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EDITORIAL: Water, Water, Everywhere |
Bill Hudson | 6/30/08
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In the epic Samuel Coleridge poem, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, a man on his way to a wedding ceremony is stopped by an old sailor, and slowly the wedding guest’s amusement turns to fascination as the tale progresses. At one point in the Mariner’s story of a sailing ship driven off course by a storm, an Albatross appears to the ship’s crew and seemingly leads the ship to safety — but the Mariner inexplicably shoots the bird down with his cross-bow.
From that point onward, things begin to go badly for the Mariner and the ship’s crew, and at one point, the ship becomes becalmed in the middle of the salt ocean. The ship’s water supplies diminish, day by day, as the sailors wait for a breath of wind.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
 I can imagine myself, as part of that ill-fated crew, leaning on the railing and looking out at the wide, blue ocean. My lips are dry and cracked, and I am muttering a silent prayer. I do not yet know that neither I, nor my crewmates, will ever see land again. Only the Mariner, with the Albatross hanging around his neck, will survive to tell the tale.
Here at the Post, I have lately found myself writing about water.
This week, I am learning a bit about the Town of Pagosa Springs’ proposed lease with the Springs Resort, and a plan that could, conceivably, drain dry the million-year-old Great Pagosa Hot Springs in the interest of some relatively short term profits for our local business community. The story deals with water rights, and attorneys, and the changing business culture in Pagosa Springs.
I also find myself writing regularly about the ongoing boondoggle at Dry Gulch, where a plan by two incestuous water district boards to build an enormously oversized reservoir seems to be plowing ahead full-speed — with absolutely no taxpayer or district ratepayer approval, or even input. The water district plan and its attendant Water Resource Fees have clearly contributed to a slowdown in the Archuleta County economy — fees based on a 35,000 acre-foot reservoir, which more than one water district board member has admitted will most likely not be needed in any current Pagosan’s lifetime.
Then we have the curious story about the Pagosa Quality Fishing Project and its 8,800 stocked trout, investing $60,000 into making the San Juan a world-class trout stream — and the one about the ill-fated San Juan River Restoration Project, which is still aiming to remove the grant-funded fishing-enhancement structures added twelve years ago and replace them with questionable white water features that appear to increase bank erosion and sediment build-up.
Both projects — the one adding the trout, and the one dismantling the fishing enhancements — are being partially funded by the Town of Pagosa Springs.
One of the most attractive features about our community — especially for a downtown resident such as myself — is the San Juan River. Clarissa and I lived on the San Juan during our first summer in Pagosa, in 1993, and we continue to take our daily evening walk along the river.
As evidenced by the Pagosa Quality Fishing Project and the San Juan River Restoration plans, some of the business people in our community see the San Juan not merely as an attractive, usually-peaceful water feature, but also as one of the keys to a vital downtown tourist economy.
We want our water to make money for us.
It’s not enough for our rivers and lakes to merely look pretty and provide water to flush our toilets. We want money. Our reservoirs and our rivers and our geothermal wells are no longer just the sources of the water we drink and bath in. These water resources must be put to work, generating profits — for the good of the whole community.
How hard can we make the water work?
Meanwhile, my wife Clarissa is bugging me to drink more water. She has taken to leaving a pitcher full of water — with a slice of lemon floating in it, the way I like it — and she wants me to drink the whole half-gallon each day. This regimen has something to do with improving my health, I understand, though as far as I can tell, it has merely affected my number of trips to the men’s restroom.
I love the taste of a cool drink of water, with a slice of lemon. Or even just plain and unflavored. It cools my throat and quenches my thirst.
But that’s not enough. I want the water to protect my health, and — most of all — to provide an ever-increasing flow of tourist dollars into my wallet. Surely, the water can also quench my thirst for money?
Hand me my cross-bow, sailors. It’s time to slay the Albatross. |
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