Fire Cuts Off Towns’ Water Link

In the rolling hills of Calaveras County, a land rich with the lore of Mark Twain’s celebrated jumping frog and 49er gold strikes, modern-day denizens have steadfastly depended on 19th-century technology for water.

For more than 100 years, an antique chain of wooden flumes and ditches has quenched the thirst of back-country communities such as Angels Camp, Murphys and Carson Hill.

But that hard-working link with the past was severed a few weeks ago.

An unrelenting wildfire hurtled up the river gorge toward the old canal, which cuts a serpentine course along 14 miles of steep hillside from a mountain reservoir.

Flames devoured huge swaths of the flume, chewed at wood support posts and swallowed a 3/4-mile section perched on the canyon edge. Even parts of the concrete-lined ditch were charred by the fire, which consumed 14,000 acres after it broke out Sept. 5.

Since then, residents and businesses in the heart of Calaveras County have lurched along, sticking to a strict diet of water conservation.

Garden hoses have been abandoned. Lawns have withered and flower beds wilted. Daily showers have become a thing of the past. Stalwarts have traveled one county south to use a coin-operated laundry. Some restaurants have put away the china in favor of paper plates and cups.

Gov. Gray Davis declared a disaster in the area, making the county eligible for state assistance. Repairs are expected to top $2.5 million.

“I’ve lived here my whole life and I can’t recall something affecting us like this,” said Debbie Ponte, mayor of Angels Camp. “It’s always been our worst nightmare, something happening to the flume system. We woke up to that nightmare two weeks ago.”

Ponte and other officials have been scrambling ever since to put together a patchwork system, its sole purpose to keep the string of Calaveras County enclaves from running dry during the four to six months it will take to repair the system.

Out on the vast expanse of ashen hillside left by the blaze, work crews are hustling to rebuild short portions of flume and erect a temporary, mile-long pipeline to divert water around the worst damage. Completion of that leg is expected Oct. 5.

In the meantime, water officials are making do with pluck and imagination as they attempt to restore full service to about 7,500 homes and businesses.

They have tapped a fire hydrant in a subdivision unaffected by the fire; more than half a mile of hose is helping funnel 300,000 gallons a day into the system. Officials also hope to soon begin pumping water from an abandoned gold mine.

Water trucks are everywhere. A fleet of tankers each day imports upward of 200,000 gallons to keep the town reservoirs from running dry. One water truck has saved the football season at Bret Harte High School, keeping the newly sodded gridiron from succumbing to the sun. Local citizens have done their part by cutting water use to a third of normal.

“My wife has these plastic basins in the sink here and the shower there,” said Dick Bradford, a local water district director. “It’s keeping the rhododendron alive.”

At Pamela’s Shear Perfections in Angels Camp, owner Pamela Kelly bought more than 200 gallons of bottled water from Wal-Mart and a solar-powered camping shower to ensure her customers a warm hair-wash before a cut.

“You do whatever you’ve got to do,” Kelly said. “Personally, I haven’t washed my clothes since this started. Thank God I’ve got a big enough wardrobe to get by.”

A few water-dependent businesses have simply shut down. These days, Angels Car Wash sits forlorn, its parking lot roped off. A yellow cardboard sign offers only a glimmer of hope. “Will open as soon as possible,” it reads. “Sorry.”

Black Sheep Winery owners Jan and Dave Olson, among the dozens of vintners who have set down roots in the Mother Lode, found themselves facing a crisis right at a critical juncture: the grape crush. Equipment for the crush needs to be cleaned daily, and that means plenty of water. So the couple lashed a big tank to a truck, making repeat trips to fetch hundreds of gallons at a time.

Despite the hassle, they remain philosophical. Calaveras may be suffering, but it’s not New York. The terrorism of Sept. 11 has, Jan Olson said, “made our problems hardly seem like problems.”

The community has rallied as best it can. Local churches have organized to help the elderly keep their plants irrigated. A local drugstore chain offered cases of bottled water for free.

In Murphys, the owner of Iron Stone Winery is giving away water tapped from one of its wells. Any hour, a queue of pickup trucks waits with garbage cans or plastic tanks in the bed, ready to take on a sloshing load for the garden back home.

“It’s awful nice what they’re doing,” Bill Mason said as water gushed into a big plastic vat in his son’s pickup. “This will help keep a few plants alive.”

Duane Oneta has so many plants he doesn’t bother. This time of year, his vast vegetable gardens normally bring a bumper crop of tomatoes, basil, wax peppers and other produce for sale at a farmers market. Without water, the expanse is beleaguered. Oneta expects the interruption in his growing season will slice receipts by $10,000.

“My lemon cucumbers gave up the ghost first,” he said, waving a hand at his parched plot.

Just up the road at Carson Hill Rock Products, owner Brad Sutton fears outright oblivion for his business. The quarry’s storage pond of water, vital for dust control, is down to a month’s supply. When the last drop is used, he will have to shut down.

Sutton is lobbying authorities to let the quarry tap a nearby reservoir unaffected by the flume disaster. If not, he expects that he will have to wait until the flume is rebuilt before he gets enough water to operate.

“We’re just a little mom and pop outfit,” Sutton said. “You get a stumbling stone like this and it can put you out of business.”