Citizen's Guide to Colorado's Environmental Era

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From vigorous debate over a large dam proposed inside Dinosaur National Monument nearly 50 years ago to the most recent consideration of possible new wil- derness designations in Rocky Mountain National Park and along the Arkansas River, the role of water in wilderness preservation has been a continual and lively theme. Debates over water —its maintenance in streams and its economic use when divert- ed from streams —have challenged the imaginations of many bright advocates and resulted in some of the more convoluted legislative passages known. Such debates also delayed approval of one Colorado wil- derness bill for 10 years. Wilderness proponents contend that to truly deserve the designation, wilderness areas must enjoy a natural flow of water within their boundaries. But in an and region, water development advocates have been steadfast that we cannot afford to squander precious water supplies by leav- ing them in streams. This polarizing debate continues to this day. The first official designation of an area as "wilderness" came in 1924 when forest ranger and naturalist Aldo Leopold per- suaded regional managers in the U.S. Forest Service to set aside the Gila Wilderness Area in southwest New Mexico. However, Colorado's wilderness preservation history actually got under way some five years ear- lier, near a beautiful mountain lake. In 1919, working for the Forest Service near Trappers Lake in northwest Colorado, Arthur Carhart suggested that lands around the lake be preserved in their wild and natural condition rather than plotted for rows of summer cabins. His enthusiasm for protecting wilderness persuaded the senior Forest Service staff to agree. The cabins project was called off, and much of the lake's margin and surrounding Flat Tops backcountry was administratively protect- ed as a wild preserve. Soon, Carhart and Leopold were con- ferring. Together with yet another forest ranger, Bob Marshall of Montana (who later became chief of recreation and lands for the Forest Service), they began to turn the longstanding idea of wilderness pres- ervation into policy. In 1935, the trio of foresters joined fabled naturalists Olaus and Mardy Murie of Wyoming, as well as other conservation giants, to form The Wilderness Society. The new organization quickly teamed with experienced conservation groups includ- ing the Sierra Club, Isaak Walton League and National Parks Association, in pressing for enduring— rather than temporary adminis- trative— protections for wilderness. The concept of wilderness preservation had already been in circulation for more than a century. Members of Congress chat- ted about ways to define and accomplish it. Even so, it would take nearly 30 more years to secure permanent protection in the form of the Wilderness Act. Colorado's people, places and water played key roles in the long and detailed drama that finally led to approval of the Wilderness Act and creation of the National Wilderness Preservation System. When newly elected Congressman Wayne Aspinall went to the U.S. House of Aldo Leopold (1887 -9948) is often called the father of wildlife ecology" for his groundbreak- ing theories on ecological communities and management. He also helped secure the first designation of an area as "wilderness" in 1924. Representatives in 1949 from Colorado's Western Slope Fourth Congressional District, his visions were about water devel- opment ... not about wilderness. The Palisade lawyer, peach grower and state legislator had always viewed land as a source of production and revenue. In the arid country of Western Colorado, he knew that making the land produce required harness- ing water for irrigation, power and urban growth. The notion of preserving land in its wild and uncultivated state was difficult for Aspinall and his neighbors to conceive. During a long career in the Colorado state legislature spanning the 1930s and 1940s, Aspinall had a major hand in state water policy. He served, among other assignments, as Speaker of the House of Representatives and as a mem- ber of the newly created Colorado Water Conservation Board. To the chagrin of some among his Western Slope constitu- ents, he helped negotiate agreements and funding that resulted in construction of the controversial Colorado -Big Thompson Project, still among the state's primary diversions of water from Western Colorado to the Front Range. After retirement from Congress and well after the great wilderness debates, Aspinall reflected on the values he had long held dear and firmly. In his autobiography, he described his view that land and water were "to be used wisely." What he called the "non- harvesting philosophy," which he attributed to environmental advocates, was "not a part of my thinking." In his youth, Wayne Aspinall's family sur- vived as fruit growers and farmers because of cooperative private water diversion proj- ects in the Grand Valley. Their efforts began to thrive when the U.S. Reclamation Service arrived, bringing significant federal subsi- dies to consolidate and improve the valley's deteriorating networks of impoundments, canals and ditches. Citizen Aspinalls interest in water devel- opment in western states —and the federal government's key role in that development — was sharpened in 1922 when the seven states in the Colorado River basin reached agree- ment on dividing the river's water. Delphus E. Carpenter of Greeley, another Coloradan with water savvy and the state's delegate to the Colorado River Compact Commission, coordinated and pressed negotiators into crafting the historic and still standing Colorado River Compact. The agreement provided Colorado, among other things, with the right to develop a specified share of the river's flow. Carpenter, Aspinall (then a freshman law student) and other Colorado water observers recognized early that such a right to develop would be of little value unless it were actually exercised. Unless Colorado captured significant volumes of Colorado River water before it left the state, that water soon would be diverted, put to use and jealously guarded by quickly growing states downstream, particularly California. As his career in Congress began, Aspinall believed he had been elected to ensure a reliable and enduring supply of water for his district, state and region. In the early 1950s, he quickly set about securing the policies and funding to build a series of dams and diversions on the upper Colorado River, particularly in Colorado. The reclamation booster's efforts as a member of the House Committee on Interior and Insular Affairs began with the C I T I Z E N ' S G U I D E TO T H E E N V I R O N M E N T A L E R A 1 29