Two federal courts on Friday ordered the Trump administration to continue paying food stamp benefits during the government shut down. But even if the administration complies, it could be weeks before Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program cards are replenished for the 600,000 Coloradans who receive the aid, Gov. Jared Polis said.

That’s why the state is moving forward with a $10 million allocation for local food banks, said Polis. 

But no matter what happens, rural counties will suffer more than urban ones when it comes to keeping food in people’s bellies, according to representatives from food support systems in Eagle, Pitkin and Garfield counties who gathered Wednesday to discuss how to stretch resources amid the continued government shutdown. 

The West Mountain Regional Health Alliance in Glenwood Springs says its members serve 6,000 residents across the tri-county region with SNAP benefits. 

Their recipients include 4,000 people in Garfield County with benefits totaling $750,000 to $800,000 per month, 1,400 in Eagle County with $280,000 in benefits per month and around 300 in Pitkin County to whom $66,715 in benefits were issued in the month of September. 

The emergency food assistance funding passed Thursday will go out in $3.3 million increments over six weeks from the state’s General Fund to the food bank network Feeding Colorado through the Community Food Assistance Grant Program. But some analysts say the $10 million will fall far short of making up for the $120 million per month the state currently receives from the federal government. 

It’s intended to help the low-income Coloradans who typically receive help from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, sometimes called food stamps, which sends money from the federal government into debit-card accounts each month that recipients can use to purchase food at grocery stores and farmers markets. 

The average household getting SNAP benefits receives $367 per month, according to Minna Castillo, deputy executive director of community partnerships at the Department of Human Services. In addition to the funding, Polis has been urging Coloradans to donate money to food banks so they can buy more food to support those losing SNAP benefits and reminded parents to have their children eat free breakfast and lunch at school.

Cristina Gair, executive director of the West Mountain Health Alliance, said the $10 million in emergency funds will help with the loss of SNAP benefits in the tri-country region, as it is going to Food Bank of the Rockies  to purchase bulk quantities of food at significantly reduced rates for distribution across the state during November.  

But Yulisa Almaraz, sustainability coordinator for the Eagle Valley Community Foundation, which addresses food insecurity for communities of color, says organizations like hers responding to food insecurity in urban areas have built-in advantages that rural areas don’t and therefore the allocations won’t affect every place equally. 

“Urban areas often have multiple grocery stores, public transit options and larger food pantry networks that can help absorb a sudden increase in need,” she said. “In contrast, Eagle County faces unique challenges like long distances to grocery stores, limited pantry capacity, fewer retailers and seasonal employment — which means the loss of SNAP would have a deeper and longer-lasting impact on both households and our local economy.” 

Families and individuals in these areas “need to identify and make sure they can access food pantry locations,” Gair said, and “for those with transportation challenges or who don’t live near a bus stop, that adds another layer to navigate to ensure food is in the fridge and on the table.”

Other partners gathered Wednesday included The Aspen Community Foundation, which serves the Roaring Fork and Colorado River Valleys, Snowmass-based food rescue provider Harvest for Hunger, LIFT-UP, which serves communities along the Interstate 70 corridor as well as in Routt County, and Valley Meals and More, which delivers prepared, packaged food to adults 75 and older in the Roaring Fork Valley region. 

West Mountain Regional Health Alliance is a non-direct service organization and the backbone of the Mountain Coalition for Food and Nutrition, which is “able to quickly pull together the coalition food response partners to ensure the SNAP cuts crisis is elevated and understood,” Gair said. 

Several partners reported seeing upticks in use of food pantries they serve already, with Almaraz saying the Eagle Valley Community Foundation has seen a 20% increase at some of their mobile pantry locations year over year, and that they‘re at a 10-year high in terms of need “without any of these things that we’re talking about today.”

Elyse Hottel, interim director of Lift-Up, estimated only 25% of customers using their pantries presently are registered SNAP recipients, so they could see another 75% of the 4,500 people they serve “coming to our pantries in need of extra assistance.” 

And Grey Warr, board of directors executive director for Harvest for Hunger, said because Pitkin County is such a large employer throughout the Roaring Fork Valley and Garfield County, they are expecting a “significant increase” in SNAP recipients from all three counties using their services in Pitkin County. 

Other trickle-down impacts will include a shift in the use of local food pantries, Almaraz said, with organizations like The Community Market, Salvation Army, and churches potentially becoming the primary grocery source for families — not just a supplemental resource — which “would place immense strain on their operations, inventory and staffing capacity.” 

But the organizations that met were also there to talk about contingency plans, and Pitkin County has stepped up in a big way. 

On Thursday, the board of county commissioners announced it approved funding for grocery gift cards and additional support for Harvest for Hunger. Gift card amounts will be based on each household’s typical monthly SNAP benefit level, and cards will be distributed through the Pitkin County Department of Human Services as soon as Nov. 5.  

Eagle County’s government, school district, local nonprofits and individuals are also coming together to try to cover some of the deficit.

And Garfield County is encouraging its SNAP recipients to take advantage of congregate meals and other local resources. 

The West Mountain Regional Health Alliance partners are also “continuing our day jobs in regards to processing SNAP applications and taking applications,” Hottel said. “So once the federal budget is passed, those benefits will go back to the date of application, and benefits will go back to date of application.” 

The partners are also encouraging community members in each of their counties to answer the call for three f’s “reiterated over and over again,” Hottel said.

“Funds,” for things like administration, drivers, and food distribution;  “friends,” or volunteers, to pack meals, deliver them and organize food drives; and “food,” the most basic and urgent need. 

This story was produced in partnership with the nonprofit newsroom Type Investigations.

When the power cut out around 5 p.m. on a hot July weekend in 2023, Jerry Baker had one thought: “Here we go again.”

First, Baker had to inform his nearly two dozen staff: We’re in power outage mode. Several counselors zipped around the camp, assessing electric loads and determining what could be connected to the generators. Off went the pool pump and swamp coolers — except the one in the infirmary — along with the air conditioning in several cabins.

Baker is the founder of Camp Tuolumne Trails, a summer camp nestled in the Sierra foothills bordering Yosemite National Park. Each summer, it holds several sessions for dozens of adults and kids with disabilities. Usually, the outside world and its challenges seem far removed from the pine-covered campus. Campers board in log cabins equipped with power lifts and accessible bathrooms to swim, stargaze and care for the camp’s miniature donkey, Jenny. But in recent years, it’s become harder to keep certain challenges at bay.

Pacific Gas & Electric Company, the utility that provides power to the area, uses so-called “fast-trip” settings to prevent wildfire ignitions. These settings encompass a suite of technologies — including software and equipment — that can be programmed to sense physical hazards that might spark a fire. When that happens, equipment on the lines cuts off power within milliseconds. The threat of fire here is real; a camp overlook reveals scorched, rolling hills marking the scar of the Rim Fire, which burned about 400 square miles and nudged the camp’s border in 2013.

In 2024, nearly a million customers experienced fast-trip outages, many of them repeatedly. More customers experienced outages in 2024 than in any other year of the program.

Baker had already invested in a large generator that could keep essential parts of the camp running — refrigerating medicines and running the elevators and breathing machines — in case of an emergency. But it broke down, and he hadn’t yet found a mechanic to fix it.

Baker’s neighbors are also learning how to cope. That same weekend, a few miles away in downtown Groveland, Finn Horsley, who owns a local hotel and restaurant, muttered the same refrain: “Here we go again.”

Horsley filled fridges with hotel trays of ice to keep precious food from spoiling. He informed the restaurant’s diners that their meals might never come. An outage, he told guests, could last a few hours, or more than a day. That night was one of at least eight dinner services the Hotel Charlotte and its restaurant lost that year, Horsley said. But he’s equally concerned about keeping his guests — and his own family — cool and safe in the punishing summer heat. “This stuff is dangerous, never mind the inconvenience on the business,” he said.

A few doors down, at one of the oldest bars in the state, the lights cut out and two gas-powered generators kicked in. Owner Chris Loh lit the restroom with candles, and the Iron Door Saloon switched its generators between refrigerators, a power-hungry exhaust hood and the bar’s carbonation system to serve sodas and beer. “It’s basically like I’m running around doing this weird, circular electrical swap-out thing,” he said.

Back at Camp Tuolumne Trails, California’s dry July heat did not let up as the night grew dark. Baker and his staff engaged in a similar dance: alternating between powering refrigerators, freezers and air conditioning with a group of small backup generators. They had to use a tractor to move one particularly hefty generator.

“All of a sudden, I realized there was a good chance I was going to get somebody seriously hurt,” Baker said. “All of us were dead beat. At that point I said, ‘Turn off the cooler, let the food go bad, keep the campers safe.’”

For millions of Californians, these electrical gymnastics are now the norm.

IN THE FALL OF 2018, A SHOWER OF MOLTEN METAL landed near an unpaved road 150 miles north of Groveland. The resulting Camp Fire burned for more than two weeks, consuming nearly 19,000 structures and practically the entire town of Paradise. Eighty-five Californians died, making it the deadliest fire in state history. An investigation linked the initial spark to a damaged transmission tower owned by PG&E, which provides electricity to 5.6 million customers throughout much of Northern and Central California.

In the wake of the fire, thousands of Californians sued the utility, one of the nation’s largest, for damages. Faced with the prospect of massive liabilities from the Camp Fire and previous wildfires, PG&E filed for bankruptcy, its second in less than two decades.

California policymakers and regulators responded aggressively, establishing advisory committees and councils and passing laws designed to reduce wildfire risk from the state’s aging electrical infrastructure. PG&E, too, took serious action: adding hundreds of weather stations to provide real-time data, clearing trees near utility lines, and making plans to bury thousands of miles of power lines in the ground, so they can’t spark fires.

But as climate change intensifies wildfire risk, the fire-prevention strategy most familiar to many Californians has become the frequent power outages that cut electricity thousands of times every year.

PG&E has used scheduled preemptive power outages regularly since 2019, but the company began to use extra-sensitive fast-trip settings in the summer of 2021. PG&E launched the settings soon after a tree branch hit one of the utility’s lines, igniting the Dixie Fire, which still ranks as the second-largest in California history. Now, with fast-trip settings, tree branches swaying in the wind, squirrels gnawing on lines, even a glitch in PG&E’s software could shut down power lines in milliseconds. The utility now uses these settings on about 40% of its distribution lines, which ferry electricity from the grid to homes and businesses. The unplanned blackouts regularly impact hospitals, schools and people who rely on oxygen, CPAP machines and other medical equipment. They can last a few minutes, or stretch on for hours. And because they are designed to be instantaneous, residents never know when they will happen.

The two segments of the grid, called circuit lines, that service Groveland are some of the least reliable in PG&E’s territory, based on the number of fast-trip outages they endure each year. And though the area has exceptionally poor performance, its situation is not unique. Over time, PG&E has slightly reduced how long fast-trip outages last on average, but the outages have increased in number — growing about 20% from 2022 to 2024 — and in how many people they impact.

In 2024, nearly a million customers experienced fast-trip outages, many of them repeatedly. More customers experienced outages in 2024 than in any other year of the program.

The outages predominantly occur in rural areas, based on a first-of-its-kind analysis of publicly accessible utility data from Type and High Country News. Rural communities — which often border forests and face heightened wildfire risk —  experience 600% more fast-trip outages than urban and suburban areas. These outages also tend to last longer. That means that the worst impacts from fast-trip outages occur in remote areas — exactly where residents tend to be the most vulnerable due to age, disability or their distance from essential services like hospitals. And these outages are becoming more frequent.

Outages have increased in part due to more dangerous fire conditions, Brienden Realph, the utility’s director of enhanced power-line safety settings, said. In an email, PG&E spokesperson Andria Borba noted that 2024 was an exceptionally hot, dry summer, necessitating the use of fast-trip to prevent wildfires from starting.

Borba also said there has been a “significant increase” in the number of devices with fast-trip settings. However, a recent report from PG&E suggests that the increase doesn’t fully account for the rise in outages; outages increased overall between 2022 and 2024, even when normalized for the number of days in which fast-trip settings were active.

Even as they recognize the extreme risk of fire, some rural residents have grown frustrated with the frequent interruptions and feel skeptical of PG&E’s motives. “They’re shutting the power off so that they don’t start a fire with their bad equipment and then get sued,” Willow Polson, who has lived in Groveland for more than 25 years, said. “They’re throwing us rural residents under the bus, for their safety more than our safety.”

In an email, Borba said the utility “understand(s) the burden and inconvenience not having electricity creates for our customers” and added that PG&E works every day to refine fast-trip settings “to prevent an ignition and minimize reliability concerns for our customers.”

California is not alone in facing these challenges; utilities in wildfire-prone Western states like Utah, Colorado and Oregon have implemented similar outage technology. These companies face a dilemma: Utilities increasingly face blowback when they turn the power off proactively, as in Northern California, as well as when they do not, as happened after the devastating fires in Los Angeles and Lahaina, Hawai’i. Utilities also face hugely expensive liabilities if a fire ignites as a result of their equipment.

Utilities and those who govern them must decide how much fire risk can be mitigated, how much to spend on these efforts, and what kind of sacrifices — including reliable electricity — customers will tolerate.

Few Californians would say that all power outages can be avoided; fast-trip outages have prevented fires and likely saved lives. PG&E says the settings reduced ignitions by 65% in 2024.Independent analysis of data from 2022 and 2023 by researchers at University of California, Berkeley puts that figure even higher — at an average of 82% — where fast-trip is used. According to Borba, every time a fast-trip outage occurs, it’s “one time when we’re keeping the community safe from the threat of wildfire.”

But it’s unclear whether every fast-trip outage is triggered by an active fire risk. According to data PG&E submits to regulators, the company doesn’t understand why many of these outages happen. Between 2022 to 2024, the most common cause of fast-trip outages was listed as “unknown,” representing about 40% of outages. Realph said the utility takes unknown outages “very seriously” and investigates each one in an effort to determine what caused it, adding that PG&E is on track to reduce the proportion of unknown outages in 2025 to about 34% of all fast-trip outages.

Notably, the number of “company-initiated” fast-trip outages — which can be triggered by software glitches, accidents during maintenance and construction, or anything else directly caused by PG&E — jumped from 4% in 2022 to 13% in 2024. Borba said that during the initial implementation of fast-trip, some settings were overly sensitive and needed to be adjusted. Realph said the company has recently improved an algorithm that was causing some of these outages and hopes to see a reduction.

As the utility fine-tunes its system, residents are left with limited options. PG&E has argued that the outages must continue due to climate change and dire wildfire conditions. Legislators have not passed any laws requiring changes to how utilities implement automatic power shut-offs. And regulators have not required PG&E to reduce fast-trip outages, despite public outcry.

In the absence of external support, both residents and local governments say they have had to shoulder the costs, investing tens of thousands of dollars in backup generators, tossing hundreds of dollars’ worth of spoiled food, and employing scarce resources to direct traffic or set up community cooling centers. Residents can ask the utility to reimburse them for some of these costs, but losses must be a result of negligence by PG&E.

Some residents believe PG&E has sacrificed its reliability — one of a utility’s primary mandates — not just to prevent wildfires, but also to protect its own financial interest.

“They really aren’t suffering on any corporate level from these problems,” Baker, the camp founder, said. “The suffering is all being done by their customers.”

DEBORAH KARR STORES HER TWO UTILITY-DISTRIBUTED BATTERIES, each weighing nearly 70 pounds, in the hallway closet of her modest one-bedroom apartment, where her splatter art covers the walls, and a Christmas tree lights up a corner of the living room in late October. She is one of the roughly 28,000 PG&E customers to receive a free-standing backup battery over the last five years; Karr uses a CPAP machine at night and needs electricity to run it.

The electricity lines serving Blackberry Oaks, the low-income senior housing building in the Sierra foothills where Karr has lived for the last six years, has lost power 19 times due to fast-trip outages between 2023 and 2024. When that happens, Karr often heads down the hall to her neighbor Barbara North’s doily-covered apartment to play gin rummy until light returns.

Everything in the complex’s 42 units runs on electricity. In a building where much of the population is elderly or disabled, blackouts can cause fear and chaos. Residents get stuck in the elevator; those in wheelchairs sit stranded on certain floors.

North, who is in her 80s, suffers from lung disease and congestive heart failure.When the electricity cuts out, her oxygen pump’s alarm alerts her that it’s no longer running; during middle-of-the-night outages, it jolts her awake. She too has a free battery, which she keeps in her bedroom, but it’s too small to support her oxygen machine. Without electricity, she is forced to connect to large compressed oxygen tanks that only last eight hours at a time.

“When my electricity goes off, I’m in a mess,” she said from a leather easy chair in her living room. Backup batteries help, North said, but they don’t last indefinitely. “When that runs out, you’re really — excuse my expression — screwed.”

The vulnerability of people who might suffer from a sudden blackout is exacerbated in communities like the one where Blackberry Oaks is located. Along circuit lines in rural areas, there are higher rates of people with no internet or phone service in their homes, and 10% more people with disabilities than in urban areas.

Those disparities are even more dramatic in Groveland, where 23% of the people along the circuit lines live with a disability, according to census data. That’s more than double the rate in more densely populated parts of California. In 2024, fast-trip power outages cut electricity for more than 2,200 Groveland customers who need electricity for medical devices or life-support equipment, such as respirators or motorized wheelchairs, according to PG&E data.

Across PG&E’s entire service area, 233,590 customers rely on electricity for medical devices or life support, Borba said. And while the utility does not share the number of unique customers impacted by each outage, Type and High Country News’ analysis of publicly accessible information estimates that more than 20,000 of these customers live along circuits with 10 or more outages each year. All of these vulnerable customers are in rural areas. In 2024, more than 48,000 people who required electricity for medical needs endured fast-trip outages. Outages also impacted thousands of customers who use well water in 2024. During an outage, those people may lose access to running water.

PG&E does offer some programs to help medically vulnerable people cope with outages, but it’s unclear if they are reaching everyone who needs help. PG&E distributes backup batteries and other equipment like insulin coolers and mini fridges. The utility works with organizations to contact eligible customers and certain medically vulnerable customers can also reach out to receive that equipment. The utility has distributed roughly 28,000 free-standing batteries and nearly 1,900 permanently-installed backup batteries. Since 2020, nearly 34,000 PG&E customers have applied for batteries, according to the utility. The utility doesn’t “make different accommodations for medical needs customers,” Borba said in an email, but encourages customers to develop personalized safety plans, with resources provided on the PG&E website.

The utility also offers rebates of a few hundred dollars for customers to purchase batteries or generators — though the customers must pay to fuel them, and the systems can cost thousands of dollars to purchase outright. The rebates are open to people who live in high fire-threat areas or are served by power lines with fast-trip settings, but it’s up to customers to apply for them.

PG&E also has bigger system upgrades in the works, including projects to bury or insulate thousands of miles of power lines around the state to keep them from sparking. Meanwhile, it has not set any public targets to reduce or end the fast-trip outages.

“We want to encourage wildfire risk-reduction measures,” said John Kennedy, a senior policy advocate at Rural County Representatives of California, a membership coalition that advocates for the state’s rural counties. “But you should be making progress on the back end, and we’re not quite sure what that progress is.”

“When my electricity goes off, I’m in a mess. Backup batteries help. but they don’t last indefinitely. When that runs out, you’re really — excuse my expression — screwed.”

CALIFORNIA FIRST AUTHORIZED the use of “public safety power shut-offs” — preemptive scheduled power outages to avoid wildfires on hot dry days with strong winds — for one utility more than a decade ago, and later extended the authorization to all investor-owned utilities. But those companies aggressively expanded their use after the 2018 Camp Fire. In October 2019, about nine months after PG&E filed for bankruptcy due to wildfire-related costs, the utility shut-off electricity for about 1.8 million customers across multiple events. Some people endured blackouts that lasted days. The two largest outages impacted more customers than any other public safety power shut-off in California before or since.

Pushback was swift. “Sadly, the state has learned too well in recent years the level of destruction climate-change-induced weather events can have on our communities when combined with negligent maintenance of electrical infrastructure,” Marybel Batjer, then-president of the California Public Utilities Commission (CPUC), said in an emergency meeting in 2019 to discuss the outages. “But resilience will not and should never translate to Californians being willing to put up with inadequate execution of measures that are supposed to keep them safe.”

CPUC, which regulates the state’s investor-owned electric utilities, fined PG&E $106 million in 2021 for what it called “poor implementation” of power outages, noting the company’s failure to provide accurate outage information online and notify customers in advance, among other violations.

The event further soured public sentiment on PG&E, but financially, the fines paled in comparison to the fire-related liabilities the utility was facing as part of its bankruptcy. When the utility announced its reorganization plan in mid-2020, it accounted for $13.5 billion in payments to fire victims, plus billions more for insurers and cities and counties. CPUC slapped PG&E with a $2 billion fine for its role in the 2017 and 2018 fires. And shortly before the company filed for bankruptcy, rating agencies downgraded its credit to “junk” status, potentially impacting its ability to access the capital that’s essential for utility operations.

Determined to avoid another destructive fire, the company reasoned that power outages were an unfortunate necessity.

“Resilience will not and should never translate to Californians being willing to put up with inadequate execution of measures that are supposed to keep them safe.”

“Let me assure you, we do not like to turn off the power. It runs contrary to the reason any of us ever got in this business,” then-PG&E president and CEO Bill Johnson said at that emergency meeting in 2019. “The fact is that we did this for one reason, and that is safety.”

In 2021, the company introduced automatic fast-trip outages. Fast-trip outages, on average, are much shorter than scheduled shut-offs, but they can also last for long periods without notice. Between 2022 and July 2025, the utility executed just 12 preemptive power outages, while the number of fast-trip outages exceeded 8,600.

Because fast-trip outages happen automatically, the CPUC says they cannot be regulated in the same way as preemptive shut-offs. Though the commission created rules for the implementation of scheduled outages, it has not done the same for fast-trip. Every year, investor-owned utilities must outline a plan for preemptive outages to regulators, including information on how they will provide enhanced support to vulnerable customers and set up community resource centers for residents to access electricity and get updates. Those same plans are not required for fast-trip outages. PG&E has faced millions of dollars in penalties for improperly handling preemptive power shut-offs, but the utility has not suffered any regulatory fines for its implementation of fast-trip.

In recent years, PG&E has also requested regulatory approval to spend billions of dollars rehabilitating its system to make it more resilient and less likely to ignite costly and dangerous wildfires. After its bankruptcy, the utility embarked on a mission to bury thousands of miles of lines and insulate thousands more miles, installing equipment called “covered conductors.” From the utility’s perspective, burying power lines is “the best tool in the highest-fire risk areas,” because it reduces wildfire risk by 98%.But it is also expensive, at about $3 million per mile, and it will take years to underground a significant portion of the grid.

There is still debate over the best solutions for keeping PG&E’s aging grid, which winds through some of California’s highest fire-risk areas, from sparking. Some consumer advocates prefer short-term power outages paired with insulated lines, which are cheaper and faster to install than underground lines, and, they argue, provide adequate risk protection. Research from UC Berkeley contends that fast-trip outages can cost-effectively produce the same risk reduction as undergrounding lines, even when controlling for the costs of outages to customers — including those who use electricity for medical devices.

No matter the strategy, it’s residents who will pay for the majority of it. When a regulated utility builds and installs new equipment, it earns a guaranteed return on that investment, which is embedded into the rates it collects. A recently passed California law does not allow the state’s largest utilities to collect that return on the first $6 billion the companies spend cumulatively on wildfire mitigation after 2025, but customers are slated to pay much more than that. California has also created a fund to help utilities pay for wildfire liabilities, but its available funds are much less than the amount that utilities would likely need to pay if a large fire ignites.

That financial structure leaves California customers — particularly in rural areas — with less reliability along with exceedingly high electricity rates, as well as the personal costs many of them pay to cope with outages. Because PG&E plans to continue using fast-trip for years while it buries lines and replaces other equipment, there is no clear end in sight. The outages cost the utility little in the short term, while its undergrounding plans set it up for years of regulator-approved financial returns.

In response to questions about whether regulators have taken any action to reduce PG&E’s use of fast-trip outages, a CPUC spokesperson said the commission has not implemented any fast-trip fines or penalties, but it meets regularly with PG&E to discuss how to reduce the duration and scope of fast-trip outages. The commission has also started a public policy process to address reliability issues, including those caused by fast-trip.

Above all, PG&E said, it aims to prevent ignitions. “We just don’t want to have an outage, but really I don’t want to have an ignition,” Realph said. “We’re going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

PG&E’s OVERALL RELIABILITY HAS SUFFERED due to these power outages.In an annual report on its reliability, PG&E notes that its performance declined between 2022 and 2024. Fast-trip settings are the largest contributor to interruptions on its system by far, according to the report.

“The grid is completely unreliable,” Groveland’s Horsley said. “My business is having to take on the burdens of PG&E not being able to provide a safe, reliable power grid that doesn’t cause wildfires to burn down towns.”

As the company’s reliability has faltered, its residential customers’ electric rates have climbed, increasing over 100% during the last decade. California has the second-highest residential electricity rates in the country. “That’s just salt in the wound,” Horsley said.

Continuing to raise rates to fund additional wildfire-prevention programs is becoming increasingly infeasible because California customers already pay so much, said Michael Wara, who directs the Climate and Energy Policy Program at Stanford University. Nearly a quarter of the revenue that PG&E now collects from its customers goes toward wildfire mitigation. Costs are expected to continue rising as climate change makes wildfires more likely and more dangerous, and customers have to pay for more measures to avoid them.And rates fund more than wildfire-related improvements; California is also in the midst of a costly endeavor to decarbonize its grid, and putting more money toward wildfire mitigation could undercut those efforts.

Already, one in five California households struggle to pay their electric bill. As of July, well over 1 million PG&E customers were behind on payments.

“The rates have gone up so high that most of the people who are on Social Security can’t afford to pay their electric bill,” Karr, of Blackberry Oaks, said. She previously worked at a community service center that provides food, clothing and other support, including helping people navigate their utility bills.

On top of the rising rates, many Groveland residents have sunk thousands of dollars into generators. Polson said she has gone “deeply into debt” to buy two generators for her house.

And those systems remain inaccessible to many. At a weekly crafts circle held at a local community center for older adults, attendees, many of them retired, said the financial divide is clear.

“We keep debating, ‘Do we want to spend the 10 grand?’” Donna Johnson said as she knitted a hat to donate to a local cancer unit.

“How’re you going to do that if you’re on a fixed income?” Kelly Sexton, an attendee working on crowns for the annual Advent event, asked.

“You don’t,” Johnson said. “Tuolumne County is poor.”

Businesses in Groveland, which largely line one of the main arteries that empties into Yosemite National Park, have also suffered. Loh and Horsley earn the great majority of their profits in the summer, when fire risk is high. During the July Fourth weekend of 2023, Loh said his Iron Door Saloon lost at least $60,000 from the fast-trip outages. By Horsley’s account, his business has lost tens of thousands of dollars due to canceled reservations and refunds, missed dinner service, spoiled food and other expenses.

“This cannot be the solution,” Horsley said. “Don’t make me pay for your problems.”

Local governments say they’ve suffered, too. Last year, during an outage that coincided with a heat wave, Sonoma County set up a cooling center where people could sit in air-conditioned spaces and use charging stations, because PG&E did not. “PG&E continues to externalize the responsibility and costs of keeping its customers safe during wildfire-mitigation outages,” lawyers for the county wrote in a 2024 regulatory document. “Fast-trip is not a benign outage program, and PG&E has yet to prove that the scope and scale of fast-trip is appropriately calibrated.”

Borba, the PG&E spokesperson, said the utility only sets up those Community Resource Centers during planned outages. The unplanned nature of fast-trip outages, she said, makes it challenging to make such facilities available.

Over time, system hardening projects like undergrounding and insulating lines should reduce the need for fast-trip outages, a CPUC spokesperson said, particularly in rural areas. “The way to restrict these outages is through investment in infrastructure such as covered conductor or undergrounding, or increased vegetation management, which all of the utilities are pursuing at an increased rate,” spokesperson Terrie Prosper wrote in an email.

But the data on these projects so far shows mixed — if any — results in reducing outage impacts. Type and High Country News analyzed publicly accessible data on PG&E system hardening projects, although it is unclear if the public-facing data includes all the company’s projects.

A review of the circuit lines where system hardening projects were completed in 2022 or earlier shows that 37% of the lines saw a decrease in fast-trip outages, but 51% saw outage frequency go up. And data on PG&E’s vegetation management program, which involves cutting trees and branches near electric lines, is limited: Of the 136 projects they have listed, only five are completed.

For those watching such efforts unfold, progress on improving outage trends can appear opaque.

PG&E is “not providing any real feedback on what they’re doing to evaluate high-
frequency outage circuits and the measures they’re taking to reduce the number of outages on those circuits,” Kennedy at Rural County Representatives of California said. “As we’re seeing improvements in the system, we should see fewer instances in which things come in contact with the power line” and cause outages.

FOR BAKER, THAT TERRIFYING NIGHT at camp in 2023 left its mark. At one point, he tasked a staffer, equipped with a walkie-talkie and a handheld thermometer, to monitor temperature fluctuations in one cabin in order to determine when the air conditioning could be turned off while ensuring the campers stayed cool. Around then, Baker told his staffers to give up on the refrigerators. “Four o’clock came along, and it was obvious that we were just out of control,” he said. “We were not going to be able to make this work.”

Around 5 in the morning, Baker drove nearly 70 miles in the camp SUV to a store renting generators, arriving right as the doors opened.

The generator he rented sat at the camp for six weeks. Whenever someone used the elevator, Baker switched that load from the electric grid to the generator in case the power was cut while the elevator was in use. The machine cost about $800 a week to run. “It wasn’t cheap, but it was a bargain compared to getting people stuck,” he said. “Three-fourths of the time I never turned it on, but I was afraid not to have it.”

 “My business is having to take on the burdens of PG&E not being able to provide a safe, reliable power grid that doesn’t cause wildfires to burn down towns.”

“You have no way of predicting what the next crisis is going to be,” he added.

In the last couple of years, the camp has received a donated generator that can power most of the property. But the camp still needs to pay the “extraordinarily expensive” amount it costs to keep it fueled, on top of its PG&E bill.

Baker said the outages in his area seem to be improving, but he’s not sure how much of this is “blind luck” versus changing priorities and policies. Horsely, too, said PG&E was doing a better job in Groveland.

But that is not the case in all rural areas: PG&E logged more fast-trip outages in 2024, and outages impacted more customers than in any other year since the program began. In the areas where those outages occur most often, they last the longest.

“Am I glad that we’re worried about the impact of fires? Hell, yes,” Baker said. “However, I don’t really feel like we are getting to the root cause at all.”

Ethan Corey contributed research.

This story was supported by the Wayne Barrett Project at Type Investigations, the Fund for Investigative Journalism  and the Institute for Journalism and Natural Resources.

We welcome reader letters. Email High Country News at editor@hcn.org or submit a letter to the editor. See our letters to the editor policy.

This article appeared in the November 2025 print edition of the magazine with the headline “Lights out.”

The post For rural Californians, unreliable power has become the norm appeared first on High Country News.

As Chuck Horning navigated his first year as owner of the Telluride Ski and Golf resort back in 2005, the Southern California businessman inked a community statement he called “A 20-year Vision for Telluride: Sustainability.”  

In that statement, he promised economic development for the communities of Telluride and Mountain Village alongside protection of cultural and natural resources. Other resorts struggle with “overbuilding, commercialization and traffic congestion or lack economic vitality,” wrote Horning, who is now in his 80s.  

“We all want Telluride to be different,” he said of the remote southwest Colorado community tucked in a dead-end box canyon. “We believe with a balanced, long-term approach, economic prosperity will occur and the community and its natural resources will be preserved while minimizing the problems associated with Aspen, Vail and Steamboat.”

Telluride is indeed a stand-out in the resort industry. Not only for its unrivaled skiing and vistas, its historic downtown and passionate community, but, recently, the community’s contentious relationship with Horning. Ski town locals have long harbored a certain level of angst over the owners of their local resorts. But rarely has that angst turned into an open revolt like what is happening in Telluride right now. 

There’s been a high profile scrap over Horning’s unwillingness to support a 25-year concert series. A ballot measure next week could tax lift tickets to pay for the free public gondola connecting Telluride and Mountain Village. And now Mountain Village wants to more than triple the cost of water for snowmaking.

Town officials say a rate hike is overdue with no connection to the lift tax and certainly not part of a concerted effort to run Horning out of town after 21 years of troubled ownership. Horning disagrees, saying a water hike might delay resort opening dates to late December. He sees a growing animosity from municipal leaders as part of a “litany of illegal, unconstitutional and grossly inequitable burdens and obstacles on the ski company.”

Local angst has boiled over

The slow burn of irked local residents has led to the creation of a website called ChuckChuck.ski, detailing Horning’s fractious 21-year ownership of the local resort and what it describes as “a record of business malfeasance and poor stewardship that would embarrass most and emboldens only the truly narcissistic.” 

Horning has fired several of the industry’s top resort executives hired to run the ski area — like Dave Riley and Bill Jensen — leaving the 2,000-acre ski area uncaptained for long stretches. Last year he even fired his son, Chad Horning.  

The local outrage has pushed councils in Telluride and Mountain Village to ask voters Nov. 5 to impose a lift tax to force Horning’s customers to help pay for the free gondola between the two towns, the only municipal transportation network in the country that involves aerial cable cars. The Mountain Village council also tried to condemn land owned by Horning after he balked at permission for a 25-year-old summer concert series on the parcel that connects the ski slope with pedestrian village. 

And the latest volley in what appears to be a decentralized effort to drive Horning out is a proposal to spike water fees the town of Mountain Village charges Horning for snowmaking. 

In response to the no-longer-simmering insurrection, Horning has canceled discount merchant ski passes available to local businesses and town employees. He’s nixed senior passes. He’s also cut staff who handled group sales. 

“This summer we were saying at least he will turn on lifts and make snow. And now he says he’s not even going to make snow,” said Dirk de Pagter, a Telluride real estate investor and one of a handful of locals willing to talk on record while blasting Horning. Back in 2004, de Pagter was a fan of Horning, who had purchased a portion of the resort in 2003 and the rest of the ski area and surrounding property around it a year later from Hideo “Joe” Morita.

“In the beginning his noncorporate image was something we all liked. He was different and we hoped he would be good for us. That proved erroneous,” de Pagter said. 

A 350% increase in water rates, the first adjustment since 1998

The town provided the ski area with 30.52 million gallons of water for snowmaking in 2025, up from 28.29 million gallons in 2024. 

From 2020 to 2024 snowmaking accounted for 45% of the annual demand from the town’s wells. The town charges $3.53 per 1,000 gallons from snowmaking ponds and $3.84 per 1,000 gallons from town hydrants. The recent evaluation — by Glenwood Springs-based water engineering firm SGM — concluded those charges do not cover the cost of supplying water to the ski area. The water-rate review estimated the town was losing $988,000 a year in depreciation and wear and tear on 39-year-old town assets such as a water tank, pump, wells, treatment facility and delivery lines. 

The SGM review said it would cost $12 million to replace the 2 million-gallon tank and pump house, $350,000 for new wells, $2 million for the water treatment facility and nearly $9 million for delivery lines. 

The study noted that the city of Steamboat Springs sometimes provides water to a local ski area at a cost of $8.02 for every 1,000 gallons. The study did not say if it was the city-owned Howelsen Hill or Steamboat Ski Resort, owned by Alterra Mountain Company.

The town of Mountain Village report suggested that depreciation costs, maintenance costs and snowmaking costs could warrant a 350% spike in water costs, with charges of $12.91 per 1,000 gallons of pond water and $14.03 per 1,000 gallons from hydrants. The report suggests the town could phase in those costs with three years of 59% increases followed by annual 3% increases for several years. The study also suggested the town could charge a flat fee of $988,000 a year to cover depreciation of water infrastructure assets with a reduced rate for water usage. 

Horning, through his attorney, warned council members to “carefully consider a broader perspective” of the economic and environmental benefits of snowmaking that ripple across the region before spiking the cost of water. Being able to open by Thanksgiving drives early-season traffic, helps small business owners retain employees and generates tax revenue, reads a letter to the council from the resort’s lawyer, Martha Whitmore.

Whitmore said snowmaking serves as a strategy for water storage and helps fortify mountain landscapes against a warming climate. 

“Discouraging snowmaking is short-sighted and places the Town of Mountain Village at more risk for drought impacts, and the attendant environmental effects,” Whitmore wrote in an Oct. 13 letter to the town council, noting the common industry refrain that creating snow is a form water storage that helps dampen soil to withstand long, dry summers. 

Whitmore called the water study “flawed,” saying the town “can’t depreciate costs it did not incur” and noted that TSG’s high water payments in the early ski season have supported the town’s water infrastructure.

Whitmore also noted the 1998 agreement that granted the ski company’s waters right to the town. Those water rights, in a deal forged by the ski area’s previous owners Ron Allred and Jim Wells, were “an asset of immeasurable value,” the lawyer wrote. That agreement required the town to deliver snowmaking water at the lowest rate it charges any other water user or the actual cost of the water delivery. The town has not adjusted snowmaking water rates since that 1998 agreement. 

Echoing Horning’s threat to delay the resort’s opening, Whitmore said the council should weigh “the ramifications on businesses, visitors and residents.” A lack of snowmaking could also create less dependable conditions throughout the season, which could reduce tax revenues for Telluride and Mountain Village. And if snowmaking costs increase, so will the cost of $250 lift tickets and $2,100 season passes, Whitmore said. 

In an August letter to Mountain Village Town Manager Paul Wisor, Whitmore acknowledged there has not been an increase in water costs since 1998 and said the company “is willing to meet and discuss a rate that complies with the 1998 agreement.”

The timing of the water rate increase has nothing to do with the condemnation consideration or the lift tax, Wisor said. The council adopted a water rate increase for residents two years ago and it was “logical and necessary for us to go through that work for snowmaking rates,” Wisor said. 

The council and ski area representatives will meet this week to discuss the price increase.

“I think we have some palatable ideas that would be helpful for everybody and we hope those are received in the spirit of collaboration in which they are conveyed,” Wisor said. “The community can no longer be subsidizing the snowmaking operations of the company.”

Horning, who rarely responds to media requests for comment, in October sent a letter to Telluride residents — published in the Oct. 24 Telluride Daily Planet —  called the proposed 5% lift tax focusing on ski company guests “only one of many hostile and indefensible actions” by the Mountain Village town council targeting his resort company. He said town officials have leveled “slanderous accusations” against him that were “obviously intended to gratuitously denigrate me personally.” 

“A sane local government in an extraordinarily challenging and difficult remote resort area would seek to work with the ski company, the region’s economic engine,” Horning wrote in his letter. “Instead, for years now, the town has imposed a litany of illegal, unconstitutional and grossly inequitable burdens and obstacles on the ski company.”

Horning, in his letter, called the tax “inappropriate, untimely and unfair.” 

“These matters need to be studied and discussed so their ramifications are clearly understood, not rammed through in campaigns of disparagement, misinformation and misdirection,” the 81-year-old Horning said. “There’s ample time for us to get this right.”

Colorado’s rivers are bouncing with boats. Anglers are casting everywhere. 

“We are getting into places that have never been paddled before and the increase in demand since COVID is a huge explosion of people getting in the outdoors learning more about our state,” said Nik White, who teaches whitewater paddling skills on the Arkansas River, Clear Creek and the South Platte with nearly a third of his classes focused on packrafting, up from zero five years ago.

And White — who has been teaching paddling for 15 years and owns a company called Whitewater Workshop — has seen a recent uptick in angry landowners. He’s got stories of property owners waving guns, chasing boaters and threatening paddlers as they walk around dangerous rapids. 

“Landowners are getting more aggressive. It’s having a chilling effect that makes it difficult to go paddling in some areas,” White said. 

Conflicts between river uses and property owners date back decades in Colorado, a state that has the murkiest access laws in the country. Courts have handed down rulings in contentious lawsuits involving access on the Arkansas River and Colorado River. Attorneys general have written opinions. Lawmakers have tried twice to clear the waters around floating and wading through private lands. And now, there’s even a split in a newly formed stream access coalition with paddling groups leaving a not-quite-unified effort to craft legislation that would open all of Colorado waterways to the public. 

For years, those conflicts have been settled on a case-by-case basis, with landowners, boaters and anglers sitting at a table and finding some sort of agreement. 

But those negotiations, “often leave the recreator powerless,” said Hattie Johnson with American Whitewater, which a week ago joined other paddling groups in breaking from the new Colorado Stream Access Coalition to forge their own legislation. 

Outfitters are stressed that a landowner could shut down their business. Recreation industry advocates fret river conflicts could paint their carefully manicured, good-times portrait of Colorado in an unflattering light. Property owners point to a 1979 Supreme Court decision and a 1983 Colorado attorney general memo and say passing paddlers are trespassing if they touch a rock in the riverbed.  

“At some point, it’s all going to come to a head,” said Jenifer Freeman, a lobbyist working with paddling groups on possible legislation that would allow river users to pass through private property without trespassing, even if they touch a rock. “So it’s better to try to find a joint solution.”

The camps are forming for a renewed fight. The new Colorado Stream Access Coalition is courting lawmakers for stream access legislation that will open public access through private property. That coalition is splintering though as river users argue over whether legislation should allow floating or wading through private property. Landowners are unifying, arguing that legislation allowing the public to pass through private land will be akin to the government seizing property and they are promising lawsuits “that will bankrupt that state,” said a landowner lawyer. 

The legislation is not yet written. A new movie, “Common Waters,” is landing in Colorado theaters next month, detailing the prickly access challenges in the state’s waterways. A new study is urging advocates and lawmakers to back away from a legislative fix, arguing that the spot-fire negotiations in the last two decades is the best approach to settling river conflicts. 

“We are in this situation where we are recognizing that outdoor recreation is losing. I think that’s bad for our image and it’s bad for our economy,” Freeman said. “These are amazing places, and I get wanting to own your own little piece of it, but I don’t see how it’s in the public interest to allow private property owners to gobble it all up so no one gets to use it.”

A third try for legislation

This would mark at least the third time Colorado lawmakers have considered a law to allow boaters to pass through private property. The Colorado Stream Safety Act was scripted in 1996 to allow kayakers safe passage through private property — allowing them to scout or portage obstacles like waterfalls, barbed wire fences and downed trees. The legislation turned out to be one of the most contentious issues of the 1996 session. It passed the Colorado House but stalled in the state Senate.

The failed legislation prodded the creation of the River Surface Recreation Forum, which formed to study river access conflicts and find solutions. Boating advocates created a national database of river conflicts that showed conflicts on Colorado rivers accounted for nearly 40% of the 82 nationwide issues over 18 months from 1998 to 2000. Most of those were along the South Platte, but the list included incidents on the Taylor, the Elk, Lake Fork of the Gunnison, the Yampa, the Colorado River near Granby, the Dolores, the Roaring Fork, the Poudre, the Eagle, the Arkansas, Clear Creek, Bear Creek, South Boulder Creek and the North St. Vrain. 

The 1996 legislation would have allowed paddlers to scout or portage river obstacles, eliminated the liability of landowners should anyone be hurt paddling through their property and prevented paddlers from fishing, hunting, camping, picnicking or loitering on private property. 

“Access problems in Colorado appear worse in number and severity despite the efforts of your committee and it only seems to be a matter of time before a landowner-boater conflict results in personal injury (or) the boater is injured by running a drop which the boater would have portaged had there been no penalty for doing so,” reads a memo from Ken Ransford, an attorney from the Roaring Fork Valley who worked as American Whitewater’s access director in the 1990s and wrote a “kayaker perceptive” memo in January 2001 for the newly formed River Surface Recreation Forum. 

That forum was unable to fully settle access disputes, so Colorado lawmakers in 2010 — spurred by renewed splashing over access on the Taylor River — again considered a law that would allow rafters to pass through private land so long as they made only “incidental contact” with the riverbed.

House Bill 1188, sponsored by a Gunnison lawmaker and called the Commercial Rafting Viability Act, protected the right of commercial rafting companies to float through private land. The bill passed the state House but stalled in the Senate. 

In 2011, then-Gov. Bill Ritter formed the River Access Dispute Resolution Task Force to help resolve access conflicts on Colorado rivers and streams. That committee, which has not met since 2015, laid out guidelines for how access issues could be solved without courts or legislation. The committee was not tasked with solving the policy quagmire over access, but created “a framework for landowners and boaters to efficiently and fairly resolve disputes over the use of rivers as they arise.”

The Taylor River hotspot

The 2010 legislation, like the 1996 proposal, followed an eruption of conflicts. In 2010 it was around the Taylor River, where developers were peddling high-dollar land with the promise of private river access. Following the death of the bill, the Taylor River flare-up was doused after developers, landowners and outfitters agreed on some limited commercial access on several miles of river below Taylor Park Reservoir. 

Owners along an upper stretch of the Taylor River have closed access to about 4 miles of the river. They’ve stretched barbed wire over the river with a sign that says “no boating” and the reach below the sign “is not passable by any watercraft.” The sign cites the 1979 Colorado Supreme Court case People v. Emmert.

Jason Hopfer, an attorney representing several owners along the Taylor River, said his clients invested in riparian habitat improvements on the river assuming their work was protected by laws that prevent float-in or wade-in access. Some of those riverside parcels sell for $2.5 million with the guarantee of private river access.

Any effort to change the law and allow public access to this private property would not only be an unconstitutional taking, Hopfer said, but could harm stream improvements paid for by landowners. 

Those investments and improvements along — and in — the Taylor River “were made in reliance on the long-settled Colorado law that protects riparian lands against trespass,” reads a memo Hopfer wrote – and shared with The Colorado Sun – for his clients who will oppose legislation that could open their properties to the public. 

“Any effort to change the law and allow public access to this private property would not only be an unconstitutional taking, but would also bring harm to the existing stream improvements and habitat benefits that extend to the Taylor River … and would disincentivize further investments towards such stewardship,” reads Hopfer’s memo.

Why are the waters so turbid?

“Lack of clarity.” “Unclear.” “Murky.” Those are three ways river users describe Colorado’s river access laws. All of that stems from a 1979 Colorado Supreme Court decision — People v. Emmert — which held that while water may be public, the public did not have the right to float on “non-navigable” water rolling through private property. That decision said that anyone who owned dirt owned everything above it. 

(Sidenote: That position is embraced by landowners seeking to block hikers from stepping over fencing separating private property from public lands arrayed like a checkerboard. The U.S. Court of Appeals in Denver this year ruled that landowners could not block hunters or hikers from stepping from one corner of public land to another even if they were passing through the air above privately owned land. The U.S. Supreme Court recently refused to hear a wealthy rancher’s appeal of that ruling.)

A formal legal opinion offered by the Colorado attorney general in 1983 contended that rafters and kayakers could float through private property but if they touch a rock, the bank or the river bed, they were committing criminal trespass.

So for more than 40 years, conflicts over river access have been negotiated between landowners and river users. That strategy has largely worked to settle issues on the Arkansas, the Lake Fork of the Gunnison, the Taylor, the north and south forks of the South Platte and the North Fork of the Poudre as landowners fought to block rafters and kayakers from passing through water bisecting their property. 

Navigability and the right to wade

In 2018, Colorado Springs angler Roger Hill was wading through the Arkansas River near Texas Creek when a landowner started hurling rocks. That event triggered the latest legal fight to bring some level of clarity to access.

The octogenarian’s 2018 lawsuit against the landowner argued that if a stretch of water used for commerce when Colorado became a state in 1876 — like, say, floating beaver pelts or railroad ties — then the Emmert decision did not matter because the river was navigable by federal definition. That definition, settled in the late 1800s by the U.S. Supreme Court says that a river is navigable if it was used for commerce and all navigable rivers are public property. 

Hill lost in district court. The Colorado Court of Appeals revived his case in 2022 and ultimately his case landed at the Colorado Supreme Court, which ruled in June 2023 that Hill actually had no standing to argue for what amounts to an overhaul of private property laws in Colorado.

Underlying the right to wade and right to float arguments are private property rights. If riverbeds were suddenly shifted from private ownership to public land, landowners could credibly argue the federal government was seizing their land and they are entitled to compensation in “takings” claims. 

Attorney General Phil Weiser in 2022 argued against dabbling with property rights in stream access issues. In a brief filed with the Colorado Supreme Court in the Hill case, Weiser said a court ruling that declared a river navigable and changed private land beneath a river to public land “could have monumental consequences for water rights in Colorado and could lead to significant litigation challenging existing property rights.”

Maintaining the status quo

The free-market research group Common Sense Institute in Greenwood Village last month issued a report on the right to float through private property arguing that the case-by-case approach to resolving access issues is working and trying to establish a one-size-fits-all solution through legislation or ballot initiatives “may not be the best approach.”

The report, co-authored by the one-time director of the Colorado Department of Natural Resources Greg Walcher, said the occasional flare-up of access issues did not appear to be hindering the explosive growth in river recreation in Colorado. The report suggested that the current use of conflict resolution — typically agreements between rafting outfitters, paddlers and landowners that address user numbers — “is likely the best resolution for landowners and recreationists in the state.”

The Common Sense Institute report said upsetting 150 years of water law and property rights in Colorado with a decision that Colorado’s river and streams were navigable at statehood “would be devastating for Colorado” that could spur “thousands” of lawsuits and put the state on the hook for “incalculable damages” to reimburse landowners. 

The report argued that using legislation to allow “incidental contact” would challenge police tasked with interpreting trespass on rivers that have constantly changing flows. For example, if legislation allows a paddler to portage a dangerous obstacle to protect human safety, how can police differentiate between a necessary portage in high flows and trespass at lower flows when a feature is not dangerous? 

“While it would generally be preferable to resolve the issue definitively and with absolute clarity, Colorado finds itself in a situation where the current status is preferable to any legislative solution,” reads the Common Sense Institute report. “Somewhat paradoxically, a statute, initiative or referendum designed to provide clarity could result in far more ambiguity than the current situation.”

Right to float

The legislation proposed by paddling groups will not touch property rights, navigability or the right to wade, Freeman said. 

The legislation will mirror shifts in recent decades that have leaned toward access in other Western states. The New Mexico Supreme Court in 2023 upheld public access on rivers rolling through private property. The Utah Supreme Court in 2019 upheld a 2010 access law that allows floating through private property, but the court agreed that landowners could limit recreational traffic on some rivers. California and Montana allow access up to the high-water mark. Oregon owns the beds of rivers and allows public access. Idaho says any stream that can be floated is open to the public. Wyoming allows public access but does not allow river users to touch privately owned riverbeds.

In 2023, several recreational river groups filed a friend of the court brief in the Colorado Supreme Court case of angler Hill. American Whitewater, the Colorado River Outfitters Association and Backcountry Hunters and Anglers argued the status quo was “much closer to the Wild West form of dispute resolution than to civil and orderly proceedings one might expect in modern-day Colorado.”

The groups urged the state Supreme Court to give Hill his day in court and find resolution of decades of ambiguity around river access. 

American Whitewater, the American Canoe Association and Colorado Whitewater recently broke from the Colorado Stream Access Coalition as the group argued over the timing and extent of possible legislation. Some members of the group are pushing for a law that would allow anglers to walk through rivers and streams, as they are allowed to do in places like Montana.

American Whitewater, after several months of outreach, “heard in no uncertain terms that approaching stream access for any and all public uses — including walking and wading on the bed of a navigable river — was a nonstarter for the legislature,” said Johnson, American Whitewater’s stewardship director for the Southern Rockies. 

“But we think there is a way forward for floating,” she said. 

For the first 20 years of this century, boating advocates have largely supported the spot-fire approach, working with riverside landowners to negotiate limited access for passing paddlers. In the last decade or so, the number of conflicts have declined and the occasional flare-up usually was quickly and quietly doused. Boaters said repeatedly that the negotiation strategy prevented the creation of winners and losers in an argument that would be costly for losers.

But river use has soared since the pandemic. Other states have hammered out access regulations that support recreational access, leaving Colorado an outlier in the West. The time is right for “broad conversations that try not to create a winner and loser,” Johnson said. 

Allowing contact with the riverbed, protecting landowners

The legislation proposed by paddling groups for the coming year would mirror the 2010 bill that allowed “incidental contact” and would permit paddlers to get out and scout or portage dangerous obstacles — like waterfalls, diversion dams, low bridges or barbed-wire fences. It would prevent access on irrigation ditches. It would also offer landowners liability protection from lawsuits should a paddler be injured on their property.

That liability protection has momentum after a diverse group of recreation advocates last year pushed legislation that amended the Colorado Recreational Use Statute — or CRUS — to better protect mountain landowners from lawsuits. The 50-member Fix CRUS Coalition supported a law that limited lawsuits if landowners erected signs on privately owned 14ers warning of hazards on the property. Like the stream access proposal, it was the third time lawmakers tried to amend the 50-year-old law.  

“We would want that same protection for riparian owners. Our hope is that we can clarify this issue for people on all sides,” said Johnson, noting that no bill has been drafted and precise wording is still being considered. 

New legislation won’t touch property rights. It won’t wade into the prickly arguments around whether a stretch of river could be federally defined as navigable, a standard that would essentially open riverbeds that were used for commerce at statehood to all forms of public access.   

One idea that is floating about is to create a fund that would provide resources for landowners who need to contain roaming livestock with paddler-friendly barriers. That fund also could support education and signage for boaters to not be jerks when passing by private property.

Freeman, the lobbyist, said the floating access group has commitment from two senior Democrats willing to sponsor right-to-float legislation next year. 

A rift within the stream access coalition

Mark Squillace is a professor of natural resources law at the University of Colorado Law School who represented Hill in his push to prove the Arkansas River was navigable at statehood in 1876 and therefore public property. Squillace is not happy with a right-to-float bill. 

He wants a “recreational access” bill that would give people the right to wade or float through any Colorado waterway that is open for recreational use. His proposal mirrors access laws in New Mexico, Idaho and Montana. 

His bill suggestion stops short of deeming rivers navigable at statehood, which is determined for sections of rivers and he admits would require lengthy and contentious legal and administrative review.  

He worries that lawmakers will only want to take up the controversial stream access issue once. So a right-to-float bill could end chances for a broader bill that would allow wading through private property like other states, he said. This conflict is why boaters left the stream access coalition they originally helped create. It is unclear where the stream access coalition stands without those groups. 

Like Johnson, Squillace does not agree that stream access legislation will spur a deluge of lawsuits. That did not happen when other states like New Mexico and Montana opened riverbeds to public access. 

Read the Colorado Constitution, Squillace said. It says “the water of every natural stream” is public property “and dedicated to the use of the people of the state.”

“If it is dedicated to the use of people, that is the right to recreate not just in a boat,” Squillace said. “Our argument is the Colorado Constitution promotes recreational access to all waterways in the state.”

Rapids ahead 

A group of landowners and property rights advocates have formed the Colorado Water Conservation Alliance to block any legislation that might allow boaters or anglers to pass through rivers bisecting private land. 

“Should someone’s hobby be more important than someone’s home?” asks an Oct. 4 post on the group’s Facebook page that warned of a coming “radical proposal” that “could be one of the largest government takings of private property in U.S. history.” 

The group’s opposition to potential right-to-float legislation is more nuanced. There are many landowners who point to the Emmert decision and say they own the land and everything above it. They see floating as trespassing.

And should a bill pass that would put the right to float into state law, those landowners would likely push river access into court to prove their point, said Trey Rogers, an attorney who represents the Colorado Water Conservation Alliance. 

“If there is a bill, there are going to be people who feel they have no choice but to litigate this issue,” said Rogers, an angler and boater who owns property on the Arkansas River above Browns Canyon. “Do we really want this issue to come to a head? What is wrong with the status quo? We ought to live with it as it is. And the way to get there is no bill.”

Back in 1996 and 2010, lawmakers expressed surprise at the vehement opposition and ardent support for stream access legislation. That same passion will surely roil anew with an updated proposal. 

Johnson said she’s not sure boating advocates are ready for a deflating fight at the Capitol.

In the past, stream access conflicts and legislation have immediately divided people into opposing camps, which has prevented open dialogue or a search for common ground, Johnson said. 

“We are focusing on those conversations. We recognize this is contentious and we are not trying to do anything behind closed doors. We think both sides of this issue have an opportunity for improved clarity,” she said. “I mean every 10 years we can go to our corners and fight about this or we can sit down and talk about areas of agreement that we think are there. We think there are a lot of people in the middle who think there are reasonable changes to be made to better protect landowners and better protect recreators.”

But come January, if a bill looks like it will simply devolve into that yelling, Johnson said, “we likely will make the call to not have that fight under the golden dome.”

ㅤ⚲ㅤ ROCKY FORD

Conjure a Colorado sports event and what do you see? 

Giant slalom? Maybe.   

Football? Obviously.  

Bike races over three passes. Trail races winding 50 miles.  

But horses storming a river while their riders try to hang onto a watermelon? 

Sally Cope is manager of the Arkansas Valley Fair, and her dad did it. He was a contestant in the fair’s Watermelon Derby race, started in 1950. Riders had to hang on — to mane, to melon — while the horses splashed through the Arkansas River to its far bank and back. Then they had to lap the rodeo arena in front of thrilled and clapping fans.  

“Holding on wasn’t too hard when the watermelons were dry,” Cope said, “but they got real slippery when they were wet.” 

Melons, the fair and the Arkansas are why the city of Rocky Ford as we know it exists today.  

Cope can prove it with historical records. 

The Utes inhabited the area first. The Arapaho moved in next. The Comanche pushed the Arapaho out, and we know the history of white settlement after that. 

The Rocky Ford Historical Museum recounts the story of “a genial man who moved alone to the West” finding “a land full of dreams but devoid of settlers.” George W. Swink landed in Bent County in 1871, hand-dug the Rocky Ford Ditch and settled near Rocky Ford, which Kit Carson named when he tried to ford the Arkansas and found it full of rocks. Swink planted cantaloupe and watermelon seeds and officially built those into key industries in the region. 

So maybe Swink, his melon seeds and the Arkansas are why Rocky Ford exists.  

The story picks up in September 1878 when Swink produced a bumper crop of melons. He took them to the railroad depot, sliced them up and placed the juicy disks on a boxcar door laid horizontal. Around 2,530 people tasted those melons. It was such a joyous occasion, Swink decided watermelon needed its own festival. So he started the Arkansas Valley Fair, and it’s been running annually every year since. 

The longest-running fair in Colorado has given sales-tax dollars and a sense of identity to a region that has struggled economically, with a falling population, big-city buyouts of agricultural water and a belief that Colorado leaders know it’s there but don’t really care.

But a recent study showed the historically disadvantaged side of town the fairgrounds inhabit has a shortage of playgrounds for kids, and Rocky Ford leaders wanted to fix it. 

So in 2022, they started envisioning a way they could use 100 acres encompassing the fairgrounds and land around it to anchor not only a playground for the children, but a regional park for camping, fishing and hiking, a trail system along the Arkansas River for bird watching, biking and horseback riding, and a “community living room hub” for people to gather in both when the fair is on and off. The vision includes repairing crumbling parts of the rodeo arena and fairgrounds including adobe stalls.  

The projects would have obvious links to Swink, the Ark and the fairgrounds. They show a community trying to enhance its future by drawing on its history.

It also began with beets  

That ditch Swink dug? It still shares Rocky Ford’s name and runs alongside the Arkansas River. 

It’s owned by the Rocky Ford Ditch Company, which was incorporated in 1888. Water from it irrigated Swink’s melons, corn, wheat, alfalfa, cows and sugar beets that for a long time were the most profitable crop growing in the valley. 

In 1899, beets were booming and Swink wooed the American Crystal Sugar Company into building a processing plant in Rocky Ford. The Holly Sugar Corporation, founded in 1905 by Kenneth Schley, set up shop in the town 100 miles to the east and later expanded with a second large sugar beet factory in the town of, wait for it, Swink. 

Bill Hancock grew up on a small farm just outside of Rocky Ford. He likes thinking about the years sugar beets drove the economy, from the 1900s through the 1950s. “The factories were the hook and bullet of this community,” he says. 

The corporations bought beets that farmers grew in fields fanning away from the Rocky Ford Ditch. They irrigated the fields with Arkansas River water. Everything was flowing. Rocky Ford High School, home of the Meloneers, had 160 students. Locals patronized three grocery stores, four banks, two women’s clothing shops and three car dealerships. The main street buzzed with activity. “My family would go there Saturday evenings for supper and watch all the goings on,” Hancock remembers. “The shops stayed open until 10 o’clock. It was busy, busy, busy.” 

The farmers also employed workers from Mexico, who bought goods from Hancock’s uncle’s clothing and Army surplus stores. They’d pack them in footlockers his uncle sold, and when one filled up, “he’d put a padlock on and a tag on and take it down to the train station and ship it to Mexico,” he said. “It was nifty, and most of the vendors learned enough Spanish to get along.” 

But the region took a blow in 1974, when Congress allowed the Sugar Act of 1934 to expire and President Gerald Ford lifted tariffs on sugar imports, which flooded the market and killed the Lower Arkansas Valley’s largest industry. 

“When the sugar company went out of business, they leased the land to Natco Food Service, which grew hay on it that they made into dehydrated pellets” Hancock said. 

That kept the economy limping along for a little while. 

Then the water brokers came to Rocky Ford. 

Buying and drying  

Acres of land along the Rocky Ford Ditch are fallow after Aurora bought them to water the city. 

Kristie Knackord, with the Lower Arkansas Water Conservancy District, says there’s “a thought, conveyed out there publicly, that a farmer sold their water directly to the municipality. But often there’s a middle man, and how does that work?” 

It works by a water broker visiting a place like Otero County after its local industry collapses. They find landowners with rights to water, and buy the water and the land. The transfer of water from farms to cities actually began in the 1890s. “But the pace of sales quickened in the 1970s and 1980s as Aurora, Colorado Springs and Pueblo found willing sellers in farmers who were struggling because of high interest rates and low commodity prices,” according to Water Education Colorado. 

Hancock remembers when the Bowlen family, who owned the Denver Broncos from 1984 to 2022, sent brokers on behalf of the city of Aurora. Pat Bowlen was also the principal of Resources Investment Group, which purchased 4,100 acres of farmland and 424 shares of the Rocky Ford Ditch.

It all started in 1979, when Crystal Sugar shuttered its processing plant in Rocky Ford and the company gave local farmers an option to buy it. When they couldn’t raise the money, Bowlen’s group snapped it up – for the water rights. They turned around and sold them to Aurora. 

Some farmers were persuaded to sell their land and water rights, “but there was still maybe a third of the water that didn’t sell,” Hancock said. Farmers who wanted to stay held onto their rights for a number of years.  But the pressure around Rocky Ford didn’t let up and many more of his neighbors sold. 

By 2009, municipal purchasers had bought water rights attached to more than 102,000 irrigated acres in the Arkansas Basin and more than 150,000 acre-feet of water was severed from the land, according to Water Education. That was the start of the most recent “buy and dry,” as the pattern is called. 

Jack Goble, general manager of the Lower Arkansas Water Conservancy District, says his group doesn’t know how many acres have been affected in Otero County but that Aurora “dried up around 7,500 acres on the Rocky Ford Ditch.” The district is working on a project that will give them the complete number in a few months. 

Meanwhile, Hancock holds onto another set of happy memories from his childhood. 

Back when the water was flowing, the Hancock kids frequented the rodeo where Cope’s dad wrestled the watermelon. 

“We had an open arena at the fairgrounds. That was before horse trailers,” he said. “So we’d saddle up and ride to town and then rope and then ride home in the dark. The folks would follow us in their car to make sure somebody didn’t get run over. We belonged to the Mill Iron Wranglers. It was a horse drill team like the Lakewood Westernaires. We got contracted to go to a lot of the local rodeos, set flags and be the entertainment.”

Some holdouts still have rights to water in Rocky Ford Ditch, he said. “There’s the (Colorado State University Agricultural Experiment Station) and a few other little farmers and backyard people.” 

Rocky Ford has some water rights as well, says City Manager Stacey Milenski. Which brings us back to the town, melons and the revitalization project. 

Watermeloning and watering the future 

Watermelons are still so central to Rocky Ford the city is known as the Sweet Melon Capitol of the World. Since George Swink gave travelers a sugar high with his free slices, the Rocky Ford Rotary Club has given away 7 million pounds. Rocky Ford High School’s mascot is the Meloneer, described as “a muscular, anthropomorphic watermelon.” Same name for the school paper. 

So in 2021, during the city’s initial visioning process, Electra Johnson suggested they give either the new entrance to the fairgrounds a watermelon theme or make the new playground melon-themed. Johnson’s firm, EJD+P, specializes in regenerative, community-driven solutions to restore landscapes, empower people and build resilient futures for Colorado’s communities. 

When the city thought about how they could give the community more access to nature and recreation, they zeroed in an area called Crystal Lake, a parcel of land between the fairgrounds and the Crystal Sugar Factory property that has the dry depressions of three holding ponds once used by the plant. 

Some community members thought cleaning and revegetating the Crystal Lake area and piping Rocky Ford Ditch water into one of the holding ponds would give kids who live on the north side of town somewhere to run, hike, splash and connect with nature during the summer, Johnson added.  

And Johnson imagined connecting the Crystal Lake recreation zone to the Arkansas River, “the lifeblood of this area, but with no public access to it,” she said. “So the master plan included 33 acres of Crystal Lake, 33 acres of fairground and 33 acres next to it, which is a wetlands.” 

It all sounded so grand, so doable with enough community buy-in, belief and funding. Johnson said the various pieces would help solve some racial disparity in Rocky Ford. “I mean the fair is a place where everyone comes together,” she said. And if a trail could link the fair to Crystal Lake, and Crystal Lake to the Arkansas River, even more equity could come out of the city’s plan. 

Then the reality set in. Completing any part of this project was going to be wildly expensive, Milenski told The Colorado Sun. 

“If you just do, you know, red slides and one of those standard playgrounds, it’s still $300,000,” Johnson said. 

Since the city started dreaming, they’ve received three grants including two from Great Outdoors Colorado for $50,000 and $400,000, and one from the Colorado Health Foundation for $50,000 Johnson said. 

But even receiving money has been a struggle, said Milenski. “We announced we got these planning dollars and the community thinks, ‘They got $400,000? I don’t see any change. What are you doing? You’re not fixing the streets with that money,’ There’s that misconception anytime you get a grant, but what you can do with it and what you can’t is very specific.” 

The city is also looking at a “tough year in 2026, because people aren’t spending money,” she said. “Sales tax isn’t going to be what was projected. And property taxes remain flat.” 

But Johnson calls the project an answer to “a dream from the community and the town that would be a wonderful way of transforming the region.”  

And she calls creating access to the Arkansas River specifically, “a dream and vision that would have to be managed by a land trust or someone like The Nature Conservancy, because the land is super fragile from being over grazed for years. The city of Aurora owns the land and water, but the group we’ve been working with would like to see the land bought back and turned into a state park or managed as a grassland wildlife corridor.” 

It would have to have some political firepower behind it, she said. “Gov. Jared Polis has been interested in the region, but a governor has not come to the (Wake Up Breakfast) that kicks off the Arkansas Valley Fair since Roy Romer.”

A town administrator in Las Animas County is facing several felony charges after investigators say she funneled more than $26,000 from a small town’s water project intended to secure long-term water access, to her personal bank account. 

Tyra Marie Avila, 47, who was the town clerk, treasurer and administrator of Aguilar for 17 years, was arrested on suspicion of theft, cybercrime, embezzlement of public property, forgery and fraud by check, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation said Tuesday.

Avila resigned in September 2024 and posted a $15,000 bond after turning herself over to law enforcement, CBI said. 

Investigators say she took money from federal loans and grants that were awarded to the town of about 450 for a massive reservoir project. The money was allegedly commingled with the town’s general fund and used for unauthorized personal transactions and other town expenses, leaving contractors for the critical water project unpaid, CBI said. 

An attorney for Avila was not listed in online court records.

The town was awarded $5.7 million in 2021 from the USDA to build an augmentation reservoir to replace out-of-priority stream depletions caused by the pumping of the town’s alluvial wells to provide water for the town, the newspaper reported. Construction began in December 2023. 

The reservoir project remains incomplete and uncertified by the state, the Walsenburg-based World Journal reported in August, calling the project “a symbol of small-town infrastructure gone awry.” 

In August 2024, the newspaper reported that the water project had dried up the town’s general fund. 

The town of Aguilar has since taken steps to implement stricter financial controls and set up a separate account for the water project that is only accessible by the mayor and a USDA official, to ensure the project can move forward, CBI said. 

The USDA, Office of Inspector General and Las Animas County Sheriff’s Office also assisted in the investigation. 

El sábado 27 de septiembre, el Comité Demócrata de Legisladores Latino de Colorado estuvo visitando Glenwood Springs para reunirse con Sopris Mountain Collective, una cooperativa formada por residentes del parque de casas móviles Cavern Springs. La visita formaba parte de la “Gira de escucha por el Oeste” del Caucus, una iniciativa bienal para conectar a los legisladores con las comunidades de los cuatro rincones de Colorado.

Cinco legisladores —los representantes Elizabeth Velasco, Javier Mabrey, Julie Gonzales, Matt Martínez y Alex Valdez— se reunieron con los residentes para hablar del tema. “Creo que fue una buena reunión, y el hecho de que vinieran específicamente a escucharnos significa mucho para mí”, reflexionó Judith Álvarez, presidenta del Summit Mountain Collective y residente de Cavern Springs.

La discusión se centró en el esfuerzo del colectivo por recaudar $26 millones de dólares para comprar su parque al propietario establecido en Maryland. El propietario ya había llegado a un acuerdo de adquisición con un comprador anónimo por la misma cantidad, pero el colectivo presentó una denuncia ante el Departamento de Asuntos Locales de Colorado (DOLA) alegando una discrepancia entre el precio de venta anunciado y el precio final, lo que paralizó la compra. Si DOLA exige una nueva notificación de venta, los residentes tendrían otros 120 días para recaudar fondos e igualar la oferta, aunque el propietario no está obligado a aceptarla.

Conseguir ese nivel de financiamiento está resultando difícil. Por lo general, las compras lideradas por los residentes dependen de una combinación de gobiernos locales, subsidios estatales y federales y socios no lucrativos como Thistle ROC, que ayudó a facilitar la compra de los parques de casas móviles Aspen-Basalt y Mountain Valley por $42 millones de dólares, así como del parque Mountain Mobile Home Park, de 40 unidades, en Glenwood Springs, por $4.5 millones de dólares en agosto. Pero para Sopris Mountain Collective, el plazo y el precio hacen que la petición sea más difícil.

“Queremos seguir luchando en la medida de lo posible”, dijo Alvarez a Sol del Valle. “Pero sí, la gente dice: ‘No tienen tiempo. ¿Cómo te podemos ayudar?’”.

Razón por la cual el colectivo invitó al Colorado Latino Caucus a explorar opciones con los legisladores, aprovechar su influencia y buscar soluciones viables a nivel estatal.

Los residentes comentaron sobre cómo ha sido la vida bajo la actual propiedad del parque. Describieron alquileres al alza, la mala calidad del agua, las limitadas instalaciones y el aumento de las multas y restricciones. Aun así, resaltaron su amor por su hogar. La ubicación del parque les mantiene cerca del trabajo y las escuelas. Lo que quieren es quedarse, tener voz en su futuro y ver inversiones en su comunidad.

Pero lo que está en juego va más allá del parque. Si estás 98 viviendas se enfrentan a desalojos, Glenwood Springs perderá familias trabajadoras y a sus hijos.

“No creo que la mayoría de la comunidad fuera de este parque de casas móviles haya lidiado aún con la realidad del tremendo impacto económico que esto tendrá en todo lo demás”, dijo la representante de la junta escolar Jasmin Ramírez.

Para los residentes, la propiedad es algo más que dinero. Ser propietarios del parque les demostraría que la acción colectiva puede generar cambios. “El objetivo es que, en lugar de que la gente se enriquezca, podamos invertir lo que ganemos para mejorar el parque”, dijo Alvarez.

Los legisladores se marcharon con un sentido de urgencia y una mejor comprensión de lo que hay que hacer a nivel estatal en materia de vivienda accesible. Cuando se les preguntó directamente qué podían hacer para ayudar al colectivo a corto plazo, los legisladores mencionaron los problemas presupuestarios de Colorado y un gobernador áspero como barreras inmediatas.

“Queremos asegurarnos de que los residentes tengan realmente la oportunidad de recaudar los fondos, solicitar préstamos y obtener todo lo que necesitan para hacer una oferta”, dijo la representante Velasco. “Y no están obteniendo un descuento. Tienen que igualar una oferta existente, por lo que es importante que este proceso sea optimizado”.

“Cuando hablamos de desarrollo de viviendas accesibles, también deberíamos preocuparnos por la conservación de las viviendas accesibles existentes”, añadió el representante Mabrey. “Andy Boesenecker lideró la iniciativa de estabilización de los alquileres en los parques de casas móviles. Esa iniciativa fracasó hace un par de años, y me gustaría retomar esa lucha con un nuevo gobernador”.

Incluso si el colectivo consigue los fondos, su viaje no terminará ahí. “Comienza una maratón de 30 años”, dijo Álvarez, refiriéndose al posible modelo de préstamo.

Para la cooperativa, la compra también supondría los costos de reparar el sistema de agua potable y añadir servicios. Pero para estos vecinos, la inversión merece la pena y es la menor de sus preocupaciones.

“Esto va a costar mucho dinero. Pero si podemos comprarlo por $26 millones de dólares, entonces podemos arreglarlo”, dijo Álvarez.

Por ahora, tras haber tenido una audiencia de legisladores en sus patios traseros, la cooperativa Sopris Mountain tiene una renovada sensación de esperanza y claridad sobre su situación.

“Realmente, si se está creando un poder en el que ellos tienen voz y la pueden utilizar, sean o no ciudadanos”, dijo Alvarez. “Son residentes de Colorado. Pagan impuestos. Es posible que no puedan votar sobre algunas cosas, pero pueden hablar con sus representantes, y esos representantes son su voz”.

Traducción por Dolores Duarte

The post El parque de casas móviles Cavern Springs lucha por salvar su comunidad appeared first on The Sopris Sun.

Republican state Sen. Barbara Kirkmeyer is the latest candidate vying to be Colorado’s next governor. 

The state senator from Brighton filed paperwork Monday making her long-anticipated 2026 bid official. She’s planning to hold a launch event Tuesday evening in Fort Lupton.

Kirkmeyer ran unsuccessfully for Congress in 2022, losing narrowly to Democrat Yadira Caraveo in the 8th Congressional District. Kirkmeyer sits on the legislature’s powerful Joint Budget Committee, which makes her a ubiquitous voice in the state’s budget conversations.

Before entering the legislature in 2020, Kirkmeyer spent two decades as a Weld County commissioner. As a commissioner, Kirkmeyer supported an unsuccessful 2013 push for 11 counties in northeastern Colorado, including Weld County, to break off from Colorado and form a 51st state.

Kirkmeyer also served as head of the Colorado Department of Local Affairs under-then Gov. Bill Owens, a Republican. Additionally, she ran unsuccessfully in 2014 for Congress in the 4th Congressional District. 

Current Gov. Jared Polis is term-limited and can’t run for reelection in 2026. He won reelection in 2022 by nearly 20 percentage points. He secured his first term in 2018 by 10 points.

Colorado has not elected a Republican to be governor since 2002, when Owens secured a second term.

Two prominent Democrats are running to replace Polis: U.S. Sen. Michael Bennet and Colorado Attorney General Phil Weiser. 

The Democratic headwinds in the race haven’t stopped a growing crowd of Republicans from mounting a run for governor, including state Rep. Scott Bottoms of Colorado Springs; Sen. Mark Baisley of Woodland Park; and Teller County Sheriff Jason Mikesell.

Baisley and Kirkmeyer serve in the state Senate together. They’re statehouse colleagues with Bottoms.

This is a developing story that will be updated.