By Hal Walter
Geographers seem to agree the definition of a desert is a region where annual precipitation amounts to less than 10 inches.
By that definition those of us in the Westcliffe area may be living in a desert this year, and for sure we lived in one last year when the total was 9.34 inches. The least ever recorded was in 2002 when we received 8.77 inches.
In fact, this place ironically called the “Wet” Mountain Valley has been a desert about a half-dozen years since records began being kept in 1948, and we’ve hovered at just about the desert mark several other times with precipitation just a tad over 10 inches, like in 1973 when 10.03 inches were recorded.
The wettest year on record was 1957 when 23.28 inches fell. This year was one of only four years on record when rainfall exceeded 20 inches, which would float Custer County out of the semi-arid category. That is, if it weren’t for those dry years bringing the average back down.
Semi-arid regions are those that receive between 10 and 20 inches of annual precipitation and comprise about 30 percent of the Earth’s land surface. In the more typical years, and in even in most of what we think of as the wetter years, this is what we are.
So it’s curious to me when people seemed surprised or even traumatized by the lack of moisture this year, or complain that we didn’t get much snow over the winter. The fact is we live in a place that historically could be classified as a desert many years, and is below the median level for semi-arid on average. Our north-facing slopes may be graced with pine and fir, but many of our open areas and south-facing hills are studded with cactus and yucca.
As for snowfall, January is historically our driest month of the year, and the winter months of December, January and February together contribute less than two inches on average to our annual total – about 13 percent over the quarter-year season. In 2003, when we received an epic seven feet of snow in one March storm, it only added about three inches of precipitation to the 17.46 total for that year.
These dry facts may be difficult for many people to drink in. After all, the Wet Mountain Valley is renowned for its lush summer pastures and hayfields. But we must understand those fields of green are irrigated by generally reliable snowpack from high in the Sangre de Cristo Range. During typical years, enough snow falls on those mountains and melts at a slow-enough rate to flood the fields. That didn’t happen this year, and much of the valley floor is brown. One hay grower told me he was down to 1872 water rights and still not getting enough water for his hayfields.
Though I’m nearly always surprised when I turn on a faucet and actual water pours forth, that doesn’t keep me from trying to grow things here. This year I put in the usual small gardens, and also decided to add a couple apple trees to the mix.
Never mind that I’ve lived in the so-called Wet Mountains for 20 years and know very well the schizophrenic nature of the ecology. Besides the generally dry climate, it must be noted that during the warmest month of the year – July – daytime temperatures may be quite warm at 81 degrees on average, but the thermometer dives to an average of 44 degrees at night. Only during five months of the year do average nighttime temperatures stay above freezing, and only two of those reach an average out of the 30s.
I planted the usual crops – green beans, carrots, spinach, chard and something called beetberry seem to do OK here. And then I began researching the apple trees, despite my reservations.
I decided upon a Harelred, which is rated to 9,000 feet, and a Honey Crisp, rated to 8,000 feet. The former was developed by the University of Minnesota for cold climates. Obviously we’re over the limit with the latter, but then rattlesnakes are not supposed to exist above 8,000 feet either and we’ve got plenty of them.
Both apple trees were purchased locally at Native Woods in Westcliffe and are about five feet tall. After choosing a location based on full sun exposure, I dug the holes wide and deep, then filled back in with topsoil. I constructed a four-foot-high circular fence around each tree to keep rabbits and deer from eating them.
Then the hot wind began to blow at gale force for several days. I parked my truck and stock trailer alongside the trees as a sort of temporary windbreak.
When practically no rain materialized for the entire month of June, watering became a daily chore. That is, except for the day in early July when we received about nine percent of our annual average precipitation – exactly 1.5 inches – in a single storm that lasted about an hour and also shredded apple trees, beans and spinach with hail. As dry as it is here, we have to get to that 14.44-inch average somehow. Unfortunately much of this moisture tends to arrive in violent downpours.
At this point the apple trees are still alive. We’ve had salads from the garden, and blossoms have appeared on the green beans . . . and our well is still apparently producing water. August is traditionally the wettest month of the year. With any luck at all maybe we’ll get a little rain.
Hal Walter writes and edits from the Wet Mountains. You can keep up with him regularly at his blog: www.hardscrabbletimes.com
