I am just back from the Land of Enchantment and I am still under the spell. On my sojourn through northern New Mexico I wandered through the cacophony of tan hills and deep arroyos (gulches) filled with small villages and intimate neighborhoods. 

I ate my way from pueblo to pueblo, savoring food that is typical only to this small region. The green chile, blue corn, piñon nuts, beans and squash are a delight, but it is the red chili that makes the definitive statement. Made from finely ground dried red chili peppers, I have never had two chilis the same. Some chili powders are almost pink or brick red varying all the way to a rich blood red. This red conjures the association of their mountains at sunset, the “Sangre de Cristo” or Blood of Christ. New Mexicans will tell you that it is their family’s recipe passed down from their “abuela” (grandmother) or even her grandmother. The recipes are different but each seed strain of local chili pepper is also guarded through the generations.

None of this rich cultural and gastronomic evolution could have happened without one critical element. It is the 400 year old system of acequias. This network of hand-dug, gravity flow irrigation ditches has been bringing the precious waters from the Sangres to family farms and gardens long before the United States was united. Closer to the headwaters, the primary canal in this arterial system is the “Acequia Madre,” the mother ditch. These acequias weave their way through the wrinkled topography bringing the lifeblood of the region to the people.

I stood under a blossoming fruit tree in front of the half-subterranean adobe museum in a tiny town when a stocky man walked up. A short man, he wore a cool, closely-cropped Mohican on his otherwise bald, sun worn head. He was curator of the museum, and after five minutes I felt that I had known him for years. He left the museum to me and explained he had some obligations to attend to. 

He lives in a small, very old village called Cundiyo, meaning “round hill of the little bells.” The next day was “limpio,” he explained, the vernal weekend when the community members that draw water from the acequia meet to collectively clean their ditch. He, a well-respected elder, is the “mayordomo.” As the responsible, wise and seasoned civic leader, he directs the commune in this annual ritual. Each of the ditch users must supply the requisite amount of manpower corresponding to his share of the ditch. The mayordomo is the quality controller for this volunteer group of neighbors. It is hard, dirty and rewarding work.

He laughed when I said I was very familiar with this task and that I consider the task “love-hate.” As a young man, I cleaned ditch for a number of years here with my “mayordomo.” Now my water shares come from the Crystal River via the Rockford Ditch. The Rockford Ditch was hand-dug (likely using beasts of burden) in 1883 and is the oldest ditch in the Valley, dug several years prior to the establishment of Carbondale.The maturity of this water right secures its priority over water rights initiated at a later date. The first entity to divert and beneficially use water has the senior water right. “First in time, first in right” is the legal and defining principle for the management of Colorado River water.

In 1916, the Bureau of Reclamation built a 14-foot-tall, river-wide, concrete “roller dam” on the Colorado River at Cameo upriver from Grand Junction. To release water, the dam has six roller gates on it and was the first place in the country to utilize this unique German technology. It is now on the National Historic Register. The Highline Canal irrigates over 33,000 acres in the Grand Valley. The spectre of the dreaded “Cameo Call” for more water strikes fear into the hearts of all water rights holders that are junior, or younger than this water right. Their legal use of the water will be compromised in order to fulfill the Cameo adjudication. If there is ever a year that challenges the system of water rights it will be 2026. 

If water is the life blood of the land and the ditches (and acequias) are the arterial and vascular system, then our beloved mountains and their essential snowpack are surely the heart of the West. The Crystal Valley Environmental Protection Association (CVEPA) believes that water conservation is essential to the western environment.

To learn more about CVEPA and to support our work, access www.cvepa.org or visit us on facebook.