Mike and Marilyn Willett have run a cattle ranch at the south end of the San Luis Valley since 1971.  Their herd is usually about 450 head, but the persistent drought has made them slim that number down to 350.

Although they are dependent on surface flows to flood irrigate their hay fields and have seen springs dry up as the aquifer drops, Mike is not quick to blame farms that pump groundwater.  He has served for more than 25 years on water boards across the valley and has lived through the history that shapes the current issues.

“It’s just hard to quantify how much harm the wells have done and how much harm the drought has,” he said. He points out that the aquifer did not start to drop significantly until the drought started in 2002.

But he is not jealous of his neighbors and their wells.  One is running a tilapia fish farm with the warm water of an artesian well.  With the formation of sub-districts, such well owners will be charged for that pumping.

“They have been on a free ride,” Mike said.

Mike points out that drought and new regulations are nothing new for the valley.  Down the road from his home is a small acequia community; the acequia is a communally owned and operated ditch.

Mike explained that members of the community thought they had it good because they were the only ones who drew from a reliable spring.  They were late to register their water right and when the Rio Grande Compact was set in 1938, it was determined their spring was needed for part of the water deliveries to New Mexico.  Suddenly, what was considered a secure water right was not. 

Now the community is nearly gone.  Hay fields have replaced the labor-intensive fields of vegetables that once supported families and required reliable water.

Such is life in a valley where enough rain to keep the dust down on the road is noteworthy.  And rainbows — like the one pictured above that we saw while driving around the Willetts' ranch — form in rainstorms that never touch the ground. 

Tonight, I am camping on the Willetts' ranch near the confluence of the Conejos River and the Rio Grande.  I can hear horses crashing through the cottonwoods near the gravel bar I am sleeping on.

Tomorrow, I’ll paddle through a combination of private and public land where Mike estimates some 300 such horses live.  The herds, made up of abandoned animals, are a constant problem as they destroy grazing lands and outcompete native animals.

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