Showing posts with label Water. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Water. Show all posts

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Whiskey and water: Can’t fight over either without history


Ditch diverting water from Monument Creek by use of a small dam and reservoir solved the water problem for the railroad at the time


By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com
One of the universal truths of living in the West is the idea that “whiskey is for drinking and water is for fighting over.”

An important distinction that needs to be noted is that you can’t make whiskey without a lot of water. And some folks won’t drink it without ice.

Also, you can’t fight over water without history.

Sam Hackett was described in Marion Savage Sabin’s 1957 book, “Palmer Lake: A Historical Narrative,” as a young Scotch-Irishman looking for a way to get up in the world.

“There was a very odd thing about Sam Hackett, ” wrote Sabin. “His was an unmistakably Irish physiognomy and his rich, deep brogue matched his face — yet there was little or nothing of Irish in his inner makeup. The genial gift of gab had been left entirely out of his composition; he was taciturn and cautious, like a Scotchman. His humor — few guessed he had any — was the sly, self-contained sort and his habitual aspect was dour. He was frugal and a confirmed woman-hater. Yet he was never a mean man and stories are told of his generosity to visitors and harvest hands in later years.”

Hackett worked, ate and slept at the railroad section house managed by Camillus Weiss. Among his early duties there was pumping water from Palmer Lake for the engines. Because of his general standoffishness and other reasons related to economics, he eventually decided to reside elsewhere.

“He went some distance away to the west of the railroad, nearer the mountains, and made himself a dug-out. It was just a hole in the ground, a low mound set in a hillside. The entrance which faced south, was held up by logs; and a few pine planks hewn in the woods, chipped out by himself and secured overhead in his cave, kept the roof from falling in…” according to Sabin.

At the time of her writing in the 1950s, the ruin of that abode could still be seen on the very edge of the field to west of the Little Log Church.

In order to augment the amount of water available in Palmer Lake to use to fill the 12 or so daily train engines that required water to push over the hump, Weiss, as the section boss for railroad, asked Hackett to dig a ditch.

The ditch diverted water from Monument Creek by use of a small dam and reservoir and solved the water problem for the railroad at the time.

“On Dec. 29, 1882, Samuel Hackett filed, in the Office of Clerk and Recorder of El Paso County, an affidavit describing his ditch and claiming water rights for domestic, mechanical and irrigation purposes,” wrote Lloyd McFarling in footnotes to Sabin’s book in December of 1956.

“He said the ditch was constructed about the year 1872. Two other ditches were also important in establishing water rights, which were later acquired by the Town of Palmer Lake. One was the Anchor Ditch, dug in 1867, and the other was the Monument Ditch, dug in 1868 and enlarged in 1875. These ditches were downstream from the Hackett Ditch. Their headgates were within the limits of the town as established at the time of incorporation in 1889,” wrote McFarling.

In time, Hackett eventually left the employ of the railroad, purchased Weiss’ property and turned to raising potatoes. His prowess at that activity helped create an industry — and a dominant one at that — in this area for several years and earned him the title “the potato king.”

He became very prosperous. Much of his success in the potato farming business, however, was heavily reliant on his ability to irrigate. His irrigation, of course, relied mostly on the Hackett Ditch.

Water was also on the minds of the founders of Monument.

“The citizens of Monument were very concerned about water for their community,” wrote Lucille Lavelett in “Through the Years at Monument, Colorado.”

“For several years, each family had dug a well in their back yard with hand-drawn buckets to bring the water to the top. In the early 1880s, the citizens had civic progress and created a bonded debt. It was small at first, but it grew and was cared for, extended and kept alive for 20 years until the interest payments exceeded the principal more than 50 percent,” she wrote.

“Old records show a ditch was being promoted by a stock company in 1874 to bring water into Monument for irrigation. News reports were that the ditch was partly dug in 1875. Apparently it was abandoned within a few years,” Lavelett said.

But in September of 1881, the Monument Town Council took another run at it by calling a special election for issuing bonds to bring water into town.

By November, the council passed a resolution issuing $2,500 worth bonds dating Jan. 2, 1882, and by March, George Newbrough was awarded a contract for construction of a ditch for $1,650 and soon other contracts were made for installing a flume in the upper end of the ditch, and for building bridges.

“On March 27, 1884, Charles D. Ford and Henry Limbach were appointed to make a plan and have the ditch recorded. On May 22, 1885, a plat and statement of the priority of the Monument ditch was recorded in book 60, pages 35 and 36. The ditch ran in an easterly direction from a point on Monument Creek about two miles northwest of Monument and within the present limits of Palmer Lake, to a reservoir in the southwest quarter of Section 11, then turned southwest to another reservoir in the northwest quarter of Section 14,” Lavelett wrote.

By 1892, according to photographs recorded, water began flowing through the pipes for the first time from Monument Reservoir. Ed Limbach, (Henry’s oldest son) was described as the engineer of that project.

Of course, there were many other important water events in the next 100 years, or so, but following are some highlights.

Monument Lake Dam was authorized by an act of the General Assembly of the state of Colorado approved April 16, 1891, for the purposes of flood control and irrigation. It was one of three built by the state of Colorado in 1893. Since that time, one dam has been taken over by a water district, one has been breached and one remains in disrepair (Monument).

April 7, 1899, the Legislature adopted an enactment under the provisions of which the Board of County Commissioners of any county in which a state reservoir was situated were charged with the duty of controlling and maintaining the same without expense to the state and providing for the storage of water as contemplated by the statute authorizing its construction and also for its distribution under the direction of the water commissioners for the district in which the reservoir may be situated. El Paso County government was given an unfunded mandate to control and maintain the dam.

On June 7, 1937, the Colorado State Legislature authorized the governor to execute a deed of conveyance to the Board of Trustees of the town of Monument of all the interest of the state of Colorado in and to the land under the reservoir. The act authorizes and directs only the conveyance of the right, title and interest of the state in the land and makes no reference of any kind to the dam structure itself or the right to store water in the reservoir.

Flash forward to the turn of the next century:

Betty Konarski, chair of the Monument Lake Preservation Committee at the time, describes what happened then, and the process to save the lake.

“I got involved in 1999 when the state engineer notified the town of Monument that it was going to ‘poke a hole in the dam’ because it was leaking and the town would have to pay the approximately $2 billion to do it,” she said.

“Once we decided to save the lake, I began digging into the history. Long story short, it would appear that Monument never owned the water in the lake (even in the 1800s when ice was cut and sold along the Front Range or when it leased fishing rights to a sportsman group) and still doesn’t until the state engineer issue is settled,” says Konarski.

“Monument had not annexed land under the lake until a few years ago when we had a drought and were afraid of bears being hunted as they came down to drink, endangering people who lived next to the lake. Then the town annexed the land and posted it for no hunting. The town still doesn’t own the deed to the dam (see Dam Story about legislation). The town has now been in water court for 16 years to get the right to store its own water behind the dam (we pay an annual evaporative loss fee to Colorado Springs Utilities for their allowing us to hold primarily their water behind the dam so as to have a lake).”
And other challenges cropped up in the process.

“Then there was the issue of the Preble’s meadow jumping mouse mitigation and what I call the ‘bra’ that we had to put on the dam (a mylar layer under dirt so plants could grow over the west side of the dam for protection for the mouse, but so the roots would not again destabilize the dam structure). The dam, alone, and its redesign to accommodate the sewer pipes coming from Palmer Lake, as well as its reconstruction, have several interesting elements. But the water issue is even more interesting as it fits into the need for renewed focus on potable water for the town and the new water rates.”

In the case of local water, it seems, there is still an opportunity to sit down, perhaps with small bottle of single malt and appropriate glassware, maybe some ice, and discuss history of water in the area. Or at least get the fight started.





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Photo information:
1. Monument Lake was threatened by disrepair and other problems at the turn of the Millennium.
2. Monument pioneer Mary Schubarth goes to the well to draw up her bucket of household water in her backyard.

Friday, December 10, 2010

It is like 'Jurassic Park' in the bathroom there

What is it? It is moving. Are those claws? That, for sure, is a tail.


By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

It started out like one of those B-grade movies you love when you are about 12 years old. Picture a wide shot with a woman preparing to fill up a glass bowl in the sink of an old building. Everything is normal, calm, and tranquil. The old building has been there in downtown Denver for at least 100 years and the plumbing probably saw its last update about 1920. Then the shot zooms in tighter, focusing more on the glass rose bowl and the sink as the water is turned on, and tighter yet, to the tap, as the water begins to fill and then, something small and unrecognizable plops in the bowl. She notices and holds it up to the light to better see.
What is it? It is moving. Are those claws? That, for sure, is a tail.
Yikes! I think it is a baby alligator.
Immediately that opens up the realm of possibilities in my over-active imagination. How did that get in the tapwater. I’ve heard of ‘gators in the sewers before, but is it warm enough in Denver for them to survive? And that was from the tap — hopefully tap and sewer shouldn’t have any connection. And it’s cold, almost Thanksgiving.
According to this month's Colorado Editor, "Clyde, a lizard who mysteriously appeared in running water from a tap in the Colorado Press Association bathroom, has garnered media attention from the Denver Post and National Public Radio to Channel 7 and Channel 9 News. The lizard, which is approximately 1-1/2 inches in length, is thought to have crawled into the tap rather than being a product of the Denver water system. He now resides at Scales and Tails in Lakewood where they hope to determine his exact identity."
Samantha Johnston, Colorado Press Association's executive director (and my boss), found the little bugger when she was filling up the glass bowl upon returning from a recent trip to Mexico.
I think it gives new meaning to the oft-used admonishment for travelers to, "Whatever you do, don't drink the water."
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Friday, April 16, 2010

Time travel and no running water



Thus, the need for the two whiskey barrels on the back porch.


By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com
 
“How long a minute is, depends on which side of the bathroom door you're on.” 
__ Zall's Second Law


Raymond G. Colwell moved to Cripple Creek when he was nine years old in 1899. Living with his father and brothers, who worked as mining engineers, he experienced first hand the heyday of the roaring camp. In July of 1960, a paper he wrote for the Denver Westerners appeared in the “Roundup,” the monthly journal for the Westerners and recalls his first day in the district.
“It was a long walk from the Florence and Cripple Creek depot, which was clear down on the extreme lower, or southern, end of town, to the house which the boys had bought, which was clear on the north edge of town. If any of you remember the reservoir which is on the top of the hill beyond the end of Third or Fourth Street, our house was just a block towards downtown from it. The walk was, I presume, about seven or eight or more long blocks: I have two very vivid recollections of that walk, even aside form the fact that it was all up hill and board sidewalks or just plain gravel,” wrote Colwell.
“One of these was hearing my first burro, when one of them cut loose with a long bray just as I went by a vacant lot where he was foraging. I thought then, and still think, that it sounded exactly like priming the old well pump on the farm back in Wisconsin,” he noted.
“The other remembrance is of the long drawn out and, and to me at least, mournful call of the hot tamale vendors, as they made their rounds of the town, with their big basket on their arm containing a little pot of glowing charcoal, or perhaps a kerosene flame, to keep the hot tamales hot. You could hear the musical call of ‘Hot tom-ma-le-e-e-s’ all over the residential parts of town until late at night. Downtown, in the business section, they had little handcarts with a gasoline burner… But for the outlying, hilly parts of town, they stuck to their basket carried on their arm. Most of them seemed to me to be old men, but at a time when many men still wore beards, I may have been mistaken.”
Colwell said it was his responsibility to clean out ashes and keep the coal packed in, and the kerosene lamps filled.
“On the back porch we had two whiskey barrels for water, which the ‘water man’ kept filled at 5 cents for a 10 gallon bucket. He had tank wagon which he filled at a street hydrant, and came around two or three times a week. We really had what I thought was the finest water in the world, directly from the reservoirs above Gillette, on the western slope of Pikes Peak… I know it was clear, cold and wonderful tasting.”
Colwell said the town’s water system was put in by Michigan capital and the mains from the reservoir to town, a distance of four or five miles, was made up of wooden bored pipes, wrapped with steel bands and tar coated.
“It was pipe that was taken up about 1893 at Bay City, Michigan, where the water company was owned by the same people, at that time was reputedly fifty years old when it was replaced there by cast iron pipe. In the last few years a great deal, perhaps most, of it had been replaced but it gave a pretty satisfactory service for very close to a hundred years.”
He said blasting trenches deep enough to keep pipe from freezing in Cripple Creek was extremely expensive because the bedrock was so close to the surface.
“So, with the exception of the business district, and a few block from it in the residence section, all of the smaller homes and cabins had no plumbing.”
Thus, the need for the two whiskey barrels on the back porch.


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Thursday, January 1, 2009

Water, development and the fight


Having reread Ralph Moody’s first book “Little Britches,” about his experiences over 100 years ago on his family ranch in what is now present-day Littleton and Englewood, I think it is a good time to reflect on how far we’ve come.
The ranch as near as I can figure from Moody’s description has probably been swallowed by development, in the vicinity of Wadsworth Boulevard and Hampden Avenue. It is interesting to note how “god -forsaken,” the country was described.
After unsuccessfully fighting (with bare knuckles, firearms, and in the courts) for years over their share of water that was supposed to travel down the ditch, the Moody family was forced to abandon their hard-scrabble existence and move to town. Moody’s father became a carpenter and foreman in the building trades there. If you can’t beat them, join them, I guess. The senior Moody died shortly after, when his weak lungs gave out.
But here we are, 100 years later, still fighting over having enough water and alternately embracing and rejecting development because of it.
Among the top 10 major findings in the 2003 Statewide Water Supply Initiative (SWSI), The Number 1 finding was that “Significant increases in Colorado’s population, together with agricultural water needs and increased focus on recreational and environmental uses, will intensify competition for water.”
Duh. Tell us something we don’t know.
That same study pegged the South Platte watershed shortfall at 22 percent, one of the worst shortfalls in the state by the year 2030. Estimates for 2030 water demand by basin versus current anticipated supply were calculated by Colorado Water Conservation Board and the study was delivered to the State legislature in December.
“New and expanded reservoirs will play a part, as will conservation. One of the study’s major findings, however, is that taking water from irrigated agricultural land and converting it to municipal use will be a primary source of water for cities, one that will be increasingly more attractive if other projects fail.” says Headwaters, a publication of the Colorado Foundation for Water Education in its Winter 2005 edition. “
As many as 400,000 acres of Colorado’s irrigated agricultural land could be dried up by 2030, according to the study.
Where does that leave us. I guess somewhere very near to the place we were 100 years ago when Ralph’s dad had to bare his knuckles and learn to handle a sixshooter. As former songwriter Warren Zevon might have said.
“Send lawyers, guns and money.”
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Saturday, November 1, 2008

May never be rich, start digging a ditch


The important role that water has played and continues to play in our history and development was reinforced to me in a previous conversation with Tri-Lakes Fire Protection District chairman at the time and former Palmer Lake Historical Society board member Charlie Pocock, The conversation originated with history but as such things often do, it meanders all the way upriver to the source.
Regarding water, Pocock tabbed the historical character of Sam Hackett.
Sam Hackett was described in Marion Savage Sabin’s 1957 book, “Palmer Lake: A Historical Narrative,” as a young Scotch-Irishman looking for a way to get up in the world.
“There was a very odd thing about Sam Hackett, ” wrote Sabin. “His was an unmistakably Irish physiognomy and his rich, deep brogue matched his face — yet there was little or nothing of Irish in his inner makeup. The genial gift of gab had been left entirely out of his composition; he was taciturn and cautious, like a Scotchman. His humor—few guessed he had any — was the sly, self-contained sort and his habitual aspect was dour. He was frugal and a confirmed woman-hater. Yet, he was never a mean man and stories are told of his generosity to visitors and harvest hands in later years.”
Hackett worked and originally ate and slept at the railroad’s section house managed by Camillus Weiss. Among his early duties there, was pumping water from Palmer Lake for the engines. Because of his general standoffishness and other reasons related to economics, he eventually decided to reside elsewhere.
“ He went some distance away to the west of the railroad, nearer the mountains, and made himself a dug-out. It was just a hole in the ground, a low mound set in a hillside. The entrance which faced south, was held up by logs; and a few pine planks hewn in the woods, chipped out by himself and secured overhead in his cave, kept the roof from falling in…” according to Sabin.
At the time of her writing in the 1950s, the ruin of that abode could still be seen on the very edge of the field to west of the Little Log Church.
In order to augment the amount of water available in Palmer Lake to use to fill the 12 or so daily train engines that required water to push over the hump, Weiss, as the section boss for railroad, asked Hackett to dig a ditch. The ditch diverted water from Monument Creek by use of a small dam and reservoir and solved the water problem for the railroad at the time.
“On December 29, 1882, Samuel Hackett filed in the Office of Clerk and Recorder of El Paso County an affidavit describing his ditch and claiming water rights for domestic, mechanical and irrigation purposes,” wrote Lloyd McFarling in footnotes to Sabin’s book in December of 1956.
“He said the ditch was constructed about the year 1872. Two other ditches were also important in establishing water rights, which were later acquired by the Town of Palmer Lake. One was the Anchor Ditch, dug in 1867; and the other was the Monument Ditch dug in 1868 and enlarged in 1875. These ditches were down-stream from the Hackett Ditch. Their headgates were within the limits of the town as established at the time of incorporation in 1889,” wrote McFarling.
In time, Hackett eventually left the employ of the railroad, purchased Weiss’ property and turned to raising potatoes. His prowess at that activity helped create an industry —and a dominant one at that — in this area for several years and earned him the title “the potato king.” He became very prosperous. Much of his success in potato farming business, however, was heavily reliant on his ability to irrigate. His irrigation, of course, relied mostly on “Hackett’s Ditch. So here we are once again, right back here at the source.
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