JFRCalifornia
Keeper of San Juan Secrets
In recent months, I have no idea how many stories I’ve read online, or in newspapers, or in blogs written by pundits pushing one agenda or another, or on TV about the demise of Lake Powell. And nearly all of them begin with a variation of these two related themes:
The Perception of Increased Demand From the Lower Basin States. First, let’s get this one out of the way. It’s very true that for much of the late 20th century, the lower basin states collectively drew more from the river system than they ever had before. This was especially the case starting in the late 1980s, when the Central Arizona Project finally came online, now free of legal entanglements with California. From a low of 5.4 maf consumed by the lower basin states in 1984, the number rose through the 1990s, eventually peaking at nearly 8.7 maf in 2002. That year, both California and Arizona exceeded their nominal allowances under the 1922 Compact, which was not a big deal when the system was full, but became an issue of concern when drought gripped the region starting in 2000.
By 2003, it was clear that consumption habits would need to change. And thanks to a few turns of the regulatory screws, change they did, almost overnight. California’s consumption of Colorado River water dropped 20% in 2003. By 2005, the lower basin’s total use was down to just under 7.1 maf, within the upper limit of 7.5 maf set forth in the 1922 Compact. With the exception of 2014, the lower basin has not exceeded their Compact allocation since. In fact, the trend has pointed steadily downward, and in very recent years, the graph almost looks like a freefall. In 2025, lower basin demand had collectively dropped to just over 5.7 maf, less than any year since 1983. That includes all municipal and agricultural use, even considering fast-growing cities, gaudy Las Vegas fountains in front of luxury hotels, Phoenix-area golf courses, and conspicuous irrigation in the Imperial Valley.
I’ll say it again: lower basin water demand from the Colorado River in 2025 was less than any time in the past four decades.
So that’s clearly not the problem.
What About the Upper Basin? Now here’s a place where you might gently wag your finger, shake your head with a tsk-tsk, or do what you do whenever you want to cast blame somebody else. But it’s not really the upper basin’s fault either. Maybe a little. This much is undeniably true: water consumption in the Upper Basin states from the Colorado River basin has been trending upward. Not quickly, and not in every year, but the jagged line is heading upward as the years go on. And that observable trend goes all the way back to the early 1970s. At that time, the upper basin states consumed somewhere just over 3 maf. There have been a lot of ups and downs along the way, but as of 2025, it’s more like 4.5 maf. Yes, those states will argue they have never been anywhere close to the maximum 7.5 maf promised by the Compact (that is, if any is left over after they had delivered the lower basin its legally entitled 7.5 maf), and that’s true. But they’ve never had the need. But in recent years, population growth in those states, but especially in Utah and Colorado, along with particularly poor water conservation practices in Utah, have seen consumption rates closely track with the steady growth into the 21st century. And now, with the game of water musical chairs facing all the states, they have had every incentive to increase consumption, in order to stake their claim on a dwindling Colorado River water supply in anticipation of some sort of federal adjudication when the proverbial well runs dry.
And yet, the upper basin is still only using 4.5 maf each year. And the lower basin is still at 5.7 maf. Overall, when you add the numbers together, collective water use between the two basins in 2025 was only 10.2 maf. In 2001, collective use peaked at 12.6 maf, more than 20% higher than today. Despite all the 21st century growth everywhere in the West, despite the common narrative to the contrary, the clear verdict is this: water consumption from the Colorado River is down. Not up. This chart summarizes the trends since 1971:
With water use lower than its been since the mid-1980s, the reason for chronic water shortages in the basin today becomes obvious: there has been less snowpack in recent years. A lot less. On top of that, higher temperatures have caused more of that snowpack to melt early and more evaporation. This begs the intriguing question: if that lesser snowpack would have been managed differently, would we be facing the crisis that we are in the middle of right now?
The Colorado River Compact. And this is where the smoking gun reveals itself. The 1922 Compact was intended to solve the problems of water allocation among the states who shared that resource. And as long as the supply remained reasonably high, any short-term downturns could be dealt with without exposing the fundamental structural problem of the agreement. It’s more than just the fact that the agreement assumed there would be an average of 15 maf (and 16.5 maf when the 1944 treaty with Mexico took effect) available each year. It’s that the upper basin states are obligated to deliver 75 maf in any given 10-year period (an average of 7.5 maf per year), not including its share of water to Mexico, regardless of whether the lower basin (and Mexico) use their full allocation.
Think about that for a second. As it stands now, in an average year, this means the upper basin is compelled to deliver 7.5 maf through Glen Canyon Dam, even if the lower basin is only using 5.7 maf (as it did in 2025). Does that make sense during a water crisis? Any excess volume delivered downstream to Lake Mead is subject to the higher evaporation rates of that reservoir compared to Lake Powell. Not only that, sending additional water incentivizes the lower basin to use more water than they already do. If they’re going to send us the extra water, why shouldn’t we use it? It’s a reasonable question. When flows are high—sure, let the river run, by all means. But when flows are low, wouldn’t it be smarter to peg deliveries through Glen Canyon Dam to the volume of water actually needed downstream, what’s actually being used? Clearly, the lower basin states have shown they can get by with less water from the Colorado River, since they are already doing it. In the event that more water might needed downstream for whatever reason—unanticipated short-term need to serve municipal and agricultural users, power generation, to augment habitat restoration in Grand Canyon or the Colorado delta, or just to stabilize the whitewater rafting season in Grand Canyon—it would be simple enough just to release more. But if it’s released without tying it to a clear purpose or need, other than just to meet an artificial numerical obligation in the 1922 Compact, that’s bad planning and a recipe for chronic crisis.
And so here we are.
What is the upper basin’s current release obligation under the Compact? Counting its share to Mexico, it’s 82.3 maf in any given 10-year period. In the 104-year history of the Compact, it has never failed to make that delivery. But by the end of 2026, for the first time, it just might. With the exception of a few of anomalous years, the last decade has seen historically low natural river flow in the Colorado, leading to the shrinking reserves of Lake Powell and Lake Mead. In an effort maintain storage in Lake Powell to be able to generate power through Glen Canyon Dam, BOR reduced deliveries through the dam to well below the Compact’s yearly average (8.23 maf) in four of the last five years, and are set to do it again by the end of Water Year 2026, which occurs on September 30. What this means is that it has been breaking into the bank, and if it withdraws too much, it will soon be compelled to release a lot of water through the dam in the coming years just to satisfy the delivery requirement of the Compact. But what if the water isn’t there to deliver? Or if it is, causes the dam to drop below minimum power pool? These are the unpleasant scenarios that BOR is facing right now.
In the 10-year period from 2016-25, the BOR delivered 83 maf, just enough to satisfy the terms of the Compact. For 2026, they are set to deliver only 6 maf. That means the 10-year total of 2017-26 would only be 80 maf. That is below the minimum 10-year requirement. For the first time, the upper basin states will have failed to make a full delivery. Now it’s possible there will be a short-term agreement, or some sort of fix-it MOU document to allow for a temporary violation of the Compact out of necessity in order to maintain power production (as limited as it might be when water storage is so low), but the fact is that it’s the Compact that’s painted all seven states and the federal government into this corner.
As many have argued, and I agree, it’s clearly time to restructure the existing Compact, or throw it out completely if we have to. Any new deal should have a flexible structure to account for times of shortages or plenty, in the event that snowpack returns to something like it was in the 20th century. Base a new agreement in part on historical water use, but focus on what the states really need to get by. Not what they want, what they need. It’s like the scene in It’s a Wonderful Life, when a panic caused a run on the bank, and everyone clamored for their money at the teller windows, but Jimmy Stewart ends up begging all the bank’s customers to take only what they need, or surely the bank will fold and they will all face the wrath of Mr. Potter. And after a little thought, nobody wanted that. The bank was saved.
When facing a collective challenge with dire consequences, like the water crisis we face today, every state, city, irrigation district, homeowner, rancher, and any other interested individual needs to display a little empathy to their neighbors, like the wiser citizens of Bedford Falls did with Jimmy Stewart. The seven states, along with affected tribes and other key stakeholders, need to think collectively, come up with a fair solution, give where they must. There is no agreement without pain. But it would be preferable to a new pact imposed by the federal government, who neither fully understands the needs nor shares the same interests as the states involved.
- 40 million people depend on the Colorado River; and
- Increased demand from growth in the West has depleted water supplies to unsustainable levels.
The Perception of Increased Demand From the Lower Basin States. First, let’s get this one out of the way. It’s very true that for much of the late 20th century, the lower basin states collectively drew more from the river system than they ever had before. This was especially the case starting in the late 1980s, when the Central Arizona Project finally came online, now free of legal entanglements with California. From a low of 5.4 maf consumed by the lower basin states in 1984, the number rose through the 1990s, eventually peaking at nearly 8.7 maf in 2002. That year, both California and Arizona exceeded their nominal allowances under the 1922 Compact, which was not a big deal when the system was full, but became an issue of concern when drought gripped the region starting in 2000.
By 2003, it was clear that consumption habits would need to change. And thanks to a few turns of the regulatory screws, change they did, almost overnight. California’s consumption of Colorado River water dropped 20% in 2003. By 2005, the lower basin’s total use was down to just under 7.1 maf, within the upper limit of 7.5 maf set forth in the 1922 Compact. With the exception of 2014, the lower basin has not exceeded their Compact allocation since. In fact, the trend has pointed steadily downward, and in very recent years, the graph almost looks like a freefall. In 2025, lower basin demand had collectively dropped to just over 5.7 maf, less than any year since 1983. That includes all municipal and agricultural use, even considering fast-growing cities, gaudy Las Vegas fountains in front of luxury hotels, Phoenix-area golf courses, and conspicuous irrigation in the Imperial Valley.
I’ll say it again: lower basin water demand from the Colorado River in 2025 was less than any time in the past four decades.
So that’s clearly not the problem.
What About the Upper Basin? Now here’s a place where you might gently wag your finger, shake your head with a tsk-tsk, or do what you do whenever you want to cast blame somebody else. But it’s not really the upper basin’s fault either. Maybe a little. This much is undeniably true: water consumption in the Upper Basin states from the Colorado River basin has been trending upward. Not quickly, and not in every year, but the jagged line is heading upward as the years go on. And that observable trend goes all the way back to the early 1970s. At that time, the upper basin states consumed somewhere just over 3 maf. There have been a lot of ups and downs along the way, but as of 2025, it’s more like 4.5 maf. Yes, those states will argue they have never been anywhere close to the maximum 7.5 maf promised by the Compact (that is, if any is left over after they had delivered the lower basin its legally entitled 7.5 maf), and that’s true. But they’ve never had the need. But in recent years, population growth in those states, but especially in Utah and Colorado, along with particularly poor water conservation practices in Utah, have seen consumption rates closely track with the steady growth into the 21st century. And now, with the game of water musical chairs facing all the states, they have had every incentive to increase consumption, in order to stake their claim on a dwindling Colorado River water supply in anticipation of some sort of federal adjudication when the proverbial well runs dry.
And yet, the upper basin is still only using 4.5 maf each year. And the lower basin is still at 5.7 maf. Overall, when you add the numbers together, collective water use between the two basins in 2025 was only 10.2 maf. In 2001, collective use peaked at 12.6 maf, more than 20% higher than today. Despite all the 21st century growth everywhere in the West, despite the common narrative to the contrary, the clear verdict is this: water consumption from the Colorado River is down. Not up. This chart summarizes the trends since 1971:
With water use lower than its been since the mid-1980s, the reason for chronic water shortages in the basin today becomes obvious: there has been less snowpack in recent years. A lot less. On top of that, higher temperatures have caused more of that snowpack to melt early and more evaporation. This begs the intriguing question: if that lesser snowpack would have been managed differently, would we be facing the crisis that we are in the middle of right now?
The Colorado River Compact. And this is where the smoking gun reveals itself. The 1922 Compact was intended to solve the problems of water allocation among the states who shared that resource. And as long as the supply remained reasonably high, any short-term downturns could be dealt with without exposing the fundamental structural problem of the agreement. It’s more than just the fact that the agreement assumed there would be an average of 15 maf (and 16.5 maf when the 1944 treaty with Mexico took effect) available each year. It’s that the upper basin states are obligated to deliver 75 maf in any given 10-year period (an average of 7.5 maf per year), not including its share of water to Mexico, regardless of whether the lower basin (and Mexico) use their full allocation.
Think about that for a second. As it stands now, in an average year, this means the upper basin is compelled to deliver 7.5 maf through Glen Canyon Dam, even if the lower basin is only using 5.7 maf (as it did in 2025). Does that make sense during a water crisis? Any excess volume delivered downstream to Lake Mead is subject to the higher evaporation rates of that reservoir compared to Lake Powell. Not only that, sending additional water incentivizes the lower basin to use more water than they already do. If they’re going to send us the extra water, why shouldn’t we use it? It’s a reasonable question. When flows are high—sure, let the river run, by all means. But when flows are low, wouldn’t it be smarter to peg deliveries through Glen Canyon Dam to the volume of water actually needed downstream, what’s actually being used? Clearly, the lower basin states have shown they can get by with less water from the Colorado River, since they are already doing it. In the event that more water might needed downstream for whatever reason—unanticipated short-term need to serve municipal and agricultural users, power generation, to augment habitat restoration in Grand Canyon or the Colorado delta, or just to stabilize the whitewater rafting season in Grand Canyon—it would be simple enough just to release more. But if it’s released without tying it to a clear purpose or need, other than just to meet an artificial numerical obligation in the 1922 Compact, that’s bad planning and a recipe for chronic crisis.
And so here we are.
What is the upper basin’s current release obligation under the Compact? Counting its share to Mexico, it’s 82.3 maf in any given 10-year period. In the 104-year history of the Compact, it has never failed to make that delivery. But by the end of 2026, for the first time, it just might. With the exception of a few of anomalous years, the last decade has seen historically low natural river flow in the Colorado, leading to the shrinking reserves of Lake Powell and Lake Mead. In an effort maintain storage in Lake Powell to be able to generate power through Glen Canyon Dam, BOR reduced deliveries through the dam to well below the Compact’s yearly average (8.23 maf) in four of the last five years, and are set to do it again by the end of Water Year 2026, which occurs on September 30. What this means is that it has been breaking into the bank, and if it withdraws too much, it will soon be compelled to release a lot of water through the dam in the coming years just to satisfy the delivery requirement of the Compact. But what if the water isn’t there to deliver? Or if it is, causes the dam to drop below minimum power pool? These are the unpleasant scenarios that BOR is facing right now.
In the 10-year period from 2016-25, the BOR delivered 83 maf, just enough to satisfy the terms of the Compact. For 2026, they are set to deliver only 6 maf. That means the 10-year total of 2017-26 would only be 80 maf. That is below the minimum 10-year requirement. For the first time, the upper basin states will have failed to make a full delivery. Now it’s possible there will be a short-term agreement, or some sort of fix-it MOU document to allow for a temporary violation of the Compact out of necessity in order to maintain power production (as limited as it might be when water storage is so low), but the fact is that it’s the Compact that’s painted all seven states and the federal government into this corner.
As many have argued, and I agree, it’s clearly time to restructure the existing Compact, or throw it out completely if we have to. Any new deal should have a flexible structure to account for times of shortages or plenty, in the event that snowpack returns to something like it was in the 20th century. Base a new agreement in part on historical water use, but focus on what the states really need to get by. Not what they want, what they need. It’s like the scene in It’s a Wonderful Life, when a panic caused a run on the bank, and everyone clamored for their money at the teller windows, but Jimmy Stewart ends up begging all the bank’s customers to take only what they need, or surely the bank will fold and they will all face the wrath of Mr. Potter. And after a little thought, nobody wanted that. The bank was saved.
When facing a collective challenge with dire consequences, like the water crisis we face today, every state, city, irrigation district, homeowner, rancher, and any other interested individual needs to display a little empathy to their neighbors, like the wiser citizens of Bedford Falls did with Jimmy Stewart. The seven states, along with affected tribes and other key stakeholders, need to think collectively, come up with a fair solution, give where they must. There is no agreement without pain. But it would be preferable to a new pact imposed by the federal government, who neither fully understands the needs nor shares the same interests as the states involved.
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