Raven's Roads
Living an interesting life: the travels and musings
of motorcycling author Linda R. Moore

Jan 19, 2007

Who stole our water?

Filed in Days Out

Barb, Don and I set out to nearby Uvas Reservoir to look at something quite unusual. There has been so little precipitation this winter that the water level is at its lowest for fifty years, and in fact if we don’t get any significant rain soon it will be completely dry by mid-February. The problem has been exacerbated by the dumping out of water to preserve the creeks and their endangered trout populations.

The weather’s been busy being cold, instead. We’ve had below-freezing temperatures several nights recently–very unusual for us. Even today, after a while the cold was biting through my gloves. The snow level is down at 1000′ or so, and there was actually frost/light ice on (lovely swoopy) Uvas Road as we rode.

We stopped in the recreational parking lot. Normally this place is full of boats, but that can’t happen right now. The launch gates are closed. There’s a sign saying that you have to hand-launch because the water level is low. Another sign, stranded far from anything resembling water, warns you that you can’t swim or dive. No kidding!

Here are some mind-boggling facts and figures:

The reservoir has a capacity of 9,835 acre-feet at spillway. Right now it is storing 897 acre-feet. It has lost 848 acre-feet in the last month, and is currently at 22 percent capacity.

The last time here it was a lovely, rich, blue body of water. Now it’s a wasteland of cracked mud and junk–deadwood, a stack of old tires. At the end of the launch ramp are the remains of an old asphalt road, cracked and chipped away with a few faded lines still showing; the pebbly-looking strata of the lake bed are clearly visible as bands of ocher, black and brown. The level is so low that the pure white egrets can walk on the lake bed, and the ground is littered with thousands of little shells.

When I walked down to the water’s edge a gaggle of geese, huddled along the shore, objected strongly to my presence and honked loudly until I moved away. The sound echoed through the valley. It was if they were shouting, “Who stole our water?”