March 5, 2025
Change is the only constant on the Colorado River. Its water carved the Grand Canyon, its flows fluctuate seasonally, its path is altered by a network of dams and pipelines, and its water is dwindling as climate change dries out the West.
Navigating any change can bring a sense of uncertainty and unease. It requires us to shift our way of thinking – and on the Colorado River, we’re racing against the clock. Fortunately, there is a lot we can learn from the river.
We experienced the changing river firsthand during a weeklong rafting trip down Cataract Canyon with The Returning Rapids Project, a group that has spent years documenting the Colorado River. We met our guides at a boat ramp in southern Utah and piled into seven 18-foot rafts alongside decision makers, scientists, reporters and policy experts – all with an interest in the river’s future.
Cataract Canyon is upstream from Lake Powell, one of the largest reservoirs in the nation. Before dams, the Colorado River rushed through Cataract Canyon, scouring away sediment and creating a series of thrilling rapids. Lake Powell changed that. As the reservoir filled, it backed water up into the canyon, drowning rapids and trapping sediment. Today, reservoir levels are dropping as the West grapples with climate change and unsustainable water demands. The river is changing once more.
As we floated downstream, our guides pointed to towers of sediment that they’ve deemed the “Dominy Formation,” after Floyd Dominy, the former U.S. Bureau of Reclamation commissioner who oversaw the construction of Lake Powell in the 1950s and 60s. In John McPhee’s Encounters with the Archdruid, Dominy boasted, “My dam put this river in business.” Today, low water levels in Lake Powell mean that the river is picking up speed in Cataract Canyon and carving its way through the sediment. We watched from our rafts as the Dominy Formation crumbled before us.
Our guides navigated rapids that had been submerged for decades. There is nothing like dropping into a Class IV wave to remind you that the Colorado River is a wild and dynamic river, not simply a water source we must put “in business.”
On calmer water, our group tied our rafts together and shared our hopes for the river’s future. We all brought unique perspectives, and while we didn’t always agree, we were able to have thoughtful conversations grounded in our shared reliance on a healthy river.
The Colorado River has long been a source of pride and contention in the West. Little attention was paid to the river’s health when its water was divvied up a century ago. Today there is simply not enough water to meet demands. State leaders and water users keep a watchful eye on their neighbors and fiercely defend their supplies. Tribes have been connected to the river since time immemorial, yet they have been excluded from key negotiations and denied equitable access to water.
We’re now at a pivotal moment in the river’s history. The federal government is working with the states, sovereign Tribal nations, and stakeholders in the Colorado River Basin to devise a new plan by the end of this year for how to manage the river.
After our trip, we attended the biggest meeting on the Colorado River. The Colorado River Water Users Association conference takes place in cavernous hotel ballrooms on the Las Vegas strip. The roar of the Bellagio fountains, pinging of slot machines and glow of neon lights felt far removed from the river that hundreds of people were gathered to discuss. But even here the river was all around us, its water flowing through the taps in Las Vegas and cities throughout the West.
We listened as panels of state negotiators debated the river’s future. Rather than working together to protect the health of the river, the states argued over who should shoulder water shortages. It appeared they were gearing up for conflict, rather than compromise, to defend their claim to a dwindling water supply. Today, with just 10 months left to devise a plan, the river continues to face an uncertain future.
Time is running out. The seasonal forecasts suggest we might be in for another dry year and the states have yet to agree on how to share water shortages. As the deadline nears and tensions rise, the risk of litigation between the states threatens to tear the river apart. But like our trip down Cataract Canyon, our rafts are tied together as we navigate the changes on the river. No one group can secure its future at the expense of another.
Little attention was paid to the needs of the environment or Tribes when the river’s water was carved up. But like the river, our values are changing. We cannot solve today’s problems by debating how much more water we can take. We must work together to protect the river’s health so that future generations can find solace along its banks, marvel at its wildlife and experience its rapids. The only way we can do that is if we all paddle together. The river is changing. We must change with it.
