Back to StoriesHow Would Our Modern Arid West Confront 'Drought' Lasting Hundreds Of Years?
The ancient people of western Utah’s Danger Cave lived well. They ate freshwater fish, ducks and other small game, according to detritus they left behind. They had a lush lakeside view, with cattails, bulrushes and water-loving willows adorning the marshlands.
December 19, 2020
How Would Our Modern Arid West Confront 'Drought' Lasting Hundreds Of Years? Great Basin caves tell story linking climate change to "worse-case scenario" with potential impact on 56 million water users
Earlier climate change had life-changing effects on the ancient people who stayed in Danger Cave. Fresh water that supported fish and abundant wildlife dried up and left inhabitants with the labor-intensive chore of extracting tiny seeds form pickle weed and other drought-hardy plants, the archaeological record shows. Of course, in the past, there were a lot less people in the West needing less of finite water supply. Photo by Judy Fahys/InsideClimate News
EDITOR'S NOTE: Mountain Journal is a content-sharing partner with InsideClimate News, a Pulitzer Prize-winning nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that provides essential reporting and analysis on climate, energy and the environment.
By Judy Fahys
InsideClimate News
The ancient people of western Utah’s Danger Cave lived well. They ate freshwater fish, ducks and other small game, according to detritus they left behind. They had a lush lakeside view, with cattails, bulrushes and water-loving willows adorning the marshlands.
But, over time, the good
life became history. As heat and drought set in, the freshwater dried up and
forced the ancients to survive by plucking tiny seeds from desert shrubs called
pickleweed. Archaeologists know this from a thick layer of dusty chaff buried
in the cave’s floor.
It might be ancient
history. But the past could also become the future, science tells us. In fact,
thanks to global warming, regional climate patterns linked to extended periods
of heat and drought that upended prehistoric life across the Southwest
thousands of years ago are setting up again now.
“The benefit of any kind
of paleoclimate data is that it tells us what nature is capable of,” said
Matthew Lachniet, a paleoclimatologist at the University of Nevada in Las
Vegas.
The climate risk across
the Southwest is actually growing, based on Lachniet’s recent study of a different cave, about 200 miles across the
Great Basin in Nevada. His geochemical data
from Leviathan Cave shows that drought can last 4,000 years—findings that Lachniet’s team cross-checked against paleoclimate data from the
Arctic and tropical Pacific. In short, the story in the cave data suggests a
“worst-case scenario” that could — and probably should — guide planning
throughout a region that provides water to 56 million people.
“In this case, we know
that nature is capable of extended dry conditions that are even longer than
they are today,” Lachniet said. “And the concern is, if we go into the future
of a warm Arctic and a warm Western tropical Pacific, that it will have the
same effect on the climate of the Southwest” that it did during those arid
times back at Danger Cave.
Lachniet’s scientific
paper, released last summer in the journal Paleoceanography and Paleoclimatology, sprouted from his work analyzing part
of a rock pillar from Leviathan Cave, located in central Nevada’s Basin and Range National Monument.
The paleohistory
that his team analyzed in the Leviathan stalagmite, as the rock pillars are
called, cover nearly the same time frame that humans first started using Danger
Cave, which is now considered one of the Great Basin’s most important human
history sites.
The stalagmites are
created by the slow buildup of calcium carbonate layers as water droplets fall
from the cave ceiling. They offer a “readable” record much like the tree-ring
records that are a staple of climate science.
“We’re able to date
those layers using chemistry, rather than actually counting them like they do
in a tree ring,” Lachniet said. “We measure the concentration of uranium
naturally occurring in the calcite, and that tells us how old the stalagmite
is.”
Using the top six inches
of an 18-inch stalagmite that researchers removed from Leviathan Cave and
brought back to the lab for analysis, researchers measured the length and depth
of dry periods on the land surface going back about 13,400 years.
And while the study
methods could not determine how much temperature changed, they did validate a
period of aridification between 9,800 and 5,400 years ago—as the western
Pacific warmed up and as sea ice declined in the Arctic because Earth’s orbit
shifted.
Lachniet explained that
these same regional conditions that caused aridification in Nevada and the
Great Basin before — the warming Pacific and shrinking sea ice — could also be
expected to prompt a return to those ancient conditions in the Southwest, this
time because of warming from greenhouse gases. Lachniet said his findings,
along with other recent research, further imply that not only is Nevada
expected to become warmer because of these trends, but so are the Colorado
Rockies and parts of the headwaters of the Colorado River.
Climate scientist Cody
Routson of Northern Arizona University has looked at some of the same trends in
his own research and found them “pretty eye-opening.” The reason? Water managers
and climate scientists are already alarmed about the increasingly severe “hot
droughts” in the Colorado River Basin, with high temperatures coinciding with
less rainfall.
Climate scientist Cody Routson of Northern Arizona University has looked at some of the same trends in his own research and found them “pretty eye-opening.” The reason? Water managers and climate scientists are already alarmed about the increasingly severe “hot droughts” in the Colorado River Basin, with high temperatures coinciding with less rainfall.
And water policy is
generally based on a worst-case scenario, derived from tree-ring analysis going
back about 1,500 years ago to the medieval megadrought on the Colorado River.
That drought, Routson said, was “way worse than anything we have experienced.”
But this new
paleoclimate data suggests that a clearer picture of what the future holds for
the Southwest might be found in the climate of the early and middle Holocene,
roughly the same time ancient people were adapting to the changes around Danger
Cave and the drought that gripped the Southwest between 9,800 years ago and
5,400 years ago in Lachniet’s study.
So as the new studies
confirm hot, dry periods lasting thousands of years, rethinking water and
development planning time frames becomes urgent for 56 million people, whose
lives and economies rely on water from the Colorado River and the Rio Grande
basins, Lachniet said in his stalagmite research paper.
“What we're seeing is
that temperatures are going to increase and that ends up producing much more
evaporation, more loss of water from the reservoirs, a greater demand for water
in agricultural systems where people are pulling in that water for use on their
crops,” Lachniet said. “So even in the absence of any change in the amount of
precipitation, we would expect to have more water scarcity in the future under
those warmer conditions.”
Findings like these are
prompting climate scientists, like researchers in other fields, to reconsider
their reluctance to share their findings outside of academia.
Using the words
“worst-case scenario,” as Lachniet does, in a scientific paper is pretty bold,
said Andrea Brunelle, a paleoclimatologist at the University of Utah. But she
added that scientists — especially climate scientists — are increasingly sharing
their findings with decision-makers, not just other scientists.
“Then the next really
important step,” she said, “is getting this into the hands of water managers or
land managers or whoever it is that makes the plans and lays out the policies
for the future.”
A view east from the Silver Island Mountains shows the Bonneville Salt Flats on the horizon at left. Danger Cave, and the nearby Jukebox Cave, were formed when waters from ancient Lake Bonneville began to recede about 16,000 years ago. Changing climate throughout the region transformed the landscape across the Great Basin as well as the lives of the people who lived there in prehistoric times.
This idea also seems to
underlie new work from a team of international climate
scientists, who recently made the case that climate modeling centers should
include simulations of past climates in their predictions of future climate
change. Besides predicting scenarios for future climate, this approach will
help scientists assess the impacts of human-caused greenhouse gas emissions and
propose strategies for mitigation.
“Looking to the past to
inform the future could help narrow uncertainties surrounding projections of
changes in temperature, ice sheets and the water cycle," said Jessica
Tierney, an associate professor in the geosciences department of the University
of Arizona who is lead author of a new research review paper in the journal
Science.
The team behind that paper goes a step further, urging climate model
developers to consider paleohistory while predicting the future. "If your
model can simulate past climates accurately,” Tierney said, “it likely will do
a much better job at getting future scenarios right."
To the
east of Danger Cave lie the glowing, white Bonneville Salt Flats. They are what’s left over,
like the Great Salt Lake, from the retreat of prehistoric Lake Bonneville
16,000 years ago.
The
stage for seven land-speed records in the 1930s and ’40s, the salt flats
provided an ironic twist to a
Danger Cave tour that took place before the pandemic. As cars zipped across the
salt flats during international Speed Week, Ron Rood of Metcalf Archaeology told a small gathering of tourists about the changes that had
reshaped the land and human life over thousands of years all across the Great
Basin.
The visitors gathered
around as he showed a snippet of willow basketry and passed around small
plastic tubs filled with artifacts like animal bones, evidence of dinner
rubbish and hand tools. He explained how hard it was to strip the seeds from
the desert plants that took over the landscape when freshwater food sources
disappeared.
“Maybe,” Rood said, “we
can learn some lessons from that.”