Environmental groups have taken the city to task for its water-wasting ways. In the most egregious cases, they’re winning. But the city isn’t going down without a fight. The city’s longtime water czar, known for her “whatever it takes” strategy in gobbling up new water rights statewide rather than focusing on efficiency at home, has recently retired. Now the city has rubber-stamped her handpicked successor. Here’s one alarming plan still under consideration, via the Las Vegas Review-Journal:
The biggest and most controversial project on the table is the authority’s decades-old plan to siphon groundwater from four rural valleys in eastern Nevada and send it to Las Vegas through a pipeline network expected to cost as much as $15 billion.
The idea has drawn loud opposition—and ongoing legal challenges—from critics who complain that it will cost too much, ravage the environment and fail to deliver as much water as authority officials promise.
Entsminger has done a great deal of work on behalf of what the agency calls its “in-state project,” and he said Tuesday that he has no plans to kill it, though he views it as “absolutely a Plan B.” If the water keeps dropping in Lake Mead, source for about 90 percent of the valley’s supply, the authority will have little choice but to pursue a backup source separate from the Colorado River, he said.
Getting a city built on excess to live within the limits dictated by climate and common sense is predictably no easy task. With water rates far lower than Santa Fe, N.M., or Tucson and a strong libertarian streak, you end up with crazy things like a LEED-certified casino that is also the largest building in the United States. Sustainability here is a desert mirage.
As High Country News’ Jonathan Thompson explains, in Las Vegas, the mantra seems to be: “Only by consuming more … can we consume less.” He continues:
The result is what I call the Vegas paradox. A 2010 survey found that new homes used an average of 115,000 gallons annually, while pre-2003 homes used 185,000 gallons. … That means that, under current regulations, developers will have to keep building and building in order for the Water Authority to succeed in reducing per capita water-use to 199 gallons by 2035. The more the place grows, in other words, the more sustainable it appears.
For perspective, that goal of 199 gallons per person per day by 2035 is twice California’s current statewide average water consumption. One of the best in the West, San Francisco, uses less than a quarter of the water per person as Vegas—just 49 gallons per person per day.
In this case, what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas. The city’s wastewater is pumped back into the Colorado River via the historically dry Las Vegas Wash streambed, now a lush oasis thanks to all that residential effluent. The less water Las Vegas puts back into the river, the less there is for the more populous states downstream—Arizona and California.
This year’s drought could be the catalyst for a new legal framework among the states that share that river’s water supply. Rogue irrigation districts have been testing legal limits, attempting to coax a bit more agricultural production out of the dwindling Colorado. If the drought lingers past current predictions, causing Lake Mead to fall further into uncharted territory, the cutbacks won’t be felt equally.
The New York Times has an explainer:
The labyrinthine rules by which the seven Colorado states share the river’s water are rife with potential points of conflict. And while some states have made huge strides in conserving water—and even reducing the amount they consume—they have yet to chart a united path through shortages that could last years or even decades.
Life in the desert is a gamble. But there’s only so much more time remaining before Mother Nature forces Vegas’ hand. Even money can’t buy water when there’s not enough to go around.
While exiting the city on Blue Diamond Road, we ran a gantlet of brand-new subdivisions, many with signs touting gargantuan square footage and four-car garages. This part of the drive was a little like opening up the front door one morning and having a real-live fire-breathing dragon calmly staring back at you. It simply should not be.
In my next part of the Thirsty West series, we arrive in Death Valley—one of the few parts of California that’s technically not in an extreme drought right now.
Las Vegas, Nev.
Sequoia National Forest
This article is part of Future Tense, a collaboration among Arizona State University, the New America Foundation, and Slate. Future Tense explores the ways emerging technologies affect society, policy, and culture. To read more, visit the Future Tense blog and the Future Tense home page. You can also follow us on Twitter.