I’m a longtime resident of Arizona.
Your reception of this bit of information is likely affected by recent
news
coverage of my state’s new immigration legislation, isn’t it? Every
now and then, the Grand Canyon
State wants to reassure
the rest of the country that its flaming red-state status is secure,
thank you
very much. Our “reddest” representatives – Governor, County Sheriffs,
State and U.S.
Senators, etc. — have even taken breaks from their re-election
campaigns
(slogan: “No I’m more
conservative!”) to remind you of this on every T.V. network.
So it isn’t surprising that another news item
about Arizona may have escaped
you: We have one less reservoir.
On the night of July 20th,
Tempe Town Lake dramatically, though temporarily, transformed
itself back
into the Salt River and escaped downstream. A
section of the rubber dam that forms the lake burst its seams. Luckily,
no
people were harmed; coverage on the environmental impact has been
largely limited
to the fate of the hapless fish
left in the few remaining puddles. In an efficient but macabre twist,
officials
resolved this problem by donating the fresher carcasses to the
herpetological
society, creating a charming photo-op
for that
organization’s spokes-alligator.
The early alligator gets the fish.
But fish aren’t the only casualties in the
environmental enigma
that is Town Lake. Admittedly, urban reservoirs are
common and unremarkable; perhaps somewhat less so are those situated in
riverbeds, like Tempe Town Lake
and its older, more famous sibling, Austin,
Texas’s identically named Town
Lake. For
Arizonans of all persuasions the lake has been a source of mental
conflict
since its debut in 1999. The Libertarian folks, as they do for all civic
projects, rolled out their ever present “Wasteful Big Government
Spending©”
motto. The greenies (including me) fretted about water scarcity and
ecological
impact. The real estate developers connived. The old-timers mourned the
old
pre-upstream-dam days when the actual Salt River
flowed, and sometimes flooded, through the valley year-round. Still, one
fact
could not be ignored: regardless of their world views, Arizonans love water, with a deep and
irrational
passion.
The few perennial creeks around the state are a case in point.
Most
states outside the Southwest have creeks in such abundance that some
even go
unnamed. In Arizona, our creeks are so universally beloved and overused that local ranger districts
must
enact near-draconian controls
on visitors, akin to those at national parks. Unfortunately for parched
city
residents, these creeks, rivers, and most of our big reservoirs are at
least an
hour’s drive from the major urban areas of Phoenix
and Tucson.
Those who wish for the restorative, recreational effects of a body of
water
aren’t likely to get it close to home unless they build a pool, pay for a
round of golf, or visit one of the few city or county parks with small
lakes.
Therefore, a funny thing happened once Town
Lake
filled up for the first time: people liked it. Critics backed off. Paths
were
built, public art was erected, and lights were strung on the old Mill
Avenue
Bridge. Big swanky
condominium and office towers were built on the shore, but not too many.
The
miracle of the lake was its accessibility; everyone, even the naysayers,
even
the poor, even the nature-averse, even the beleaguered undocumented
immigrants,
could enjoy it. The best views were not from a penthouse or mountaintop,
but
from cars driving by on the adjacent 202 freeway. At night, with the
reflected
bridge and city lights twinkling in the water, it was splendid.
In so many ways, Town
Lake was frivolous,
artificial, and naïve. It didn’t produce hydroelectric power. It
wasn’t built by beavers or glaciers. Every several years, it has even
lost
its “lake” status when dam releases upstream dictate that the Salt
flow free again. There are many rational reasons to fret about it, but
when it
comes to water, desert dwellers’ rationality dims. And not just human
desert dwellers either; critters like beavers and ospreys had inexplicably begun
appearing in the lake, to considerable acclaim.
Which makes one wonder: Is our mad love of water generative or
destructive?
Does the mid-city reservoir give us a greater appreciation for all
riparian
areas, or increase our hubris? More importantly for environmental
justice, does
it provide meaningful open-space access to all stakeholders, human or
otherwise? Hard to say. Arizonans have bigger issues, as all the world
knows. Still,
I miss seeing Town Lake on my daily commute. The dam is scheduled to be rebuilt
soon,
and we should have a lake again by the year’s end. Despite its flaws, it
may end up being one of the few things this fractious red state can
enjoy
together.
Jackie
Wheeler teaches writing and environmental rhetoric at Arizona State
University,
where she is also the Associate Director of Writing Programs. Outside
academia,
she’s an avid rafter, kayaker, and horsewoman who also attempts to
garden. When possible, she escapes the Phoenix
metro area for an undisclosed location in Southeastern
Utah.
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