We are made of Water

The ocean curved and crashed into the shore. From my perch on the cliff the surfers looked like tiny colorful bits of kelp tumbling in the froth or long winged seagulls riding the breeze into the shallows. I took another bite of my carne asada and guac burrito, breathed in the salty air between savory chews, wiped the hot sauce from my face, and sighed. 

It was good to be home.

San Diego! 

I took another bite of heaven and recounted my years spent shuffling through this sand, drinking at bonfires below these cliffs, baking my skin under these cloudless skies. 

Yet a feeling of agitation slowly rumbled to the surface.

I heard it before I saw it. A sound that made me uneasy before I could even identify the source. The sound of water hitting pavement. I looked down over the bluff.  At the base of the swirling stairs leading to the beach were two outside showers, bits of wood and metal, one of which was running full power- with no one there. A deep gouge had formed at the base of the shower. 

A delta of wasted water soaking into the sand, seeping back to the sea. 

Water water everywhere… but nearly 90% comes from somewhere else so really we each may only have a drop to drink and certainly not enough to let run into the sand. 

I wrapped up my burrito, ready to descend to shut off the faucet when a surfer approached the shower and washed off his board. 

Please please please turn it off, I telepathically willed him, then watched in fascination mingled with disgust as he walked away from the spewing showerhead. 

Really, dude? I mean, brah? Maybe he’s from the East Coast, I reasoned, where they don’t know that water is scarce in these parts. But then I thought of my family at home- running the shower for five minutes to “warm it up” or letting the kitchen sink shoot water directly into the drain while washing dishes off to the side. It kills me! 

I cannot leave a tap running and I drive my Mom crazy when I instinctively swoop in and switch off the water. 

“Jennifer! Stop being such a fanatic!” 

To which I calmly (or sarcastically, depending on the day) reply, “We live in a desert, remember?” 

Maybe I am a fanatic, I think as I stare off at the boats on the horizon, the sound of crashing waves intermingling with the hiss of water of that sticky handled shower.

Maybe because I’ve lived on a boat for so many years where water is surrounding the damn thing but you either have to make your own and hope that the expensive and finicky reverse osmosis watermaker works, or you must ration the water in your 400 (or 40) gallon tank so that it will last for weeks. And that’s not just drinking water. It’s for washing dishes and showering (or sponge bathing) too.

Maybe it is because I have actually been in situations where the ability to procure water has been life or death. On my 32 ft sailboat my (former)partner and I once went for three weeks without the ability to fill our 40 gallon tank. We had a few five gallon jugs to supplement the stock and we funneled rain into extra containers when we could, but we made that total of 60 gallons last. 

For three weeks! 

60 gallons is less than ¾ of what the typical San Diegan uses in a day. 
One. 
Day. 
88 gallons! 
On my boat, we had no choice but to conserve. We held our lives in our own hands. Or rather, in our waterbottles and sink basins. 

So I think of water differently, for sure. Yet I think that San Diegans are in the same dire situation (or you could say the same boat) but the majority just don’t know it. Or won't admit it. 

Where are the mandatory water restrictions? Where are the public service announcements? Why aren’t there planes skywriting, “If it’s yellow, let it mellow!” Oh wait, carbon emissions- never mind the plane. Why aren’t we shouting from the corners of the Gaslamp, “If it’s brown, flush it down!”  Why aren’t all the lawns dead or better yet ripped out? Why doesn’t anyone seem to give a fuck? 

What is it about many San Diegans, transplants or natives, that breeds this apathy? Sure the weather is perfect year round (read: no rain), but don't you think that comes with trade-offs? Is it the laid back, live for today attitude that many bring with them to the bars and beaches that dissuades them (us) from thinking too far into the future that may include an even more severe drought and possibly even systemic collapse? Or is it the same fear of truth that forces them into denial, just like it does with the seemingly worldwide denial of fishery collapse? The forever shifting baseline changing our perception of "normal." If you can't see it or feel the crisis in this moment, does it not exist? Might as well eat all the fish you can get your hands on now before they are all gone. Keep using the water as you always have to wash down that driveway at noon and cross your fingers it will still come out of the tap tomorrow...

I stand up to take matters into my own hands. I start down the sandy stairs but then another surfer comes along, rinses off his board, dunks his head, and wiggles the handle. 

It’s off! 

Thank god, another caring soul. Or another someone with a touch of OCD. But it’s off, that’s all I care about. Until the guy after him uses it and walks away, leaving the constant stream to dig deeper rivulets into the surrounding sand. 

Jesus Christ buddy! See this crumbling red earth? Do you remember the last time it rained? Sure, I’ve been gone for four months, but I know we haven’t “caught up” on rain. Yup, according to the government, we’ve received about three inches of rain this year. San Diego’s yearly average is around 10 inches which we haven't reached since 2011. And even with an “average” rainfall, we still import almost all of our water!

My frustration mounts once more as water drains into earth until yet another surfer rinses and wiggles (the faucet, that is) and the stream is halted.

At least some people seem to care.
And my mom just gave me a dozen or so adorable succulent plants.

Maybe there is hope. 

What can we do about it? The best course of action is probably to move back where you came from.  There is most likely a hell of a lot more water there. But I know I’ve got to share my hometown with you people “from away” and I happen to love a lot of you, so, actually, I’m glad you’re here to help get the word out. Until, of course, I get fed up and move out of town to greener, lusher, wetter pastures myself- but maybe you'll join me?

In the meantime here is a list of obvious and not so obvious things we can do to save water if we’re going to stay in this desert. And notice I say WE. It has to be a community effort.  Voluntary, Mandatory, or For the Love of San Diego and Mother Earth: Let’s go!

The Basics: 

Limit your showering time.

Turn off tap when brushing your pearly whites (or coffee stained yellows).

If you want to take a bath, make it a shallow one. And scoop out the (minimally soapy) water to feed plants when you’re done. 

Don’t wash your car on the sidewalk (pick a carwash place that recycles water) if you’re that kind of car hygiene person. 

Water your veggie or native plant garden (NOT LAWN! RIP IT OUT!) in the morning (preferable) or evening.

Turn off the kitchen sink when you’re soaping up dishes. 

If you absolutely must use your dishwasher, make sure its full. 

Same goes for laundry.

Get low-flow everything: toilets, showerheads, etc

Fix leaky shit. Duh.

Even Better: 

Get a small tub for your kitchen sink. Soak and rinse dishes in the tub, using minimal soap. Or two tubs if you have the room. Remember how they used to talk about Dishpan Hands? Lets bring em back in style, hey!

Throw out the dishwater in nearby bushes or trees if you can.

Use greywater (the used water from your laundry, kitchen and shower) in your garden. Hook up a system yourself or use the amazing talent of someone like Brook Sarson at H2OME.

Install water-harvesting tanks if you have a house. We may only be getting a few inches right now, but may as well make the most of it.

When waiting for the shower water to heat up, place a bucket to catch the cold water. Use that to water plants or flush the toilet.

Speaking of toilets- “If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.” For someone who drinks a lot of water like me, I can save a dozen or more gallons a day by following this rule. It’s just pee, get over it, even if it’s somebody else’s in your household. Geesh.

Weird, and perhaps not necessarily local, but stay with me:

Eat grass fed beef if you’re a meat eater (perhaps with the exception of the ocassional  kickass La Posta carne asada burrito?). Growing grains, which aren’t good for cows anyway, uses up a shit ton of water. One pound of beef requires thousands of gallons of water (mostly going to mono-crop production). Grass fed tastes better, is better for you, and you can get it from local farms. Have you ever been up The 5 freeway and seen all those unhappy, smelly, CAFO cows? They eat grain instead of grass and seem very sad. Stop the Sadness. 

Use a refillable water bottle. It takes water to make plastic bottles. But you already know plastic is wasteful anyway, right?

Turn off those lights, turn off the air conditioning. Electricity production requires water to cool those huge power plants. Capeesh? 

Ok, enough from me. Google “water conservation” if you want more ideas. Or go to this site for more desert friendly water conservation tips.

And if you have more tips, ideas, rants, use the Comment section to your hearts delight.