A
Texan tragedy: ample oil, no water
Fracking
boom sucks away precious water from beneath the ground, leaving
cattle dead, farms bone-dry and people thirsty
11
August, 2013
Beverly
McGuire saw the warning signs before the town well went dry: sand in
the toilet bowl, the sputter of air in the tap, a pump working
overtime to no effect. But it still did not prepare her for the night
last month when she turned on the tap and discovered the tiny town
where she had made her home for 35 years was out of water.
"The
day that we ran out of water I turned on my faucet and nothing was
there and at that moment I knew the whole of Barnhart was down the
tubes," she said, blinking back tears. "I went: 'dear God
help us. That was the first thought that came to mind."
Across
the south-west, residents of small communities like Barnhart are
confronting the reality that something as basic as running water, as
unthinking as turning on a tap, can no longer be taken for granted.
Three
years of drought, decades of overuse and now the oil industry's
outsize demands on water for fracking are running down reservoirs and
underground aquifers. And climate change is making things worse.
In
Texas alone, about 30 communities could run out of water by the end
of the year, according to the Texas Commission on Environmental
Quality.
Nearly
15 million people are living under some form of water rationing,
barred from freely sprinkling their lawns or refilling their swimming
pools. In Barnhart's case, the well appears to have run dry because
the water was being extracted for shale gas fracking.
The
town — a gas station, a community hall and a taco truck – sits in
the midst of the great Texan oil rush, on the eastern edge of the
Permian basin.
A
few years ago, it seemed like a place on the way out. Now McGuire
said she can see nine oil wells from her back porch, and there are
dozens of RVs parked outside town, full of oil workers.
But
soon after the first frack trucks pulled up two years ago, the well
on McGuire's property ran dry.
No-one
in Barnhart paid much attention at the time, and McGuire hooked up to
the town's central water supply. "Everyone just said: 'too bad'.
Well now it's all going dry," McGuire said.
Ranchers
dumped most of their herds. Cotton farmers lost up to half their
crops. The extra draw down, coupled with drought, made it impossible
for local ranchers to feed and water their herds, said Buck Owens. In
a good year, Owens used to run 500 cattle and up to 8,000 goats on
his 7,689 leased hectares (19,000 acres). Now he's down to a few
hundred goats.
The
drought undoubtedly took its toll but Owens reserved his anger for
the contractors who drilled 104 water wells on his leased land, to
supply the oil companies.
Water
levels were dropping in his wells because of the vast amounts of
water being pumped out of the Edwards-Trinity-Plateau Aquifer, a
34,000 sq mile water bearing formation.
"They
are sucking all of the water out of the ground, and there are just
hundreds and hundreds of water trucks here every day bringing fresh
water out of the wells," Owens said.
Meanwhile,
residents in town complained, they were forced to live under water
rationing. "I've got dead trees in my yard because I haven't
been able to water them," said Glenda Kuykendall. "The
state is mandating our water system to conserve water but why?...
Getting one oil well fracked takes more water than the entire town
can drink or use in a day."
Even
as the drought bore down, even as the water levels declined, the oil
industry continued to demand water and those with water on their land
were willing to sell it. The road west of town was lined with signs
advertising "fresh water", where tankers can take on a
box-car-sized load of water laced with industrial chemicals.
"If
you're going to develop the oil, you've got to have the water,"
said Larry Baxter, a contractor from the nearby town of Mertzon, who
installed two frack tanks on his land earlier this year, hoping to
make a business out of his well selling water to oil industry.
By
his own estimate, his well could produce enough to fill up 20 or 30
water trucks for the oil industry each day. At $60 (£39.58) a truck,
that was $36,000 a month, easily. "I could sell 100 truckloads a
day if I was open to it," Baxter said.
He
rejected the idea there should be any curbs on selling water during
the drought. "People use their water for food and fibre. I
choose to use my water to sell to the oil field," he said.
"Who's taking advantage? I don't see any difference."
Barnhart
remained dry for five days last month before local work crew revived
an abandoned railway well and started pumping again. But residents
fear it is just a temporary fix and that next time it happens they
won't have their own wells to fall back on. "My well is very
very close to going dry," said Kuykendall.
So
what is a town like Barnhart to do? Fracking is a powerful drain on
water supplies. In adjacent Crockett county, fracking accounts for up
to 25% of water use, according to the groundwater conservation
district. But Katharine Hayhoe, a climate scientist at Texas Tech
University in Lubbock, argues fracking is not the only reason Texas
is going dry – and nor is the drought. The latest shocks to the
water system come after decades of overuse by ranchers, cotton
farmers, and fast-growing thirsty cities.
"We
have large urban centres sucking water out of west Texas to put on
their lands. We have a huge agricultural community, and now we have
fracking which is also using water," she said. And then there is
climate change.
West
Texas has a long history of recurring drought, but under climate
change, the south-west has been experiencing record-breaking
heatwaves, further drying out the soil and speeding the evaporation
of water in lakes and reservoirs. Underground aquifers failed to
regenerate. "What happens is that climate change comes on top
and in many cases it can be the final straw that breaks the camel's
back, but the camel is already overloaded," said Hayhoe.
Other
communities across a bone-dry south-west are resorting to
extraordinary measures to keep the water flowing. Robert Lee, also in
the oil patch, has been hauling in water by tanker. So has Spicewood
Beach, a resort town 40 miles from Austin, which has been trucking in
water since early 2012.
San
Angelo, a city of 100,000, dug a pipeline to an underground water
source more than 60 miles away, and sunk half a dozen new wells.
Las
Cruces, just across the border from the Texas panhandle in New
Mexico, is drilling down 1,000ft in search of water.
But
those fixes are way out of reach for small, rural communities.
Outside the RV parks for the oil field workers who are just passing
through, Barnhart has a population of about 200.
"We
barely make enough money to pay our light bill and we're supposed to
find $300,000 to drill a water well?" said John Nanny, an
official with the town's water supply company.
Last
week brought some relief, with rain across the entire state of Texas.
Rain gauges in some parts of west Texas registered two inches or
more. Some ranchers dared to hope it was the beginning of the end of
the drought.
But
not Owens, not yet anyway. The underground aquifers needed far more
rain to recharge, he said, and it just wasn't raining as hard as it
did when he was growing up.
"We've
got to get floods. We've got to get a hurricane to move up in our
country and just saturate everything to replenish the aquifer,"
he said. "Because when the water is gone. That's it. We're
gone."
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