Monday, June 14, 2004 | 8:13 a.m.
The words that tumbled from Pat Mulroy's mouth last week were news to people who live in Lincoln County.
"The notion that we have a finite supply of water, and when that finite supply is gone you stop growing, is in the past," the Southern Nevada Water Authority general manager told the Clark County Growth Task Force on Tuesday.
Where will the water for the hundreds of thousands of Las Vegas Valley newcomers come from? Why, the rural areas of Lincoln, White Pine and Nye counties, she said.
Well, residents up in Lincoln County, whose land was declared a federal drought disaster area just before Thanksgiving, have some news of their own for urban dwellers who think the tap is open.
"The drought continues," said Connie Simkins, who raises cattle and owns the Lincoln County Record newspaper in Caliente. "There's no water in the springs. There's no water on the surface. It's just tough.
"My office sits on the main highway on the way to the livestock auction, and every day I see truck after truck going by."
Where are they going? To sell cattle they no longer can feed because there isn't enough water for forage. It's like having to sell off half your business or possessions every year.
"It's troubling because a lot of those people have spent four generations building their businesses," Simkins said. "They've dug post holes with their grandfathers. It's a lifetime of investment that nature seems to want to change."
Mother Nature and human -- both have a hand in it.
"The plans of the Las Vegas Valley Water District and the Southern Nevada Water Authority have been known here since they were filed in 1989," Simkins said. "But 70 percent of the (state's) voters are in Clark County. So if they want to change the water regulations, they can do what they damned well please."
The plan calls for pipelines to bring water from eastern Nevada to the urban valley. Corridors for them are included in the Lincoln County Land Act being written by Sen. Harry Reid, D-Nev. Even if the act passes, the state engineer has to approve the pipelines, and they also must pass environmental assessments.
The idea looks different from Farrel Lytle's front porch, where the land he grew up on withers in the sun.
"We don't raise vegetables. We raise hay that's used to feed our cows in the wintertime," Lytle said, giving a rural primer to someone whose meat comes neatly packaged from Albertson's.
"Last winter, we had no snow in the valley, so no grazing permits were issued by the (Bureau of Land Management). You had to sell 'em, or if you had the cash you had to buy hay to feed 'em," he said.
Their last rain was in March.
"You can drive along and get a feel for how dry it is," Lytle said.
Good idea. Go see what drought looks like without fountains. Talk to someone who is losing land his family owned for 140 years. Explain how we need his water more than he does.
"Most of the land is still held by the descendants of the people who first rode into this valley," Lytle said. "Panaca was settled in 1864. Eagle Valley in '65. Spring Valley in '66. Pioche came along in 1870."
Put a new face on the "in-state resources" -- one that doesn't belong to somebody who hasn't moved here yet.
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