The Rio Grande emerges, as free as a river can be, from a snowfield at Stony Pass in the San Juan Mountains of Southern Colorado. For the first 20 miles of its course, the flows are dictated by snowpack, rain and temperature.
Then the river meets its first dam and becomes an irrigation system regulated by treaties, state compacts and local operating agreements. Dams and levees control every drop of water the river holds for the next 1,800 miles. The water is all over-allocated and lawsuits about its use reach as high as the U.S. Supreme Court.
No other major river in the United States is predicted to change more as climate patterns shift. Droughts will be longer, the floods larger. The snowpack will shrink and melt sooner. The monsoon rains will be bigger.
On June 21, photographer Erich Schlegel and I began following the Rio Grande by foot, kayak and canoe to document how changes to the river impact the people and places that depend on it. If all goes to plan, we should reach the Gulf of Mexico in January.
On Aug. 29, we reached Elephant Butte Dam in Southern New Mexico. The river is stopped there in an attempt to fill the reservoir, which was 7% full when we arrived. The only water flowing through was from a pipe collecting condensation from inside the concrete dam itself.
We are now in El Paso. There is no river here, just a cement lined ditch with Border Patrol agents and a fence on one side and a bike path and highway on the other. It’s actually the headwaters for the second Rio Grande. This is the one that maintains farming in The Valley and kitchen taps flowing in Brownsville and Matamoras.
The ditch and clear signal that the water of the Rio Grande has no place being in the channel of the Rio Grande is not out of place. For most of its length the river functions more like a drainage ditch than an actual river channel.
Few know the river as a whole anyway.
It’s too long and has too little water for boaters. I have already walked 120 miles and expect to walk another 300 before there is enough water to float a canoe again. There is no government body, conservation group or industry that covers the full river.
Yet, on every reach of the Rio Grande we meet people who love the river and are working on shaping its future. They are building wetlands, removing old dams and questioning why the river is controlled by water policy dating to the 19th century.
The Rio Grande itself is changing. It is more than four million years old. It has carved through mountain ranges. In less than 150 years it will fill the reservoirs with sediment. Levees will suffer a similar fate.
Everything along it is temporary.
We have started a campaign on Kickstarter to help offset our expenses for food, campground fees and gear. Our ultimate goal is to raise $25,000 and this will help us get there.
*Featured/top image: LAS CRUCES, NM – Erich Schlegel, photojournalist, left, and writer Colin McDonald in the dry Rio Grande River in Las Cruces, New Mexico. SEPTEMBER 8, 2014: CREDIT: Erich Schlegel/Disappearing Rio Grande Expedition.
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This has been an amazing journey to follow. Bravo Erich Schlegel
A sad commentary on the not so Rio Grande.
Much credit to Colin McDonald. This is his baby and I’m proud and honored to be part of this endeavor!
Here are some neat stories related to the Rio Grande that will always run through those of us that grew up with the Ol’ Rio. I grew up in El Paso; born in Ysleta and raised in the Lower Valley along the river. When I was a very you child (1980-1984, let’s say), it used to be that you could drive along the Border Freeway and drive down to the dirt banks and actually fish! I didn’t grow up with my father around but the few memories I do have of him as a young child are a couple fishing trips with him on the bank of the river. I remember watching the river flow and thinking how fast is was moving, that I didn’t quite understand how any fish would ever have a chance to catch the bait.
Anyone that was anyone in the Lower Valley, grew up swimming, not at community pools, but rather in the irrigation ditches filled with water from the river. Ha! I can still remember the tiny, thin squiggly red worms swimming with us and thinking… maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Ah, but nothing like irrigation day! Waking up to a yard five inches under water and kids from the neighborhood gathering at the main control to slide down the huge concrete ‘slides’ and swim all day.
At seven I began to earn my own money; after the river water would wash through the valley, I would gather the shells left in the mud and paint and decorate them to sell.
Some my first thoughts of growing up and being independent was building a small wooden house along the open banks of the river; seemed like a good spot to stake for a young girl looking to get out on her own.
This is how I prefer to remember the Rio Grande before all the concrete and chain-linked fences took over.
Enjoy your journey. May it always run through you as well!
What an incredible project! And what beautiful photography, too. This reminds me a little of Pacific Northwest photojournalist Joel Roger’s adventures kayaking the West Coast of North America, from Canada to Mexico — which became his book, “The Hidden Coast.” (But this has much more emphasis on environmental issues, obvs.) Fascinating stuff.