In 2006, photographer and filmmaker Pete McBride began a two-decade journey in Colorado to document the impact of a disappearing Colorado River. Collaborating with Nick Paumgarten from The New Yorker and freelance writer Kevin Fedarko, they contributed to The Colorado River: Chasing Water (Rizzoli New York, 2024). The book offers insights and warnings about the river that shaped the West.
No river in the Western Hemisphere is more regulated or litigated than the Colorado. According to the Bureau of Reclamation, every drop is used up to 17 times before the river fades into the Sonoran Desert. Even in the wettest years, the river does not reach the sea.
The 726-foot-high Hoover Dam was completed in 1936. At the time, it was the largest dam in the world.
For a thousand miles from its headwaters, the river and its tributaries carved out 17 major chasms, including the Grand Canyon, a remarkable formation with mile-high walls and rock layers spanning 1.7 billion years, representing a third of Earth’s history.
The Milky Way and its river of stars sweep over Lake Powell and its bathtub rings, composed of calcium carbonate and other mineral compounds. The former waterlines remind observers of wetter times. Recent studies have shown that evaporation from reservoirs removes 10 percent of the river’s flow.
Beginning in 1931, with the Hoover Dam, 19 large dams transformed the wild Colorado into what resembles a municipal waterworks system.
The San Juan River is a major tributary that flows 383 miles from southern Colorado to Utah.
During our 2016 Grand Canyon traverse, capturing the landscape’s beauty and hostility was a daunting task. Moving without trails, between river and rim, water was a constant concern. The Colorado River, visible in the canyon’s depths, was a lifeline cutting through 20 rock layers, akin to Earth’s history book.
Freshwater orchids, which serve as a bioindicator of habitat resilience, have appeared as Lake Powell has shrunk.
Jack Schmidt, from Utah State University, describes the river as “a scenic bedrock ditch” transporting water from one reservoir to another—a beautiful plumbing system. This system supplies water to millions of homes as far as Phoenix and Los Angeles, where daily consumption ranges from 140 to 300 gallons.
Silt and sediment, what many call the lifeblood of the river, have settled throughout much of Glen Canyon, reducing its water storage by 6 percent, according to a 2022 Bureau of Reclamation data report.
Now, as the river strains under drought and increasing demands, it reveals bathtub rings and silty layers. It also unveils arches, springs, and ancient history once submerged by our attempts to tame the river and make the desert bloom, despite the inaccuracy of “rain follows the plow.”
The lake level behind Hoover Dam has fluctuated from its high in 1983 to its record low in March 2023. If the ongoing drought drops the reservoir another 40 feet below that record low, it will affect the dam’s ability to operate its hydropower turbines.
As Lake Powell dwindles, new features emerge, including freshwater orchids and Gregory Arch, submerged for 50 years. Forests of giant cottonwoods, once submerged in Glen Canyon, still stand, surrounded by silt. The Cathedral in the Desert reappeared in 2022 after five decades underwater, with its water considered sacred by Native communities.
Like fingers reaching for an old friend, tendriled patterns extend into the dry, salt-encrusted Colorado River delta, looking for a lost, but not forgotten, Río Colorado.
The dwindling Colorado River, symbolic of many global water systems, highlights the increasing value of water. By showcasing our misuse, we can combat apathy—a major threat to the river—and inspire efforts to protect this vital resource.
Original Story at www.sierraclub.org