California’s Water Crisis (Part 1): The Issue & Climate Change
California is facing a water crisis. The Golden State is currently facing the 7th historical drought in its history, a multi-year drought that started in 2019 and a candidate for the worst drought ever in the history of the state.
It seems like Californians can’t catch a break from climate upheavals. As climate change aggravates and droughts tend to become more frequent and intense, Californians are being forced to be increasingly resilient to endure these dry and stressful times.
I lived in California from 2008–2012 and from 2013–2018 when I graduated from college and moved away to Northern lands. Despite not being there anymore, my heart sinks every time I hear bad news about the land I love the most and experienced my happiest days.
I’ve been through two historical droughts, multiple earthquakes, hurricane threats, and massive fires, some too close for comfort (San Marcos Cocos Fire). In fact, on my last in California, the state was experiencing the deadliest and most destructive wildfire season on record.
Droughts and fires go along very well. I remember quite vividly driving up Route 5 while watching through my window the sea of blazes swallowing green forests whole. As dead-gray fumes emerged from the burning trees, the once blue sky became tinted with a reddish color that could be easily mistaken for the end of the world.
The land I first arrived in with a feeling of joy I left with a feeling of sorrow. A vision of Dante’s Circles of Hell, mixing poetry with tragedy, except that there’s no space for comedy.
The current water crisis faced by California is also a tragedy. However, behind every crisis, there’s a call for action and an opportunity for change. As Einstein once allegedly said: “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.”
Mitigations remedy symptoms, but curing a problem requires identifying and addressing the main source(s) of the problem. This is the goal of this article, which will be divided into 2 parts (because I just can’t help myself from writing too much). It’s a call to face the facts that governments ignore and challenge the unsustainable status quo.
First, the issue and climate change.
The Absence of Freshwater
California has gone through six historical droughts, the worst of them occurring during 1976–77, both in terms of precipitation and runoff. Despite being the most severe, the water impacts weren’t as impactful as longer-duration droughts because shorter droughts can be partially mitigated by surface and groundwater storage.
The current drought in California, starting in 2019, is combining the worst of both worlds. California’s first trimester of 2022 had the driest months in over 100 years; conditions that haven’t been seen since 1976–77 [1]. Also, statewide reservoir storage was 71% of the average for that time of year [2].
The current situation of the two largest reservoirs in the state reflects the gravity of the situation.
Shasta Lake is the largest reservoir and 3rd largest water body in California. It feeds into the Sacramento River watershed and is a key water source for the rich agricultural lands of the Central Valley [1], which agricultural importance shouldn’t be taken for granted.
The region, also known as the Great Valley of California, covers an area of about 20,000 square miles, where over 250 different crops are grown with an estimated value of $17 billion per year. Despite using less than 1% of U.S. farmland, it supplies 8% of the U.S. agriculture output (by value) and produces 1/4 of the entire U.S. food, including 40% of the fruits, nuts, and other table foods [3].
According to NASA Earth Observatory, as of June 16, 2021, Shasta Lake held 1.87 million acre feet (maf) of water, which represents about 41% of its capacity and 49% of the historical average for the time of the year; and it keeps dropping [1].
Things aren’t any better for Lake Oroville — California’s 2nd largest reservoir. As of June 16, 2021, it stood at 35% of its capacity and 43% of the historical average — just slightly better than the historically dry years of 1976–77 [1].
In fact, most major reservoirs in California are well below historic averages.
What happens to major bodies of water outside of California also directly affects Californian residents. For instance, the massive Colorado River that covers seven American states and two Mexican states is an important supplier of water for roughly a third of Southern California cities and suburbs, and for a large farming industry in Imperial and Riverside Counties [4].
The two largest reservoirs of the American portion of the Colorado River exemplify the water calamity Californians are facing.
Lake Mead, the largest Colorado River reservoir and that of the entire U.S., is facing a continuing 22-year downward trend, with water levels at their lowest since April 1937, when the reservoir was birthed. As of July 18, 2022, it was filled to just 27% of its capacity [5].
Lake Powell, Colorado River’s 2nd largest reservoir and of the entire U.S., now stands at its lowest level since 1967, currently filled to just 26% of its capacity [6].
Despite the state’s drought management and water reserves that help to mitigate the situation, the combination of above-average temperatures and historically low precipitation and snow levels is making California’s current drought persist [1].
California’s Water Year 2021 was the 2nd driest in its history based on statewide runoff. Water Year 2020 ranked as the 5th driest [7]. Water Year 2022 is already the driest year to date over the past 128 years [8].
Runoff occurs as the result of precipitation (both rainfall and snowfall) that is in excess of the demands of evaporation from land surfaces, transpiration from vegetation, and infiltration into soils. The water that remains available, or runoff, is the amount of water that makes its way to streams, rivers, and, possibly, to the ocean.
Based on historical data, there has been a downfall in California’s overall runoff since the late 90s, similar to what happened during the first third of the 20th century, except that there was far more water available at the time and much fewer humans [9].
The situation is so bad that all 58 counties are currently under a drought emergency proclamation, affecting 37.2 million Californians. 94.1% are experiencing severe drought, 40.9% extreme drought, and 16.6% exceptional drought [10].
But the drought isn’t limited to California territory. Looking at the broader picture, the entire Southwest and parts of the Northwest have been stuck in a 20+ year megadrought, which has been exacerbated by climate change [11].
In a recent study, researchers updated previous research that compared the current megadrought to other multi-decade megadroughts between the 800s and 1500s that lasted between 23-30 years (based on tree-ring reconstructions). They previously concluded that the 19-year dry period between 2000–2018 was probably the 2nd driest in at least 1,200 years, exceeded only by a 19-year interval during the last of the megadroughts, in the late 1500s.
However, with the new update of soil moisture data from 2019–2021, the period 2000–2021 went up the rank to become the driest 22-year period since at least 800ce, surpassing the previous driest 22-yr historical period (1571–1592). The authors added that of all 22-yr periods since 800ce, only two (1130–1151 and 1276–1297) contained more years with negative soil moisture anomalies than the 18 observed during 2000–2021.
Moreover, they concluded that the megadrought will very likely persist through 2022 and beyond, matching the duration of the late-1500s megadrought.
They also constructed hypothetical models predicting the effect of future soil moisture anomalies on the mean anthropogenic climate change effects of the past 5 years. The results showed that the current drought persisted through the 23rd year in 94% of simulations and through the 30th year in 75% (2030)!
Even if they assumed no future climate change effect, the current drought lasts the 23rd and 30th years in 76% and 33% of the simulations, respectively. In reality, they say that climate change effects on soil are likely to intensify, making these calculations, if anything, conservative.
The main author, Park Williams — a bioclimatologist at UCLA, said in an interview for NPR:
“We have a society that’s relying on there being the amount of water there was in the 1900s. But now with the number of water molecules available to us declining, it really is time for us to get real about how much water there is for us to use. We actually have to change our relationship with water [12].”
What Is the Government of California doing about it?
We have a good idea of the bigger picture. It’s very bad, so what are we doing about it? Let’s start with the government. Here are some of the highlights:
- $92 million invested in drought-related projects in California communities spread through 26 counties [13];
- An emergency drinking water system, which has allegedly helped 353,000 Californians in 2021 [13];
- A citizen-level voluntary goal to cut water use by 15% from 2020 levels — currently at 3.7%, as of the date this article was published [13];
The voluntary water-saving goal isn’t a state mandate; however, Californians are being penalized for the misuse of water.
Here’s a list of prohibitions in effect until January 2023 [14]:
- Outdoor watering that lets water run onto sidewalks and other areas (except incidental runoff)
- Washing vehicles without an automatic shutoff nozzle
- Washing hard surfaces like driveways or sidewalks that don’t absorb water
- Street cleaning or construction site preparation
- Filling decorative fountains, lakes, or ponds
- Outdoor watering within 48 hours after at least 1/4 inch of rainfall (worth a $500 fine!)
- Watering ornamental turf on public medians
Watering non-functional lawns in commercial, industrial, and institutional areas, including common areas of homeowners’ associations (HOAs) will also be eligible for penalty till June 2023 [14].
The state is also pulling the strings to prepare for a very likely 4th year and beyond of severe drought.
According to Governor Newsom, the state is planning an adaptation strategy that targets capturing, recycling, de-salting, and conserving water supply. They also plan to expand water supplies by 1.6 million acre-feet (maf) by 2030, in addition to creating a capacity of more than 3 maf of new storage to mitigate the impacts of the anticipated 10% reduction of traditional water supplies [15].
According to the 2022 report California’s Water Supply Strategy, an additional $2.8 billion* for drought relief to “hard-hit communities, water conservation, environmental protection for fish and wildlife, and long-term projects to permanently strengthen drought resilience” was enacted for the 2022–23 budget, on top of the $5.2 billion standard budget.
*It seems this additional budget has gone up to $3.6 billion as of September 12, 2022.
We can’t accuse the government of inaction. But beyond contingency plans and mitigation outposts, we need to question if we are truly using our scarce water in sustainable ways, to prevent worse long-term outcomes. After all, prevention is the best medicine.
Better than another plastic ‘shade balls’ experiment is going straight to the source of the problem.
Climate Change Share of the Pie
First, the heat 🔥. It’s tempting to blame climate change for the recent droughts California has experienced. But does this accusation has valid implications?
The 2018 Report: Indicators of Climate Change in California indicates that Californian greenhouse emissions were increasing from 1990 to 2004 when they reached their peak. Since then emissions have steadily decreased by 10%.
If anything, California has kept its word. Since 2016, California’s greenhouse gas emissions have remained below the 2020 GHG Limit required by the California Global Warming Solutions Act (Assembly Bill 32).
This is a good thing since California emits more greenhouse gases per capita than many of the world’s principal economies, like Japan, Germany, the U.K., France, and Brazil.
Yet, California's atmospheric temperatures are on the rise, following the global trend. This happens because anthropogenic climate change is a collective effort and has no atmospheric frontiers. On a global scale, greenhouse gas emissions are on the rise.
Different carbon measuring sites, both global and local, consistently show increasing concentrations of atmospheric greenhouse gases, not just for CO2, but also for methane (CH4) and nitrous oxide (N2O).
Overall, California temperatures have risen almost 3°F since the beginning of the 20th century. In the 126-year period of record (1895–2020), the six warmest years have all occurred since 2014 (2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2020) [16].
Extreme heat days and nights have become more frequent since 1950. While heat waves have been variable each year, nighttime heat waves have shown a marked increase since the mid-1970s [16].
For a given location, an extreme heat day occurs during the period from April through October when the maximum temperature exceeds the 98th percentile (or is among the highest two percent) of historical daily maximum temperatures during the reference period of 1961 to 1990. Similarly, an extreme heat night occurs when the minimum temperature exceeds the 98th percentile of the historical daily minimum temperatures between 1961 and 1990 at that location [17].
For most regions, the rate of increase in the number of extreme heat nights was twice that of the rate of increase in extreme heat days. The greatest increase in the total number of daytime and nighttime extreme heat events occurred in Southern California, while nighttime heat increased the most in the Central Coast region [17].
Manna & Gleick argued in a 2014 published letter that part of the challenge is to accurately define the term ‘drought,’ which can have meteorological, hydrological, agricultural, or socioeconomic implications. They explain that in its simplest form, ‘drought’ can be defined as “the mismatch between the amounts of water nature provides and the amounts of water that humans and the environment demand.”
According to the National Drought Mitigation Center:
“In the most general sense, drought originates from a deficiency of precipitation over an extended period of time — usually a season or more — resulting in a water shortage for some activity, group, or environmental sector. Its impacts result from the interplay between the natural event (less precipitation than expected) and the demand people place on water supply, and human activities can exacerbate the impacts of drought. Because drought cannot be viewed solely as a physical phenomenon, it is usually defined both conceptually and operationally.” [18]
Given that, indicators like the Palmer Drought Severity Index are very useful to determine long-term drought based on air temperature and water balance models, taking into account potential evapotranspiration — a basic effect of global warming [19].
The figure above indicates historical periods of prolonged wetness and dryness. You can see the remarkable wet period in the 1900s and the dry period that has been trending since the 2000s [16].
If we zoom in to more recent times (red; previous chart), you can see that California has become increasingly dry over the past 120 years, with 2012–2016 being the most extreme drought on record at the time. This was exacerbated by a record-breaking, awfully warm 2014 and 2015, accompanied by record low snowpack, less than 5% of average in 2015. This historical drought was seized thanks to an extraordinarily high precipitation 2017 Water Year [17].
Manna & Gleick claim that previous studies dismissed any link between anthropogenic climate change and California’s 2012–2016 drought, arguing that climate change cannot be tied to the low levels of precipitation that have accompanied the drought in question [18].
In fact, you can’t blame the lack of rain.
The total amount of precipitation varies greatly from year to year. Statewide data shows an increased year-to-year variability since 1980 and annual precipitation has been below average since 2000. However, the fraction of precipitation that falls as rain over the watersheds that provide most of California’s water supply has been increasing in recent times. Overall, there’s no clear trend in annual precipitation [17].
According to Manna & Gleick, deniers of the involvement of climate change in recent droughts in California have focused exclusively on only half of the picture — the ‘incoming moisture’ part (precipitation + snow/ice melt runoff); hence, missing the opportunity to include the ‘outcoming moisture’ half (evaporation, transpiration, and groundwater recharge) [18].
They cite a study (Diffenbaugh et al., 2015) published in the same journal just weeks prior, which added weight to the accumulating evidence that anthropogenic climate change is already influencing the frequency, magnitude, and duration of droughts in California [18].
The author notes that:
“Efforts to understand drought without examining the role of temperature miss a critical contributor to drought risk. Indeed, our results show that even in the absence of trends in mean precipitation — or trends in the occurrence of extremely low-precipitation events — the risk of severe drought in California has already increased due to extremely warm conditions induced by anthropogenic global warming.” [18]
Diffenbaugh et al. conclusions don’t stand in isolation since other studies [20; 21] projecting future climate models also predict a growing risk of unprecedented drought over the entire western United States, driven primarily by rising temperatures, regardless of whether or not there is a clear trend in precipitation [18].
Although precipitation is the main driver of drought variability, this study is part of a growing body of evidence suggesting that anthropogenic global warming has increased the likelihood of extreme droughts in the Golden State and will dictate the frequency and severity of future droughts [17].
What’s more, studies [22; 23] suggest that climate change may be increasing the likelihood of a rare atmospheric event associated with the 2012–2016 drought [17].
In 2012–2015, a region of atmospheric high-pressure, nicknamed the “ridiculously resilient ridge,” resulted in a northward shift in the Pacific storm track during the rainy season, preventing storms from reaching California and exacerbating the severity of the drought. Historically dry winters in California have been associated with this phenomenon off the west coast [17].
Climate change is a lose-lose game. It’s bad for physical systems, environmental systems, and ultimately humans, from the economy to the individuals, always with disproportional effects. Everyone is a loser, but the ultimate sucker is humanity because Earth will keep thriving without us.
In the second part of this article, I will address the missing part of the picture: the invisible water that most of us fail to see. I will investigate where all this water is going and, ultimately, what can we do to prevent unsustainable withdrawals of scarce water and guarantee a better collective future, despite all inconveniences we have already caused.
The answer is surprisingly unsurprisingly; obvious but obscure; simple but hard. Beyond the contradictions lies the truism that we are just feeding the wrong systems (and animals 🐄).
