Silent Springs
Is it too late to save Hill Country water?
Forrest Wilder | _May 15, 2009_
(http://www.texasobserver.org/toc.php?iid=305)  | Features


Sixty feet below the shimmering surface of Jacob’s Well, an artesian spring
 that for thousands of years has pulsed iridescent blue-green water from
the  Trinity Aquifer to the surface, a sophisticated instrument measures the
spring’s  vital signs. The results are beamed almost instantaneously to the
Internet.
These days the gauge detects only the thinnest of pulses.
On a hot April afternoon, David Baker, an artist turned conservationist,
stands on the limestone lip gazing down into Jacob’s Well. Earlier, Baker had
 checked the spring flow: an anemic five gallons per second. “At that
point, the  spring has basically stopped flowing,” he says.
Old-timers recall—and spotty historical data confirm—that the spring used
to  have enough of a head to jet swimmers back to the surface after they
cannonballed in. Today the pulse is barely a dying man’s heartbeat. In 2000,
Jacob’s Well stopped flowing for the first time in recorded history.
Its source sapped, Cypress Creek came to a trickle in Wimberley, and the
state added it to a list of streams with impaired water quality. “I think it
was  a big wake-up call for the community,” Baker says. “If the well is the
canary in  the coal mine for the aquifer, then the canary was choking and
about dead.”
The spring ceased flowing again in October 2008. As this story went to
press,  it appeared Jacob’s Well had gone to zero a third time.
The cessations confirm what water experts have been warning: that Jacob’s
Well is under immense stress from a development boom over the Trinity
Aquifer,  the primary source of water for much of the Hill Country.
The trouble is hardly limited to Jacob’s Well or the Hill Country.
Groundwater scarcity is a looming crisis across Texas. Because of drought,
overpumping, and the loss of natural recharge, state water planners estimate  
that
groundwater available for pumping will decrease 22 percent by 2060. The 
state’s laissez-faire water laws and cumbersome regulatory apparatus  have done
little to help.
Conservationists see bad omens in what’s happening to Jacob’s Well and the
 Trinity Aquifer. Water is particularly fragile in the Hill Country,
designated  by the state in 1990 as a priority groundwater management area. In 
no
other  region of the state, perhaps, are groundwater and surface water so
closely  intertwined. The science is clear: If the aquifers decline, they take
the  springs, seeps, streams, rivers, and lakes with them.
“By continuing to increase our use of groundwater, we cut off the lifeblood
 of the Hill Country,” says Laura Marbury, a water policy specialist with
the  Environmental Defense Fund of Texas. “We’re trading off increased
development  for the flow of the creeks and rivers out there. And payback will 
be
harsh.”
Jacob’s Well is tucked in an out-of-the-way corner of a  semideveloped
subdivision near the Hill Country burg of Wimberley, a one-time  backwater of
cedar-choppers and hardscrabble ranchers that's now giving way to
suburbanization. No signs mark its location. I attended Wimberley High School  
for four
years, visiting Jacob’s Well a handful of times, and still had a hard  time
finding it. As a sort of omphalos of the region, Jacob’s Well is not so
much forgotten as obscured.
Its importance is undeniable, though. Locally, the spring provides the bulk
 of flow for Cypress Creek, an exquisite, bald cypress-lined stream that
forms  Blue Hole, one of the state’s top swimming holes. It was saved from
residential  development by the village of Wimberley and a local philanthropist
in 2003.
“Jacob’s Well is Cypress Creek,” Baker says.
Cypress Creek, in turn, feeds the Blanco River—a shallow, flash-flood-prone
 stream with a fluted limestone bottom and majestic white bluffs flanking
mostly  undeveloped ranch land. During the drought of record in the '50s,
Jacob’s Well  kept the Blanco from drying up below Wimberley. The Blanco flows
into the San  Marcos River, which itself meets the Guadalupe River near
Gonzales and rolls  down to San Antonio Bay.
Conservationists and water experts stress the wondrous interconnectivity of
 surface and groundwater in Texas, especially in the porous Hill Country.
Consider: At certain leaky spots, the upper Blanco disappears underground,
slipping into the aquifer via a fault. The river may even follow the fault
lines  (geologists aren’t sure) east to the Cypress Creek watershed,
providing flow to  Jacob’s Well, which in turn pushes water into Cypress Creek 
and
the Blanco  River. Downstream, the Blanco River again “loses” water to the
aquifer.
Adding to the system’s complexity, some of that Trinity water—about 64,000
 acre-feet per year—moves underground into the Balcones Fault Zone portion
of the  Edwards Aquifer, the source of the perennial San Marcos Springs.
Those springs  are the headwaters of the San Marcos River, a main source for
the Guadalupe  River in times of drought.
Texas water law recognizes very little of this. As a drop of water moves
between the ground and the surface, it passes through two different legal
spheres. As surface water, it’s owned by the state but perhaps allocated, in
the  form of a water right, to a rancher, farmer, or city. As groundwater, it’
s the  property of the landowner.
Jacob’s Well confuses this artificial distinction. The spring is not just a
 headwater; it’s literally a spy hole into the Trinity Aquifer. Divers have
 mapped the underwater cave over a mile underground, pushing through a
series of  chambers deep into the limestone Cow Creek formation of the Middle
Trinity.  Eight have died in the pursuit of the unknown.
“Jacob’s Well is the expression of the aquifer on the surface,” Baker
says.  “What it’s indicating to us is that the whole system is stressed.”
Recent research suggests that Jacob’s Well is highly sensitive to pumping,
especially in the recharge zone northwest of the springs, an area of small
sinkholes (believed to connect to Jacob’s Well) and cedar-choked hills that
 developers are carving into residential lots. The main development is
called The  Ridge at Wimberley Springs.
“I think we’ve reached the limit, yet more homes are going in as we speak,”
  Baker says. “And that’s the dilemma.”
Since founding the Wimberley Valley Watershed Association in 1996, Baker
has  been fighting to keep developers from chewing up Jacob’s Well. At the
moment,  the watershed association is tied up in a lawsuit with a group that
wants to  build RiverRock, a “residential resort”—spa, “lagoon-style” pool,
gourmet  restaurant—a few hundred feet from Jacob’s Well. RiverRock wants
to build a road  through the Jacob’s Well Preserve. Baker hopes to stop the
development  altogether, claiming that it would pump 15 million gallons per
year, which could  have a direct impact on flows at the springs.
Baker is also at loggerheads with Aqua Texas, a for-profit water utility
that  serves Woodcreek, an incorporated subdivision of 1,500 people just south
of  Jacob’s Well. Last year, almost half the water Aqua Texas pumped from
its main  well was wasted because of crumbling infrastructure. Worse, when
the company  turns on the pumps at that same well, the discharge at Jacob’s
Well drops a  corresponding amount.
In 2005, the watershed group scored a victory by consolidating the four 
parcels of private land that abut the spring. With a $3 million grant from
Hays  County, the group is creating the Jacob’s Well Preserve, a 55-acre
natural area  that eventually will be open to the public.
This effort will be for naught if something isn’t done to manage the
Trinity.  Hays County is one of the fastest-growing counties in a fast-growing
state. In  2000 the population was a little under 100,000; in 2060, it’s
expected to reach  500,000. In the past few years, the county has been the scene
of intense  squabbles between anti-sprawl activists, drawn largely from the
Wimberley area’s  large retired population, and pro-growth interests. (See “
Dateline: Hays  County,” Nov. 14, 2008.)
Add water to the mix. The Trinity Aquifer, which is much less rechargeable
than the Edwards, provides the vast majority of groundwater for the area.  “
There’s a lot of straws pulling from an aquifer that doesn’t have a lot to
 give,” says Ron Fieseler, the coordinator for Groundwater Management Area
9,  which covers a swath of the Hill Country.
(Part II to be emailed separately as CaveTex cannot accept a file larger
than  30 kb)

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