October 11, 2015

Cadiz chief to tackle desert water transfer project roadblock

Scott Slater, president and CEO of Cadiz Inc. explains the company's position that they believe the groundwater they would harvest would be lost to evaporation if left to its natural processes. (Jay Calderon/The Desert Sun)

By Jim Steinberg
San Bernardino Sun


LOS ANGELES – The CEO for embattled Cadiz Inc. has a plan to keep alive a controversial project to transfer ancient groundwater in a remote part of San Bernardino County’s Mojave Desert to parts of Orange County and other locations, where it could serve as many as 400,000 people.

In an interview late last week, Cadiz CEO Scott Slater said he would be seeking a review of the decision by the U.S. Bureau of Land Management to reject Cadiz’s proposed use of an 1875 railway right-of-way to build a critical 43-mile pipeline from the Fenner Valley — about 40 miles northeast of Twentynine Palms — to the Colorado River Aqueduct, where it could be delivered to future customers.

If that fails, he will take his battle to court, he said.

“This is pure politics,” said Slater, who is considered by many to be an expert in groundwater law and water policy.

According to a letter from the BLM, the proposed use of the railroad right-of-way for the pipeline is outside the scope of the Arizona and California Railroad’s use of right-of-way grants held under the General Railroad Right-of-Way Act of March 3, 1875.

The letter to Cadiz warns that “proceeding with new activities or continued activities ... without authorization from the BLM could result in the BLM instituting trespass proceedings.”

The ARZC, as the short-line railroad is called, has agreed to let Cadiz use its right-of-way. The railroad moves primarily petroleum across its 190 miles of track.

As part of its water project, Cadiz planned to build fire-suppression and power-generation capabilities for the railroad.

“BLM has determined that the project does not derive or further a railroad purpose,” said the letter signed by James Kenna, California BLM director, who has since retired.

For that reason, in order for the pipeline to proceed along the right-of-way, the BLM must approve that use. And for that to happen, a full federal environmental review must be completed.

Slater called the BLM’s decision an “outrage” that ignores key precedent set forth in a memorandum written in November 2011 by the top attorney for the Department of Interior, which liberalizes the definition of railroad purpose to mean that BLM permission is not needed if the purpose benefits the railroad in some way.

“Every American should be infuriated” at the way the BLM has deliberately ignored the evolution, determined by a top federal lawyer, of a law written more than 100 years before, said Slater, who is author of “California Water Law and Policy,” a two-volume treatise, and has taught law and graduate classes at Pepperdine University, UC Santa Barbara and the University of Western Australia, He also revised the water code for Western Australia.

On the other hand, David Lamfrom, director of the California Desert and Wildlife Program for the National Parks Conservation Service, said: “The Bureau of Land Management’s decision is supported law, policy and common sense and prevents a clear attempt by Cadiz Inc. to create a loophole to avoid federal review.

“The BLM has a responsibility to all Americans to fully understand the impacts this project proposes on public lands, including impacts on our water resources and national parks. This decision opens the door for good science and objective decision-makers to participate.”

Also agreeing with the BLM decision is Sen. Dianne Feinstein, D-Calif.

“I remain concerned the Cadiz project could damage the Mojave Desert beyond repair,” she said in a statement, “and believe the BLM decision to deny the right-of-way is the right one.”

“We need to use water more responsibly, not less, and the Cadiz project is a bad idea,” said Feinstein, who is attempting to include the Cadiz Valley in her proposed Mojave Trails National Monument, one of three proposed for the region.

Rep. Ken Calvert, R-Corona, said, “I have looked at the Cadiz Water Project carefully and I believe it has merit. ... I have concerns about what kind of precedent this sets for railroads across the country and the ability of an agency to deny historically protected property rights.”

Calvert is chairman of the House Interior and Environmental Appropriations Subcommittee.

The project has been approved by the San Bernardino County Board of Supervisors.

When asked about the BLM decision, 1st District Supervisor Robert A. Lovingood said, “The BLM decision will be a roadblock for the project. But this is a matter between the BLM and the company. ...”

For the past eight years, Feinstein has attached a rider to the legislation that funds the Department of the Interior, the umbrella agency for the BLM, that effectively blocks the Cadiz Valley aquifer from being drained, her office said.

Last week, Cadiz said it found out about the BLM decision through a third party.

Before the decision, Cadiz had been saying it and its public agency partner, the Santa Margarita Water District in Orange County, were on track to begin construction of the pipeline this year or early next year.

October 5, 2015

BLM decision sets back Cadiz plan to sell Mojave groundwater

The Fenner Basin, about half of which lies in the Mojave National Preserve. Cadiz Inc. hopes to sell groundwater from the Mojave Desert to Southern California users. (Katie Falkenberg)

Bettina Boxall
Los Angeles Times


Cadiz Inc.'s plans to sell Mojave Desert groundwater to Southern California communities have hit a major federal roadblock.

In a long-awaited decision, the U.S. Bureau of Land Management says Cadiz cannot use an existing railroad right-of-way for a new water pipeline that would carry supplies from the project's proposed well field to the Colorado River Aqueduct.

By using the railroad right-of-way, Cadiz had hoped to escape federal environmental review of the 43-mile pipeline, one of the project's most expensive components.

But in a letter to Cadiz on Friday, BLM's California director informed the company that it needs U.S. approval for a separate pipeline right-of-way over federal land. That would trigger review under federal environmental law, a potentially lengthy and costly process that could impose new conditions on the project.

Cadiz has acknowledged that over the long term, the project will extract more groundwater than is replenished by nature. And federal scientists have expressed concern that the operation could dry up springs vital to wildlife on the nearby Mojave National Preserve and other public lands.

"The BLM has the responsibility to objectively apply the law using the best available information to determine what rights were conveyed to the railroad under a 19th century law," BLM State Director Jim Kenna said in a statement. "Because the proposed pipeline is not within the rights conveyed to the railroad, a separate BLM authorization is necessary."

In a further complication for Cadiz, project opponent Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) has for years added a rider to the federal budget barring the BLM from spending money on anything related to the groundwater project. A spokesman for Feinstein said the provision "will be in there again." As long as the rider is in effect, the BLM won't have the funds to review a pipeline application.

"I remain concerned the Cadiz project could damage the Mojave Desert beyond repair and believe the BLM decision to deny the right-of-way is the right one," Feinstein said in a statement. "I'll continue to work through the Appropriations Committee to block any additional attempts to draw down this aquifer. We need to use water more responsibly, not less, and the Cadiz project is a bad idea."

In a response sent to the BLM director in Washington, Cadiz President Scott Slater on Monday argued that the agency was misinterpreting an Interior Department solicitor's opinion and should rescind the determination.

"We're disappointed the BLM decided to take a political path," Slater said in an interview. "They wholly ignore the solicitor's opinion."

The decision is technically an "administrative determination" that cannot be appealed. But Slater, a well-known water attorney, said the company would "consider all legal remedies," including a federal lawsuit. "We'll press on," he added.

Cadiz, founded by Keith Brackpool, wants to pump enough groundwater from beneath its land in the Mojave Desert to supply 100,000 homes a year and sell it to urban California at prices that could, over the project's 50-year-life, reap $1 billion to $2 billion in revenue.

The project was approved by San Bernardino County and the company has so far prevailed in environmental lawsuits challenging the proposal under state law. But opponents are appealing those rulings. And desert advocates complain the project will profit by mining groundwater that flows from beneath adjacent public lands.

"The company was trying to exploit what amounts to a loophole to avoid having to go through a more rigorous environmental review," said David Lamfrom, California desert program director for the National Parks Conservation Assn., one of a number of conservation groups fighting the project.

The BLM decision was years in the making. It hinges on a 2011 opinion by the Interior Department solicitor that railroads cannot authorize activities in their federal right-of-ways "that bear no relationship to the construction or operation of a railroad."

Cadiz argued that the water pipeline would further the purpose of the Arizona and California Railroad by providing water for fighting trestle fires and for a planned tourist steam train, as well as create additional access to the rail line.

The BLM found otherwise. "Conveyance of water for public consumption is not a railroad purpose because the activity itself is not necessary for the construction or operation of a railroad, and the origin of the activity itself is a non-railroad purpose," the agency stated in a summary document.

September 15, 2015

Gopherus Agassizii: A Cultural History of Tortoises

A juvenile desert tortoise. (Wbrice83186/Wikipedia/Crerative Commons)

The Mojave Project

Kim Stringfellow
KCET.org / Artbound


The desert tortoise has been under siege by humans long before the Mojave Desert's militarized and suburbanized landscape began to take shape here. It is known that several ancestral tribes in the Southwest consumed them, and even if they chose not to they managed to use their various parts -- the carapace or upper shell, the plastron or lower shell for bowls, scrapers and other household effects. All of the Mojave tribal groups transformed tortoise shells into rattles and drums for ceremonial use. Other tribes, such as the Chemehuevi, kept them as pets while at the same time venerating tortoises as a mythological symbol of "patience, stamina for survival, and courage in hopeless situations."1 In many world cultures, including several indigenous tribes of North America, the universe is depicted on the back of a turtle or "cosmic" tortoise. Even while sacrificed for sustenance, utilitarian or ritualistic purposes, none of these indigenous uses come anywhere close to modern anthropogenic attacks on this environmentally vulnerable indicator species.

Though not so popular as a menu item today as in the past, tortoises remain a culturally significant symbol. In Jessica Speart's 1998 fictional "eco-mystery" "Tortoise Soup," the story's main protagonist, a female U.S. Fish and Wildlife officer, is transferred out to the Mojave to unravel why 350 endangered desert tortoises have suddenly disappeared from a federal research site in Nevada. Earlier popular representations of the tortoise (not necessarily the desert tortoise) include Disney's 1934 animated fable "The Tortoise and the Hare." The moody instrumental band Tortoise states on their Twitter page: "the Thrill Jockey band from Chicago, not the land-dwelling reptile." In neighboring Twentynine Palms we even have a new Indian casino named after them.

Turtles and tortoises are also frequently featured in art. When Robert Rauschenberg and Lucinda Childs staged "Spring Training" in 1965, the performance involved 30 roving desert tortoises with flashlights taped to their backs. In August 2014, outraged online petitioners called on the Aspen Art Museum to shut down a site-specific installation by artist Cal Guo-Qiang titled "Moving Ghost Town," involving three rescued African spurred tortoises (Centrochelys sulcata) -- each with video-displaying iPads temporarily mounted on their backs with silicon. The conceptual artwork displayed film footage of three nearby ghost towns captured previously by the roaming tortoises named Big Bertha, Gracie Pink Star, and Whale Wanderer. Although the museum's website states that the project was conducted in close consultation with the Turtle Conservancy and a local veterinarian who monitored the tortoises on a weekly basis, animal rights activists and others expressed outrage that the tortoises were being used as "artist supplies." (Disclosure: I signed the petition.) The website goes on to mention that "In Chinese symbolism, tortoises represent creation, time, longevity, and wisdom; they are associated with the North direction -- that of death and rebirth... [and] are seen as supernatural spirits." The Aspen exhibit closed earlier than expected when acting veterinarian Dr. Elizabeth Kremzier decided that unseasonable inclement weather would harm them. The museum insisted in a press release that the decision was not due to outside pressure. The concerns expressed by the public for these tortoises illustrate how deeply humans often react to the welfare of these ancient and venerated creatures.

Found slightly above sea level on an elevation of about 4,200 feet in several vegetation types of the Mojave, Colorado and Sonoran deserts, desert tortoises of the American Southwest are now determined to be of two distinct species with Gopherus agassizii residing north and west of the Colorado River, whereas Gopherus morafkai is located east and south of it. As a flagship species, the current status of their populations tells us a lot about the health of the arid ecosystems. During the 1970s, hundreds of desert tortoises could be found within a square mile in some Mojave and Colorado desert habitats -- today one may find only a few dozen individuals in the same areas. Understandably, the desert tortoise has been listed as a federally threatened species since 1990.

Tortoises are commonly confused with the turtle but unlike their reptilian cousin they are a terrestrial being tied to land rather than water. When fully mature desert tortoises weigh 7 to 15 pounds and are 7 to 15 inches in length. Although it is difficult for an untrained eye to tell the gender of a particular tortoise, males are typically larger, their tale is slightly longer, and their plastrons are concave in shape compared to that of females. Breeding males also sport pronounced chin glands that secrete a sticky substance and large adult males have substantially larger and curved gular horns below their chins. Coloration ranges from greenish-tan to dark brown, and their high-dome shells are covered with a pattern of seemingly impenetrably nested plates or "scutes" that seem to suggest infinity in their repetitive design. This, along with ancient leathery skin and a pointy curved beak, suggests their prehistoric origins -- the turtle form dating back some 200 to 220 million years in the late Triassic Period. Wild desert tortoises that reach maturity may live between 25 to 50 years of age and even longer. Some captive individuals have been said to reach 100.

Typical individual home ranges cover between 25 to 130 acres, although some desert tortoises have been known to travel up to a mile away from their primary living area. Desert tortoises will dig their burrows, formed by the shape of their body, in a variety of stable, penetrable but undisturbed soils located in sandy washes to rocky foothills, using their powerful forelimbs and toenails to excavate. Known for thriving within extreme environments -- including those with recorded ground temperatures from below zero to 130 degrees Fahrenheit -- desert tortoises understandably spend up to 98 percent of their lives underground. Their robust burrows may in turn support a communal community of up to 30 species, including snakes, lizards, insects, birds, rats, mice, rabbits and foxes and, of course, other fellow tortoises -- up to 20 or more in some areas. Tortoises additionally rely on a number of temporary shallow holdouts and desert ground cover such as creosote bushes to escape the heat of the sun and to hide from numerous predators. Tortoises know their home turf intimately, having memorized various landmarks, food and water sources and other tortoise burrows, especially those of the opposite sex and often will attempt to travel back to their home territory -- no matter how far away it lies if translocated or moved.

Desert tortoises are most active from March through September, spending spring and early summer months foraging on a herbaceous diet of native annual grasses, seasonal wildflowers, forbs, various succulents and cacti flowers spotted through their perfect color eyesight. From late fall into winter they retreat and brumate deep within their winter dens. To survive through the hotter summer months with no supplemental water other than what is provided from vegetation or sporadic summer rains, the desert tortoise has remarkably evolved to concentrate and store urine for months on end in a large bladder. Additionally, it copes with the oppressive heat by entering into a state of aestivation or dormancy after the moisture-laden springtime bloom has long dried up. Sensing an impending thunderstorm, a dormant tortoise will awaken and emerge from its den and commence to dig or revisit a shallow rain catchment where it can simultaneously drink up water and eliminate its stockpiled viscous and concentrated urine in an act that strikes me as rather liberating. This necessary procedure allows the tortoise to flush toxins from the blood and eliminate concentrated salts and nitrogenous wastes from the bladder, while gaining up to 40 percent of fresh water through drinking. Because their overall survival is directly tied to their propensity to store urine during the dry summer months, a startled tortoise may void its bladder as a defensive mechanism, succumb to dehydration and die, so it is advised not to pick them up and move them if encountered in the wild.

Sexual encounters of desert tortoises begin as early as 12 years of age, although on average females begin laying eggs between 15 and 20 years. Males will mate with females when encountered during spring and autumn. Males compete with other males through a variety of aggressive behaviors, including head bobbing, biting or striking at a competing suitor's up-curved gular horn, which is an extension of its plastron. Courting males will similarly try to impress or simply bully a female by continually circling her and blocking her path, snapping at and biting her before attempting to mount her. Regardless of his aggressive advances, it has been observed that some female desert tortoises do exhibit choice during selection of a mate and it seems size does matter. Interestingly, the testosterone level of the male desert tortoise during mating season is higher than any vertebrate species, including humans. During coupling, tortoises have been observed vocalizing through extended grunts and "moaning," and the slapping movements of shell upon shell have been described as sounding like a beating drum. The sound designer for "Jurassic Park" (1993) revealed that the grunts of the clever velociraptors were created from recordings of tortoises having sex at a well-known marine park.

Once a female tortoise has mated she may rather conveniently store her donor's sperm over multiple years -- up to 15 in one instance -- and reproduce up to four years after initially mating. Females lay up to three clutches of 2 to 14 eggs per year depending on physical size and age. Nesting occurs in a shallow excavated dirt depression that may or may not be guarded by the female. Once hatched, she ceases to defend the nest. Drought and seasonal food availability greatly affects egg production and viability. Temperature seems to affect hatchling gender. Appearing as adorable diminutive versions of their parents, the hatchlings normally emerge after about 90 to 120 days, two inches in length with an intact yolk plug that supplies nourishment throughout the coming months. Although they are born mobile from the start, these extremely assailable hatchlings are susceptible to predation in that their shells take about five years to harden, making them a fairly easy target and quick meal -- a very low number will be lucky enough to reach that age if at all. Those who do reach maturity continue to be prey to an array of seemingly "natural" predators like ravens, eagles, coyotes, dogs, kit foxes, badgers, bobcats, gila monsters, roadrunners and other threats. However, mortality due to direct or indirect human-related activities remains at the top of the list.

Since 1939, it has been illegal to purchase or sell Gopherus agassizii in California. In the years leading up to the law being enacted, scores of desert tortoises were collected throughout the Mojave and shipped live to restaurants for human consumption or to the pet trade. Highway travelers could purchase tortoises as souvenirs from roadside attractions and gas stations. With the awareness that wild desert tortoises were becoming increasingly scarce, the earlier law was expanded in 1961 to protect them from "needlessly harming, taking, or shooting any projectile."

During research conducted for "Jackrabbit Homestead," I interviewed one woman whose favorite desert activity was locating and collecting desert tortoises that were kept as "pets" in a pen outside her family's 1950s era cabin located in Twentynine Palms. Occasionally, she and her siblings would "race" them against one another with competitor numbers painted across each tortoise shell. In 2013, it was "roughly estimated" that in the Las Vegas Valley alone there are up to 150,000 pet tortoises in captivity, legally cared for by "custodians" as ownership of a threatened species is illegal.2 Because desert tortoises breed very well in captivity (to the detriment of the wild population) the Nevada Wildlife Commission enacted a law in 2013 allowing the adoption of only a single tortoise per household.

Indeed, by the 1980s many areas of the Mojave showed a 90 percent decline in overall wild populations. Hardest hit is the Western Mojave where human development and its associated activities of urbanization, mining, agriculture, livestock grazing, tract home subdivisions, military land use, industrial solar/wind installations and recreational spillover from greater Los Angeles is rampant. Today, Gopherus agassizii is considered to be completely absent from the Victorville, Palmdale and Lancaster areas, other than those that are pets living captive in somebody's backyard. Notably some of the most prized habitat for desert tortoises lies in military controlled areas of the Mojave, lands within Edwards Air Force Base, the Twentynine Palms Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center and the Army's National Training Center at Fort Irwin where extensive ground maneuvers have most likely obliterated much of the shrub cover. One study found "of sixty-two tortoises found on survey transects at Fort Irwin in 1989, forty-four were dead, and half the carcasses were found in tank tracks."3 Today, all of these military installations currently sponsor onsite desert tortoise conservation programs, due to their federally protected listing.

The person perhaps most credited with gaining protection of Gopherus agassizii under the federal Endangered Species Act is Dr. Kristin Berry, a research biologist/ecologist specializing in the species, formerly employed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and currently with the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) since 1997. Dr. Berry has been studying and championing desert tortoises since the beginning of her career in 1971. Two years into her research, Dr. Berry along with a group of concerned scientists helped designate public land in the northwestern Mojave for the Desert Tortoise Natural Area in 1973.

Dr. Berry is a slight, pretty woman with a fair-complexion. On first impression it is hard to imagine her spending endless hours in the field studying a creature that resides in some of the hottest terrain in the world. Now in her early 70s, she continues to do a fair amount of field research, but spends the vast majority of her time analyzing data and writing reports and manuscripts for publication in the air-conditioned field office of USGS in Riverside or as an honored speaker for various outreach events. Over 30 years ago, Dr. Berry began a long-term study of tortoise populations by establishing over a dozen study plots throughout the Mojave and Colorado deserts of California. About half of the plots had a sufficient number of tortoises in the 1970s and early 1980s to use for long-term monitoring. These study areas have been invaluable in determining how tortoise populations, habitats and human uses have changed over time.

She is the author and co-author of numerous short and long-term research field studies and reports, including a largely ignored 1994 Recovery Plan which many environmentalists contend would have stopped Gopherus agassizii's current population decline if its recommendations had been followed and implemented 20 years ago. Many in the conservation community consider Dr. Berry to be the authority on Gopherus agassizii. She is arguably its most persistent advocate as her efforts have kept the plight of desert tortoises in the public eye for over 40 years now.

Raised in the Western Mojave as the daughter of a physicist/mathematics expert employed at the Navy base at China Lake she developed a love for the desert at an early age, especially the reptiles of the region. After completing her master's degree at UCLA and a Ph.D. from UC Berkeley she began her long career in conservation biology. Her contributions to the California Desert Plan completed in 1980 helped lay the groundwork for an emergency California state listing of Gopherus agassizii as threatened in 1989 and its consequent federal listing in 1990 -- a contested move that temporarily shut down a glut of proposed suburban housing projects along the fringes of Las Vegas as well as the infamous 150-mile open desert Barstow-to-Vegas motorcycle race that same year.

Dr. Berry's career has not been without controversy: David Darlington's 1996 book "The Mojave" asserted that during her tenure with the BLM she tightly controlled data pertaining to Gopherus agassizii to protect the desert tortoise. Reading through several pages of unflattering comments from unidentified former colleagues I was struck by the fact that many, if not all, of these disgruntled voices were male, and I'm guessing not particularly happy that a highly focused and forceful woman was in charge. Perhaps Dr. Berry was simply granted study and monitoring funds that her detractors thought they should receive? Indeed, it was largely unheard of for the BLM to hire female wildlife biologists in this formally male-dominated agency during the 1970s and Dr. Berry was its first. The BLM's often conflicted multi-use agenda of satisfying all desert stakeholders at once further complicates many desert conservation issues.

It is unlawful to touch, harm, harass or collect a wild desert tortoise, and doing so will cost you up to $50,000 and up to one year in jail if caught. This hasn't deterred a few pathetic individuals from using tortoises for target practice. A study published in 1986 by Dr. Berry reported that between 1976 and 1982, 14 percent of 635 carcasses found at 11 long-term monitoring plots were killed intentionally from gunshot wounds. In fact, it was not unusual for a defiant off-highway vehicle driver to purposely strike and kill them out of spite while riding. Dr. Berry shared in a 2015 interview how during those early years, one off-roader relished in telling her that "he liked to hear them pop as he ran over them." In contrast, another confided that after accidentally riding over one and killing it, he had decided afterwards to never participate in the activity again. Considering the tortoise's benign character it is difficult to grasp why someone could purposely direct so much anger towards these unthreatening and stoic creatures.

More often than not, tortoises are unintentionally run over or crushed after seeking shade under a parked car by drivers who forget to look under before driving off. Even if a desert tortoise is not harmed directly, the devastation that off-roading activities reap on tortoise habitats is proven to be overwhelmingly destructive -- burrows cave in trapping them inside, native plant food sources are crushed and shrub cover providing shade and protection is destroyed.

Regardless, if one empathizes with the plight of the desert tortoise or not, most can agree that degradation, destruction and fragmentation of habitat resulting from development, agriculture practices, wildfire and off-roading activities directly impacts them. Still, less obvious are the cumulative threats that humans support indirectly. These, along with the desert tortoise's slow rate of reproduction have contributed to Gopherus agassizii's rapid decline over the last 40 years. Indirect threats include well-intended releases of captive pet tortoises into wild areas, which appear to have been responsible for introducing various catastrophic infectious ailments, including an upper respiratory tract disease (URTD), to wild tortoise populations. Livestock, where present, trample and denude habitat while inadvertently introducing invasive plants, thereby overwhelming native vegetation. These non-native species do not provide the nutritional value of the indigenous plants they have replaced.

Consequently, a good portion of prime tortoise habitat throughout the Mojave has been damaged through domesticated ruminant introduction. The issue ignited the 2014 Cliven Bundy standoff in Bunkerville, Nevada when rancher Bundy -- who stopped paying grazing fees to the federal government in 1993, while continuing to illegally graze his cattle on public land -- refused to remove them from the Gold Butte area of southern Nevada. The BLM's planned roundup of his livestock backfired when armed militia groups and individuals showed up in support of Bundy, eventually forcing authorities to release 300 of his confiscated cattle back onto public land on April 12, 2014.4

Other threats include those human "subsidized" such as the common raven (Corvus corax) -- considered by many to be highly invasive due to their alarming growth rate -- up to 1,000 percent within the Mojave since the 1970s. Ravens thrive here because they make use of our water features, landfills, illegal dumps, trash, pet food left outdoors, and even road kill for reliable sources of sustenance. As we spread further across the desert, so do the raven's numbers. During the 1980s, Dr. Berry and her colleagues documented how ravens may methodically prey on young tortoises and contribute to high juvenile tortoise mortality rates. In one study alone, one single mated pair was found, over a four-year period, to have fed on about 250 juvenile tortoises whose pecked out shells were discovered at the base of the ravens' nest and roost -- a Joshua tree. Raven perches typically are fence or utility poles common throughout the desert. Current and recent government policy on raven predation of tortoises was developed as the result of a legal settlement with the Human Society of the U.S. more than 20 years ago. Evidence that a particular raven has recently killed more than one juvenile tortoise is necessary before the raven can be removed from the location.

As Las Vegas and other desert cities spread their suburban tentacles out into the undisturbed desert so disappears valued tortoise habitat. Gopherus agassizii's threatened status has ensured that any entity wishing to legally remove desert tortoises within an area slated for development must, in exchange, finance a costly mitigation effort to offset their displacement and loss of habitat. For example, developers wishing to build in Clark County, Nevada must pay a "disturbance fee" of $550 per acre (up to 145,000 acres) for private land and $836 per acre for public land development. The collected fees are used to offset costs of slated and active conservation projects. Other developers opt for translocation under professional supervision to "complimentary" sites purchased by them for this purpose.

Ever-expanding military bases, mining operations, and more recent massive renewable solar and wind projects sited in remote desert locations including BrightSource's Ivanpah Valley facility -- considered by biologists to be prized desert tortoise habitat -- have opted to relocate large numbers of desert tortoises at a huge cost. Many earlier attempts to translocate wild desert tortoises, including a poorly designed effort at Fort Irwin in 2008, resulted in deaths of hundreds of tortoises. Although techniques for translocating wild tortoises may have improved, those managing to survive live with the possibility that they may be moved again and again if the mitigation site is not properly protected well into the future.

In another twist of fate, the former 220-acre Desert Tortoise Conservation Center located in south Las Vegas shuttered its doors in 2014 because of dwindling local and federal funding. In operation for 23 years, this "tortoise gulag" was opened and funded through mitigation developer money with the intention to house displaced wild desert tortoises, but became overcrowded with surrendered pet tortoises early on, which do remarkably well in captivity but are often carriers of infectious diseases, making them unfit to release into the wild. Taking in nearly 1,000 animals annually, the facility's operational funding dropped to a trickle after the housing bubble burst in 2008. To complicate matters, many of the interned tortoises had developed the chronic and potentially fatal URTD, and thousands were consequently euthanized according to protocol. In later years, it was determined that tortoises could recover from and still carry the disease, so the mass killings were ended. By the time the facility closed its doors, it was estimated that more than 10,000 tortoises had been released into the wild at various federal land holdings, namely Nevada National Security Site and the large-scale translocation site near Jean, Nevada. It is not known how many of the released tortoises have or will survive this recent translocated fate.

Dr. Berry and many other desert tortoise experts are understandably skeptical on whether tortoises should be uprooted from within pristine, undeveloped lands, at least until long-term scientific studies indicate that a substantial portion of translocated tortoises can survive and become established in their new homes. She and other scientists were Independent Science Advisors for California's Desert Renewable Energy Conservation Plan in 2010. The Independent Science Advisors recommended that energy site development occur on previously disturbed lands, thereby avoiding new losses of desert lands. Unfortunately, that recommendation has not been followed. Justly, the concerned public backlash against the repeated proposals to site massive "green" solar energy projects in remote, undisturbed areas of the Mojave has gained momentum, especially with the public's awareness of numerous environmental impacts caused by these types of large-scale projects. It seems that a few of the corporations bankrolling these installations are looking for alternatives.

Ideally, intact habitat solely dedicated to the desert tortoise and the ecological web it is part of is the best management strategy for Gopherus agassizii. An example of one such sanctuary is the 25,000-acre Desert Tortoise Research Natural Area (DTNA) located within the western Mojave near California City and managed by the BLM -- the area established between 1973 and 1980 with the help of Dr. Berry and her colleagues. This "Area of Critical Environmental Concern" had one of the highest densities of Gopherus agassizii per square mile with up 200 to 300 individual tortoises in some areas of the DTNA, until URTD spread across the western Mojave, taking many adults. Ravens have been responsible for inhibiting recovery by killing juveniles. However, although this site suffered catastrophic losses, a recent survey showed that tortoise densities are several-fold higher here than on adjacent federal land, designated as critical habitat for the tortoise. The fence around the DTNA has protected both tortoises and habitat from sheep grazing and off-highway vehicle recreation since 1980. The site is a two-hour drive from Los Angeles or Bakersfield. When planning a visit keep in mind that you are more likely to see active tortoises early in the day during the spring months. An array of other rich flora and fauna may be additionally viewed here too.

Notes:

1 Laird, C. "The Chemehuevis." Banning, California: Malki Museum Press, 1976.

2 Henry Brean, "New rule limits tortoises to one per home," Las Vegas-Review Journal, April 26, 2013.

3 Darlington, David. "The Mojave." New York: Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 1996. 230. Print.

4 Although a number of conservative politicians rallied to support Bundy, initially most withdrew after a video from a news conference was widely distributed in 2014 showing Bundy's racist side.

The Mojave Project is an experimental transmedia documentary by Kim Stringfellow exploring the physical, geological and cultural landscape of the Mojave Desert. The Mojave Project reconsiders and establishes multiple ways in which to interpret this unique and complex landscape, through association and connection of seemingly unrelated sites, themes, and subjects thus creating a speculative and immersive experience for its audience.

August 31, 2015

At Burning Man, pretty much anything goes

Burning Man participants visit the site's temple, which will eventually be set on fire. Visitors leave notes inside and in the walls of the structure, hoping the cleansing fire will set them free.
(Photo: Trevor Hughes, USA TODAY)

Trevor Hughes
USA TODAY


BLACK ROCK CITY, Nev. – A young woman stepped into the dusty glare of my headlights, and I realized she was topless. And pantsless.

The only thing she was wearing was a playing card strapped on by a clear rubber band around her waist.

And a giant smile.

"Welcome home!" she said. "Is this your first time?"

Yes. Yes, it is.

I'm spending the week embedded in the annual Burning Man festival, reporting on the newest tech trends, the dust storms and the luxury camps that drew criticism last year. The temporary city we've created is called Black Rock City, and for this week it will be the third-largest place in Nevada.

First-timers like me are pulled from their vehicles to celebrate. In my case, the young woman ordered me to remove my shirt and make dust angels as lights flashed and music drifted on the wind. I banged a bell as my greeters yelled "not a virgin" to mark my transition in the encampment.

Burning Man draws 70,000 people annually to the Nevada desert (God forbid you pronounce it Nevaaaaaada, by the way) for an almost-anything-goes event. A sign at the entrance warns arrivals that all laws apply, but there's a lot of people and not a lot of cops.

That's kind of the point: Organizers create and encourage a freewheeling experience in which many people take illegal drugs, and casual sex is not only common but widely condoned. Many of the themed camps seem intended to confront and then contort societal norms. But norms are reserved for the outside world, the Default World.

Here, creativity is everywhere. Elaborate sculptures reach toward the sky. Others blast flames. Endless electronic dance music pumps across the encampment as neon-lit vehicles circle. Strangers hug you without warning.

And the outfits. The outfits! This is a place for extreme personal expression in a way that might make many Americans feel uncomfortable. Here, lots of people go shirtless, and there's a fair few wearing even less than my greeter.

Media access is tightly controlled, and the organizers use copyright law to enforce the rules –-- photographers must sign a contract agreeing not to exploit people's images for personal gain. The last thing Burning Man organizers want is to see participants' images used to sell stuff.

And while it took me a whole day to notice, now I can't stop marveling at the complete lack of stuff being sold or marketed. Corporate logos on rental trucks are usually covered up or altered, and there's no one hawking, well, anything.

It's a welcome relief from the constant pressure of consumerism we face every day. Gone are the messages to buy buy buy. Instead, we're asked to simply be. (There's no official Internet provider, and mobile phone coverage is iffy.)

Don't get me wrong. Virtually everyone has spent a lot of money to be here, and spending a week requires lots of logistics. I watched as participants stocked up on cheap plastic junk in Reno, pouring millions of dollars into that city's economy while allowing Burning Man to maintain its reputation as the world's largest Leave No Trace event.

Here, the entire economy is based on the concept of gifting. People give you things out of the kindness of their heartsAND, with "gifts" ranging from the sculptures to free booze and Tantric massages.

Sunday, a young woman handed me a beaded bracelet she'd made, with each colored bead a piece of Morse code.

Unfurled, if you know how to read it, the bracelet quotes Shakespeare: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."

And for the next week, this remote Nevada desert is the biggest stage of all.

August 30, 2015

How a 1930s water war between California and Arizona delayed Parker Dam

Parker Dam and Lake Havasu on the Colorado River in 1939. In 1922, six of seven states signed the Colorado River Compact. Upset with its allotment, Arizona refused to sign. So when Parker Dam construction began, Arizona sought to block the project. (U.S. Department of the Interior)

by Scott Harrison
Los Angeles Times


"Water war" has for decades been a term used to describe the political battles over water in the West.

But back in the 1930s, a fight between California and Arizona over water actually veered from cold war to hot war — almost.

In 1934, the Metropolitan Water District began construction on Parker Dam, which was opposed by Arizona. The resulting Lake Havasu would feed the new Colorado Aqueduct.

Before, in 1922, six of seven states signed the Colorado River Compact. Upset with its allotment, Arizona refused to sign.

So when Parker Dam construction began, Arizona sought to block the project.

In March 1934, Arizona Gov. Benjamin Moeur called up the Arizona National Guard. Six soldiers arrived in Parker, Ariz., to observe the construction.

National media, including the Los Angeles Times, ridiculed the deployment.

When an Associated Press photo appeared in the March 10, 1934, edition of The Times, the accompanying caption reported:

"Arizona Troops Leave For (Water) Front.

"Without any flare of trumpets or a band playing martial airs, this squad of Arizona National Guardsmen left Phoenix and arrived at Parker yesterday preparatory to patrolling the dam site to prevent 'encroachment' on Arizona's rights by the Metropolitan Water District. Maj. Pomeroy, commanding the detail, is shown on the extreme right."

For the next several months, the troops patrolled the Arizona side of the dam site.

In November, the construction of a trestle bridge from the California side prompted action. On Nov. 10, Moeur declared martial law. He dispatched more than 100 National Guard troops to block construction on Arizona's shore.

U.S. Secretary of the Interior Harold L. Ickes intervened and halted construction. The troops were recalled.

The resulting legal action led to an April 29, 1935, Supreme Court decision. The April 30, 1935, Los Angeles Times reported:

"Without a dissenting voice, the United States Supreme Court yesterday forced an indefinite suspension of work on Parker Dam by upholding Arizona's right to object and interfere with construction....

"Arizona officials, a dispatch from Phoenix said, hailed the decision as a victory in their battle over the Colorado River, which has been waged for twelve years.

"Gov. Moeur, who last November ordered out the Militia to stop construction, was quoted as saying he was pleased; and he and other State authorities indicated they now intend to let other sides in the controversy make the first move.

"By its far-reaching decision, the Supreme Court virtually justified Gov. Moeur's action in ordering out the troops.

"The decision, written by Justice (Pierce) Butler, assert the dam project never has been authorized by law."

Political compromises were made. Congress passed legislation allowing construction to proceed. Parker Dam was finished in 1938.

August 25, 2015

New Sheriff Overseeing Burning Man to Crack Down on Naked Rule-Breakers

The weeklong event in Nevada draws thousands of people — and their drugs

Participants walk through dust at the annual Burning Man event in the Black Rock Desert of Gerlach, Nev., on Aug. 29, 2014.

Jack Linshi
Time


A new Nevada sheriff tasked with overseeing the upcoming Burning Man festival plans to crack down on the annual desert debauchery.

Jerry Allen, 39, who was elected Pershing County Sheriff in January, said he plans to tighten law enforcement for the tens of thousands of festival-goers journeying to the remote Black Rock Desert next week for the annual event, the Reno Gazette-Journal reported on Tuesday.

In recent years, many attendees at the week long event — where nudity is the norm, drugs flow as if on tap and orgies litter the desert — have not been charged for crimes like marijuana possession, according to federal reports on the event, but the new sheriff in town said he has a tougher police protocol in mind.

“We don’t have the personnel to issue citations to 70,000 naked people on the playa, but we will be upholding the law to the best of our ability,” Allen said. He added that Burning Man “brings nothing … except for heartache” to the conservative, rural county.

Burning Man organizers said they remain optimistic because the low number of arrests in years past suggest more festival-goers are abiding by the law.

“We’ve been working with [Allen] since his election, and he’s been involved with all of the large coordination efforts,” said Burning Man spokesman Jim Graham. “It’s an ongoing process on education, but he hasn’t been out there for a few years, so he hasn’t seen the progress we’ve made in recent years.”

Burning Man will take place from Aug. 30 to Sept. 7.

August 5, 2015

Ghost Town Emerges As Drought Makes Nevada's Lake Mead Disappear

Many of the buildings used to lie 60 feet below the lake surface

A sign showing the trail to the ghost town of St. Thomas in the Lake Mead National Recreation Area, Nevada in August 2015.

Nick Visser
The Huffington Post


Lest anyone forget, the drought in California and across the Southwest is still raging on. And one of the places where its effects can be observed most clearly is Nevada's Lake Mead.

The nation's largest reservoir has hit a series of troubling milestones over the past year, sinking to a record low in late June. Now, in the latest benchmark for the new Lake Mead, a town that flooded shortly after the completion of the Hoover Dam in 1938 has literally risen from the depths.

The ghost town -- once called St. Thomas, Nevada -- was founded as a Mormon settlement in 1865 and had six bustling businesses by 1918, according to Weather.com. But for nearly a century, it's been uninhabited and uninhabitable, existing mostly as an underwater curiosity.

Captured by two Getty photographers, the photos [at the link] below show the shell of the former settlement. St. Thomas has appeared under similarly dire drought conditions several times in the past decades.

The National Park Service has opened up a pathway from a parking area down to the ruins, which you'll be able to visit for the foreseeable future. Take a look here.

The ruins of a school in Mormon pioneer town Saint Thomas, flooded 70 years ago by the rising waters of the Colorado River when it was dammed to create Lake Mead.

July 22, 2015

Coachella Valley aquifer decline continues

Water from the Colorado River flows into a percolation pond at the Thomas E. Levy Groundwater Replenishment Facility in La Quinta. (Jay Calderon/The Desert Sun)

Ian James
The Desert Sun


NASA researchers have studied the aquifer beneath the Coachella Valley and concluded that while flows of imported water have helped boost groundwater levels in places, much of the aquifer has continued to decline.

Scientists with NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory analyzed trends in the measurements of groundwater levels in wells between 1960 and 2013.

They found that inflows of water from the Colorado River have helped raise the water table in areas near groundwater replenishment ponds in Palm Springs and La Quinta, but that the aquifer’s levels have been falling across the middle of the valley, in places from Thousand Palms to Indio, Palm Desert, Rancho Mirage, and Indian Wells – areas that are farther away from the ponds.

The study was published online last week by the journal Water Resources Management. The scientific findings fit with the results of The Desert Sun’s analyses of groundwater data in 2013 and 2015, which showed significant long-term declines in water levels in much of the valley even as imported water has helped partially counteract that trend. The study points to a need for the Coachella Valley’s people, businesses and water managers to better safeguard the aquifer to preserve water supplies for the future.

Hydrologists Brian F. Thomas and Jay Famiglietti used data for more than 300 wells to compare trends in different decades.

During the 1980s, for instance, the area received large allocations of surface water, and as a result groundwater levels rebounded around Palm Springs. In the 2000s, the valley received little water and the aquifer’s levels predominantly declined.

For decades, water has been heavily pumped from wells across the desert to sustain growing cities, farms, more than 100 golf courses and lush resorts with acres of grass and artificial lakes.

Since the 1970s, the Coachella Valley’s water agencies have been using water from the Colorado River Aqueduct to help recharge the aquifer near Palm Springs. The water has come in exchange for the local water districts’ allotted amounts from the canals and pipelines of the State Water Project, which ends in Lake Perris and doesn’t reach the valley.

During the past decade, water from the Colorado River has also been routed through the Coachella branch of the All-American Canal to a series of ponds in La Quinta, pushing up groundwater levels there.

Despite those efforts, average groundwater levels are approximately 19 meters, or 62 feet, lower than in 1960, the scientists said in the study. They noted that during periods when large amounts of surface water have flowed into the area, groundwater levels have risen. But during drier times, such as the 2000s or the current drought, “unsustainable groundwater practices in the region resulted in groundwater declines.”

The changes in groundwater levels over time, they said, “fail to exhibit characteristics of a resilient management strategy.”

“The scenario of continued unsustainable groundwater use in a region that relies heavily on groundwater resources to meet water demands has important implications for the region,” the researchers said, “especially given the uncertainty in future climate changes and the likelihood of increased droughts… and the uncertainty of future allocations from the Colorado River.”

In short, Thomas said, the findings point to a need for people to use and manage water differently in the Coachella Valley.

“They need to conserve water,” Thomas said in a telephone interview. He said he thinks the Coachella Valley also should manage the aquifer as the area’s primary water source and not rely so heavily on outside sources of surface water as it has in the past.

The Colorado River provides water for more than 35 million people across the West and irrigates vast stretches of farmland from the Rocky Mountains to Mexico. But its flows have been shrinking during a historic drought that’s now in its 16th year. Global warming is projected to put additional strains on the over-tapped river by shrinking the snows in the mountains and unleashing more severe droughts.

Flows of water to Southern California through the State Water Project have also dwindled during the drought.

Thomas said the trend in the 2000s, when groundwater levels were declining across the Coachella Valley, is similar to the situation now.

“And I think that’s really the future of the Coachella Valley,” he said. “When you look at the uncertainty of climate in the Southwestern U.S. and the uncertainty of surface water allocations coming out of the Colorado River basin, I think the reality of the situation for the Coachella Valley is what they saw in the 2000s. … It was depletion throughout the valley.”

The study focused on “sustainable groundwater management” and didn’t deal with the question of how much water remains in the aquifer – something experts aren’t sure of because it hasn’t been studied in detail.

Water agencies have calculated the cumulative overdraft since the 1970s at more than 5.3 million acre-feet of water. That's enough to fill more than 2.6 million Olympic swimming pools, with each acre-foot equivalent to 325,851 gallons.

As groundwater levels have declined, there have been costs. Pumping from deeper underground requires more electricity, and in some areas new wells have been drilled.

A study by the U.S. Geological Survey last year found that as groundwater pumping has led to declines in portions of the aquifer, the ground sank from between 9 inches to 2 feet from 1995 to 2010 in parts of Indian Wells, La Quinta and Palm Desert. That has caused damage in other parts of the Coachella Valley over the years, cracking the foundations of some homes and damaging swimming pools, roads and other infrastructure.

The USGS found that the Coachella Valley Water District's efforts to recharge the aquifer are having a positive effect near the groundwater replenishment ponds in La Quinta.

“We have to give credit to the water agencies. They’re actually employing very smart strategies,” Thomas said. “It’s obviously having a positive impact on groundwater resources. It’s just that (the impacts) are not extensive when you look at the entire aquifer system as a whole.”

CVWD General Manager Jim Barrett said when contacted about the research that he had just learned of the study and couldn’t comment on the findings.

John Powell, Jr., president of the CVWD board, has said the agency is evaluating potential sites for new groundwater replenishment ponds in the middle of the valley in order to reduce pressures on the aquifer in that area.

The long-term declines in the aquifer fit with a larger trend of groundwater depletion in much of California, and in various parts of the world.

Famiglietti, a UC Irvine professor and senior water scientist at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, recently co-authored another study that found more than half of the world’s largest aquifers are declining, and more than a third of them are being rapidly depleted.

Thomas, a postdoctoral researcher at the California Institute of Technology, said he thinks that for the Coachella Valley, improving the water picture starts with coming up with ways to use less.

“If it were up to me, people would not have lawns in Palm Springs,” Thomas said. “Lawns, that’s something that is not necessary in a desert environment. And that’s just one of the things that’s key to a conservation strategy.”

In the acknowledgments in their study, the scientists credited The Desert Sun’s coverage “for alerting us about the growing concern over groundwater overdraft in the valley.”

Thomas spoke about his research last year to an audience at UC Riverside’s Palm Desert campus.

"There's no easy answer,” he said during the event. “Everybody has to give up a piece of their water use to get to sustainability."

July 18, 2015

Shrinking Colorado River is a growing concern for Yuma farmers — and millions of water users


By WILLIAM YARDLEY
Los Angeles Times


The Colorado River begins as snowmelt in the Rocky Mountains and ends 1,450 miles south in Mexico after making a final sacrifice to the United States: water for the farm fields in this powerhouse of American produce.

Throughout the winter, perfect heads of romaine, red-and-green lettuce, spinach and broccoli are whisked from the warm desert soil here onto refrigerated trucks that deliver them to grocery stores across the continent. If you eat a green salad between Thanksgiving and April, whether in Minnesota, Montreal or Modesto, odds are good that some of it was grown in or around Yuma.

The summer freshness on all of those winter plates reflects the marvel of engineering the Colorado has become — and why managing the river in the Southwest's changing landscape seems so daunting.

The Colorado is suffering from a historic drought that has exposed the region's dependence on a single, vulnerable resource. Nearly 40 million people in seven states depend on the river, a population some forecasts say could nearly double in the next 50 years.

The drought, now in its 16th year, has made one fact brutally clear: The Colorado cannot continue to meet the current urban, agricultural, hydroelectric and recreational demands on it — and the point at which the river will fall short could come sooner than anyone thought.

That is true even after an unusually wet spring in the Rocky Mountains, where runoff feeds the Colorado and its tributaries.

In the decades to come, federal officials say, significant shortages are likely to force water-supply cutbacks in parts of the basin, the first in the more than 90 years that the river has been managed under the 1922 Colorado River Compact.

They would not apply evenly. In Arizona, which would take the steepest cuts, officials are warning that the elaborate conservation measures and infrastructure put in place in the 1980s to guard against shortages will probably not be sufficient. As the drought continues, serious shortages and more severe cutbacks have become more likely.

Farmers who grow cattle feed and cotton in central Arizona could be forced to let fields lie fallow, maybe for good, and cities like Phoenix might have to begin reusing wastewater and even capping urban growth, the region's economic engine.

Here in Yuma, though, there may be no cuts at all. Thanks to the seemingly endless idiosyncrasies of the rules governing the Colorado, much of metropolitan Phoenix could theoretically become a ghost town while Yuma keeps planting lettuce in the desert.

The looming shortages have opened a contentious new conversation here in Arizona, with increasing calls for rethinking the way the state divides the water it also shares with six other states, including California. Some experts say that a recalibration is in order — that while it may not make sense for millions of people to live in the arid West, people should take precedence over growing leafy greens on an industrial scale.

In a 2013 study, the Bureau of Reclamation suggested transferring about a million acre-feet of water from farms. Academics say it is only a matter of time before agriculture is forced to yield some of its supply — and that farmers could benefit financially from such transfers.

That kind of talk is rattling farmers in Yuma. They know they have water priority but not necessarily political priority.

"They believe there's a target on their backs," said Tom Buschatzke, who leads the Arizona Department of Water Resources. "I believe they're right."

Farmers here do not intend to go quietly. Some come from families that were here when the big cities of the modern Southwest were little more than crossroads.

"We have a legal right to this," said Mark Smith, who farms about 500 acres in Yuma and leads one of six irrigation districts in the area. "The guys who say this is an easy fix — it's not an easy fix. We're growing vital crops."

"This is a national debate," Smith added, "because we're supplying the entire nation."

::

Few rivers are asked to work as hard at the Colorado. Ranchers in western Colorado use the river to water pastures for beef cattle, while Denver and its suburbs channel it east across the mountains to enable city living. Las Vegas and other southern Nevada communities draw up to 90% of their water from the Colorado. Hoover Dam and others convert its flow into power. After Arizona and California take their share, the river exits — evaporates, really — through the dry remnants of a delta leading to the Gulf of California.

If a shortage is declared, California is one state that would not face any immediate cutbacks, thanks to an agreement reached with Arizona in 1968. That pact allowed Arizona to build one of the nation's most ambitious water-supply systems, the Central Arizona Project, but it also ensured that much of Arizona would take steep cuts if a shortage is declared.

Yuma is an exception.

Wedged into a wrinkle of borderland between California and Mexico, farms here have been drawing water from the Colorado since the late 19th century. Their early presence here earned the area the most-senior water rights in Arizona and some of the most-senior in the basin. Of the approximately 15 million acre-feet of water allocated for use each year across the entire basin, about 1 million acre-feet — nearly 7% of all of the water — goes to just 150,000 acres of farmland here.

By comparison, the 5 million water users in Phoenix and Tucson share about 1.5 million acre-feet. California has rights to the largest share, 4.4 million acre-feet, and even under the most dire scenarios it is virtually certain to always receive it. The law of the river says so.

Yet even as parties in the basin are often wary of one another — and not equal partners — most emphasize the need to work together under the current rules. The alternative, some fear, is that the federal government will intervene.

"There are many who have advocated for years that you have to change it significantly," said Wade Noble, a lawyer for the Yuma County Agricultural Water Coalition. "We, of course, resist that because with our priority we benefit from the [current] law the most."

In February, Noble helped draft a report by the coalition intended as a preemptive strike against anyone eyeing Yuma water. In it, Yuma leaders argue that the region has become more productive and profitable while also reducing its water use as it has shifted its focus to winter vegetables over the last four decades.

Yet the region still uses an extraordinary amount of water. High soil salinity has led farmers to flood fields in an attempt to wash salt away from fragile roots, then provide more water for irrigation. And in an era seeing the rise of seasonal, locally grown foods, Yuma strikes some as emblematic of old ways of thinking about what people should eat and when.

Then again, farmers in Yuma say cities have been allowed to grow with little concern for the water required to sustain them. They note, too, that most of their crops align with a growing emphasis on healthful eating.

"They are doing a lot of things right," said Robert Glennon, a law professor at the University of Arizona who specializes in water issues.

But Glennon has also warned that Yuma farmers and others in the arid West may have only so much control over their fate — a lesson farmers in parts of California, dependent on other rivers, are learning during the historic drought there. He has encouraged farmers to reduce production so they can sell or lease a portion of their water rights to cities. Research shows that a cut of just 4% in certain agricultural areas could increase the water supply by 50% for some cities, he said.

Farmers here say the entire region was settled on an ethic of national service. The Bureau of Reclamation began building canals feeding off the Colorado in the first years of the 20th century.

Edward C. Cuming arrived in the summer of 1902, an Irishman who had first migrated to Alberta, Canada, before moving south. Cuming homesteaded 160 acres just south of Yuma, irrigating them with the new canals. The Depression forced him to sell 40 acres but also led to a new era of government support for the area.

The Civilian Conservation Corps, established by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, expanded and improved irrigation canals across the Yuma area. One of those channels, stamped "CCC 1940," is known as the Cuming Canal. It runs directly in front of fields now owned by Edward Cuming's grandson, Jim Cuming.

"When we had an abundant supply of water, the farmer was doing a great job," said Cuming, 77, sitting on a concrete culvert above the Cuming Canal while cloudy Colorado River water surged beneath him.

"Now all of a sudden he's a villain because he uses too much to produce your fruit and fiber."

This story was prepared under a grant from the Society of Environmental Journalists' Fund for Environmental Journalism.

July 13, 2015

The Mojave River: A source of water battles and innovation

Postcard view of the old automobile bridge at the upper narrows of the Mojave River, circa 1930. The Mojave River flows above ground year-round through the narrows. The railroad follows the Mojave River through much of the High Desert. (From the collection of Mark Landis)

By Mark Landis
San Bernardino County Sun


Even in drought-stricken Southern California, the Mojave River could easily be described as one of the most unspectacular waterways in the Southwest. However, the historic significance of this strange desert paradox is hard to understate.

Through much of its 120-mile course, the Mojave River appears to be an irrelevant ribbon of sand. But in spite of its innocuous appearance, the river has provided the life blood for a broad stretch of the Mojave Desert since ancient times. It has also generated some of the West’s most ingenious water projects, and hard-fought legal battles.

The river flows above ground near its mountain sources, and through a few areas like the Mojave Narrows, and Afton Canyon, where the bedrock forces the water to the surface.

Indians were able to survive in the desert along the river where it flows above ground year-round, and provides an oasis of shade and food sources.

Early explorers and settlers counted on the river’s sections of dependable above-ground flow to get them across long, barren stretches of desert. The Mojave Road, The Mormon Trail, and The Old Spanish Trail, were the primary Indian and migrant trails into Southern California. These crucial routes all followed sections of the Mojave River through some of the driest stretches of the desert.

The Mojave River begins in the northern slopes of the San Bernardino Mountains, and flows northward under a dry bed of sand for much of its course. The east and west forks of the river merge just upstream of the present-day Mojave River Dam, in southeast Hesperia.

The eastern fork is known as Deep Creek, and its watershed begins in the mountains around and to the east of Lake Arrowhead. The watershed for the West Fork of the Mojave River begins in the mountains above, and to the west of Silverwood Lake. The river ends in Soda and Silver Dry Lakes, near the community of Baker.

One of the earliest settlers on the Mojave River was Captain Aaron Lane, a rancher who operated a trading post on the river. In 1858, Lane acquired a prime piece of Mojave River land near the present-day Turner Ranch, in Victorville and started a successful farm and cattle ranch.

Word of the successful agriculture effort on the Mojave River spread quickly, and sections of the river with regular flow, blossomed into a lush ribbon of farms and ranches.

A long-awaited railroad from San Bernardino, through the Cajon Pass, to Barstow was completed in 1885. Fred Perris of the California Southern Railroad chose a route through the High Desert that closely followed the grade of the Mojave River.

With a new railroad and a water source, land agents quickly began to promote the high desert as a prime region for new settlements. Beginning in the late 1800s, the High Desert communities of Hesperia, Apple Valley, Victorville, Oro Grande, Barstow, and Daggett, sprang up along the banks of the Mojave River.

In 1887, Judge Robert M. Widney and a group of investors incorporated the Hesperia Land and Water Company. The company purchased 35,000 acres on the high desert mesa that would later become the town of Hesperia. The company also began filing claims on water from the east fork of the Mojave River (Deep Creek), to irrigate the new colony.

The key to the success of the Hesperia Colony was an irrigation project to bring water from Deep Creek. Touted as a “marvel of engineering skill,” the project known as the “Hesperia Ditch” included a water channel blasted through solid rock, a ditch, and piping, that brought the water to a reservoir near the present-day Lime Street Park.

Challenges to Widney’s water rights began even before a spade was turned to dig the Hesperia Ditch. Land owners downstream in Victor and Oro Grande voiced loud opposition to the taking of their water, but Widney continued, and completed the canal in 1888.

A new high desert colony named Minneola was laid out in 1893, about 7 miles east of Daggett. A subsurface dam was built to divert the underground flow of the Mojave River into the “Mineola Ditch,” and an 11-mile irrigation channel was constructed to bring water to the townsite. The big dreams soon went bust, and in spite of the canal, the desert metropolis never materialized.

The largest single water project on the Mojave River was conceived in 1889, by Adolph Koebig, a San Bernardino city engineer. Koebig proposed a project to dam the upper portion of Deep Creek, and divert the Mojave River water south, into the San Bernardino Valley for irrigation.

The huge irrigation project to create the Little Bear Reservoir (later renamed Lake Arrowhead) began construction despite harsh objections and legal challenges from the downstream Mojave River water users. By the time the dam was finally completed in 1922, the Mojave River water users had successfully used the courts to block diversion of the water to San Bernardino.

The Little Bear Reservoir project was re-purposed from an irrigation project, to a recreational lake, and the precious Deep Creek water continues to flow into the Mojave River today.

By the early 1960s, population growth in the High Desert communities began to seriously overdraft the Mojave River Basin. Plans were made to bring State Water Project water into the Mojave River Basin, but delivery didn’t begin until 1991.

The State Water Project now supplies water from Northern California to recharge stations located along the Mojave River that stretch from Hesperia to Daggett. The recharge water percolates into the soil, where it is stored in the groundwater basins, and then pumped out for use by local water agencies.

Today, just as in the pioneer days, innovative irrigation projects continue to make the Mojave River the lifeblood of the high desert communities.

July 12, 2015

Lost in the Desert: Proposed Mojave Trails National Monument Remains In Limbo

Route 66, America's "Mother Road," runs through the heart of the proposed Mojave Trails National Monument, but is in dire need of maintenance. Getting funding to pay for fixing washed-out bridges along Route 66 is lacking. (San Bernardino County)

By Alfred Runte
National Parks Traveler


If California's senior senator, Dianne Feinstein, has her way, Congress will finally vote on a new national monument encompassing 965,000 acres in the Mojave Desert. Other preservation measures are also planned. Lying roughly between the Mojave National Preserve and Joshua Tree National Park, this particular monument would in effect round out the California Desert Protection Act of 1994.

To be called Mojave Trails, its heart would be a 105-mile segment of former U.S. Route 66. Now a county highway west of Needles, California, the critical segment ends approaching Barstow. No two-lane, paved highway in America is more significant; after all, this is America’s Mother Road. Beginning in the 1920s, millions resettling to California followed it west, as have millions of tourists ever since.

This is to explain the problem with Senator Feinstein’s proposal.

These days, historic Route 66 (also called the National Trails Highway) is indeed little better than a “trail.” Ever since losing its federal status, it has received only minimal, sporadic repairs. Finally, a series of washouts early last September tore several key bridges apart. Whole sections of the road were further covered with mud and debris. Initially pegged at $1.5 million, the repairs were expected to take two months. The work then ground to a halt on the insistence that three of the bridges needed to be replaced. Consequently, that half of the road—essentially midway between Needles and Barstow—remains closed.

“You’re kidding,” I said to myself, hoping to drive the entire segment in mid-June. But there it was—an imposing barricade, allowing access just for local residents. “They’ll fine you $600 if they catch you going around the barricade,” one bystander warned me.

Still, I decided to take the risk. Typical of desert washouts, a bulldozer had carved a temporary bypass. So much for a deliberative environmental study, allegedly a primary reason for the delayed repairs.

I then asked for an opinion about the repairs from the attendant at Roy’s Motel and Café, a popular tourist spot down the road at Amboy.

“They just keep making excuses,” he replied. “You know what I think? They’ve decided to abandon the road entirely.”

Fortunately for Roy’s, it further straddles the north/south route linking Interstate 40 and Twentynine Palms Marine Corps Base. Business between both is always brisk. He meant the east/west highway—the public’s favorite—historic Route 66.

“Probably the county is broke and waiting for Senator Feinstein to come up with the money to make the repairs,” I said.

Indeed, when later I checked, the county’s website confirmed that it needs federal dollars, some of which allegedly have been obtained.

That would be San Bernardino County, the nation’s largest county by area, in which all of the new monument would lie. The problem is: Rebuilding the bridges has not even started yet; no one knows when the road will fully reopen.

“That’s nuts,” I thought. “Given the tourist dollars the highway generates, it should have been reopened as originally planned—two months tops.”

Meanwhile, tourists have no choice but to take Interstate 40. However, sightseeing on the Interstate is risky business, lest you be run down by a line of trucks. Either that or a truck will force you onto the shoulder while swinging out to pass a slower rig. Trucks do that in California—leapfrog into the left lane the moment you start to pass. On top of the trucks, California drivers have a bad habit of tailgating. I personally consider Interstate 40 a deathtrap and try avoiding it like the plague.

Besides, the scenery and history are on Route 66. It is also parallel to the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railway, today’s successor to the legendary Santa Fe Railway that developed the South Rim of Grand Canyon. Trains now up to two miles in length zip across the desert floor at 65 mph plus. They’re as much fun to watch as the changing light patterns playing off the mountains near and far.

The point is that drivers are fascinated by both the scenery and the history, including hundreds of thousands of tourists from abroad. Germany appears to send the most. Certainly, the Germans I have met absolutely love the road, which is so unlike crowded Europe. Whole clubs have formed around antique cars and motorcycles meant to recreate American life in the 1960s. Club members fly to the United States after shipping their vehicles to some East or West Coast port. After reuniting with their precious cargo on the docks, everyone heads straight for historic Route 66.

Senator Feinstein is right. The desert landscape alone is of national park-caliber, and should have been included in the original California Desert Protection Act 21 years ago. However, the congressman representing the district was opposed. It was amazing that Congress preserved as much as it did. Equally amazing, the National Park Service gained control over Kelso Depot, the elegant wayside of the Union Pacific Railroad running through the Mojave National Preserve to the north.

Long before the depot’s restoration in 2006, my wife Christine and I were regular visitors, then to wonder whether the depot would survive—and how. Now we wonder the same about Route 66. The longer it remains closed the more the bureaucrats can say it is no longer needed. Tourists can take Interstate 40 and play bumper tag with the trucks.

San Bernardino County insists that is not the case. Rather history is partly to blame—along with those confounded environmental impact statements everyone these days is “forced” to write.

“These bridges are timber and were constructed in the 1930s,” notes Brendon Biggs, deputy director of public works.

Fine; we all get it. The replacement bridges should be historically and environmentally compatible. But how is that any excuse to delay fixing the road for months—and now possibly even years?

The county had to know washouts would happen at some point; serious thunderstorms occur every summer. Why couldn’t county officials have been ready to make a permanent repair—up to and including a historically compatible design—the minute a bridge washed out?

One suspects the answer to that—as with every government agency these days—is money. The funds needed went somewhere else. For that matter, not only is the county broke; the state and federal government are also broke. In the past, powerful U.S. senators got their way—and most certainly got their way on rebuilding roads. Now it would appear that everyone—including Senator Feinstein—is waiting for the monument to be approved.

But will it be approved? If not, she insists she will ask President Barack Obama to intervene using his executive powers under the Antiquities Act. That would work for the land, but what about the road? Tourists are still coming with or without the monument. Is this to be the new America—plead poverty and keep pointing fingers until our entire infrastructure just falls apart?

If the repairs seem expensive today, how does Senator Feinstein expect to afford them later? Perhaps hoping to bypass the Park Service’s alleged $11.5 billion backlog, Mojave Trails would go to BLM. In that case, it is likely Route 66 would stay with San Bernardino County, and what is more, add to the confusion of what is the difference between a national park and a national monument.

Why indeed BLM, when immediately north and south of Mojave Trails the land manager is the NPS? Well do I remember this. BLM did absolutely nothing to protect and/or restore Kelso Depot. Only when the Park Service acquired the station was it meticulously studied and ultimately saved. Will BLM protect Route 66? If there is even a shred of doubt, I say the Park Service should have Mojave Trails—or at least that portion of the national monument requiring preservation of the highway.

Meanwhile, the road is still split in two. If this were Germany or Switzerland, I kept telling myself last month, it would have been up and running within a week. But then, Europe makes no excuses when its roads (and railroads) go down. There (sans Greece, perhaps), people still expect discipline from government. Only America makes the frivolous argument that the “environment” stands in the way (forget the bulldozers carving bypasses), when what really stands in the way is a bureaucracy eating up all the funds with “studies” and “consultants.”

Senator Feinstein needs to clear the air. Although her monument is a worthy project, the ifs here are doubly worrisome. If the Park Service cannot afford it, how is it any different at BLM? If BLM is not committed to historic preservation, how will that ever change in this monument? Especially here, access to the monument is everything. Route 66 needs to be a priority, not just an afterthought. Along with side roads and other historical alignments, its renovation is long overdue.

San Bernardino County admits it can never do that without a significant infusion of federal funds. Why not just give those funds to the Park Service and be done with it? Probably San Bernardino County would stand up and cheer. Yes, you take care of the road.

As for BLM, they don’t do parks very well. One day, the nation will have to decide. If indeed a national monument is actually a national park in waiting, why wait to have it managed by the NPS?

All I know is that I wanted to drive the road last month, and no one seemed to be in charge. You fix the road. No, you fix it. But yes, perhaps we should do another study. Does that sound like the country we grew up in?

Rather, when I was in high school and college, Californians were proud to say that as we go, so goes the nation. In that case, Route 66 is an even bigger wakeup call. When every level of government fails a public treasure like the Mother Road, it is reasonable, however painful, to admit that the nation is finally out of gas.

July 5, 2015

Las Vegas completing last straw to draw Lake Mead water

A worker stands near the end of a tunnel still under construction beneath Lake Mead near Boulder City, Nev. When operational, the three-mile-long tunnel and intake will allow the Southern Nevada Water Authority to draw water from Lake Mead even if its water level falls below the two current intakes. (AP Photo/John Locher)

By KEN RITTER
MyWay.com


LAS VEGAS (AP) — It took $817 million, two starts, more than six years and one worker's life to drill a so-called "Third Straw" to make sure glittery casinos and sprawling suburbs of Las Vegas can keep getting drinking water from near the bottom of drought-stricken Lake Mead.

The pipeline, however, won't drain the largest Colorado River reservoir any faster. It's designed to ensure that Las Vegas can still get water if the lake surface drops below two existing supply intakes.

"You turn on the tap, you don't think about it," said Noah Hoefs, a pipeline project manager for the Las Vegas-based Southern Nevada Water Authority. "These are the things being done in order to live the lifestyle we want in the places we want to live."

It's the latest example of ways the parched West is scrambling to deal with 15 years of unprecedented drought.

California is encouraging homeowners to rip out thirsty lawns and asking farmers to turn off spigots. And in New Mexico, a $550 million pipeline project would supply drinking water to several communities that run the risk of having wells go dry within a decade.

Las Vegas started in 1999 to conserve, reuse and replenish supplies. When Lake Mead water levels plummeted in 2002, regional water officials began drawing up plans for the pipeline.

"Unlike California and our other partners on the river, we are almost entirely reliant on Lake Mead," said John Entsminger, water authority general manager. "We couldn't afford to wait."

Sin City gets about 90 percent of its drinking water from the lake behind Hoover Dam, itself an engineering marvel that cost the lives of about 100 workers during five years of construction before it was completed in 1936.

The need for the new pipeline can be seen in the wide white mineral band marking rock canyon walls where lake water has receded and the sun-bleached docks at abandoned marinas, left high and dry.

The water level has dropped almost the equivalent of a 20-story building since Lake Mead last topped the dam's spillways in 1983.

The pipeline resembles a subway tunnel 55 stories below Lake Mead's Saddle Island, reinforced with more than 2,400 6-foot jigsaw sections of concrete. A $25 million drilling rig the length of two football fields ground nearly 3 miles through solid rock to reach the intake structure a minute before noon last Dec. 10.

Jim Nickerson, project manager for Vegas Tunnel Constructors, a subsidiary of Italy-based Impregilo, peered during a recent tour into the circular intake, which is designed somewhat like a big bathtub drain. The 100-foot structure was lowered in March 2012 into what once was a Colorado River canyon and cemented into place with the equivalent of 1,200 truckloads of concrete.

Its dome roof was capped by a 1,900-pound stainless steel ball.

A steel cap on top of a water intake riser holds back the water of Lake Mead in a tunnel still under construction near Boulder City, Nev. (AP Photo/John Locher)

Above that was about 300 feet of water. The lake is about 37 percent of capacity, but still contains trillions of gallons of water — mostly snowmelt from the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming.

When the intake is flooded, water pressure in the tunnel will approximate water pressure in the lake. Nickerson said the ball plug will become buoyant enough for a crane on a barge to lift it.

"End of the year, we're done," he said.

Pumping will mark completion of a perilous project.

The tunnel flooded in July 2010, when a drilling machine hit a geologic fault, and flooded again five months later. Project engineers abandoned and capped the first tunnel and started a new one in a different direction.

In June 2012, tunnel worker Thomas Albert Turner died. He was a married, 44-year-old father of two from Henderson whose brother also worked on the pipeline.

Pulling the plug won't hasten creation of the "bathtub ring" around the lake. Blame drought for that — and exponential growth in a desert area that averages just over 4 inches of rain per year.

Las Vegas had about 126,000 residents when it began drawing water from Lake Mead in 1971. It now has 2 million residents and 40 million tourists a year.

The top of the new intake structure is at 860 feet. That's 40 feet below so-called "dead pool" at which Hoover Dam electricity turbines would be idled and no water would flow downstream.

Water managers let the Lake Mead level fall to a new record low late Tuesday, at 1,074.98 feet. They say the lake level will rise by the end of the year to about 1,081 feet. That's 6 feet above the trigger point that would require a percentage cut in water supplies to Arizona and Nevada.

Officials are currently giving Lake Mead a nearly 50-50 chance of ending 2016 below the 1,075-foot trigger point — unless the drought is broken.