Water’s for fightin’
“Whiskey’s for drinking, water’s for fighting about”
I don’t drink whiskey. But I’d fight for water any day.
Growing up on the Gulf Coast, water wasn’t something I ever viewed of having a shortage of. Rivers emptied into the Gulf of Mexico, networks of cold-water springs bubbled from the ground and thousands of lakes dot the map of Florida. Sometimes after a heavy rain or hurricane the water felt basically inescapable. I remember droughts as fleeting moments of my childhood only mentioned by my mom due to her love of landscaping and concern for the palm trees, but the fronds always turned green again.
Moving out West though, required a mindset shift. As all water used comes directly from the snow that falls every year. Becoming the spring runoff that is gathered into reservoirs, one being only 10 miles from my house as the crow flies. The same reservoir that provides recreation like ice fishing in the winter and kayaking, sailing and swimming in the summer. Before making its short journey downhill to my faucet.
There’s a simple satisfaction in knowing that every time I turn on the faucet I’m greeted with the tingling cold of some of the cleanest water there is. But anyone who’s been following the persistent drought occurring in the West knows that this issue is anything but simple. As it’s an absolute privilege to live so close to my water source, I don’t take it for granted. The fear always anchored in the back of my mind that it’s not a question of will we run out of water, but when. The realization of the grim future that lies ahead for the Western states where development spirals out of control in locations that simply do not have the resources to support the rising populations. In Bozeman particularly, we are looking at a guaranteed water shortage within the next 15 years. Soon.
As most Americans have virtually no idea where their water even comes from, I ski through my water source for 7 months of the year before relying on it to whitewater kayak and raft the rivers swollen from the snow melting in the spring. As the high alpine drains leaving only the the glaciers and heavily shaded patches of snow, we plan backpacking trips around water source points to refill our water bottles and cook meals with. By fall, the rivers reach their lowest - but more often then not, they are too low. Experiences that all foster a greater awareness and mindfulness for this natural resource we tend to treat as invincible.
Despite the heavy precipitation we’ve been having this spring, we’re still in a drought in Montana - and of course, in the rest of the West. Mother Nature is working hard to make up for the last couple years of too dry but the moisture is never a guarantee. As many complain about the weather that’s brought almost daily storms, lower temperatures and all-day cloud coverage. It holds onto the snowpack a little bit longer as we head into the summer months, nourishing the land with the moisture it needs.
Skiing a powder day is always a treat in my book, but when it occurs on May 22nd - oh man! That’s good stuff. But also a huge wave of relief for the long hot months that lay ahead as I remember the alarming sensation that occurred when I noticed the grasses & wildflowers in the mountains shriveling up and becoming wildfire fuels by the end of June last year. Maybe this year we will catch a break. Maybe once more we can have a summer like 2019 where the green flourished well into August and the wildfire smoke didn’t absorb the valley for months at a time. Just maybe.
