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| Photo Credit: AP. |
DENVER (AP) — To guide fishing trips for a year or two, that’s what brought Terry Gunn to the red canyons of northern Arizona. The chance to hike, raft and fly fish drew Wendy Hanvold, a retired ski bum, who took a job there waiting tables at an anglers lodge. She heard rumors of the intrepid fishing guide who had just returned from an Alaska trip, and one day when he came in approached his table to take his order.
“You fly
fish, right?” she said. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”
It was a
match made in Marble Canyon.
Since then,
the couple opened an anglers shop, guide service, purchased a lodge, and raised
their son. They take pride in showing tourists the best spots to catch and
release prized rainbow trout beneath craggy cliffs carved by the Colorado
River.
But it could
all soon change as warmer water temperatures threaten fish survival and the
Gunn’s livelihood.
Key Colorado
River reservoirs Lake Powell and Lake Mead are both only about one-quarter
full. The continued drop, due to overuse and an increasingly arid climate, is
threatening the fish and the economies built around them.
“We’re in totally uncharted territory,” said
Gunn, who began guiding in Marble Canyon in 1983. That year, Glen Canyon Dam
began to release water on an emergency basis after record snowmelt produced a
powerful spring runoff, resulting in near failure of the dam. In all these
years, the river has usually been cold, with typical summer temperatures in the
50s.
But since
late August, the water temperature at Lees Ferry — the site of a world-famous
trout fishery — has risen above 70 degrees seven times. That might be idyllic
for a summer dip under the blazing Arizona summer sun, Gunn said, but
approaches peril for the beloved sport fish. A few degrees higher can be
lethal.
To make
matters worse, when temperatures rise, the amount of oxygen dissolved in the
water falls, making it tough for fish to even breathe.
As the
reservoir drops, it sends warmer water with less oxygen into the river below
the dam. Should that water reach 73 degrees, Gunn said his family’s guide
service could start calling off afternoon trips.
Recently, a
small reprieve of cooler temperatures has taken the edge off the fear at Lees
Ferry, but uncertainty still taints the air.
“Mother Nature holds a handful of trump cards
and if she decides to play one, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it,”
Gunn said.
Seven
states, Mexico, and tribal nations depend on the stressed Colorado River. They
have undergone voluntary and mandatory cuts and are grappling with how to
further reduce their reliance on the river by about 15 to 30 percent, per a
recent mandate by the Department of the Interior.
Struggling
aquatic life further complicates the already delicate river management and
increases the cost.
Just a few
miles north of Lees Ferry and its trout fishery there’s another threat —
nonnative predatory smallmouth bass. They’re supposed to be contained in Lake
Powell. But this summer they were found in the river below the dam. Smallmouth
bass already wreaked havoc on native fish way upriver where the government
spends millions of dollars each year to control the predators. They were held
at bay in Lake Powell because Glen Canyon Dam has served as a barrier for them
for years — until now. The reservoir’s recent sharp decline is enabling these
introduced fish to shoot through the dam and edge closer to the Grand Canyon, where
the biggest groups of humpback chub, an ancient, threatened, native fish,
remain.
The National
Park Service is going so far as to apply chemicals Saturday to kill these
predatory fish. The infested area is sealed off from the river with a vinyl
barrier, desirable fish are moved to the main channel, and the substance is
applied to just that area, said National Park Service fisheries biologist Jeff
Arnold. A second treatment is likely later this fall. The Bureau of Reclamation
has said it will contribute $30,000 for the second treatment, and is exploring
additional funding from the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law and Inflation
Reduction Act for longer-term solutions such as barriers that would prevent
fish from even approaching the dam.
A mid-term
solution could involve a technique that lets cold water from deeper in the lake
flow into the river below. Although this would mean forgoing hydropower, the
cool water would disrupt spawning of predatory fish. It’s been successful in other
rivers and could help protect both native fish and rainbow trout.
Several
hundred miles downstream, at the site of another fish threat, one hatchery has
completely shut down. Lake Mead Fish Hatchery, which used to breed endangered
razorback sucker and bonytail chub, ceased operations earlier this year when
the lake dipped below the point where the hatchery drew its water.
Last month,
the state of Nevada and the Bureau of Reclamation announced they’re kicking in
nearly $12 million on a project to pull water from deeper in the lake into the
hatchery. The new line will source water from a third straw that the Southern
Nevada Water Authority built following a severe drop in lake levels in the
early 2000s. As Lake Mead plummeted this year, the agency had to begin using it
to rescue Las Vegas, and soon, the hatchery.
Walking into
a silent hatchery, normally abuzz with flowing water and air compressors, is a
challenge, said Nevada Department of Wildlife supervising fish biologist
Brandon Singer.
“At first
you feel kind of lost, your purpose is gone,” Singer said. But it’s been an
opportunity for repair work and for his team to work on species in other parts
of the state while they await their return to fish-rearing.
Maintaining
native fish populations is a legal obligation the bureau has under the
Endangered Species Act. It could face a lawsuit if it fails to meet that
obligation, even as it juggles other pressing demands on the river.
Back
upstream near Lake Powell, the introduced rainbow trout don’t have the same
protection. Losing them would be heartbreaking but feels inevitable, said Terry
Gunn, who checks water temperature religiously. “It’s like watching a family
member grow old or die — it’s gonna happen.”
Wendy Gunn
says if the trout fishery is lost and smallmouth bass take over, she could
imagine Lees Ferry transitioning to a haven for warm water fish. It would be
tragic in many ways, with the beloved rainbow trout gone and the likelihood
that native fish downstream could be next, she said, but people would still
come to cast lines.
“Everybody’s
just gonna have to adapt,” Wendy said. “You either roll with it and change or
you go away.”
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