Last year, for the first time, I drove to Frenchman Lake, a reservoir about 40 miles north of where I live in Reno. It was a hot summer day, and as we drove up from the flat valley into the hillside, you could see the scorching imprint of devastating fires that have rattled the Feather River watershed over the last few years.
When we got to the reservoir, what struck me most — as a journalist who focuses on writing about where the West’s water goes — was a sign noting that Frenchman Lake was a part of California’s complex infrastructure, its State Water Project (see map).
It meant this reservoir, less than an hour from my home in Reno, Nevada fed into an interconnected system of conveyances stretching hundreds of miles, extending as far away as Southern California — where I’m originally from — about 400 miles away.
I knew we had crossed into California many miles back. But to see this distant lake as part of a complicated, sprawling water system was an eye-opening experience for me.
Indeed, growing up in Southern California, I had unknowingly interacted with this water for much of my life. For me, writing about water is about exactly this. Writing about water is about making the invisible visible. It is learning about these systems, raising awareness about where our water comes from in the West and how it is used.
We interact with water every day, especially in the West, but we are not always aware of its origins. Water is at the backbone of all that we do. Every time we turn on the tap, that water is coming from somewhere else — and in many cases, its story began hundreds of miles away. Water supports our ecosystems, and it is essential to all life.
When precipitation falls on the arid Mojave Desert or the vast Great Basin, vegetation responds rapidly. It is a stunning feature of living in a place so shaped by its aridity.
As a reporter, I look to dig into where our water comes from and the many ways in which we are connected to it. One reason I enjoy researching and writing about water is that it offers so many clues into how our world developed into what exists today.
Water intersects with culture, science, politics, policy, health, spirituality, history, economics and of course, the environment. Our histories are interwoven with water, and every living person — every living thing — has a relationship to it, a story to tell.
Over the past few months, I’ve had an opportunity to think more deeply about our connections to water as I research and write a book for Island Press about water in the Great Basin, a unique region, in part, because its rivers do not flow to the ocean.
At the same time, I’ve been finishing an essay about my personal connection to water and growing up in California, for a forthcoming anthology from Torrey House Press.
Both projects — in addition to my past reporting — have forced me to think more critically into how we interact with water and our deep, individual connections to it.
As I continue my water reporting (and spend a little less time on Twitter), I plan to start using Substack notes and the longer-form Substack platform to share some of my historical findings, stories about water, perspectives from readers and a little bit of my own writing.
If you have ideas and feedback, please email me.
I’d especially love to hear stories about your connection to water in the West, as well as any recommendations of writing, photography and stories touching on this topic.
And please share this with anyone who might be interested.
Cheers,
Daniel