In California’s San Joaquin Valley, Tulare Lake made a comeback for the first time in around 130 years, submerging nearly 100,000 acres of privately owned farmland, causing both astonishment and anxiety among locals and academics.
Former Northeastern University scholar Vivian Underhill has been researching this surprising occurrence.
The largest freshwater body west of the Mississippi River was Tulare Lake. “Now, it’s really hard to imagine that,” she says.
Tulare Lake, sometimes known as the “ghost lake,” disappeared some 130 years ago as a result of significant human activity.
However, the lake sprang back to life in the spring of 2023 following severe winter storms and substantial snowfall from the Sierra Nevada.
Thousands of acres of lush farmland that once produced cotton, safflower, almonds, and pistachios were submerged when the water overflowed man-made systems intended to drain the basin.
The resurrected lake has an apparently limitless blue horizon. However, Tulare Lake provides little relief from the heat in contrast to Lake Tahoe’s refreshing winds and allure for recreation. The sun is not well protected by a thin layer of high clouds, and the air is quiet.
Local ecosystems have been revitalised by the lake’s return, despite the difficulties. Its coastlines are crowded with waterfowl, including ducks and egrets.
These days, frogs wade near the water’s edge, prepared to plunge in at the first sign of trouble. A resurgence of plant life that hasn’t been observed here in many generations is shown by the tule grass that has started to grow along the coast.
“Once, there was so much water that a steamship could carry agricultural supplies from the Bakersfield area up to Fresno and then up to San Francisco,” Underhill says, highlighting the historical relevance.
That amounts to about 300 miles of passable canals that facilitated trade and served as community links.
Today, the existence of such a large lake appears almost legendary to visitors traversing the parched San Joaquin Valley.
Underhill says, “It’s difficult to imagine such a large body of water co-existing alongside such an arid landscape.” However, “Fresno was a lakeside town” in the nineteenth century.
Snowmelt from the Sierra Nevada was the main source of water for Tulare Lake in those days.
According to Underhill, “the water gathers to form a lake because there is no natural outlet within the valley.” It was essential to the Tachi Yokut tribe’s way of existence and was referred to as “Pa’ashi.”
Tulare Lake started to vanish in the late 1850s and early 1860s.
According to Underhill, “the lake’s decline was driven by the state of California’s desire to seize public land and turn it into private ownership.”
The goal of this “reclamation” technique was to turn desert or flooded terrain into fertile farmland.
According to Underhill, “people would be given ownership of parts of that land if they could drain that land.” White settlers were therefore very motivated to do that work.
As a result, hundreds of irrigation canals were built throughout the valley to divert water from the lake.
Tulare Lake’s resurgence presents fresh difficulties today. Private lands have been submerged by the flooding, transforming fields into enormous bodies of water.
The shoreline is dotted with signs alerting people to the fact that boats and wading are officially forbidden.
What is beneath the surface is far more concerning. There are manure piles, electrical lines, sharp farm equipment, and submerged storage sheds filled with chemicals and fertilisers.
In addition to endangering anyone who ventures into the lake, these hazards also raise worries about contamination in the environment.
According to local officials, it might take years for its most recent incarnation to completely go away.
Underhill notes, “California just got inundated with snow in the winter and then rain in the spring.”
These weather patterns hasten the melting of snow, which results in swift runoff into the basin that contains Tulare Lake.
History, culture, and environmental change are all woven into the tale of Tulare Lake, which is more than just the return of water to a parched valley.
Tulare Lake serves as a reminder of both the enduring effects of human intervention and the tenacity of nature as it recovers its historic footprint.
Deliberate efforts to alter the terrain for farming, frequently at the expense of native populations and natural ecosystems, caused the lake to vanish.
A glimpse of what the area would have looked like before heavy farming took over has been provided by the revival, which has brought back species that haven’t been seen in decades.
However, the difficulties brought forth by the lake’s reemergence also underscore how difficult it is to strike a balance between environmental management and human needs.
Significant financial losses result from the drowned farmlands, and there are problems associated with the possible environmental dangers that lie beneath the water that must be handled.
It is unexpected and profound to see the lake return, as Underhill so eloquently states. It forces us to reevaluate how we interact with the land and the long-term effects of our choices.
The journal Open Rivers publishes Underhill’s whole report.