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Majority Latino city endures years of toxic water in health ‘crisis’

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Thursday, April 18, 2024

SUNLAND PARK, N.M. — Rosana Monge clutched her husband’s death certificate and an envelope of his medical records as she approached the microphone and faced members of the water utility board on a recent Monday in this city in southeast New Mexico.“I have proof here of arsenic tests — positive on him, that were done by the Veterans Administration,” she testified about her husband, whose 2023 records show he had been diagnosed with “exposure to arsenic” before his death in February at age 79. “What I’m asking is for a health assessment of the community.”State and federal records show that in each of the last 16 years, drinking water samples tested in this 17,400-person town near the Texas border have contained illegally high levels of arsenic, including in 2016 when levels reached five times the legal limit.Naturally occurring in the soil in New Mexico, arsenic seeps into the groundwater used for drinking. In water, arsenic has no taste, odor or color — but can be removed with treatment. Over time, it can cause a variety of health problems, including cancer, diabetes and heart disease, endangering the lives of people in this low-income and overwhelmingly Latino community.The Environmental Protection Agency has assessed Sunland Park’s water operator, the Camino Real Regional Utility Authority (CRRUA), with 120 “violation points” over the last five years, a calculation based both on the number of times the utility has violated federal standards and the level of seriousness of the violations. For utilities serving at least 10,000 people that recently had a health-related violation, the tally was second only to the 182 points collected by Jackson, Miss., where problems with the drinking water earned national attention in 2022. Sunland Park has even more issues the EPA considers unresolved than Jackson.Anne Nigra, a professor at Columbia University who focuses on the impacts of arsenic-ladled water on Latino communities and reviewed the utility’s federally mandated water reports, called the situation in the New Mexico town “a public health crisis.”Experts who reviewed Joe Monge’s medical records said his levels were elevated but not extraordinarily so. A single lab test, however, cannot measure long-term effects of arsenic exposure, and Rosana Monge, 65, and others in this town are convinced the elevated arsenic levels are responsible for health problems including skin lesions and fetal development complications. Despite their pleas at public meetings and elsewhere, they believe the utility has not been taking the issue seriously.It is not entirely clear why arsenic has been allowed to seep into the water in Sunland Park year after year, though problems with infrastructure, lax enforcement of regulations and general inattention to the problem appear to be contributing factors.Fifty years after the Safe Drinking Water Act established legal limits for toxins such as arsenic in Americans’ drinking water, some public health experts and former EPA officials say politics and money have played an outsize role in how the agency determines maximum levels of contaminants allowed in drinking water. What’s more, they say some communities across the country repeatedly exceed those levels: More than 7,400 public utilities reported a violation every quarter for the last three years, according to an analysis of the EPA’s enforcement and compliance database.Those most impacted, experts say, are low-income areas and communities of color, such as Sunland Park, which is 94 percent Latino. Studies show Latinos are exposed to arsenic in their drinking water at higher rates than any other racial or ethnic group, even when controlling for socioeconomic factors. Similarly, Black Americans are disproportionately impacted by lead contamination in their water.The resulting picture, experts say, is that the world’s wealthiest nation fails to consistently deliver to all its residents one of the most fundamental necessities for human life: safe drinking water.“Why haven’t we solved these problems? Because we don’t want to,” said Ronnie Levin, a Harvard professor who was a scientist at the EPA for more than 30 years. “It’s shameful.”Udell Vigil, a spokesman for Sunland Park’s utility, said in a statement the system is challenged by aging infrastructure, new development in the area and a statewide shortage of certified utility operators. He declined to answer questions about arsenic due to the potential of a lawsuit over the issue.EPA spokesman Nick Conger said ensuring safe drinking water is a “top priority” for the agency, which is making enforcement of the legal limits a priority, and new federal infrastructure investments will help.In Sunland Park, residents’ complaints mounted in December when caustic soda, used to treat water for arsenic, was dumped into the water at unsafe levels as a result of what officials said was a plant malfunction. CRRUA’s director abruptly retired, and the state’s environmental agency levied a fine.“I think they were mismanaging at a significant level,” said John Rhoderick, director of the New Mexico Environmental Department’s water protection division, adding that the system is now “on notice.”Some residents have now taken the first steps toward filing a lawsuit.“This is a classic example of government at every level failing to protect public health for an inexcusable period of time,” said Erik Olson, a former attorney for the EPA who is now a senior health strategist and advocate at the Natural Resources Defense Council. “It’s outrageous it has been allowed to continue for well over a decade.”Naturally-occurring arsenic exists in pockets throughout the United States and particularly in the southwest, requiring municipalities to set up treatment plants that use varying techniques and chemicals to separate the arsenic from the water and extract it. The utility serving Sunland Park and the nearby Santa Teresa neighborhood has four such plants.Because arsenic is completely soluble and easily absorbed by the body, standard tests for water quality sold in stores do not typically detect it, and its range of damage to the human body is expansive. Chronic exposure can cause cancer of the skin, lung and bladder, among other kinds, as well as heart disease. It’s also associated with cognitive impairment, kidney disease, diabetes and lasting harm to fetal development. Ana Navas-Acien, professor of environmental health sciences at Columbia University, called arsenic “one of the most potent carcinogens” found in the environment.The EPA’s history of regulating arsenic is typical of how the agency has dealt with other water toxins, former EPA officials said. After the Safe Drinking Water Act was first adopted in 1974, the arsenic level was set at 50 parts per billion (ppb) — or 50 micrograms of arsenic per liter of water. Even then, former officials said evidence had emerged from the scientific community demonstrating its detrimental effects on the human body and suggesting public health would be improved by a lower level.The level was lowered once, in 2001, to 10 ppb, but some experts believe it is still too high.While the EPA sets federal toxin levels, nearly all states — including New Mexico — bear the responsibility for monitoring public water utilities and flagging violations, officials said. States can also set their own contaminant standards as long as they are not looser than the EPA’s. New Jersey and New Hampshire have the level at 5 ppb for their states, as do some European countries.“There was a lot of pressure from industry,” said James Elder, who worked at the EPA for 24 years and headed its Office of Groundwater and Drinking Water in the early 1990s, where he advocated for lowering toxin limits. “The history of arsenic is exemplary of how tortuous the process still is in regulating contaminants in drinking water.”Regularly consuming drinking water with just 3 ppb of arsenic creates a 1 in 1,000 increased risk of bladder or lung cancer, according to a 2001 National Academy of Sciences report. “With carcinogens … there is basically no safe limit,” said Sydney Evans, a senior science analyst at the Environmental Working Group, an environmental research and advocacy group.Last week, the EPA set a limit for a new drinking water contaminant, known as PFAS or forever chemicals — the first time the agency has set a water standard for a new contaminant since 1996.A history of water worriesSunland Park was founded in 1984, a decade after the passage of the Safe Drinking Water Act. Bordering Texas and Mexico, the town lies in stark desert terrain among beige mountains dotted with brush. The city is laid out as a collection of neighborhoods that dot McNutt Road like a string of pearls lying alongside the Mexico border. Cargo trains wind through the tall mountains, as does a multimillion-dollar wall along the international border, erected from private funds raised by an organization chaired by former Trump White House strategist Stephen K. Bannon.A limestone cross that glimmers in the near-constant sun here sits atop Mount Cristo Rey, a popular mountain for pilgrims in this Catholic-dominant region. It overlooks a city where many residents say they have been concerned about the water for decades.In the 1980s, the worry was a landfill and its accompanying incinerator that burned medical supply waste from New Mexico and El Paso. The residents said their health suffered from the water and air pollution it created.Monge and her husband were among a group of more than a hundred residents, called the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park, who spoke out against a permit for the landfill.The protesters sold gorditas and other homemade food to pay for trips to the state’s capitol in Santa Fe to protest the permit. They blocked traffic and called for public hearings. Newspapers around this time reported children who were born with brain defects, as well as worms and high lead levels in tap water. Finally, in 1991, the incinerator company’s permit was denied and the state required the landfill to install a new liner to protect groundwater.Today, Sunland Park remains a working-class community where 84 percent speak Spanish at home, with more than double the national poverty and uninsured rates, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. In a place with few professional opportunities for young people, some of the loudest voices about the water quality are the same voices that spoke up more than 30 years ago: what’s left of the Concerned Citizens protesters — retirees who are no longer working full-time and know the city’s history.“Back then the people were stronger. Nowadays, many people are older and we can’t even carry the gallons” of store-bought water, said Elvia Acevedo, 65, in her living room where cases of bottled water are stacked. “I want to fight and get justice. For those who can no longer.”It’s not entirely clear how the problems with arsenic in the water began, but state and federal databases show violations piled up for years, even before several regional utilities were combined to form CRRUA in 2009.At the state level, the New Mexico Environment Department is controlled by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat elected in 2018. Matt Maez, a spokesman for the department, said the state has struggled to fix the city’s water because of budget cuts enacted under Lujan Grisham’s Republican predecessor, Susana Martinez.Several of CRRUA’s seven board members, most of whom are elected officials, declined to comment. One, Alberto Jaramillo, who is also a city councilor, told The Washington Post he only recently learned about the area’s history of elevated arsenic. But he said he drinks the tap water and believes it is safe.“I haven’t read what arsenic does to your body over time, but if somebody says that I got cancer because of this or that, I want to see the proof,” Jaramillo said.Sunland Park residents woke up one morning at the end of November and turned on their sink faucets and shower heads to see a slimy, oily goo emerging from their taps. Residents reported the problem immediately but that day passed, and then the next, and CRRUA said nothing. Finally, on the fourth day, CRRUA and Doña Ana County issued a notice that the water was not safe to drink, and had not been for days.Local officials doled out bottled water. State officials investigated, discovering that the machine in charge of releasing caustic soda, used to treat arsenic, had malfunctioned, causing an unhealthy amount of pH buildup in the water. In all, residents were without potable water for six days.As state officials investigated, they found something else: The water had illegally high levels of arsenic. Three of the four arsenic plants “have been offline and bypassed for over a year,” the state said in a violation notice it sent to CRRUA, which did not account for the arsenic violations occurring in prior years.CRRUA’s executive director, Brent Westmoreland, retired in December. He did not respond to requests for comment.In January, the New Mexico Environmental Department issued a report that found 58 “significant deficiencies” in CRRUA’s water system. The state is now cracking down, levying a $251,580 fine in March. Then, a top environmental official sent a letter to the state’s attorney general and auditor urging an investigation into CRRUA for “potential violations of consumer protection laws and possible waste, fraud, and abuse of state and federal funds.”State investigators also paid an unannounced visit to Sunland Park on March 15 and took 10 water samples, finding one was above legal arsenic limits. The state has now demanded CRRUA turn over records related to its water testing.CRRUA is appealing the state’s administrative order. In a letter to the state, CRRUA board chair Susana Chaparro said the utility was proud of “ongoing improvements” since January. “What we were handed did not occur overnight and cannot be fixed overnight,” she said.The water utility also recently hired its first public information officer to communicate with its customers. Its website is now regularly updated, and notices have begun to go out with Spanish translations. CRRUA recently posted a video demonstrating how its staff samples water to test for arsenic. The utility’s interim executive director Juan Carlos Crosby said in a county board meeting on April 9 that CRRUA was more than halfway through correcting the deficiencies identified by the state and is now testing for arsenic twice a month.Eric Lopez, a consultant who recently began overseeing the arsenic plants, said CRRUA is also adding new technology to be able to monitor the water’s chemical and contaminant levels remotely.But many residents are unconvinced that change will come without more dramatic intervention from state or federal agencies. Resident Lorenzo Villescas, 68, said officials had a playbook for what was happening in Sunland Park.“I compare this to Flint,” he said, referring to the Michigan city where problems with lead in the water sparked national outrage 10 years ago this month. There, “the authorities denied it was bad, too.”Residents have been pleased by the new attention from state and local officials in recent months but have wondered if it’s only come about because newer and wealthier residents in growing developments around the city have also now been affected.“They discovered this now because the water came out bad in the new areas, where the rich people live,” said Isabel Santos, 65, a former interim mayor and city council member who was also once president of the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park and now wants to revive the group.Villescas has lesions on his skin and wonders if it is from drinking the arsenic-laden water. So does Maria Lucero, 66, whose family helped found this town but is now looking to move out because of the water.Irene Rodriguez, 62, is surrounded by cancer: Her husband, her mother and three of her four siblings were diagnosed with it. They only recently started to wonder if their water was to blame. She has stopped even brushing her teeth with it.Ofelia Garcia, 81, said many of her friends and neighbors have died of thyroid cancer. “A lot of people down here die from cancer. But we don’t know if it’s from the water for sure,” she said.At a ranch full of high-end horses that compete at a local racetrack, horses kept dying, said a former employee who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of offending the utility. He said he quit and now only gives the horses he raises bottled drinking water.Acevedo said she drank the tap water here for a long time, including when she was pregnant with her son Mikey. She said he was born with Down syndrome as well as thyroid problems, asthma and diabetes, while her other two children, who were born in California before she moved to Sunland Park, were born healthy.In March, three friends of hers who were born and raised in Sunland Park died of cancer. She blames the water.“People are dying from this,” she said. “We’re paying for something that’s poisoning us.”With residents distrustful of the utility, it is common in Sunland Park to see water bottles piled up in garbage cans and stacked by the dozens in living rooms and kitchens. Some people drive to nearby El Paso for water while others say they boil the water before use, which experts said actually concentrates arsenic rather than removing it.In a door-to-door survey conducted by Empowerment Congress in March, 317 out of 490 people said they were not using the tap water to drink or cook.About 11 years ago, Monge’s husband developed prostate and thyroid cancer. Several years ago, he began to hallucinate and grew weak. She took him from doctor to doctor in hopes of finding out what was wrong. His February death was officially attributed to Parkinson’s disease. A bugler played “Taps” before the decorated Vietnam War veteran was buried on a crisp March morning in Arlington National Cemetery.Monge, who has lived in town for over 40 years, now wonders if other conditions in her family — one of her daughters was born premature at two pounds, another one developed a tumor in her late teens, while Monge herself was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis — could be related to prolonged arsenic exposure.Experts say arsenic can cause many of the conditions cited by residents though such diseases are also rampant in low-income communities of color even without dangerous water conditions. “There’s a lot of parts of injustice in poor, Latino communities. … But how do you just nail down one? How do you just say — look, is this the thing that’s killing you?” asked Israel Chávez, a lawyer representing residents.After Monge spoke at the CRRUA board meeting about her late husband, Vivian Fuller, a field organizer for Empowerment Congress, cast aside her pre-written notes for public comments, and issued a new plea to the board members.“People are dying. Our community is dying,” she said. “There’s nothing that we can do unless you all help us.”

After repeated violations, the state has stepped in -- but the problems are a reminder that safe water is not available to all Americans

SUNLAND PARK, N.M. — Rosana Monge clutched her husband’s death certificate and an envelope of his medical records as she approached the microphone and faced members of the water utility board on a recent Monday in this city in southeast New Mexico.

“I have proof here of arsenic tests — positive on him, that were done by the Veterans Administration,” she testified about her husband, whose 2023 records show he had been diagnosed with “exposure to arsenic” before his death in February at age 79. “What I’m asking is for a health assessment of the community.”

State and federal records show that in each of the last 16 years, drinking water samples tested in this 17,400-person town near the Texas border have contained illegally high levels of arsenic, including in 2016 when levels reached five times the legal limit.

Naturally occurring in the soil in New Mexico, arsenic seeps into the groundwater used for drinking. In water, arsenic has no taste, odor or color — but can be removed with treatment. Over time, it can cause a variety of health problems, including cancer, diabetes and heart disease, endangering the lives of people in this low-income and overwhelmingly Latino community.

The Environmental Protection Agency has assessed Sunland Park’s water operator, the Camino Real Regional Utility Authority (CRRUA), with 120 “violation points” over the last five years, a calculation based both on the number of times the utility has violated federal standards and the level of seriousness of the violations. For utilities serving at least 10,000 people that recently had a health-related violation, the tally was second only to the 182 points collected by Jackson, Miss., where problems with the drinking water earned national attention in 2022. Sunland Park has even more issues the EPA considers unresolved than Jackson.

Anne Nigra, a professor at Columbia University who focuses on the impacts of arsenic-ladled water on Latino communities and reviewed the utility’s federally mandated water reports, called the situation in the New Mexico town “a public health crisis.”

Experts who reviewed Joe Monge’s medical records said his levels were elevated but not extraordinarily so. A single lab test, however, cannot measure long-term effects of arsenic exposure, and Rosana Monge, 65, and others in this town are convinced the elevated arsenic levels are responsible for health problems including skin lesions and fetal development complications. Despite their pleas at public meetings and elsewhere, they believe the utility has not been taking the issue seriously.

It is not entirely clear why arsenic has been allowed to seep into the water in Sunland Park year after year, though problems with infrastructure, lax enforcement of regulations and general inattention to the problem appear to be contributing factors.

Fifty years after the Safe Drinking Water Act established legal limits for toxins such as arsenic in Americans’ drinking water, some public health experts and former EPA officials say politics and money have played an outsize role in how the agency determines maximum levels of contaminants allowed in drinking water. What’s more, they say some communities across the country repeatedly exceed those levels: More than 7,400 public utilities reported a violation every quarter for the last three years, according to an analysis of the EPA’s enforcement and compliance database.

Those most impacted, experts say, are low-income areas and communities of color, such as Sunland Park, which is 94 percent Latino. Studies show Latinos are exposed to arsenic in their drinking water at higher rates than any other racial or ethnic group, even when controlling for socioeconomic factors. Similarly, Black Americans are disproportionately impacted by lead contamination in their water.

The resulting picture, experts say, is that the world’s wealthiest nation fails to consistently deliver to all its residents one of the most fundamental necessities for human life: safe drinking water.

“Why haven’t we solved these problems? Because we don’t want to,” said Ronnie Levin, a Harvard professor who was a scientist at the EPA for more than 30 years. “It’s shameful.”

Udell Vigil, a spokesman for Sunland Park’s utility, said in a statement the system is challenged by aging infrastructure, new development in the area and a statewide shortage of certified utility operators. He declined to answer questions about arsenic due to the potential of a lawsuit over the issue.

EPA spokesman Nick Conger said ensuring safe drinking water is a “top priority” for the agency, which is making enforcement of the legal limits a priority, and new federal infrastructure investments will help.

In Sunland Park, residents’ complaints mounted in December when caustic soda, used to treat water for arsenic, was dumped into the water at unsafe levels as a result of what officials said was a plant malfunction. CRRUA’s director abruptly retired, and the state’s environmental agency levied a fine.

“I think they were mismanaging at a significant level,” said John Rhoderick, director of the New Mexico Environmental Department’s water protection division, adding that the system is now “on notice.”

Some residents have now taken the first steps toward filing a lawsuit.

“This is a classic example of government at every level failing to protect public health for an inexcusable period of time,” said Erik Olson, a former attorney for the EPA who is now a senior health strategist and advocate at the Natural Resources Defense Council. “It’s outrageous it has been allowed to continue for well over a decade.”

Naturally-occurring arsenic exists in pockets throughout the United States and particularly in the southwest, requiring municipalities to set up treatment plants that use varying techniques and chemicals to separate the arsenic from the water and extract it. The utility serving Sunland Park and the nearby Santa Teresa neighborhood has four such plants.

Because arsenic is completely soluble and easily absorbed by the body, standard tests for water quality sold in stores do not typically detect it, and its range of damage to the human body is expansive. Chronic exposure can cause cancer of the skin, lung and bladder, among other kinds, as well as heart disease. It’s also associated with cognitive impairment, kidney disease, diabetes and lasting harm to fetal development. Ana Navas-Acien, professor of environmental health sciences at Columbia University, called arsenic “one of the most potent carcinogens” found in the environment.

The EPA’s history of regulating arsenic is typical of how the agency has dealt with other water toxins, former EPA officials said. After the Safe Drinking Water Act was first adopted in 1974, the arsenic level was set at 50 parts per billion (ppb) — or 50 micrograms of arsenic per liter of water. Even then, former officials said evidence had emerged from the scientific community demonstrating its detrimental effects on the human body and suggesting public health would be improved by a lower level.

The level was lowered once, in 2001, to 10 ppb, but some experts believe it is still too high.

While the EPA sets federal toxin levels, nearly all states — including New Mexico — bear the responsibility for monitoring public water utilities and flagging violations, officials said. States can also set their own contaminant standards as long as they are not looser than the EPA’s. New Jersey and New Hampshire have the level at 5 ppb for their states, as do some European countries.

“There was a lot of pressure from industry,” said James Elder, who worked at the EPA for 24 years and headed its Office of Groundwater and Drinking Water in the early 1990s, where he advocated for lowering toxin limits. “The history of arsenic is exemplary of how tortuous the process still is in regulating contaminants in drinking water.”

Regularly consuming drinking water with just 3 ppb of arsenic creates a 1 in 1,000 increased risk of bladder or lung cancer, according to a 2001 National Academy of Sciences report. “With carcinogens … there is basically no safe limit,” said Sydney Evans, a senior science analyst at the Environmental Working Group, an environmental research and advocacy group.

Last week, the EPA set a limit for a new drinking water contaminant, known as PFAS or forever chemicals — the first time the agency has set a water standard for a new contaminant since 1996.

A history of water worries

Sunland Park was founded in 1984, a decade after the passage of the Safe Drinking Water Act. Bordering Texas and Mexico, the town lies in stark desert terrain among beige mountains dotted with brush. The city is laid out as a collection of neighborhoods that dot McNutt Road like a string of pearls lying alongside the Mexico border. Cargo trains wind through the tall mountains, as does a multimillion-dollar wall along the international border, erected from private funds raised by an organization chaired by former Trump White House strategist Stephen K. Bannon.

A limestone cross that glimmers in the near-constant sun here sits atop Mount Cristo Rey, a popular mountain for pilgrims in this Catholic-dominant region. It overlooks a city where many residents say they have been concerned about the water for decades.

In the 1980s, the worry was a landfill and its accompanying incinerator that burned medical supply waste from New Mexico and El Paso. The residents said their health suffered from the water and air pollution it created.

Monge and her husband were among a group of more than a hundred residents, called the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park, who spoke out against a permit for the landfill.

The protesters sold gorditas and other homemade food to pay for trips to the state’s capitol in Santa Fe to protest the permit. They blocked traffic and called for public hearings. Newspapers around this time reported children who were born with brain defects, as well as worms and high lead levels in tap water. Finally, in 1991, the incinerator company’s permit was denied and the state required the landfill to install a new liner to protect groundwater.

Today, Sunland Park remains a working-class community where 84 percent speak Spanish at home, with more than double the national poverty and uninsured rates, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. In a place with few professional opportunities for young people, some of the loudest voices about the water quality are the same voices that spoke up more than 30 years ago: what’s left of the Concerned Citizens protesters — retirees who are no longer working full-time and know the city’s history.

“Back then the people were stronger. Nowadays, many people are older and we can’t even carry the gallons” of store-bought water, said Elvia Acevedo, 65, in her living room where cases of bottled water are stacked. “I want to fight and get justice. For those who can no longer.”

It’s not entirely clear how the problems with arsenic in the water began, but state and federal databases show violations piled up for years, even before several regional utilities were combined to form CRRUA in 2009.

At the state level, the New Mexico Environment Department is controlled by Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat elected in 2018. Matt Maez, a spokesman for the department, said the state has struggled to fix the city’s water because of budget cuts enacted under Lujan Grisham’s Republican predecessor, Susana Martinez.

Several of CRRUA’s seven board members, most of whom are elected officials, declined to comment. One, Alberto Jaramillo, who is also a city councilor, told The Washington Post he only recently learned about the area’s history of elevated arsenic. But he said he drinks the tap water and believes it is safe.

“I haven’t read what arsenic does to your body over time, but if somebody says that I got cancer because of this or that, I want to see the proof,” Jaramillo said.

Sunland Park residents woke up one morning at the end of November and turned on their sink faucets and shower heads to see a slimy, oily goo emerging from their taps. Residents reported the problem immediately but that day passed, and then the next, and CRRUA said nothing. Finally, on the fourth day, CRRUA and Doña Ana County issued a notice that the water was not safe to drink, and had not been for days.

Local officials doled out bottled water. State officials investigated, discovering that the machine in charge of releasing caustic soda, used to treat arsenic, had malfunctioned, causing an unhealthy amount of pH buildup in the water. In all, residents were without potable water for six days.

As state officials investigated, they found something else: The water had illegally high levels of arsenic. Three of the four arsenic plants “have been offline and bypassed for over a year,” the state said in a violation notice it sent to CRRUA, which did not account for the arsenic violations occurring in prior years.

CRRUA’s executive director, Brent Westmoreland, retired in December. He did not respond to requests for comment.

In January, the New Mexico Environmental Department issued a report that found 58 “significant deficiencies” in CRRUA’s water system. The state is now cracking down, levying a $251,580 fine in March. Then, a top environmental official sent a letter to the state’s attorney general and auditor urging an investigation into CRRUA for “potential violations of consumer protection laws and possible waste, fraud, and abuse of state and federal funds.”

State investigators also paid an unannounced visit to Sunland Park on March 15 and took 10 water samples, finding one was above legal arsenic limits. The state has now demanded CRRUA turn over records related to its water testing.

CRRUA is appealing the state’s administrative order. In a letter to the state, CRRUA board chair Susana Chaparro said the utility was proud of “ongoing improvements” since January. “What we were handed did not occur overnight and cannot be fixed overnight,” she said.

The water utility also recently hired its first public information officer to communicate with its customers. Its website is now regularly updated, and notices have begun to go out with Spanish translations. CRRUA recently posted a video demonstrating how its staff samples water to test for arsenic. The utility’s interim executive director Juan Carlos Crosby said in a county board meeting on April 9 that CRRUA was more than halfway through correcting the deficiencies identified by the state and is now testing for arsenic twice a month.

Eric Lopez, a consultant who recently began overseeing the arsenic plants, said CRRUA is also adding new technology to be able to monitor the water’s chemical and contaminant levels remotely.

But many residents are unconvinced that change will come without more dramatic intervention from state or federal agencies. Resident Lorenzo Villescas, 68, said officials had a playbook for what was happening in Sunland Park.

“I compare this to Flint,” he said, referring to the Michigan city where problems with lead in the water sparked national outrage 10 years ago this month. There, “the authorities denied it was bad, too.”

Residents have been pleased by the new attention from state and local officials in recent months but have wondered if it’s only come about because newer and wealthier residents in growing developments around the city have also now been affected.

“They discovered this now because the water came out bad in the new areas, where the rich people live,” said Isabel Santos, 65, a former interim mayor and city council member who was also once president of the Concerned Citizens of Sunland Park and now wants to revive the group.

Villescas has lesions on his skin and wonders if it is from drinking the arsenic-laden water. So does Maria Lucero, 66, whose family helped found this town but is now looking to move out because of the water.

Irene Rodriguez, 62, is surrounded by cancer: Her husband, her mother and three of her four siblings were diagnosed with it. They only recently started to wonder if their water was to blame. She has stopped even brushing her teeth with it.

Ofelia Garcia, 81, said many of her friends and neighbors have died of thyroid cancer. “A lot of people down here die from cancer. But we don’t know if it’s from the water for sure,” she said.

At a ranch full of high-end horses that compete at a local racetrack, horses kept dying, said a former employee who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of offending the utility. He said he quit and now only gives the horses he raises bottled drinking water.

Acevedo said she drank the tap water here for a long time, including when she was pregnant with her son Mikey. She said he was born with Down syndrome as well as thyroid problems, asthma and diabetes, while her other two children, who were born in California before she moved to Sunland Park, were born healthy.

In March, three friends of hers who were born and raised in Sunland Park died of cancer. She blames the water.

“People are dying from this,” she said. “We’re paying for something that’s poisoning us.”

With residents distrustful of the utility, it is common in Sunland Park to see water bottles piled up in garbage cans and stacked by the dozens in living rooms and kitchens. Some people drive to nearby El Paso for water while others say they boil the water before use, which experts said actually concentrates arsenic rather than removing it.

In a door-to-door survey conducted by Empowerment Congress in March, 317 out of 490 people said they were not using the tap water to drink or cook.

About 11 years ago, Monge’s husband developed prostate and thyroid cancer. Several years ago, he began to hallucinate and grew weak. She took him from doctor to doctor in hopes of finding out what was wrong. His February death was officially attributed to Parkinson’s disease. A bugler played “Taps” before the decorated Vietnam War veteran was buried on a crisp March morning in Arlington National Cemetery.

Monge, who has lived in town for over 40 years, now wonders if other conditions in her family — one of her daughters was born premature at two pounds, another one developed a tumor in her late teens, while Monge herself was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis — could be related to prolonged arsenic exposure.

Experts say arsenic can cause many of the conditions cited by residents though such diseases are also rampant in low-income communities of color even without dangerous water conditions. “There’s a lot of parts of injustice in poor, Latino communities. … But how do you just nail down one? How do you just say — look, is this the thing that’s killing you?” asked Israel Chávez, a lawyer representing residents.

After Monge spoke at the CRRUA board meeting about her late husband, Vivian Fuller, a field organizer for Empowerment Congress, cast aside her pre-written notes for public comments, and issued a new plea to the board members.

“People are dying. Our community is dying,” she said. “There’s nothing that we can do unless you all help us.”

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World’s ugliest lawn winner says she leaves watering to Mother Nature

New Zealand garden takes first prize in global competition designed to promote water conservationA sun-scorched patch of lawn near Christchurch, in New Zealand, has been crowned the ugliest lawn in the world.Now in its second year, the World’s Ugliest Lawn competition rewards lawn owners for not watering their parched yellow grass and patchy flowerbeds. Continue reading...

A sun-scorched patch of lawn near Christchurch, in New Zealand, has been crowned the ugliest lawn in the world.Now in its second year, the World’s Ugliest Lawn competition rewards lawn owners for not watering their parched yellow grass and patchy flowerbeds.The winning lawn in the settlement of Birdlings Flat belongs to Leisa Elliott, and is kept closely cropped by harsh coastal winds and little rainfall.“I live in a small coastal community,” Elliott said. “Our drinking water is pumped from a well in nearby Kaitorete Spit. In my mind, drinking water is drinking water, not watering-the-lawn water.”Leisa Elliott’s winning lawn is in Birdlings Flat in the Canterbury region of New Zealand. Photograph: Leisa ElliotThe contest began in the Swedish municipality of Gotland as a stunt to promote water conservation on the island. An irrigation ban in 2022 due to water shortages led to a competition between residents, which quickly gained global recognition.Elliott said: “I have aimed at creating a garden that primarily looks after itself, making its own natural rhythm.” Bushes of stout, verdant cacti surround the lawn, and are perfectly suited to the hot weather.“Mother Nature does the watering here,” she said. “When the rain comes, the transformation is stunning. An oasis after a desert is a sight to behold.”Wildlife is left to thrive undisturbed, often congregating by Elliott’s pond. “Many varieties of birds drink and bathe in it. Bellbirds, fantails, silver eyes, different types of finches, blackbirds, starlings. The list goes on. Bees and geckos also call this place home.”Elliott found out about the competition in February through a morning breakfast show. “We were experiencing above-normal summer temperatures and my lawn sure fitted the competition bill.”The jury, composed of Gotland residents, voted unanimously for Elliott’s lawn after an hour-long deliberation. “Her lawn may not win beauty contests, but it wins hearts for its message of sustainability and adaptability,” they said. “The ground, parched and textured by the elements, is dotted with natural, weather-carved indentations and adorned with the muted colours of a landscape that thrives without human interference.”skip past newsletter promotionThe planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essentialPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionMimmi Gibson, the brand director at tourism agency Region Gotland, who helps organise the contest, said competition for the title was fierce. “I mean, they’re all so bad,” she said. “They’re so terrible.”Gibson said she hoped the annual contest would continue to provide people with optimism and ideas for small, meaningful actions they can take during the climate crisis. In Gotland, the contest and other initiatives have reduced water consumption by 5% to 7% each year since 2022.“We all have to channel this anxiety about environmental issues and the challenges we’re facing as a global population,” Gison said. “And this is one way to do that, not by making people feel bad but making them feel good.“At first you stand and you laugh and it’s like: ‘God, what is this?” Then you start thinking. It’s not just a fun thing, it’s actually saving water. I think people like that.”

California wildfires: Water supply becomes flashpoint in Trump-Newsom fight

The blazes burning across the Los Angeles region are not only devastating property and lives, but also fueling political argument over how to fight the fires, with President-elect Trump blaming state officials for a dearth of available water supplies. A social media brawl began on Wednesday after Los Angeles Department of Water and Power (LADPW)...

The blazes burning across the Los Angeles region are not only devastating property and lives, but also fueling political argument over how to fight the fires, with President-elect Trump blaming state officials for a dearth of available water supplies. A social media brawl began on Wednesday after Los Angeles Department of Water and Power (LADPW) efforts to fill three 1-million-gallon storage tanks left some Pacific Palisades fire hydrants high and dry. Extreme water demand had surpassed the speed with which the higher-elevation tanks could be replenished, according to LADPW. Trump soon after took to Truth Social, blaming the insufficient supply on Gov. Gavin Newsom (D), whom he accused of blocking efforts to pump more water from Northern California to the Los Angeles region. But experts maintain that moving more water in this manner would be impractical from an infrastructural perspective, as well as wholly unnecessary. "Would that have made any significant difference in terms of what we're experiencing right now with these forest fires and the damage they're creating?" asked Kurt Schwabe, a professor of environmental economics and policy at University of California Riverside. "I would say no," he told The Hill, noting that reservoirs statewide are currently in good shape. "There is this level of dryness in Southern California, but you're not going to irrigate all the forests." Trump on Wednesday night called for Newsom to resign, following up on an earlier post in which he slammed the governor for failing to sign a declaration that would have "allowed millions of gallons of water, from excess rain and snow melt from the North, to flow daily into many parts of California, including the areas that are currently burning in a virtually apocalyptic way." The governor's office quickly decried the accusations as "pure fiction," writing on the social platform X that "there is no such document as the water restoration declaration" and that Newsom "is focused on protecting people, not playing politics, and making sure firefighters have all the resources they need." Trump was likely referring to water from the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta (the "Bay-Delta"), which supplies drinking water to nearly 27 million residents through the State Water Project, according to the California Department of Water Resources. But the City of Los Angeles actually gets much of its water elsewhere, with about 38 percent of drinking water in 2023 — the most recent year with data available — coming from the Los Angeles Aqueduct, according to LADPW. The Aqueduct shuttles water from the Owens River Valley in the Eastern Sierra Nevada to the city, rather than from the Northern California Bay-Delta. Another 9 percent of the city's 2023 drinking water came from local groundwater and 2 percent from recycled wastewater, while 51 percent was imported from the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California. Only 30 percent of Metropolitan's water originates in the Northern Sierra, as 20 percent comes from the Colorado River and 50 percent form a mix of other resources. On Wednesday night, Newsom announced that the state was mobilizing up to 140 water tanker trucks to help fight the Eaton and Palisades fires. The 2,500-gallon vessels were joining about 23 that were already on the ground, according to his office. In the same announcement, his team noted that "the state started tracking this weather event closely over the weekend and began prepositioning resources on Sunday." The governor, his office added, is in constant touch with local, state and federal leaders, including President Biden. Earlier in the day, Biden had approved Newsom's request for a Presidential Major Disaster Declaration, which made federal assistance available to bolster emergency response costs. Daniel Swain, a University of California Los Angeles climate scientist, addressed the issue of preparedness in a webinar the same day, noting that "there was a lot of pre-positioning of resources, which likely saved lives." "This event scared people as much as a week before it occurred in terms of the weather forecasting world," he said. "In fact, it is possibly only because of those dire prognostications that things weren't even worse." "I am pretty sure there are people who are alive right now, who would not have been alive, had those pre-positioned resources not been in place," Swain added. Nonetheless, Trump followed up with additional criticism on Thursday morning by denouncing the "gross incompetence by Gavin Newscum and Karen Bass," referring to the mayor of Los Angeles, while adding that "Biden’s FEMA has no money — all wasted on the Green New Scam!" The Federal Emergency Management Authority (FEMA) has authorized the use of federal funds to assist California in combating multiple fires in the Los Angeles area, and said it is making assistance available to people impacted by the blazes. As far as pumping more water from north to south is concerned, Schwabe, from UC Riverside, stressed that doing so "would have had virtually no impact on what we're experiencing right now." Instead, Schwabe described the ongoing crisis as "a local preparedness issue," in the sense that cities need to account for the "changing climate regime" in the future planning and placement of resources. For example, he suggested that rather than just relying on three tanks in Pacific Palisades, officials could form partnerships with adjacent communities that might be able to share tanks during times of crisis. Repositioning and diversifying supply sources, Schwabe explained, would be more strategic than increasing the amount of water flowing to the region. He likened the situation to a household fire, in which the residents have only one garden hose and ask their neighbors to borrow another one. Similar to that household, Schwabe explained, Southern California will probably need "more garden hoses and bigger garden hoses" in the future. Patrick Reed, a professor of civil and environmental engineering at Cornell University, echoed these sentiments, identifying a division between two elements of Los Angeles's water management: the "crisis response and long-term planning." The Pacific Palisades water tank situation was "reflective of the extraordinary demands" that local officials were facing in managing the immediate crisis, Reed said in an emailed statement. "Long-term planning of city water supplies would not typically assume they are going to be used to fight large-scale wildfires in heavily populated urban areas," he continued. The "surprising shocks" caused by the ongoing fires and resultant stress on water usage surpass any "peak demand scenarios that would be used for planning," according to Reed. Nonetheless, he emphasized that such a short-term disaster can bring long-term impacts, in the form of lives lost and property damages. Los Angeles, Reed explained, is coping with a situation in which known climate change risks "have manifested into the type of extraordinary extreme event that we are struggling to address in our long-term planning.” Going forward, Schwabe said that he could see the value in pausing to reevaluate crisis management plans under new climate scenarios — not just in Southern California, but in other areas across the U.S. West. "If you're not, you're assuming that these are just kind of really infrequent events, and you're basing your decisions on past data and evidence about climate," he said.  "Then you're likely going to continue to make these mistakes," Schwabe added.

In Los Angeles, Water Runs Short as Wildfires Burn Out of Control

By Jackie Luna, Kanishka Singh, Jonathan Allen and Hannah LangLOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Crews battling multiple wildfires that raged across Los...

By Jackie Luna, Kanishka Singh, Jonathan Allen and Hannah LangLOS ANGELES (Reuters) - Crews battling multiple wildfires that raged across Los Angeles on Wednesday were up against a near-perfect storm: intense wind, low humidity and, most troubling for residents, inadequate supplies of water to contain the blazes.Los Angeles authorities said their municipal water systems were working effectively but they were designed for an urban environment, not for tackling wildfires.On Wednesday, at least three major blazes burned in LA County communities simultaneously, including a fire in the affluent Pacific Palisades neighborhood, an area west of downtown LA dotted with multimillion-dollar celebrity homes built along steep canyons.Jay Lund, a professor in civil and environmental engineering at the University of California Davis, said city water tanks are typically designed to be able to put out localized fires, not widespread fires like the ones blazing in Los Angeles."It's not a matter of there's not enough water in Southern California, it's a matter of there's not enough water in that particular area of Southern California just for those few hours that you need it to fight the fires," Lund added.Across the county, more than 70,000 people were ordered to evacuate and at least five were left dead as fierce winds fueled the fires, which have burned unimpeded since Tuesday. The fires have destroyed hundreds of buildings."A firefight with multiple fire hydrants drawing water from the system for several hours is unsustainable," said Mark Pestrella, director of Los Angeles County Public Works.Janisse Quinones, CEO and chief engineer of the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, said the demand for water to fight fires at lower elevations was hampering the city's ability to refill water tanks at higher elevations.The lack of water hampered efforts particularly in Pacific Palisades, an upscale coastal enclave where a wildfire has consumed nearly 12,000 acres (4,856 hectares).The Los Angeles Department of Water and Power said that in advance of the windstorm, it had filled all available water tanks in the city, including three 1-million-gallon (3.8-million-litre) tanks in the Palisades area.The area had exhausted the three water storage tanks by early Wednesday, Quinones said in a press briefing."We're fighting a wildfire with urban water systems, and that is really challenging," she added, noting that Pacific Palisades experienced four times the normal water demand for 15 hours as firefighters battled the blaze.The department urged Angelenos to conserve water, and said it had deployed 18 water trucks of 2,000 to 4,000 gallons since Tuesday to help firefighters.Lund said the nature of the fires was such that it was nearly impossible to arrange enough water in advance."If everything catches fire at once, there's not going to be enough water for everybody," he said."There's just no way that you could fit the pipes to work to move that much water across that area in a short period of time."Gregory Pierce, director of the UCLA Water Resources Group and an adjunct professor at the Department of Urban Planning, said the fires were unusually intense even by Southern California standards. His brother's house burned down, he said.He said the problem was not a lack of water so much as the difficulties in rapidly getting large amounts of water to a specific point where it was needed, which would entail major investments in power and infrastructure.Sanah Chung, a Pacific Palisades resident who spoke to a reporter while hosing down hedges and trees in his front yard, said governments at all levels should have been more proactive in preparing for the fires."There must be some things we can do to try to mitigate this. Please. Fire hydrants are empty. Firefighters are doing everything they can, but we need to do things more proactively before," Chung, 57, told Reuters.(Reporting by Kanishka Singh in Washington, Jonathan Allen and Hannah Lang in New York and Jackie Luna in Los Angeles; Editing by Frank McGurty, Paul Thomasch and Lincoln Feast.)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.

People are flocking to Florida. Will there be enough water for them?

Climate change, a development boom, and overexploitation of groundwater are draining the Sunshine State.

While wading through wetlands in the headwaters of the Everglades, where tall, serrated grasses shelter alligators and water moccasins, agroecologist Elizabeth Boughton described one of Florida’s biggest environmental problems: There’s either too much water, or too little.  An intensifying climate, overexploitation of groundwater, and a development boom have catalyzed a looming water supply shortage — something that once seemed impossible for the rainy peninsula. “It’s becoming more of an issue that everyone’s aware of,” said Boughton, who studies ecosystems at the Archbold Biological Station, a research facility in Highlands County, Florida, that manages Buck Island Ranch. The ranch — a sprawling 10,500 acres of pasture lands and wildlife habitats across south-central Florida — both conserves water through land restoration while also draining it as a working cattle ranch. “You kind of take water for granted until you realize, ‘Oh my gosh, this is something that is in danger of being lost.’” An entrance to Buck Island Ranch, a 10,500-acre working cattle farm in Highlands County, Florida (left). Agroecologist Elizabeth Boughton gestures to a grassy field of bluestems and sedges on Buck Island Ranch on December 16, 2024. Ayurella Horn-Muller / Grist Like many places worldwide, the dwindling freshwater availability in Florida is being exacerbated by a warming atmosphere. Sea levels in the state’s coastal regions have already risen dramatically in the last few decades, pushing salt water into the groundwater and creating an impotable brackish mixture that is costly to treat. A report released last summer by the Florida Office of Demographic Research found that the state may experience a water supply shortage as soon as this year, with the problem escalating in coming decades. Florida’s groundwater supply is the primary source of drinking water for roughly 90 percent of the state’s 23 million inhabitants, and is vital for agricultural irrigation and power generation. Public use by households, municipalities, and businesses accounts for the largest depletion of groundwater in Florida, while agriculture is responsible for at least a quarter of withdrawals.  Virtually all of Florida’s groundwater comes from the state’s expansive network of aquifers, a porous layer of sediment that underlies the peninsula. When it rains, water soaks into the ground and gets trapped in gaps in the rock formation — providing an underground reserve of fresh water that humans can tap into with wells and pumps.  But most Floridians live near large population centers — like Miami and Tampa — where the freshest aquifer water is too deep to access or too salty to be readily used. With nearly 900 people moving to Florida each day, the Sunshine State is only continuing to grow, fueling a thirsty rush for new housing developments.  Clayton Aldern / Grist The future of the state’s water has long looked bleak, and a ballooning population is ramping up an already-fraught situation. As leading policymakers push pro-development agendas and parcels of agricultural land are sold to the highest bidder, districts are grappling with political demands to advance water permits — often at the cost of conservation. The Florida Office of Demographic Research report found that the conservation, infrastructure, and restoration projects necessary to tackle the incoming water deficit will cost some $3.3 billion by 2040, with the state footing over $500 million of that bill. But according to Florida TaxWatch, a government-accountability nonprofit, current water projects and sources of funding aren’t coordinated or comprehensive enough to sustain the state’s population growth.  Global warming has changed the nature of rainfall in Florida, increasing the likelihood of extreme rain events in swaths of the state, but even torrential bouts of rain won’t replenish drained aquifers. Intensified hurricanes are primed to overwhelm wastewater systems, forcing sewage dumps that contaminate the water supply, while rising sea levels and floods further damage public water infrastructure. Higher temperatures that drive prolonged droughts also contribute to groundwater scarcity: Florida has experienced at least one severe drought per decade since the onset of the 20th century.  Such climate-borne crises are already playing out across the United States, and beyond. Roughly 53 percent of the nation’s aquifers are drying up as global water systems confront warming. Compared to places where groundwater is already severely depleted, like California, Mexico, and Arizona, Florida has the luxury of one of the highest-producing aquifers in the world, and more time to prepare for a dearth of supply. Still, adaptation will be necessary nearly everywhere as the Earth’s total terrestrial water storage, including groundwater, continues to decline. Record-breaking temperatures and crippling droughts wrought havoc on the world’s water cycle last year, according to the 2024 Global Water Monitor Report.  Read Next Three-quarters of the world’s land is drying out, ‘redefining life on Earth’ Ayurella Horn-Muller Sarah Burns, the planning manager for the city of Tampa, home to half a million people on the Gulf Coast, expects water supplies will continue to face a number of climate pressures like drought and rising sea levels. But one of the biggest factors in the city’s looming water crisis is population growth — and a hard-to-shake abundance mindset.“It’s all a challenging paradigm shift,” Burns said, noting that many Floridians take pride in lush, landscaped lawns, and an influx of new homes are coming to market with water-intensive irrigation systems pre-installed. This can be seen in Tampa, where roughly 18 percent of residents use 45 percent of the city’s water. Tampa already exceeds its 82 million-gallons-per-year limit that it can directly provide without paying for more from the regional provider, at a higher cost to residents. In November 2023, the Southwest Florida Water Management District instituted a once-a-week lawn-watering restriction for households in the 16 counties it oversees, including Tampa. In August 2024, the Tampa City Council voted to adopt the measure indefinitely — a move that has already saved them billions of gallons of water.  Read Next The US is finally curbing floodplain development, new research shows Jake Bittle As newcomers flock to affordable housing within commuting distance of Tampa, once-rural areas are also feeling the squeeze. The nearby city of Zephyrhills — known for a namesake bottled water brand — has temporarily banned new developments after it grew too quickly for its water permit. “Water is the hidden problem that really forced our hand,” said Steven Spina, a member of the Zephyrhills City Council who proposed the restriction. “It is ironic that we’ve been known as the ‘City of Pure Water’ and then we’re in this predicament.” Perhaps nowhere in Florida is more at the crux of water issues than Polk County in the center of the state. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, in 2023, more people moved to the former citrus capital than anywhere else in the nation, with subdivisions “springing up right and left.” The growth the county is seeing “has created a need to find additional water supplies,” said Eric DeHaven, the executive director of Polk Regional Water Cooperative. The entity was created in 2017 after Polk County’s worries became so acute it prompted more than a dozen local governments to assemble to protect their future water supplies. Between 2002 and 2015, Polk County’s farm bureau reported 100,000 acres — about a third of the county’s total agricultural land — had been converted for development. Florida farms are a crucial part of the U.S. food system, but struggles from extreme weather, citrus diseases, and economic issues are driving farmers out of the industry. By 2040, half of an estimated 1 million additional acres of developed land could take the place of farms. This would further magnify Florida’s water supply issues — in 2020, public utilities were estimated to have overtaken farming as the biggest drain on groundwater resources.  A farmworker checks the irrigation lines in an orange grove in Polk County, Florida, in 2022. Paul Hennessy / Anadolu Agency via Getty Images “Imagine if you own this land,” said Boughton, the agroecologist. Farmers are hard-pressed to refuse offers as high as six figures per acre from developers, she noted. ”There’s so much pressure from urban development … that opportunity is hard to pass up.”  “Things are definitely changing because of climate change, but it’s also because of this,” said Merrillee Malwitz-Jipson, gesturing to new houses built across the road from her home in Columbia County, in the north of the state. As the founder of the nonprofit Our Santa Fe River, Malwitz-Jipson has spent the last two decades fighting to save the crystal-blue springs that feed it.  Collectively, the state’s springs have lost over a third of their historic flow levels, while 80 percent are severely polluted. Last year, Blue Springs, a locally beloved landmark, collapsed entirely. Because these springs are directly connected to the aquifer, says Malwitz-Jipson, such signs are omens of declining groundwater health.  Local water-conservation activist Merrillee Malwitz-Jipson points to watermarks on a tree on the banks of the Santa Fe River near her home in Florida. Sachi Kitajima Mulkey / Grist It wasn’t long ago that she devoted years to try and prevent the renewal of a controversial 1 million-gallons-per-day groundwater permit for bottled water for BlueTriton — formerly a subsidiary of Nestlé — in nearby Ginnie Springs. When the effort failed, she switched gears and now advocates for adding conservation conditions to water-use permits. A 2019 report from the Florida Springs Institute found that restoring springs to 95 percent of their former flow levels would require curbing regional groundwater extractions by half. Matt Cohen, a hydrologist who leads the University of Florida’s Water Institute, says the “devil is in the details” when it comes to permitting. “It’s very much where the implementation of those kinds of sustainability measures would be realized,” Cohen said, adding that state water management district authorities often convince applicants to use “substantially less” water. Other measures include offering alternatives to groundwater, like using reclaimed wastewater and surface water supplies. Coordinating such conservation efforts across Florida’s five water management districts and 67 counties will take a concerted statewide approach. In November, the state unveiled its 2024 Florida Water Plan — which includes expanding conservation of agricultural lands, and investing millions into infrastructure and restoration projects, such as Buck Island Ranch — among other measures.   Still, in the face of the population boom, advocates like Malwitz-Jipson wonder if it will be enough. “I don’t know why the state of Florida keeps issuing all these permits,” she said. “We are not ready, y’all. We do not have enough water for this.”  This story was originally published by Grist with the headline People are flocking to Florida. Will there be enough water for them? on Jan 8, 2025.

Curbing irrigation of livestock feed crops may be vital to saving Great Salt Lake: Study

Reducing the amount of water used to irrigate livestock feed crops may be critical to revitalizing the dried-out Great Salt Lake, a new study has found. About 62 percent of the river water heading toward the lake in Utah ends up rerouted for human purposes, with agricultural needs responsible for almost three-quarters of those diversions,...

Reducing the amount of water used to irrigate livestock feed crops may be critical to revitalizing the dried-out Great Salt Lake, a new study has found. About 62 percent of the river water heading toward the lake in Utah ends up rerouted for human purposes, with agricultural needs responsible for almost three-quarters of those diversions, according to the study, published on Tuesday in Environmental Challenges. The Great Salt Lake, which relies on mountain snowpack for much of its replenishment, is the biggest saline lake in the Western Hemisphere and the eighth largest on the planet, the study authors noted. The lake is also a biodiversity hotspot that houses critical habitats and sustains migratory birds, while also supporting area jobs and $2.5 billion in economic activity. At the same time, however, the basin has lost more than 15 billion cubic yards of water over the past 30 years and is now getting shallower at a rate of 4 inches per year, the researchers explained. And as the lake has gotten smaller, area residents have increasingly endured respiratory problems from the fine particulate matter kicked up in the form of wind-carried dust. “The lake is of tremendous ecological, economic, cultural and spiritual significance in the region and beyond,” co-author William Ripple, a professor of ecology at Oregon State University, said in a statement. “All of those values are in severe jeopardy because of the lake’s dramatic depletion over the last few decades." About 80 percent of the diverted agricultural water ends up irrigating alfalfa and hay crops, according to Ripple. With the goal of helping stabilize the lake and bolstering its restoration, Ripple and his colleagues proposed decreasing human water consumption in the area's watershed by 35 percent. These conservation efforts would include a sizable reduction in irrigated alfalfa cultivation, fallowing of irrigated hay fields and taxpayer-funded incentives for farmers and ranchers who lose income as a result. To draw their conclusions, the researchers employed data from the Utah Division of Water Resources to create a comprehensive water budget for the Great Salt Lake basin for 1989 through 2022. They found that on average, water flowing into the lake trailed behind consumption and evaporation by 500 million cubic yards per year. Going forward, the authors suggested a range of conservation measures, including crop shifting, decreasing municipal and industrial use, and leasing water rights from irrigators. But they emphasized that farmers and ranchers who lose income should be compensated at a cost ranging from $29 to $124 per Utah resident per year. “Revenues from growing both irrigated alfalfa and grass hay cattle feed in the Great Salt Lake basin account for less than 0.1% of Utah’s gross domestic product,” Ripple said. “But our potential solutions would mean lifestyle changes for as many as 20,000 farmers and ranchers in the basin.” Yet although the necessary adjustments would be significant, Ripple stressed that they would not be insurmountable. “With the right policies and public support, we can secure a sustainable future for the Great Salt Lake and set a precedent for addressing water scarcity globally," he added.

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