is not so much the dropping aquifer as the quality of the groundwater. It is laden with salt. To keep his family’s 1,000 acres alive during the drought means to slowly suffocate the land. Drip irrigation can help by pushing salts away from the root zone, but the technology doesn’t solve the problem completely….

“If we don’t have surface water in the Hatch Valley,” Jerry Franzoy said, “it’s gonna die pretty quick.”

That’s in the Rincon/Hatch Valley, in the northern part of the region. To the south, aquifers are deeper and sweeter, but contested:

Compared to the Hatch Valley, the groundwater in the Mesilla Valley beneath Las Cruces and the cities around it looks luxuriously deep.

“In the Mesilla Valley, we’ve got an abundant groundwater source,” Daviet said. Where the aquifer in the Hatch Valley can be as shallow as 80 to 100 feet deep, the Mesilla aquifer extends hundreds of feet down, in some places thousands….

Its depth means it can act like a savings bank, Daviet said. In wet years, when there’s plenty of water from the Rio Grande, surface water is spread across the pecan orchards, with some of it soaking down and refilling the aquifer….

“We’ve applied water to that groundwater source in these years of plenty,” Daviet said….

But hovering over that practice is a lawsuit filed earlier this year by the state of Texas, which has a different view of the situation. The lawsuit charges that groundwater pumping in New Mexico, by lowering the water table during drought years, has effectively reduced what flow there is in the Rio Grande. The result, it charges, is less water available to farms and cities across the border in Texas.

In addition to the word stories, we also shot some video.

 

water conservation diaries: it’s about making more food

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Visiting a farm recently, I was reminded that business people for whom water is an input think about water conservation differently than city folk like me. For a given amount of water available, the farmer wants to grow and sell as much food as possible. So it should not be surprising to see water conservation technology push yields up rather than pushing water consumption down. Here’s Randy Fiorini, California farmer and one of that state’s water management public intellectuals:

Computer-aided moisture monitoring and irrigation scheduling, conversion from flood and furrow methods to microsprinkler and drip systems are now standard on most row crop, tree and vine operations. This application of modern technology has resulted in more than just water savings. Yields for many crops have doubled because of more efficient methods of irrigation.