This past week, I attended a presentation on nutrition (it's better not to know the details), and the wonderful things we should and should not put into our bodies. One of the important points that resonated amongst the attendees was the need to drink water -- on the order of half your weight in ounces each day. Among many of the other recommendations we heard that day, this one seemed to make sense. It sure beats soda (or pop, or Coke, or however you like to refer to carbonated concoctions), which apparently can dissolve a nail in a matter of days. Frightening considering how much I drink of the stuff. So predictably, the informative seminar got me to thinking about the larger issue of water in the land use context, especially since I need to know where all this water is going to be coming from. When it comes to considering H2O, there's a clear divide between the West and East, as the West must not only keep its sources clean, it must scramble to make sure there will be enough of it to go around to the thirsty hordes that continue to add to the soaring populations that swell the metropolitan areas of the region.
In the West, a series of increasingly audacious plans are sweeping the region in order to quench the thirst of such established metropolises as Denver and Las Vegas, and budding areas like Yuma, Arizona and St. George, Utah. Calling to mind Los Angeles' stealing of Owens Valley water a century ago, Las Vegas, the new Los Angeles, is plotting to construct a 280-mile pipeline from northern Nevada to pump water down south to Sin City. In Yuma, a federal program aims to resuscitate a dormant plan to operate a desalination plant, cleaning the underground water reserves near this Arizona city for use as drinking water. Montana and Wyoming will soon face off in the Supreme Court, contesting claims over use of the Tongue and Powder Rivers. Where is all this lunacy coming from? Well, the answer is simple. The West is dry -- drier than ever. With the aid of omnipresent global warming, the Colorado River, and the snowpacks of the Rockies, both essential suppliers of the West's water, are drying up, supplying less and less to more and more living in the West. As time marches forward, and people continue to move westward, these battles will only grow in intensity.
We tenderfoots in the East don't have it much better. Sure, we get bombarded by northeasters that help to keep the water flowing, and portend global warming sinking us under the sea. But water quality continues to grow in importance. For instance, in the Chesapeake Bay region, policy makers contend with the refuse of one of its most successful industries -- dairy farms. The byproducts of the "machines of industry," the cow, produce vast quantities of manure that largely end up in the Bay. In the suburban and urban areas of Virginia and Maryland, well, another animal contributes its waste to the sea. One program in Pennsylvania takes the concept of pollution credits and puts it to work in the runoff context. Although getting off to a slow start, it is aided by a company called Red Barn, run out of the home of a couple living in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Trained in agricultural engineering, Peter and Molly Hughes' aim is to help farmers and other polluters trade for credits amongst each other, and create a functioning market for the right to deposit nitrates into the water. They are applying their knowledge of water for the gain of its survival.
Water fuels the world around us, and dictates where development goes, and where it goes to die. Westerners are trying to fight for the flow, while Easterners must manage it. Which ever side of the line you find yourself, the fight for clean water will only intensify in the coming decades, as less and less of it is around to use. What's the answer? Like any question revolving around land use, it's hard to say. Especially when I have to get back to drinking my water to stay on pace for my 90-odd ounces each day.
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