Showing posts with label Hoover Dam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hoover Dam. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

It's a Dam Big Reservoir, But There Are Some Dam Scary Things About It.

First off, I am so sorry for the dam puns. I'm a geologist, and we geologists are just no dam good at resisting stupid puns. It's something you'll just have to take for granite.

In any case, this is a dam big reservoir. It's Hoover Dam, the first of the gigantic mega-dams constructed in the U.S. back in the 1930s during the height of the Great Depression. Thousands of hungry unemployed men came from all over the country to work in the construction, and in the dangerous conditions, more than one hundred of them died. It's 726 feet high, which at the time was the highest dam in the world (it's the 18th highest now). It holds back about 30 million acre-feet of Colorado River water, equivalent to more than two years of normal stream-flow. At least, what was normal thirty years ago.
It's an astonishing achievement even if I seem to belittle it with semi-sarcastic puns. Walking across the dam is an experience in perspective. It is really big. Ultimately, some thirty million people in three states and Mexico depend on the water that it stores.
Not that it's pretentious or anything, but there are trimmings that make me think of the old USSR. Gigantic statures of winged gods greet the visitor on the Nevada side of the dam, and a loudspeaker emits a constant stream of platitudes about the glory of the achievement of making a river slow down for an instant of geologic time.
Can you guess the purpose of this golden door? Is it the entrance to the Watermaster's Throne Room, the portal into the Cathedral of Power Generation? No, it's actually the door to the men's bathroom on the top of the dam. Unfortunately it is undergoing renovation, so I can't show you the pretentiousness that awaits within (plus, I would have been arrested as some sort of creepy person).

Still, there are some dam frightening things about visiting Lake Mead and Hoover Dam. First and foremost, the dam is missing something. Water. It's missing a lot of water. It's sitting at the lowest level ever seen since the dam's floodgates closed in the 1930s. It hasn't been full as far as I know since the flooding in 1983, and prospects are not good for changing this situation in the face of ongoing drought and climate change.
Then you see stuff. Walking down the stairway from the new parking structure, there are all these square pieces of metal stuck to the cliff. What the hell? Those are rock bolts, essentially long screws encased in concrete and bolted to the rock wall for the purpose of maintaining the rock wall as an actual wall, instead of a rock fall. If the dam is built in stable rock, what do they need rock bolts for?
Then you start to notice other things. In the roadcuts across the highway from the dam there are strange looking scratch marks on the rock surface. They're called slickensides, and they develop as one block of rock grinds against another. Along a fault. Yeah, those things that cause/result from earthquakes.

Before I started researching the field seminar that I'm currently conducting, I assumed that Hoover Dam was anchored in ancient stable metamorphic and plutonic rocks. That is the kind of rock that is exposed in Black Canyon downstream from the dam. A close look at the rocks reveals a different composition: they are rhyolitic volcanic rocks, and according to the guides and the maps, they are Neogene in age, from around maybe 15 million years ago.
The volcanic rocks erupted in a complicated geologic environment of extension and transcurrent faulting that opened up spaces between crustal blocks that allowed magma to rise to the surface. They have been complexly faulted, and it turns out that a walking tour of the dam site is a nice lesson in a comparison of normal and strike-slip faulting. The dam engineers and the dam architects back in the 1930s declared the dam abutments to be safe and stable, and who am I to argue with them? I am not a dam engineer or a dam architect. It doesn't look like any leaks are occurring in the canyon walls downstream, unlike a certain other dam reservoir that I was looking at today.
The other dam thing I saw today wasn't really scary, except in my imagination. You have to realize I was looking down 200 feet at this big fish, a carp or something. It may have been three or four feet long, and for a moment it looked a dam shark! Maybe that Sharknado thing really happened, and a few landed in Lake Mead...

The dam morning was almost over, so we hit the road. We were headed towards the Grand Canyon, a much better place to appreciate the Colorado River.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Out in America's Never Never: Desert Water...Gambling with 30 Million People

This water is flowing in one of the driest places in America (and naturally, too)

Water. Nothing in the world makes you appreciate it more than not having it.

In the desert, water is the factor that decides life. An organism adapts to the lack of it, or that organism disappears. The plants of America's Never Never either store it, have deep taproots, or they wither and die until the next flash flood. The animals either live near the few precious springs, or get their water from the plants that they eat.
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colorado_River

The region between the Sierra Nevada and the western edge of the Colorado Plateau includes some of the driest landscapes in the world. Nearby Death Valley averages 1 or 2 inches of rain per year, and in some years receives none. The most it has ever received was 4.5 inches or so.

One single thread of water winds its way through this parched land. From the Wind River Range in Wyoming and the Colorado Rocky Mountains, the Colorado River gathers the snow melt from countless high mountain ridges and flows for 1,450 miles through one of the driest environments on the planet. In the five million years that it has existed in its present course, the river has excavated untold cubic miles of rock, filled in the huge delta at the head of the Gulf of California, and filled numerous hidden groundwater aquifers. Only in the last 100 or so years has the river been altered from this condition, due to the intervention of a unique new species on the planet. We have changed everything about the river and the balance of water use in the region. But for how long?

We spent a day traversing this dry landscape between the Mojave Desert and the edge of the Colorado Plateau near St. George, where we got a sense of just how dry this land is, and also how we have altered the balance of water use in the region. Our stops included the aptly named Valley of Fire State Park, and Lake Mead National Recreation Area.

The red sandstones of Valley of Fire are called the Aztec Sandstone, a Jurassic layer that is related to the Navajo Sandstone that makes up much of the scenery on the Colorado Plateau. Here in Valley of Fire, the rock has been jointed and fractured, and spheroidal weathering has turned the rocks into a wonderland of jumbled rounded boulders. The rocks were caught up in a compressional event in Cretaceous time called the Sevier Orogeny. Older Paleozoic rocks were pushed up and over the Aztec along a series of thrust faults. When the Colorado River established its present course, headward erosion along the tributary streams (in this case, the Virgin River) exposed the deeply buried rocks.

Water was available along the Virgin River, so Ancestral Puebloans and other cultures have lived here for thousands of years. They left a visible record of their existence in the form of petroglyphs in the desert varnish that covers many of the rocks. Their villages were small, in keeping with the limitations imposed on them by the lack of water.
Hoover Dam and Lake Mead

Contrast the existence of these small villages with the huge metropolis of Las Vegas. Or Phoenix. Or Los Angeles. For in the same way that the Virgin River made a small villages possible, the Colorado River allowed huge cities to exist in the desert. Phoenix survived for years with groundwater, but the water accumulated in the ice ages, and can never be replaced. A water table that began at a depth of 30 feet now lies hundreds of feet lower. The Central Arizona Project allows Phoenix to put a big straw in the Colorado River and draw out large amounts of water. Los Angeles got along with water they accessed (stole) from the eastern Sierra Nevada and Owens Valley, but they grew too much and needed more. Canals draw water into the Imperial Valley and further towards reservoirs that ring the L.A. Basin. Las Vegas is the most dependent; groundwater provides only 15% of their water. The rest comes from the river's big storage facility, Lake Mead. To their credit, they put some of it back. A permanent river with a constant flow of thousands of gallons per minute flows from their water treatment plants back into Lake Mead (remember, downstream users, you get what Las Vegas flushed away!). None of the river's water flows into the Gulf anymore.
Photo by Mrs. Geotripper

We stopped briefly at Callville Bay (in part to "add" some water back to Lake Mead), and were shocked to see the problem that faces these cities, and all the other stakeholders in Colorado River water. All the white, bleached area in the photo above is supposed to be under water. It hasn't been underwater in a long time, due to a horrific drought that has gripped the region for the last decade (and the drought continues). Lake Mead has dropped to historic lows, less that 50% of capacity.

Lake Mead is the largest reservoir in the United States, holding around 28 million acre feet of water, equal to two years of "normal" flow for the Colorado River. The reservoir is perilously close to "dead pool" level where it won't be able to generate hydroelectric power. What happens when the water runs out?
Photo by Mrs. Geotripper
At Valley of Fire, we were amused by the antics of the small Antelope Ground Squirrels. When they got too hot, they buried themselves in the sand to cool off.

Unfortunately, we don't have the choice of burying our heads in the sand. We take for granted that we turn a knob and water comes out. It may not always be that way. The inhabitants of the American Southwest have some hard decisions coming as global warming continues to change our environment.

Oh, the dog in the opening photo? It's cooling off in Rogers Spring, one of the natural springs that flows out of a fault zone on the north side of Lake Mead near Valley of Fire. There is a bit of water to be found even in the driest places.

Monday, June 3, 2013

A Dam Big Dam and a Dam Big Bridge...And a Dam Frightening Problem

Oh, how mighty are the works of man...and how arrogant we sometimes get when contemplating our great works. Our first stop on our tour of the western Colorado Plateau was a visit  to Hoover Dam and Lake Mead, the gigantic tower of concrete that blocks the Colorado River, and holds back 30 million acre-feet of water. It's the biggest dam reservoir in the United States. How much is 30 million acre feet? More than two years of "average" Colorado River flows for one. The largest dam in our region back home, Don Pedro on the Tuolumne, holds a paltry 2 million acre-feet.

The dam was built during the height of the Great Depression between 1930 and 1935, and just two years after the catastrophic failure of St. Francis Dam in California that killed around 600 people. Lessons learned from the failure of St. Francis led to modifications of Hoover Dam which presumably make it more or less indestructable.

Just the same, it is amazing how many faults are exposed in the canyon walls adjacent to the dam. The rocks forming the abutments are Miocene volcanic tuff, which doesn't dissolve or crumble in water (a major factor in the St. Francis event). But the rock is highly faulted, and it is a great place to explain slickensides, the scratch marks that occur when blocks of rock slide past each other. The rock is literally polished.
The visitor center is guarded by giant copper art-deco angels that made me feel like I was entering the walls of Minas Tirith in Lord of the Rings.
The thing is dam big. It's more than 700 feet high, which was the highest in the world when it was built (now it is 18th). One can drive or walk across the dam thing, but it is no longer the main highway between Kingman and Las Vegas.
In 2010, work was completed on the O'Callaghan-Tillman Bridge just downstream. It towers 880 feet above the river, and more than 200 feet above the level of the dam. Walking across the top allows the incredible perspective of the dam and lake in the top photo of this post.
 Looking down the dam face is disorienting, but it looks like a great slide (although one's pants would surely catch fire from the friction...). The white thing is part of the power generating complex.
The bridge really is a stunning piece of work, although it is a bit disconcerting to feel it vibrate as the big trucks pass by...
Looking down the other face of the dam is disconcerting too. It's been a long time since the dam was full (1983 to be exact). The water level looks to be only a hundred or so feet low, but that represents perhaps half the storage capacity of the reservoir. A decade long drought has brought down the reservoir to perilous levels (13 million acre-feet), and some forecasts suggest it may never fill again. 30 million people in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Phoenix and in many agricultural areas depend on the supply of water, but it just isn't there.

And that's dam frightening.