Water Bearer : When It Rains, Work Pours for Keeper of Big Tujunga Dam

Bob Soliz is the first to admit that a dam keeper’s life can be fairly routine, especially in the midst of a six-year drought.

As chief operator of the Big Tujunga Dam in the heart of Angeles National Forest, Soliz’s work has centered on such mundane chores as clearing drainage pipes, checking for leaks and keeping out bungee jumpers.

During the drought, water levels in the reservoir behind the 200-foot-tall dam had gradually dropped until there was more mud than water.

But the series of storms that has dumped more than 27 inches of rain on Big Tujunga Canyon in the past two months has also brought a deluge of work.

For Soliz, work at Big Tujunga Dam has taken on a new intensity, and the regular eight-hour-a-day schedule is out the door.

“Ah, man, the rains come, and--ah jeez, you talk about a scary situation,” said Soliz, a short, stout man with shoulder-length hair and a gold earring.

Like many other public works employees at the county’s reservoirs and dams, Soliz, 43, has been clocking in long hours lately, attempting the near-impossible task of controlling the unpredictable forces of nature.

“Typically, when it rains, we work around the clock to keep an eye on the facilities,” said Jim Sparks, a civil engineer who oversees the county’s 11 dams. Sparks himself was on a 12-hour-a-day schedule last week.

The recent storms have twice raised water levels at Big Tujunga Dam within five feet of spilling over the dam’s rim. Soliz has had to scramble to release enough water to ease pressure on the 62-year-old dam without causing flooding in residential areas downstream.

Soliz and his assistant, Bill Gilbert, each worked 12-hour shifts during the deluge in mid-February to keep hourly reports on the fast-rising water.

“It’s not really nerve-racking or hectic. It just throws your sleeping schedule off,” Gilbert said. “For about a week there, I was walking around like a zombie. But that just comes with the job.”

At the height of the storm, Soliz and Gilbert released 1,750 cubic feet--or more than 13,000 gallons--of water per second through two of the dam’s three release valves. To open and shut one of those valves, they must climb down the side of the dam and turn it manually.

But even after Soliz clocks out and heads home, he is still on duty. His house on the banks of the river next to the dam is wired with gauges and alarms, so Soliz can be warned any time of the day or night if water levels get too high.

“It’s a job where you are really not off of work,” Soliz said. “You usually work eight hours, but you are required to be here 24 hours.”

Soliz’s duties also include operating one of the county’s 10 cloud-seeding generators that send a stream of microscopic particles of silver iodine--a rain-inducing chemical--into the air.

He said he does not worry much that he may be responsible for some of his own headaches by operating the cloud-seeder.

“It seems to me that, whenever we use it, it rains pretty good,” Soliz said.

Sparks said scientists believe cloud-seeding increases rainfall by about 5%. The county’s cloud-seeding program was halted in 1978 after numerous lawsuits were filed over flood damage. All the suits were eventually dismissed. The county resumed cloud-seeding last year due to the worsening drought.

Big Tujunga Dam can hold a maximum of 7,400 acre-feet of water in its reservoir--or about 2.4 billion gallons--before the water rushes over the dam’s spillway. But during the driest months of the drought, the reservoir held only 1,100 acre-feet of water, or about 15% of its capacity.

More than half of the water released from the dam runs down Big Tujunga Canyon to spreading grounds--vacant land set aside to absorb water and replenish underground supplies. The rest simply runs into the sea.

When the weather is tame, Soliz’s regular duties include scaling the sides of the dam on narrow staircases to measure water escaping from cracks.

“It’s dangerous because you work with elevations,” Soliz said. “If you are not careful, you can slip and hurt yourself.”

He also measures the gaps between sections of the dam to determine whether an earthquake or other ground movement has shifted the dam.

Like a lighthouse keeper, Soliz’s home is his work. He lives with his wife and three daughters next to the dam in a home provided by the county. There, he raises pigs and chickens, mostly for the amusement of his children, he said. To get to and from work, he must drive across the top of the dam along an eight-foot-wide guideway.

Soliz is also responsible for patrolling the 82 square miles of rugged canyon terrain and river that feed into the reservoir.

Soliz came upon his job mostly by circumstance, rather than by choice. His uncle got him a job at one of the county’s spreading grounds. He was promoted 11 years ago to assistant dam keeper after county workers in the Public Works Department quit because of concern over the impact of Proposition 13.

Three years ago, Soliz was promoted to replace the head dam keeper who was killed in a traffic accident when he lost control of his car on a canyon road.

While Soliz’s job and home are 10 miles from the nearest populated area, and 14 miles from his children’s school, Soliz said he doesn’t mind being isolated. He considers himself a loner who is content with the simple pleasures of life, such as family.

But he said his job is never boring. He said the area is home to a pack of coyotes that stalk his pets and bears that rummage through his garbage cans.

Three years ago, four hunters shot their rifles at Gilbert from a ridge above the dam. The hunters had been drinking all night, and their shots missed Soliz. Police arrested the men but never filed charges.

Last summer, Soliz said he was awakened at night by the sound of what he believes were devil worshipers chanting somewhere in the canyon. “It’s kind of frightening when you are trying to go to sleep and you hear chanting echoing off of the canyons,” he said.

Despite the irregular hours, the isolation, the threat of animal attacks and demonic disturbances, Soliz said he is happy at the dam.

“I kind of like the job. It grows on you,” he said.