Earlier this week, I was interviewing the head of an irrigation district in Nevada who told me that contrary to what most people think, the wet years are far busier than the dry ones, of which he has seen many. In 2015, at a time of intense drought, he said that water allocations in his irrigation district were effectively cut to nothing — about 2%.
This year, there was too much water coming too quickly, as the district pivoted into serving as de facto flood control. Aridity is a defining characteristic of the West. But in many places, so is variability. The boom and bust water-cycle. “Weather whiplash.”
The Great Basin is always a little moody and unpredictable in the summer. This all seems to play out in the most extreme ways, as dramatic thunderstorms that rattle the landscape in the evening or spurts of heavy rain falling on the highway during the day.
Last week, I spent some time in eastern Nevada and western Utah.
It was a few days before Hurricane Hilary swept in, and the weather across the region was already oscillating from picturesque blue skies to ominous deep gray cloud cover.
Driving along U.S.-50 to Salt Lake City, I marveled at how much vegetation had grown after one of the biggest snowpacks ever recorded melted off the eastern Sierra ranges, Great Basin, and much of the West. Everything looked different than it did last year.
But so much is still the same. Headlines desperately want us to believe that one storm alone will make a dent in reservoir storage, when they often obscure the larger issues.
Nearly everyone I talked to knew dry conditions would return, amplifying the many structural issues masked by a good water year: That there are more water rights than there is water to go around. That there continues to be increasing demand for water.
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We seem to swing back and forth here. And each year is just a snapshot.
But we also see illusions in the West, especially around water. It’s easy to forget that variability, as with aridity, has long been a key characteristic in how our water flows.
It is true on the Colorado River, which varies from year to year, and it is true in the Great Basin, where high water years can bring two or even three times the average.
In doing research, I’ve found this chart particularly helpful. It’s a little outdated (from the Humboldt River chronology published in the early 2000s), but it provides a good picture of the extreme swings Nevada’s rivers have taken throug the 20th Century.
With a warming climate, the extreme boundaries of high and low years are expected to become more uncertain and variable, in places, as our water cycle changes. In cases like the Colorado River, scientists have demonstrated how aridification has led to an overall reduction in streamflows at the start of this century, compared to the last one.
In the land of variability, we could soon be facing even more extremes. Enter Hurricane Hilary, another extreme event, revealing key climate risks, as the L.A. Times reported.
It was remarkable to watch the coverage this weekend and early this week, as the storm sent a flurry of precipitation through Southern California and into Nevada. Death Valley had its wettest day on record as rains caused flooding in the Coachella Valley. And the Amargosa was left extraordinarily flooded, a striking sight to see.
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Only one month (and a few days) left in what has been a dramatic water year.
On a personal note:
In addition to doing some reporting last week along U.S. 50 and I-80, I adopted a dog from a friend in Salt Lake City. So say hello to Jasper, my new writing buddy. 🐾