Cookies help us run our site more efficiently.

By clicking “Accept”, you agree to the storing of cookies on your device to enhance site navigation, analyze site usage, and assist in our marketing efforts. View our Privacy Policy for more information or to customize your cookie preferences.

This Tribe Will Gladly Accept Clean Energy Funding, Even If Wyoming Won’t

News Feed
Wednesday, April 24, 2024

This story was originally published by Inside Climate News and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. When Wyoming governor Mark Gordon told the Environmental Protection Agency in 2023 that the state would not be applying for federal grant money to reduce pollution and greenhouse gases, he left most communities in the state without access to potentially transformative funds to upgrade infrastructure, reduce pollution, and bring down costs for local governments. But in the nation’s most sparsely populated state, two cities and the Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone tribes could qualify on their own for Climate Pollution Reduction Grants (CPRG) from the $4.6 billion made available to states, cities, tribes and territories under the Inflation Reduction Act to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and air pollution. On April 1, Cheyenne, Wyoming’s capital, submitted its application for more than $99 million to cover most of the cost of building two solar farms and making upgrades to both of its wastewater treatment plants.  Northern Arapaho members host a local powwow on the eve of a solar eclipse in Riverton, Wyoming. Helen H. Richardson/ Getty Images The Northern Arapaho, which is qualified to apply for the $4.6 billion in general funding, met the EPA’s deadline to do so earlier this month. The tribe is also eligible for $300 million in EPA tribal funding, for which it is finalizing an application ahead of a May 1 deadline. The tribe hopes federal money will fund a solar-powered microgrid on its reservation, enable weatherization and energy efficiency upgrades to residents’ homes, and help convert the tribe’s vehicle fleet to electric and hybrid cars. Officials from the Northern Arapaho Tribe and city of Cheyenne called the grant money potentially transformational. “This money would really, truly help big time,” said Dean Goggles, environmental director for the tribe’s natural resources office. Wyoming faces a series of climate change-related threats to its environment, people, plants, and animals. Temperatures in the state have already risen 2.5 degrees Fahrenheit since the onset of the 20th century, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. As temperatures rise, the rate and severity of droughts and wildfires are projected to increase and the severity of storms across the state is expected to rise, too. With “unprecedented warming” expected to continue, “communities in Wyoming will continue to experience higher average temperatures, warmer winters, decreased snowfall, stronger storm precipitation events and increased risk of drought and wildfires,” said an EPA spokesperson. “Everyone is faced with high utility bills. What we’re looking at is something that would be off the grid and generate its own power.” The Northern Arapaho will likely prioritize projects that will increase the tribe’s energy independence and the community’s resilience to severe weather events. Tribal planners began working on the community’s application last fall, and identified the building and transportation sectors as the largest sources of climate-warming emissions the tribe could address. “There’s a lot of interest in solar here,” said Steve Babits, an environmental scientist with the Northern Arapaho Natural Resource Office. “People are pretty interested in being more self-sufficient with the utilities.” In its Priority Climate Action Plan (PCAP), a planning document the Northern Arapaho submitted to the EPA last month in order to qualify for general funding, the tribe laid out plans to apply for funds to build a community‐scale solar farm with battery storage on the Wind River Reservation. Such a project could reduce the tribe’s emissions and “provide affordable, reliable power” to the community, the tribe wrote. As Goggles and Babits met with tribal government groups about the PCAP, they said the idea proved popular. “Everyone is faced with high utility bills,” Babits said. “What we’re looking at is something that would be off the grid and generate its own power.” Weatherizing housing on the reservation is another of the tribe’s top priorities. By constructing high-efficiency buildings using electrical heating systems, putting them close together and retrofitting current buildings with better insulation, the tribe can minimize driving and create homes that “more easily ‘ride out’ power failures during inclement weather by minimizing heat energy losses to the exterior,” it said. This would help solve “major public health issues on the reservation” during Wyoming’s biting winters. The Northern Arapaho also signaled they might seek funds to replace the tribe’s fleet of diesel and gas-powered vehicles with electric and hybrid ones. Babits said funding for any of these plans would help the community create jobs. “The reservation is an underserved community, it could really benefit from that,” he said. About 300 miles to the southeast of the Wind River reservation, Renee Smith had been working diligently on Cheyenne’s PCAP and CPRG. “We’ve been working toward this for a year. We just weren’t anticipating being the lead,” she said, referencing Gordon’s decision to remove the state from funding consideration. Like the Northern Arapaho, Smith sees these funds as an opportunity to expand Cheyenne’s renewable energy portfolio. The city is working with Black Hills Energy, a local utility company, to install solar panels on city-owned cattle grazing lands, the municipality’s closed landfill, and both its wastewater treatment plants. (In Wyoming, cities cannot own and provide their own energy.) Together, these projects could add more than 96,000 megawatts to Cheyenne’s grid annually, helping the city meet its growing energy demand as more data center companies flock to the area, Smith said. Cheyenne’s goal is to win as much grant money as it can from the federal competition, but “it would be great if the state could support this.” Pairing solar panels with cattle grazing, a burgeoning practice known as agrivoltaics, could be particularly transformative for the city. Cheyenne makes money by leasing land for grazing, and leasing that same land for solar development to a utility like Black Hills Energy is a way for the city to do some “double dipping,” Smith said. “Cheyenne would become a national leader” if the city received money for this idea, Smith said. “No project in America would come close to the size and scale of this proposed project.” Reusing the city’s old landfill as a solar farm would help power low-income residents’ homes, Smith said, and the goal would be to one day create a community solar site run by Black Hills. Installing solar panels at its Crow Creek and Dry Creek wastewater treatment plants would allow Cheyenne to power municipal infrastructure with cheaper energy, which would free up tax dollars “to fund quality of life projects” like outdoor and indoor recreation facilities Smith said. “We feel like this is just a once in a lifetime opportunity.” In its CPRG application, the city also included plans to capture and sell methane collected from Dry Creek wastewater treatment plant to local utilities that can burn it as natural gas. Any of these projects would develop employment opportunities in Cheyenne. Solar installation creates jobs “on the front end,” Smith said. As the panels are being set up, Cheyenne would train a workforce to “make sure we have enough qualified people to manage these [panels] and maintain them,” she said. Absent federal funding, Cheyenne would be hard pressed to find ways to get these projects off the ground. Wyoming offers Energy Matching Funds, money from state coffers awarded by the Wyoming Energy Authority to projects that meet an array of energy criteria—most of which are focused on preserving the extraction and use of fossil fuels in a clean energy economy. Cheyenne’s goal is to win as much grant money as it can from the federal competition, but “it would be great if the state could support this. Even in this small way,” Smith said.  States and cities that have applied for CPRG funds will compete based on grant proposal size. It is not yet clear how many other states or cities joined Cheyenne in applying for CPRG funding between $50 million to $99 million, but the EPA plans to award anywhere from six to 12 grants in that range, according to an EPA announcement in January. If both the Northern Arapaho’s applications are deemed suitable for funding, the EPA would award the tribe only one grant. With only two applicants from Wyoming, and Gordon electing to keep the state on the sidelines, grant planners from the Northern Arapaho and Cheyenne said they are aware that the rest of the state may be keeping tabs on how their applications turn out should the two communities receive funding. “Hopefully we can be a leader on this in the state and be a good example for everyone,” Babits said.  “It’s really exciting that we get to apply for these funds—and it’s even more exciting if we can move ahead,” Goggles added. “I’m anxious for it.”

This story was originally published by Inside Climate News and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. When Wyoming governor Mark Gordon told the Environmental Protection Agency in 2023 that the state would not be applying for federal grant money to reduce pollution and greenhouse gases, he left most communities in the state without access to […]

This story was originally published by Inside Climate News and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

When Wyoming governor Mark Gordon told the Environmental Protection Agency in 2023 that the state would not be applying for federal grant money to reduce pollution and greenhouse gases, he left most communities in the state without access to potentially transformative funds to upgrade infrastructure, reduce pollution, and bring down costs for local governments.

But in the nation’s most sparsely populated state, two cities and the Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone tribes could qualify on their own for Climate Pollution Reduction Grants (CPRG) from the $4.6 billion made available to states, cities, tribes and territories under the Inflation Reduction Act to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and air pollution. On April 1, Cheyenne, Wyoming’s capital, submitted its application for more than $99 million to cover most of the cost of building two solar farms and making upgrades to both of its wastewater treatment plants. 

A collection of people walks through an open plain.

Northern Arapaho members host a local powwow on the eve of a solar eclipse in Riverton, Wyoming.

Helen H. Richardson/ Getty Images

The Northern Arapaho, which is qualified to apply for the $4.6 billion in general funding, met the EPA’s deadline to do so earlier this month. The tribe is also eligible for $300 million in EPA tribal funding, for which it is finalizing an application ahead of a May 1 deadline. The tribe hopes federal money will fund a solar-powered microgrid on its reservation, enable weatherization and energy efficiency upgrades to residents’ homes, and help convert the tribe’s vehicle fleet to electric and hybrid cars.

Officials from the Northern Arapaho Tribe and city of Cheyenne called the grant money potentially transformational. “This money would really, truly help big time,” said Dean Goggles, environmental director for the tribe’s natural resources office.

Wyoming faces a series of climate change-related threats to its environment, people, plants, and animals. Temperatures in the state have already risen 2.5 degrees Fahrenheit since the onset of the 20th century, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. As temperatures rise, the rate and severity of droughts and wildfires are projected to increase and the severity of storms across the state is expected to rise, too. With “unprecedented warming” expected to continue, “communities in Wyoming will continue to experience higher average temperatures, warmer winters, decreased snowfall, stronger storm precipitation events and increased risk of drought and wildfires,” said an EPA spokesperson.

The Northern Arapaho will likely prioritize projects that will increase the tribe’s energy independence and the community’s resilience to severe weather events. Tribal planners began working on the community’s application last fall, and identified the building and transportation sectors as the largest sources of climate-warming emissions the tribe could address. “There’s a lot of interest in solar here,” said Steve Babits, an environmental scientist with the Northern Arapaho Natural Resource Office. “People are pretty interested in being more self-sufficient with the utilities.”

In its Priority Climate Action Plan (PCAP), a planning document the Northern Arapaho submitted to the EPA last month in order to qualify for general funding, the tribe laid out plans to apply for funds to build a community‐scale solar farm with battery storage on the Wind River Reservation. Such a project could reduce the tribe’s emissions and “provide affordable, reliable power” to the community, the tribe wrote. As Goggles and Babits met with tribal government groups about the PCAP, they said the idea proved popular. “Everyone is faced with high utility bills,” Babits said. “What we’re looking at is something that would be off the grid and generate its own power.”

Weatherizing housing on the reservation is another of the tribe’s top priorities. By constructing high-efficiency buildings using electrical heating systems, putting them close together and retrofitting current buildings with better insulation, the tribe can minimize driving and create homes that “more easily ‘ride out’ power failures during inclement weather by minimizing heat energy losses to the exterior,” it said. This would help solve “major public health issues on the reservation” during Wyoming’s biting winters.

The Northern Arapaho also signaled they might seek funds to replace the tribe’s fleet of diesel and gas-powered vehicles with electric and hybrid ones. Babits said funding for any of these plans would help the community create jobs. “The reservation is an underserved community, it could really benefit from that,” he said.

About 300 miles to the southeast of the Wind River reservation, Renee Smith had been working diligently on Cheyenne’s PCAP and CPRG. “We’ve been working toward this for a year. We just weren’t anticipating being the lead,” she said, referencing Gordon’s decision to remove the state from funding consideration.

Like the Northern Arapaho, Smith sees these funds as an opportunity to expand Cheyenne’s renewable energy portfolio. The city is working with Black Hills Energy, a local utility company, to install solar panels on city-owned cattle grazing lands, the municipality’s closed landfill, and both its wastewater treatment plants. (In Wyoming, cities cannot own and provide their own energy.) Together, these projects could add more than 96,000 megawatts to Cheyenne’s grid annually, helping the city meet its growing energy demand as more data center companies flock to the area, Smith said.

Pairing solar panels with cattle grazing, a burgeoning practice known as agrivoltaics, could be particularly transformative for the city. Cheyenne makes money by leasing land for grazing, and leasing that same land for solar development to a utility like Black Hills Energy is a way for the city to do some “double dipping,” Smith said.

“Cheyenne would become a national leader” if the city received money for this idea, Smith said. “No project in America would come close to the size and scale of this proposed project.”

Reusing the city’s old landfill as a solar farm would help power low-income residents’ homes, Smith said, and the goal would be to one day create a community solar site run by Black Hills. Installing solar panels at its Crow Creek and Dry Creek wastewater treatment plants would allow Cheyenne to power municipal infrastructure with cheaper energy, which would free up tax dollars “to fund quality of life projects” like outdoor and indoor recreation facilities Smith said. “We feel like this is just a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

In its CPRG application, the city also included plans to capture and sell methane collected from Dry Creek wastewater treatment plant to local utilities that can burn it as natural gas.

Any of these projects would develop employment opportunities in Cheyenne. Solar installation creates jobs “on the front end,” Smith said. As the panels are being set up, Cheyenne would train a workforce to “make sure we have enough qualified people to manage these [panels] and maintain them,” she said.

Absent federal funding, Cheyenne would be hard pressed to find ways to get these projects off the ground. Wyoming offers Energy Matching Funds, money from state coffers awarded by the Wyoming Energy Authority to projects that meet an array of energy criteria—most of which are focused on preserving the extraction and use of fossil fuels in a clean energy economy.

Cheyenne’s goal is to win as much grant money as it can from the federal competition, but “it would be great if the state could support this. Even in this small way,” Smith said. 

States and cities that have applied for CPRG funds will compete based on grant proposal size. It is not yet clear how many other states or cities joined Cheyenne in applying for CPRG funding between $50 million to $99 million, but the EPA plans to award anywhere from six to 12 grants in that range, according to an EPA announcement in January.

If both the Northern Arapaho’s applications are deemed suitable for funding, the EPA would award the tribe only one grant.

With only two applicants from Wyoming, and Gordon electing to keep the state on the sidelines, grant planners from the Northern Arapaho and Cheyenne said they are aware that the rest of the state may be keeping tabs on how their applications turn out should the two communities receive funding. “Hopefully we can be a leader on this in the state and be a good example for everyone,” Babits said. 

“It’s really exciting that we get to apply for these funds—and it’s even more exciting if we can move ahead,” Goggles added. “I’m anxious for it.”

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Business Groups Ask Supreme Court to Pause California Climate Reporting Laws in Emergency Appeal

The U.S. Chamber of Commerce is asking the Supreme Court to pause new California laws expected to require thousands of companies to report emissions and climate-risk information

The laws are the most sweeping of their kind in the nation, and a collection of business groups argued in an emergency appeal that they violate free-speech rights. The measures were signed by Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom in 2023, and reporting requirements are expected to start early next year. Lower courts have so far refused to block the laws, which the state says will increase transparency and encourage companies to assess how they can cut their emissions. The Chamber of Commerce asked the justices to put the laws on hold while lawsuits continue to play out. One requires businesses that make more than $1 billion a year and operate in California to annually report their direct and indirect carbon emissions, beginning in 2026 and 2027, respectively. That includes planet-warming pollution from burning fossil fuels directly, as well as releases from activities such as delivering products from warehouses to stores and employee business travel. The Chamber of Commerce estimates it will affect about 5,000 companies, though state air regulators say it will apply to roughly 2,600.The other law requires companies that make more than $500,000 a year to biennially disclose how climate change could hurt them financially. The state Air Resources Board estimates more than 4,100 companies will have to comply.“Without this Court’s immediate intervention, California’s unconstitutional efforts to slant public debate through compelled speech will take effect and inflict irreparable harm on thousands of companies across the country,” the companies argued.Companies that fail to publish could be subject to civil penalties. ExxonMobil also challenged the laws in a lawsuit filed last month. The state has argued that the laws don’t violate the First Amendment because commercial speech isn’t protected the same way under the Constitution. In 2023, Newsom called the emissions-disclosure law an important policy and of the state's “bold responses to the climate crisis, turning information transparency into climate action.” The environmental group Ceres has said the information will help people decide whether to support the businesses. The conservative-majority Supreme Court has cast a skeptical eye on some environmental regulations in recent years, including a landmark decision that limited the Environmental Protection Agency's authority to regulate carbon dioxide emissions from power plants in 2022, and another that halted the agency’s air-pollution-fighting “good neighbor” rule.Austin reported from Sacramento. Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Oct. 2025

Indigenous groups demand attention at UN climate talks in Brazil

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — Brazil set out to host this year's United Nations climate talks with a promise to spotlight Indigenous peoples whose way of life depends on the Amazon rainforest. Those groups are seizing the chance. For the second time this week, Indigenous protesters on Friday disrupted entry to the main venue for COP30...

BELEM, Brazil (AP) — Brazil set out to host this year’s United Nations climate talks with a promise to spotlight Indigenous peoples whose way of life depends on the Amazon rainforest. Those groups are seizing the chance. For the second time this week, Indigenous protesters on Friday disrupted entry to the main venue for COP30 to demand progress on climate change and other issues. Though their march was peaceful — it required conference participants to detour through a side door, leading to long lines to get in for the day’s events — one protester likened it to “a scream” over rights violated and decisions made without consulting the Indigenous. “I wish that warmth would melt the coldness of people,” Cris Julião Pankararu, of the Pankararu people in the Caatinga biome of Brazil, said. Brazilian military personnel kept demonstrators from entering the site. The protesters, most in traditional Indigenous garb, formed a human chain around the entrance to keep people from getting in. Other groups of activists formed a secondary chain around them. Paolo Destilo, with the environmental group Debt for Climate, joined the human chain encircling the protesters, saying he wanted to give Indigenous communities a chance to have their voices heard. “This is worth any delays to the conference,” he said, adding: “If this is really to be Indigenous peoples’ COP, like officials keep saying, these types of demonstrations should be welcomed at COP30.” The two-week conference began Monday with countries offering updated national plans to fight climate change. Scientists say it appears likely the world will blow past a goal set in the 2015 Paris Agreement to hold Earth’s warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius (2.7 Fahrenheit) since pre-industrial times. What protesters asked for Members of the Munduruku Indigenous group led the demonstration that blocked the main entrance, demanding a meeting with Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. “President Lula, we are here in front of COP because we want you to listen to us. We refuse to be sacrificed for agribusiness,” protesters said in a written statement in Portuguese released by the Munduruku Ipereg Ayu Movement. “Our forest is not for sale. We are the ones who protect the climate, and the Amazon cannot continue to be destroyed to enrich large corporations.” Munduruku leaders had a series of demands for Brazil. They included revoking plans for commercial development of rivers, canceling a grain railway project that has raised fears of deforestation and clearer demarcations of Indigenous territories. They also want a rejection of deforestation carbon credits. Conference president André Corrêa do Lago, a veteran Brazilian diplomat, met with the group as they blocked the entrance. He cradled a protester’s baby in his arms as he talked, smiling and nodding. After a prolonged discussion, do Lago and the protesters moved away from the entrance together. The entrance opened at 9:37 a.m. The United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change told conference participants “there is no danger” from what they called a peaceful demonstration. ‘We are listening’ Conference CEO Ana Toni said at a news conference that Belem is the most inclusive COP for Indigenous people with more than 900 Indigenous people registered, far exceeding the old record of 30. And she said they are being heard. “We are listening to their voices,” she said. “The reason for having a COP in the Amazon is for us to listen to the very people that are the most vulnerable.” Harjeet Singh, a veteran activist against the fossil fuels that are driving Earth’s dangerous warming, said the protest reflects frustration that past COPs “have not delivered.” “We should look at this as a message and signal from Indigenous people, who have not seen any progress over the past 33 years of COP, that all these conversations have not led to actions,” Singh said. “They are the custodians of biodiversity and climate and clearly, they are not satisfied with how this process is doing.” Warnings about ‘tipping point’ from extraction in Amazon Separately, Indigenous leaders from across the Ecuadorian Amazon used a COP30 side event in Belem to warn that oil drilling, mining and agribusiness expansion are pushing the rainforest closer to an irreversible tipping point. The session, hosted by Amazon Watch and Indigenous leaders from Kichwa and other nations, focused on the rollback of environmental and Indigenous protections, fossil-fuel contamination along the Napo and Amazon rivers, and demands for direct climate finance for Indigenous communities. Speakers also raised alarm about political decisions in Ecuador, including an upcoming referendum that Indigenous groups fear could weaken constitutional “rights of nature” and collective Indigenous rights. Leonardo Cerda, a Kichwa leader from Napo, said Indigenous leaders traveled more than 3,000 kilometers along the Napo and Amazon rivers to reach COP30. “It is very important for us that the rights of Indigenous peoples are recognized at the COP30 negotiating tables, because many times decisions made here directly affect our territory,” he said. “During our journey along the Napo and Amazon rivers, we were able to see how the fossil fuel industry has threatened an ecosystem as fragile as the Amazon and the peoples who live in it.” ___ Associated Press writer Steven Grattan contributed from Bogota, Colombia. ___ The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org. ___ This story was produced as part of the 2025 Climate Change Media Partnership, a journalism fellowship organized by Internews’ Earth Journalism Network and the Stanley Center for Peace and Security. Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Kids most affected by climate change explore jobs to fix it at the Future Green Leaders Summit

A career fair for middle school students mixes learning and entertainment to get them excited about working in the green economy.

At the 2025 Future Green Leaders Summit, middle school students designed fire-resistant homes using AI, learned about jobs that support the climate and environment, and cheered on superheroes dressed as “Wind,” “Solar,” “Ethanol” and other energy sources as they squared off in a rap and dance battle.The day-long event, held at San Bernardino’s Historic Enterprise Building on Wednesday, was organized by the Southern California Regional Energy Network, which is administered by Los Angeles County and paid for by California Public Utility ratepayers.The approximately 500 students in attendance came from the San Bernardino and neighboring Rialto school districts that have Title 1 status, meaning the schools receive supplemental federal funding because they enroll a high percentage of pupils living in low-income households. In both districts, Latino, Black and Asian residents represent more than 80% of the population, according to the U.S. Census.Organizers said the event was in part intended to confront a disconnect in the green economy. Although students from poor households and families of color are more vulnerable to the effects of rising global temperatures, pollution, and food and energy scarcity, people from their communities are less likely to be employed in green industries. Women are underrepresented too. AY Young, right, a musician, founder and CEO of the Battery Tour and former U.N. youth ambassador, powers his live shows with solar batteries while talking to middle school students at the Future Green Leaders Summit in San Bernardino on Wednesday. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) For instance, the U.S. solar workforce is 73% white and 70% male. The workforce overall is about 60% white and more than 50% female, according to the International Renewable Energy Council’s Solar Jobs Census.It’s hard for children to envision themselves in green careers when they don’t see people who look like them in those jobs, organizers said.“Kids, once they entered into high school, they have already made up their minds career-wise, and a lot of them are not going into STEM, especially females,” said Wendy Angel, referring to fields built on science, technology, engineering and math. Angel is the Southern California regional director for Emerald Cities, a nonprofit that works to bring diversity to the green economy. These imbalances were front of mind when Lujuanna Medina, the environmental initiatives division manager for L.A. County, came up with the idea to host a summit for middle school students four years ago.“We were like, ‘How do we reach them early on, before they reach high school? Let’s expose them to different parts of the green economy,’ ” Medina said. Golden Valley Middle School student Matthew Quintero looks through cards while learning about climate solutions and concepts of a game at the Future Green Leaders Summit in San Bernardino on Wednesday. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) The fair, with its mix of live entertainment, hands-on workshops and a career expo, was designed to make the green industry and the idea of sustainability more relatable, said Ben Stapleton, executive director of U.S. Green Building Council, an advocacy and workforce development group based in L.A.That’s especially important given a host of recent research showing that a fear for the future of the planet is taking a toll on young people’s mental health and making them feel powerless.One solution, said Stapleton, is to break big concepts like “climate change” down into more accessible components. “This is what it means in terms of air quality. This is what it means in terms of biodiversity, and access to plants and greenspace,” said Stapleton. “When you give kids those tools, they create the change and they understand that ‘I can be a part of this.’ ”During one workshop, Marcela Oliva, a professor at the Los Angeles Trade-Tech College, showed students how to use the latest digital visualization and 3-D simulation tools to design homes and landscaping that incorporate wildfire-resilient building materials and plantings. Students react as the energy superhero character “Ethanol” educates middle-school students in a rap-style “Energy Battle Royale” performance at the Future Green Leaders Summit on Wednesday. (Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times) Elsewhere, students learned about energy-saving appliances, brainstormed solutions to problems such as the proliferation of plastic waste and deforestation and explored internship and professional job opportunities.Maximilian Valdovinos, 12, from San Bernardino, said that coming into the career fair, he was considering becoming a mechanic, but the event inspired him to consider possible careers in waste management.Thirteen-year-old Emily Zamora was a “maybe” on the idea of going into a green industry before the event’s end. But the activities she participated in made her reflect on the lack of tree cover and shade in the San Bernardino neighborhood where she lives and its potential effect on her health.“There’s very few trees where I live,” said Zamora, “and some of them are dead.”The organizers and workshop facilitators said they realize that not every student will leave the event wanting to pursue a green career. The idea is to plant a seed.

A Cartoonist Finds Hope Amid the Apocalypse(s)

In two powerful new graphic novels, Peter Kuper tackles climate change, disappearing insects, and other tough environmental topics — but gives us reasons to avoid despair. The post A Cartoonist Finds Hope Amid the Apocalypse(s) appeared first on The Revelator.

Peter Kuper has been publishing political cartoons and graphic novels since the 1980s, but his obsession with insects goes back even further, to when he was four years old and the cicadas emerged around his childhood home in Summit, New Jersey. “I keep this by my table,” says the cartoonist, holding a well-loved paperback copy of the classic Insects: A Guide to Familiar North American Insects up to his webcam. “This is my first insect book. All the pages are falling out.” Photo: The Revelator This year Kuper’s political cartooning and love of entomology intersected with the publication of two new environmental books — or maybe four, depending on how you count them. The first, Insectopolis: A Natural History (W.W. Norton, $35), is a graphic novel — five years in the making — about insects and the scientists who helped uncover their stories. Set after an apocalypse has wiped out all humans, the story follows the insects themselves as they travel through the New York Public Library, uncovering facts about their evolution, cultural importance, ecological roles, and more. It’s a fun, creative, colorful book that conveys Kuper’s fascination with insects and imparts more than a few lessons. Then comes Wish We Weren’t Here: Postcards From the Apocalypse (Fantagraphics, $19.99), a collection of wordless cartoons about climate change, plastic pollution, and other environmental issues originally published in the French satire magazine, Charlie Hebdo. Each one-page, four-panel strip starts with an image that slowly morphs into something more sinister and revelatory — like a drawing of an oil rig that becomes a dying junkie’s used needle. If that sounds confrontational and bleak, it is, but the book also turns the table a few times, transforming images of destruction into reasons for hope.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Peter Kuper (@kuperart) Kuper has also published two insect-themed coloring books this year, one based on Insectopolis, and another, Monarch’s Journey, adapting segments of his 2015 graphic novel, Ruins. The Revelator spoke with Kuper about these new books, the state of political cartooning, his new role as an insect conservation advocate, and what people can do to help insects and avoid despair. (This conversation has been edited lightly for brevity and style.) What’s it been like taking this insect conservation message on the road? You’re doing some book signings, some speaking tours. How are people reacting to it? It’s fulfilling the intent I had for the book, I believe, which is to get people who don’t know about insects or are afraid of insects, who generally will kill them first and ask questions later, to recognize that grocery stores would be empty of produce without insects. No chocolate, no coffee, no honey. I can tell every time I give a talk — I’ve seen the expression on people’s faces that something’s moved a little bit. In general, I try not to make my work a “scold.” I wanted to be easing people toward the correct door so that they choose the winning prize of survival. And you’re taking it to these new audiences with a Society of Illustrators show, and the bookstore audience, and the comics audience. Those aren’t necessarily always audiences who would get that conservation message. Right. And the form that it’s taking, I think, is making it a very easy pill to swallow. It’s sugar coated. I’m trying — even with Wish We Weren’t Here — to inject it with humor and have it take those kinds of mental leaps and connections that people can make in seeing something and recognizing it and maybe reconsidering something in a positive way.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Peter Kuper (@kuperart) After a lifetime of caring about insects, what did you take away from the five-year process of developing this book? My understanding of history and just coming to understand about the various extinction events that went on in the past, the essence of time and how little we humans can comprehend time. Also, just the miracle of evolution that has made the insects survive the way they have. Even something like the monarch butterfly, which I had learned about while working on Ruins — it goes through these three generations to travel 3,000 miles. The first generation’s one week, the next generation is two, and the last generation is six months. And they still don’t know how all the monarchs know how to get to this one forest in Mexico, which I also got to visit when I lived there. And there’s so many pieces of this history. I had no idea that dung beetles were the first animals — including humans — to navigate by the stars. And that they can follow the Milky Way at night to go in a straight line. And there’s so many fascinating aspects. The shine on apples comes from the lac bug, and 78 RPM records come from that same insect’s excretion. And one of the huge, fabulous aspects was reaching out to the entomologists. If I read a book, I would just look up the author online, reach out and say, “Hey, I’m working on this chapter on bees. Could you talk to me?” And every single one of them was wide open to it. In fact, slipped into Insectopolis are QR codes linking to interviews with four entomologists and the poet laureate from Mexico reading his poem about monarchs. With those interviews, I discovered that entomologists are like comic fans. The same way that comics were always considered low art, entomology was always considered low science. They were sort of put down by the people who were “all lab,” discovering DNA and poo-pooing E.O. Wilson, the ant expert at Harvard, because he was doing this dopey field work. Also, while I was at it, I was digging up entomologists and naturalists who were less known. It’s shocking how many of these people that made huge discoveries are essentially unknown. Margaret Collins, for example, was the first Black entomologist to get her Ph.D. She entered college at age 14. And she had to struggle with civil rights issues and racism and sexism to become the leading scientist on termites. I’m sure some people will be like, “Oh goody, termites.” But still, these are major areas. Architects have learned from the building structures that termites make. There are so many insects that we’ve learned from. The dragonfly has a nearly detachable head, and that’s how they figured out Velcro. Let’s shift and talk about Wish We Weren’t Here — which is a tough title to say. It twists the usual expression, “wish you were here,” and the brain does not want to go there. And I think that’s an interesting aspect of the book itself. You start with one image and twist it to another. How do you approach creating cartoons like that? My enthusiasm for wordless comics goes back to [Mad Magazine’s] “Spy vs. Spy,” which, I ironically ended up doing for 30 years. That and Sergio Aragonés’s wordless cartooning marginals and the books that he did. I get these images when I read an article. They sometimes form almost instantaneously. There’ll be a word in the article, something about “we’re gambling with climate change.” I start seeing the one-armed bandit. They just tend to form these flash images in my brain.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Peter Kuper (@kuperart) I just have to do these drawings. I read something in the paper, and I just feel like I need to have a response. And the way I can respond — aside from marching in the streets and knocking on doors, which I also do — is to do a drawing about it and share it. I was anxious to do Wish We Weren’t Here, because we’re right in the midst of even the term “climate change” being erased. So to do a whole book on climate change, it seemed like a rather vital time to do it. And though the comics in there are wordless, each page has the article that I referenced so that somebody could go and look more deeply into the subject. How does political cartooning like this compare to 10 or 20 years ago? Political cartooning has gone through such a contraction, but it’s still so powerful. Is there an audience for it? Is there an appetite for it? There’s a huge appetite for it. It’s just the delivery systems that have altered radically. You can use Instagram and social media to deliver things. I’ll post something, and, depending on the venue, it will get 100,000 likes. Or two. Do you have any advice for other people trying to use the arts or expression or protest as a way to get something out of themselves and to put some good into the world? Well, in every march I’ve been to, you get to see some of the most creative signs. They’re just people, clearly, they’re not professionals. They’re just coming up with a slogan, an image, sometimes a collage of a photo. It’s so powerful to go to a march with a sign that speaks your mind, especially if it’s with humor. Any given march is just loaded with that creative intervention, and I recommend that to everybody.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Peter Kuper (@kuperart) And please don’t stomp on insects every time you see them. Just help them out the door.  If you have a lawn, you can un-mow some of it. Don’t mow, and maybe plant the occasional pollinator — just make sure that they’re appropriate pollinators and not some kind of foreign specialty plant that actually is invasive or problematic. There’s just a lot of little actions that one can take all the time — and especially right now, not falling on fear to the point where you don’t get out and protest. That’s really important, because I really feel like what we’re being pushed toward is being scared enough just to stay home and disconnect. Previously in The Revelator: Comics for Earth: Eight New Graphic Novels About Saving the Planet and Celebrating Wildlife The post A Cartoonist Finds Hope Amid the Apocalypse(s) appeared first on The Revelator.

Mixing Is the Heartbeat of Deep Lakes. At Crater Lake, It’s Slowing Down.

The physics of mixing water layers — an interplay of wind, climate and more — makes lakes work. When it stops, impacts can ripple across an ecosystem. The post Mixing Is the Heartbeat of Deep Lakes. At Crater Lake, It’s Slowing Down. first appeared on Quanta Magazine

climate science Mixing Is the Heartbeat of Deep Lakes. At Crater Lake, It’s Slowing Down. By Rachel Nuwer November 14, 2025 The physics of mixing water layers — an interplay of wind, climate and more — makes lakes work. When it stops, impacts can ripple across an ecosystem. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine climate science Mixing Is the Heartbeat of Deep Lakes. At Crater Lake, It’s Slowing Down. By Rachel Nuwer November 14, 2025 The physics of mixing water layers — an interplay of wind, climate and more — makes lakes work. When it stops, impacts can ripple across an ecosystem. By Rachel Nuwer Contributing Writer November 14, 2025 animals biology climate science ecology physics All topics On a radiant July afternoon, a pair of scientists hung their heads off the side of a boat and peered into the brilliant blue water of a lake known for its clarity. They were watching for the exact moment when a black-and-white, dinner plate–sized object called a Secchi disc disappeared from view in the water column of Crater Lake in Oregon. The disc was being slowly lowered by crane, spinning lazily like a carnival prop. A minute or so after it hit the water, graduate student Juan Estuardo Bocel gave a shout to indicate that he could no longer see the disc: “I am out!” Seconds later, researcher Eva Laiti echoed: “OK, I’m out!” The crane operator, Scott Girdner, a lanky freshwater biologist who has spent most of his adult life at Crater Lake National Park, recorded the disc depth for each call. Then he slowly raised it until the junior researchers piped up again when it was back in view, and he recorded those depths, too. The mean of those readings, known as the Secchi depth, has been used as a simple and dependable measure of water clarity since 1865, when the Italian Jesuit priest Angelo Secchi invented it at the behest of the papacy. The value recorded that afternoon in 2025 — about 78 feet (24 meters), an unusually cloudy reading for Crater Lake — is now part of one of the world’s longest-running datasets on lake physics. The lake’s first Secchi reading was taken in 1886, and in 1983 scientists began to repeat the procedure several times per month every summer. When it comes to lake health, long-term data is treasure. Crater Lake’s size, natural beauty and otherworldly clarity — a reflection of its setting and isolation — make it one of the world’s most iconic freshwater bodies. With a maximum depth of 1,949 feet, it is the deepest lake in the United States. It’s also very likely the clearest large lake on Earth, with a vivid blue hue seldom encountered in nature. Share this article Copied! Newsletter Get Quanta Magazine delivered to your inbox Recent newsletters To measure water clarity, Scott Girdner and Taryn Weller, biologists at Crater Lake National Park, lower a black-and-white Secchi disc (right) and record the depth at which it vanishes. Crater Lake’s first Secchi reading was taken in 1886. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine “People are just amazed and wowed at the optical blue that you see from pure water itself,” said Sudeep Chandra, a limnologist at the University of Nevada, Reno, who collaborates with Girdner. “That blueness is the reflection of the hydrogen and oxygen hanging out together without any material in it.” Since 2010, however, Girdner and his colleagues have noticed an unexpected change in the Secchi data: Despite the day’s slightly cloudy reading, Crater Lake’s clear water is getting even clearer. This might sound like a good thing. After all, the lake’s remarkable, glasslike transparency and brilliant hue are major draws for the half-million tourists who visit every year. But it might also indicate that something is going wrong with the lake’s physics, chemistry and ecology, and it could be a harbinger of changes to lakes across the world in the age of climate change. As the planet warms, summers are growing longer and winter nights aren’t getting as cold as they used to. As a result, the surfaces of many deep, temperate lakes are warming even faster than the air. This shift to the energy flux of the top layer of water can set in motion a series of physical changes that add up to a breakdown of lake mixing — a fundamental process that acts like a heartbeat for deep, temperate lakes that don’t freeze in winter. Lake mixing is driven by physical properties such as wind, air temperature, water temperature and salinity, and on seasonal or annual cycles it circulates water between the surface and the depths. When mixing stops, oxygen and nutrients don’t get distributed throughout the water column, which can kill fish, trigger unsightly and dangerous algal blooms and invite invasive species to take over. “Many people visit Crater Lake because of its pristine water quality and blueness,” said Sudeep Chandra of the University of Nevada, Reno. “What happens if that changes?” Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine From Italy to New Zealand and beyond, scientists have been alarmed to observe reduced lake mixing. In 2021, Chandra and his colleagues published evidence in Nature of greater stratification in the water column over time — an indicator of weaker mixing — in 84% of 189 temperate lakes for which they could find sufficiently long and robust datasets. Some lakes had stopped mixing altogether. “While each system is unique, the endgame is generally the same: a lack of mixing for these large, deep lakes,” Chandra said. Of the world’s millions of lakes, Crater Lake is one of very few with a monitoring program that stretches back more than 40 years. Scientists are now beginning to realize how crucial those datasets are for unraveling lake physics and how climate change is altering it. “Because local weather can be extremely variable from year to year, it takes many years to capture the range in conditions and measure ‘normal,’” Girdner said. “Hence the advantage of long-term datasets.” Crater Lake is therefore at the center of the first efforts by researchers, including Girdner and Chandra, to compare lake systems to get to the bottom of their breakdown, so they can prepare for the future and perhaps even ward off the most extreme impacts. “Historically, people have studied lakes one at a time,” said Stephanie Hampton, director of the Tahoe Environmental Research Center at the University of California, Davis. In light of how quickly things are changing, that siloed approach no longer works, she said. “We need to learn from each other and synthesize these data to understand what’s happening globally.” In July 2025, researchers journeyed to the remote research station on Wizard Island, the volcanic cinder cone near the western shore of Crater Lake. On the boat dock they ate their meals (including fresh-caught invasive crayfish) and slept out under the stars. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine Canary in the Lake   In 2006, five deep lakes in northern Italy — Iseo, Como, Garda, Maggiore and Lugano — stopped fully mixing. At first, scientists didn’t think much of it. They had been monitoring the lakes since the 1980s and 1990s, and it was normal for a few years to go by without complete mixing. But as time passed and the clear waters remained stubbornly in place, they began to fear that the pause might be permanent. Their fears seem to have been borne out. “It’s been 20 years that we haven’t observed any full mixing from the top to the bottom,” said Barbara Leoni, a freshwater ecologist at the University of Milan-Bicocca. “I don’t know that it will be possible to return to the past behavior.” While each system is unique, the endgame is generally the same: a lack of mixing for these large, deep lakes. Sudeep Chandra, University of Nevada, Reno Lake mixing is a function of the fact that water has different densities at different temperatures. In deep temperate lakes, this creates stratification in the water column: Lighter, warmer water floats on top, and colder, denser water sinks below. Any number of factors can influence mixing, but it is primarily driven by seasonal temperature changes, wind and waves. Because these features vary from place to place and from lake to lake, mixing does not follow a single formula. In many lakes, complete mixing occurs once or twice a year, usually in spring and fall. In very large lakes, mixing might happen in the shallow upper waters on annual or seasonal cycles, while full mixing to the deepest bottom layer may occur only every few years. By studying different lakes, scientists are hoping to find shared rules. Italy’s deep northern lakes previously achieved complete mixing on an approximately seven-year cycle. During the summer, the lake water would maintain distinct layers as surface waters warmed and remained light and in place. As surface temperatures dropped in autumn and winter, the layers would become closer in temperature; with a push from the wind, the lake would begin to mix. This redistributed heat, oxygen, nutrients and toxins throughout the water column. Researchers pull in a gill net to assess fish populations. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine That’s not how the Italian lakes work anymore, however. Now, the surface waters fail to get cool enough to sink and trigger mixing. As a result, oxygen is disappearing from the bottom of the stratified lake. It has already been depleted entirely in Lake Iseo. “We have 150 meters of water without oxygen,” Leoni said. This kills off oxygen-breathing life at depth and transforms the biological community. “In lakes where the deep waters have been oxygen-free for a long time, only bacteria survive,” she said. The hearts of Italy’s deep lakes have stopped and are no longer circulating nutrients; they show what can happen when lakes stop mixing. Crater Lake offers a different opportunity: to study how, exactly, warming temperatures can break the fundamental physics of a lake. Mixing Mix-Up On summer days, viewed from the rim of the ancient caldera that holds it, Crater Lake is a perfect mirror reflecting the procession of clouds and colors of the sky above. But beneath that glassy surface, dynamic processes are underway. Scott Girdner, a freshwater biologist at Crater Lake National Park, has run the lake’s long-term monitoring program since 1995. He will retire at the end of 2025. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine Compared to many other large lakes around the world, Crater Lake is close to pristine. It is surrounded by wilderness and protected as a national park. The air above it is mostly wind blowing off the Pacific Ocean, with few polluting cities or industries nearby. The lake lacks any rivers or streams emptying into it that could bring in pollution from elsewhere; it is filled by rain and melting snow. In July, Girdner and Chandra filled two large water coolers with lake water — enough to keep the team of around 13 visiting scientists, students and National Park employees, plus a journalist and photographer, hydrated overnight. The lake’s water tasted as pure as bottled water, and it maintained a natural, refreshing temperature under the blazing summer sun. Crater Lake has gained 33 additional days of summer weather per year over the past 60 years, as spring arrives earlier and earlier. The water purity does more than provide good drinking: It makes Crater Lake an ideal system for studying climate impacts. Without the confounding factors of agriculture, sewage, parking lot runoff and water withdrawals that tend to affect other lakes, Girdner said, “it’s easier to see the influence of climate change.” Girdner started working at Crater Lake in 1995 and has overseen the long-term monitoring program ever since. He often tells his staff that it’s not enough to just record change; they must also understand its drivers and its implications for the lake’s physics, chemistry and biology. To that end, every night at 8 p.m., a tube-shaped profiler instrument crawls along an anchored metal cable from a depth of 585 meters to Crater Lake’s surface and back down again. On this round trip, it tests twice a second for water conductivity, temperature, oxygen and salinity. Other sensors use light to measure chlorophyll fluorescence and phytoplankton particle density. That dataset and others tell the story of Crater Lake’s health across time. Like virtually all lakes around the world, it’s getting warmer: Average surface water temperatures have increased by 3 degrees Celsius since 1965. In summer, nighttime air temperatures are increasing faster than daytime ones; the coldest summer nights are not as cold as they used to be. And there are more summer nights: Crater Lake has gained 33 additional days of summer weather per year over the past 60 years, as spring arrives earlier and earlier. The remoteness that makes Crater Lake ideal for isolating climate change impacts also makes it a top location for stargazing. On average 98.6% of potentially visible stars can be seen at the site, according to NPS data. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine In the past, when summer nights grew cold, the lake released the day’s accumulated heat, causing surface water to become denser and sink. This phenomenon drives the shallow mixing that occurs in summer. As nights have warmed, however, this process has weakened, and mixing has slowed. Counterintuitively, as the layer of surface water has become warmer, it has also become thinner. “In the summer, there is half as much warm water floating on the surface now, on average, than there was in 1971,” Girdner said. This creates a sharper density difference with the cold water below, which in turn increases the amount of wind energy required to break through and mix the layers. I think about it like a vinaigrette. There’s resistance to mixing. Kevin Rose, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute “I think about it like a vinaigrette,” said Kevin Rose, a freshwater ecologist at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in New York who collaborates with Girdner and Chandra. “There’s resistance to mixing.” So what does all of this have to do with the fact that the lake is getting clearer? That’s where biology comes in. In Crater Lake’s warm surface water lives a community of phytoplankton. A thinner warm surface layer means less habitat, so there are fewer phytoplankton, which means fewer particles in the water to scatter light. This boosts the water’s clarity overall and the depth to which light can penetrate. Crater Lake’s winter processes, which mix the lake all the way to the bottom, are undergoing their own profound changes. These transformations involve the weakening of a phenomenon called reverse stratification, in which a layer of very cold water, cooled by frigid winter air, forms on top of a slightly warmer layer that is around 4 degrees Celsius, the temperature at which water is heaviest. (At temperatures below that, water molecules begin to organize into lighter ice crystals.) When strong wind pushes the extra-cold surface water horizontally, as it approaches the lake’s edge some of it is forced down. If it is pushed down far enough, the increased pressure causes it to become denser than the 4-degree water layer. It then sinks to the bottom in a matter of hours, creating a mixing effect. Mark Belan/Quanta Magazine Historically, reverse stratification occurred during 80% to 90% of Crater Lake winters. As winters warm, it is becoming less common. “Crater Lake is sitting on a knife edge where it’s already really close to not being able to form reverse stratification,” Girdner said. This does not bode well for the lake’s future mixing. When Girdner’s colleagues used his data to simulate what might happen under a range of climate scenarios, the model predicted that reverse stratification will become rare within about 50 years. If the process stops entirely, Crater Lake will no longer mix to the bottom at all. Over decades, an oxygen dead zone will begin to form — similar to the ones in the northern Italian lakes. This risks significant ecological impacts, as well as a buildup of toxic compounds that could billow up to the surface if the lake does mix again. Crater Lake is just starting on the path toward such dramatic changes. Another iconic lake a few hundred miles away suggests what might happen next. A Trickle-Down Effect Lake Tahoe, the second-deepest lake in the United States, on the California-Nevada border, once rivaled Crater Lake in its clarity. In the 19th century, rocks glistened through its crystal-clear water. Then, rapid population growth in the 1950s polluted the water, causing algae to start growing offshore. In recent years, those algae have advanced into shallower waters. Secchi disc readings show that, since 1967, clarity in Lake Tahoe has been reduced by nearly 40 feet. The lake’s formerly rich blue hue is now diminished in some places. Jaden Bellamy, a biological science technician at Crater Lake National Park, monitors the lake’s wildlife, including invasive crayfish (left) and rainbow trout (right). Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine These trends will likely continue as climate change advances, said Michael Dettinger, a hydroclimatologist at Scripps Institution of Oceanography at the University of California, San Diego. As Lake Tahoe’s mixing breaks down and summer waters get warmer and linger longer, phytoplankton enjoy an enhanced growing season and cloud the water. Over the next century, more intense and frequent storms are projected to increase water inflows, likely bringing “enormous spikes” of sediments and nutrients into the lake, Dettinger said. Smoke from wildfires also deposits particles, which can change the light structure and nutrient composition of the lake. Such events can affect a lake’s trajectory for years, Chandra said. When combined with altered lake mixing, they create a vicious ecological cycle. Algae blooms are a product of these and other disruptions. In addition to killing fish, the accumulation of oxygen-poor, nutrient-rich water that builds up in a stratified lake — especially one loaded with extra nutrients from runoff and wildfires — can leak to the shoreline, triggering nearshore algae growth that forms a green bathtub ring surrounding a clear center. “That’s one of the working hypotheses for what we think is happening in Lake Tahoe,” Chandra said. Crater Lake suffered its first bloom of shoreline algae in 2021. “It looked like someone took a massive bright green highlighter along the shore,” Girdner said. Because lake tours were closed due to the Covid-19 pandemic that summer, there was no public outcry. Had the bloom occurred during a normal summer — like July 2025, when tourists crowded the lake in passenger boats to marvel at the seemingly bottomless blue abyss around them — the situation might have made national headlines. Researchers process crayfish and fish to monitor the lake’s health. “You can measure vital signs of a human being and get some idea if something seems to be wrong or if things are changing,” Girdner said. “We do similar things in the lake.” Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine When the green ring appeared, Girdner and his colleagues felt overwhelmed. At first they had no idea what could be driving the sudden growth. Then they noticed a telling detail: The greenest places were those with the highest numbers of invasive crayfish. When crayfish move into an area, the population of insect larvae and other aquatic invertebrates that graze on algae declines by about 95%. “They just hammer the insects,” Girdner said. In experiments, Girdner and his colleagues found that about seven times more algae grow in areas with crayfish compared to those without. Yet Girdner suspected there was more than crayfish at work. Those invasive predators had regrettably been introduced to the lake in 1915, but in the intervening century, no other major algae blooms had occurred. He and his colleagues found, instead, that record-breaking water temperatures during the exceptionally hot summer of 2021 had fueled the algae growth. Crayfish had just given it a boost. Milder winters have let the crayfish population grow and spread to new areas of the lake, further disrupting ecosystems. The Mazama newt (or Crater Lake newt), a subspecies found nowhere else in the world, has virtually disappeared. In addition to competing for the same invertebrate prey, the crayfish also capture newts in their pincers and devour the hapless amphibians alive. Similar climate-driven invasive species patterns have been seen in other lakes. These cascading impacts exemplify the fact that lake conditions are inherently and intimately tied to climate, Chandra said. “We cannot divorce the biological composition and interactions within a lake from the climatic conditions within the landscape.” The sun rises over the volcanic heap of Wizard Island on July 23, 2025. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine Teasing out the interactions between climate, lake mixing and ecology at Crater Lake will give research teams around the globe a blueprint for what to expect as the world continues to warm, and could be key to averting worst-case scenarios. An Uncertain Future Last year, Chandra, Leoni and other researchers were sitting in a cafe near Lake Iseo, comparing notes about climate change at their lakes, when the cafe owner interrupted. “Why do we even need to know this?” Chandra recalled him asking. “There’s not much we can do about it, so why even care?” It’s a sentiment that Chandra often encounters. He harbors hope, however, that some impacts to lakes can be slowed or avoided. While individuals cannot stop the juggernaut of climate change, he said, local interventions could make a difference. Those strategies would be context-dependent, but they could include working to balance a lake’s nutrients, controlling invasive species, cleaning up pollution, or restoring the forests and wetlands surrounding lakes. Collaborations between different groups of scientists could enhance such interventions, said Veronica Nava, a postdoctoral researcher in freshwater ecology at the University of Milan-Bicocca. “If one lake has already experienced what you’re observing, you can come up with better strategies,” she said. A buoy is attached to a mooring sensor, which measures optical chlorophyll fluorescence and turbidity. The NPS has six of these sensors around Crater Lake. Katie Falkenberg for Quanta Magazine Teamwork “is really where freshwater science is moving,” Hampton said. But such efforts are in their early days, as researchers have only started to think about comparing large lake ecosystems over the last few years. Now threats to U.S. research are rattling their newfound collaboration. “The cuts to research funding are going to hit large collaborations pretty hard,” Hampton said. The future of even Crater Lake’s exemplary scientific program is in jeopardy. After spending nearly his entire career at the lake, Girdner is retiring at the end of the year. The federal government has frozen hiring for the National Park Service, so his position will remain unfilled indefinitely. It’s unrealistic, he said, to expect his colleagues to continue the same research output on their own. “We’re going to have to pare down what we’re doing,” he said. Related: Nature’s Critical Warning System How Soon Will the Seas Rise? Simple Equation Predicts the Shapes of Carbon-Capturing Wetlands Until then, they’re focused on what they can do: adding another year’s data to Crater Lake’s history. After a busy day, Girdner steered the vessel back to the dock at Wizard Island, a volcanic cinder cone that juts out of Crater Lake like a pointy hat. In the cluttered boathouse, decades of signatures and sketches coated the wooden walls, bearing witness to the students and scientists who had made some contribution to a better understanding of the lake. Chandra boiled a few invasive crayfish until they were delectably tender, and the group ate them with dabs of hot sauce. They passed around a few bottles of prosecco to toast Girdner’s retirement. As the sun dipped low, the exhausted scientists unrolled sleeping bags on the dock. Girdner had spent countless nights on the island (more than his ex-wife had liked, he admitted). This would be one of his last. The sky’s soft gradient of pink, orange and gold slowly darkened, and the Milky Way twinkled into view. Voices faded, while bats skimmed the water’s still surface. The lake’s future was uncertain. But the urgency of protecting its natural splendor could not have been clearer.

Suggested Viewing

Join us to forge
a sustainable future

Our team is always growing.
Become a partner, volunteer, sponsor, or intern today.
Let us know how you would like to get involved!

CONTACT US

sign up for our mailing list to stay informed on the latest films and environmental headlines.

Subscribers receive a free day pass for streaming Cinema Verde.
Thank you! Your submission has been received!
Oops! Something went wrong while submitting the form.