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With the ongoing disaster approaching its second week, here’s where things stand.

A week ago, forecasters in Southern California warned residents of Los Angeles that conditions would be dry, windy, and conducive to wildfires. How bad things have gotten, though, has taken everyone by surprise. As of Monday morning, almost 40,000 acres of Los Angeles County have burned in six separate fires, the biggest of which, Palisades and Eaton, have yet to be fully contained. The latest red flag warning, indicating fire weather, won’t expire until Wednesday.
Many have questions about how the second-biggest city in the country is facing such unbelievable devastation (some of these questions, perhaps, being more politically motivated than others). Below, we’ve tried to collect as many answers as possible — including a bit of good news about what lies ahead.
A second Santa Ana wind event is due to set in Monday afternoon. “We’re expecting moderate Santa Ana winds over the next few days, generally in the 20 to 30 [mile per hour] range, gusting to 50, across the mountains and through the canyons,” Eric Drewitz, a meteorologist with the Forest Service, told me on Sunday. Drewitz noted that the winds will be less severe than last week’s, when the fires flared up, but he also anticipates they’ll be “more easterly,” which could blow the fires into new areas. A new red flag warning has been issued through Wednesday, signaling increased fire potential due to low humidity and high winds for several days yet.
If firefighters can prevent new flare-ups and hold back the fires through that wind event, they might be in good shape. By Friday of this week, “it looks like we could have some moderate onshore flow,” Drewitz said, when wet ocean air blows inland, which would help “build back the marine layer” and increase the relative humidity in the region, decreasing the chances of more fires. Information about the Santa Anas at that time is still uncertain — the models have been changing, and the wind is tricky to predict the strength of so far out — but an increase in humidity will at least offer some relief for the battered Ventura and Orange Counties.
The Palisades Fire, the biggest in L.A., ripped through the hilly and affluent area between Santa Monica and Malibu, including the Pacific Palisades neighborhood, the second-most expensive zip code in Los Angeles and home to many celebrities. Structures in Big Rock, a neighborhood in Malibu, have also burned. The fire has also encroached on the I-405 and the Getty Villa, and destroyed at least two homes in Mandeville Canyon, a neighborhood of multimillion-dollar homes. Students at nearby University of California, Los Angeles, were told on Friday to prepare for a possible evacuation.
The Eaton Fire, the second biggest blaze in the area, has killed 16 people in Altadena, a neighborhood near Pasadena, according to the Los Angeles Times, making it one of the deadliest fires in the modern history of California.
The 1,000-acre Kenneth fire is 100% contained but still burning near Calabasas and the gated community of Hidden Hills. The Hurst Fire has burned nearly 800 acres and is 89% contained and is still burning near Sylmar, the northernmost neighborhood in L.A. Though there are no evacuation notices for either the Kenneth or the Hurst fires, residents in the L.A. area should monitor the current conditions as the situation continues to be fluid and develop.
The 43-acre Sunset Fire, which triggered evacuations last week in Hollywood and Hollywood Hills, burned no homes and is 100% contained.
The Lidia Fire, which ignited in a remote area south of Acton, California, on Wednesday afternoon, burned 350 acres of brush and is 100% contained.
It can take years to determine the cause of a fire, and investigations typically don’t begin until after the fire is under control and the area is safe to reenter, Edward Nordskog, a retired fire investigator from the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department, told Heatmap’s Emily Pontecorvo. He also noted, however, that urban fires are typically easier to pinpoint the cause of than wildland fires due to the availability of witnesses and surveillance footage.
The vast majority of wildfires, 85%, are caused by humans. So far, investigators have ruled out lightning — another common fire-starter — because there were no electrical storms in the area when the fires started. In the case of the Palisades Fire, there were no power lines in the area of the ignition, though investigators are now looking into an electrical transmission tower in Eaton Canyon as the possible cause of the deadly fire in Altadena. There have been rumors that arsonists started the fires, but investigators say that scenario is also pretty unlikely due to the spread of the fires and how remote the ignition areas are.
Officially, 24 people have died, but that tally is likely to rise. California Governor Gavin Newsom said Sunday that he expects “a lot more” deaths will be added to the total in the coming days as search efforts continue.
Incoming President Donald Trump slammed the response to the L.A. fires in a Truth Social post on Sunday morning: “This is one of the worst catastrophes in the history of our Country,” he wrote. “They just can’t put out the fires. What’s wrong with them?”
Though there is much blame going around — not all of it founded in reality — the challenges facing firefighters are immense. Last week, because of strong Santa Ana winds, fire crews could not drop suppressants like water or chemical retardant on the initial blazes. (In strong winds, water and retardant will blow away before they reach the flames on the ground.)
Fighting a fire in an urban or suburban area is also different from fighting one in a remote, wild area. In a true wildfire, crews don’t use much water; firefighters typically contain the blazes by creating breaks — areas cleared of vegetation that starve a fire of fuel and keep it from spreading. In an urban or suburban event, however, firefighters can’t simply hack through a neighborhood, and typically have to use water to fight structure fires. Their priority also shifts from stopping the fire to evacuating and saving people, which means putting out the fire itself has to wait.
What’s more, the L.A. area faced dangerous fire weather going into last week — with wind gusts up to 100 miles per hour and dry air — and the persistence of the Santa Ana winds during firefighting operations through the weekend made it extremely difficult for emergency managers to gain a foothold.
Trump and others have criticized Los Angeles for being unprepared for the fires, given reports that some fire hydrants ran dry or had low pressure during operations in Pacific Palisades. According to the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, about 20% of hydrants were affected, mostly at higher elevations.
The problem isn’t a lack of preparation, however. It’s that the L.A. wildfires are so large and widespread, the county’s preparations were quickly overwhelmed. “We’re fighting a wildfire with urban water systems, and that is really challenging,” Los Angeles Department of Water and Power CEO Janisse Quiñones said in a news conference last week. When houses burn down, water mains can break open. Civilians also put a strain on the system when they use hoses or sprinkler systems to try to protect their homes.
On Sunday, Judy Chu, the Democratic lawmaker representing Altadena, confirmed that fire officials had told her there was enough water to continue the battle in the days ahead. “I believe that we're in a good place right now,” she told reporters. Newsom, meanwhile, has responded to criticism over the water failure by ordering an investigation into the weak or dry hydrants.
So-called “super soaker” planes have had no problem with water access; they’re scooping directly from the ocean.
Yes. Although aerial support was grounded in the early stages of the wildfires due to severe Santa Ana winds, flights resumed during lulls in the storms last week.
There is a misconception, though, that water and retardant drops “put out” fires; they don’t. Instead, aerial support suppresses a fire so crews can get in close and use traditional methods, like cutting a fire break or spraying water. “All that up in the air, all that’s doing is allowing the firefighters [on the ground] a chance to get in,” Bobbie Scopa, a veteran firefighter and author of the memoir Both Sides of the Fire Line, told me last week.
With winds expected to pick up early this week, aerial firefighting operations may be grounded again. “If you have erratic, unpredictable winds to where you’ve got a gust spread of like 20 to 30 knots,” i.e. 23 to 35 miles per hour, “that becomes dangerous,” Dan Reese, a veteran firefighter and the founder and president of the International Wildfire Consulting Group, told me on Friday.
Because of the direction of the Santa Ana winds, wildfire smoke should mostly blow out to sea. But as winds shift, unhealthy air can blow into populated areas, affecting the health of residents.
Wildfire smoke is unhealthy, period, but urban and suburban smoke like that from the L.A. fires can be particularly detrimental. It’s not just trees and brush immolating in an urban fire, it’s also cars, and batteries, and gas tanks, and plastics, and insulation, and other nasty, chemical-filled things catching fire and sending fumes into the air. PM2.5, the inhalable particulates from wildfire smoke, contributes to thousands of excess deaths annually in the U.S.
You can read Heatmap’s guide to staying safe during extreme smoke events here.
“The bad news is, I’m not seeing any rain chances,” Drewitz, the Forest Service meteorologist, told me on Sunday. Though the marine layer will bring wetter air to the Los Angeles area on Friday, his models showed it’ll be unlikely to form precipitation.
Though some forecasters have signaled potential rain at the end of next week, the general consensus is that the odds for that are low, and that any rain there may be will be too light or short-lived to contribute meaningfully to extinguishing the fires.
The chaparral shrublands around Los Angeles are supposed to burn every 30 to 130 years. “There are high concentrations of terpenes — very flammable oils — in that vegetation; it’s made to burn,” Scopa, the veteran firefighter, told me.
What isn’t normal, though, is the amount of rain Los Angeles got ahead of this past spring — 52.46 inches in the preceding two years, the wettest period in the city’s history since the late 1800s — which was followed by a blisteringly hot summer and a delayed start to this year’s rainy season. Since October, parts of Southern California have received just 10% of their normal rainfall
This “weather whiplash” is caused by a warmer atmosphere, which means that plants will grow explosively due to the influx of rain and then dry out when the drought returns, leaving lots of dry fuels ready and waiting for a spark. “This is really, I would argue, a signature of climate change that is going to be experienced almost everywhere people actually live on Earth,” Daniel Swain, a climate scientist at the University of California, Los Angeles, who authored a new study on the pattern, told The Washington Post.
We know less about how climate change may affect the Santa Anas, though experts have some theories.
At least 12,000 structures have burned so far in the fires, which is already exacerbating the strain on the Los Angeles housing market — one of the country’s tightest even before the fires — as thousands of displaced people look for new places to live. “Dozens and dozens of people are going after the same properties,” one real estate agent told the Los Angeles Times. The city has reminded businesses that price gouging — including raising rental prices more than 10% — during an emergency is against the law.
Los Angeles had a shortage of about 370,000 homes before the fires, and between 2021 and 2023, the county added fewer than 30,000 new units per year. Recovery grants and federal aid can lag, and it often takes more than two years for even the first Housing and Urban Development Disaster Recovery Grants’ expenditures to go out.
My colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote for Heatmap that the economic impact of the Los Angeles fire is already much higher than that of other fires, such as the 2018 Camp fire, partly because of the value of the Pacific Palisades real estate.
The wildfires may “deal a devastating blow to [California’s] fragile home insurance market,” Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin wrote last week. In recent years, home insurers have left California or declined to write new policies, at least partially due to the increased risk of wildfires in the state.
Depending on the extent of the damage from the fires, the coffers of California’s FAIR Plan — which insures homeowners who can’t get insurance otherwise, including many in Pacific Palisades and Altadena — could empty, causing it to seek money from insurers, according to the state’s regulations. As Zeitlin writes, “This would mean that Californians who were able to buy private insurance — because they don’t live in a region of the state that insurers have abandoned — could be on the hook for massive wildfire losses.”
First and foremost, sign up for all relevant emergency alerts. Make sure to turn on the sound on your phone and keep it near you in case of a change in conditions. Pack a “go bag” with essentials and consider filling your gas tank now so that you can evacuate at a moment’s notice if needed. Read our guide on what to do if you get a pre-evacuation or an evacuation notice ahead of time so that you’re not scrambling for information if you get an alert.
The free Watch Duty app has become a go-to resource for people affected by the fires, including friends and family of Angelenos who may themselves be thousands of miles away. The app provides information on fire perimeters, evacuation notices, and power outages. Its employees pull information directly from emergency responders’ radio broadcasts and sometimes beat official sources to disseminating it. If you need an endorsement: Emergency responders rely on the app, too.
There are many scams in the wake of disasters as crooks look to take advantage of desperate people — and those who want to help them. To play it safe, you can use a hub like the one established by GoFundMe, which is actively vetting campaigns related to the L.A. fires. If you’re looking to volunteer your time, make a donation of clothing or food, or if you’re able to foster animals the fire has displaced, you can use this handy database from the Mutual Aid Network L.A. There are also many national organizations, such as the Red Cross, that you can connect with if you want to help.
The City of Los Angeles and the Los Angeles Fire Department have asked that do-gooders not bring donations directly to fire stations or shelters; such actions can interfere with emergency operations. Their website provides more information about how you can help — productively — on their website.
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Invest in Our Future’s Peter Colavito on why funders and advocates should pay more attention to the solar farm down the road.
Up until last September, Wisconsin’s Public Service Commission had gone 14 years without approving a large-scale wind project. But when they met to review the 456 public comments submitted for Badger Hollow, a 118-megawatt project that would straddle Iowa and Grant counties, they found overwhelming support for the proposal. Approval followed.
This wasn’t by chance. For months, groups like the Rural Climate Partnership, Greenlight America, Farm-to-Power, Clean Wisconsin, CivicIQ, and Healthy Climate Wisconsin worked together to build support. They held roundtables with farmers and shot digital ads with testimonials from residents that ran online and at gas stations. They emphasized the nearly $600,000 the project would generate for cash-strapped towns and counties every year to fund things like roads, bridges, and emergency services. And they empowered trusted local voices to make a case grounded in their communities’ values.
The breakthrough in Wisconsin shows how investing in local interventions can accelerate the energy transition — and points the way forward for clean energy advocates trying to navigate federal headwinds.
As skyrocketing electricity demand and soaring costs draw attention to our power systems, clean energy offers a formidable solution. Wind, solar, and storage technologies have matured enough that they can be built quickly and cheaply virtually anywhere, for anyone, at any scale. And now, as the world contends with yet another conflict roiling fossil fuel markets, these energy sources offer a shield from volatility.
Given these clear advantages, it’s worth asking, “Why aren’t clean energy projects moving forward faster in more places?”
Our team at Invest in Our Future has learned a lot in the past three years about the answer.
Invest in Our Future’s creation marked a departure from philanthropy’s longstanding approach to climate and clean energy, which often focused on developing and passing policy to spur reductions in greenhouse gas pollution. Instead, with the Inflation Reduction Act on the books, my organization was formed with a singular focus: maximize the reach and impact of federal clean energy investments in the face of on-the-ground constraints.
Our remit was to ensure this ambitious policy advancing commercially-ready technology resulted in actual projects getting built and benefiting people. That meant mobilizing organizations to raise awareness of IRA programs and incentives and help communities access IRA dollars. It also meant finding a way around the significant barriers that stood in the way of deployment, even with historic levels of government support.
First, utility-scale projects were hit with organized, vocal opposition upset by the prospect of rapid changes to the local landscape and skeptical of out-of-town developers. That resistance often seized on siting and permitting processes to delay or altogether stop projects from being built. And too infrequently did countervailing forces try to speak to their concerns or organize support.
There were also funding problems for more community-oriented projects. In many cases, neither private investors nor public officials fully understood the opportunity or potential returns for projects like rooftop solar for schools, microgrids for hospitals and health centers, or electrified buses that double as mobile batteries during blackouts, leaving a sizable project pipeline struggling to pencil out.
Clean energy employers also struggled to hire, and workers couldn’t see a career path in the sector.
And as media habits changed, and national leaders spread disinformation, clean energy got more polarized.
For some, there was a political logic behind the IRA that suggested new projects would set off a self-reinforcing cycle of support for federal clean energy policy. But building support and real champions takes time. Consider that utility-scale solar projects, for example, need 24 months at minimum just to reach operational status. The work of connecting projects and benefits in the public mind extends further still. With barriers slowing deployment, the advantages of new projects needed time to take root.
Still, where projects did move forward, Invest in Our Future cultivated local validators who could share authentic stories about how clean energy improved their lives. When we mobilized local champions to engage with decisionmakers last year, they left a big impression. But we needed more of them — from more places, drawing value from more projects.
So after Congress repealed much of the IRA last summer, we developed new, interlocking strategies to address the major barriers to deployment and push as many projects forward in as many communities as possible.
By educating local decision-makers early and mobilizing active, vocal support from a wide range of perspectives — farmers and faith leaders, landowners and labor, educators and entrepreneurs — we can boost the number of projects that secure siting and permitting approvals.
By identifying high-potential, commercial-scale community projects with local lenders, packaging them into aggregated investments, and demonstrating low risk and reliable returns, we can draw institutional investors and lower-cost capital toward an otherwise underfunded but important segment.
Setting high and consistent job quality standards across clean energy industries will counter real and perceived concerns around safety, benefits, and wages, helping attract more workers who can go on to serve as advocates for new projects.
And deepening investment in storytelling by local champions will build the credibility of — and, in turn, support for — clean energy projects from the ground up.
Market forces are increasingly and irreversibly favoring clean energy. Influential allies of the president are coming around on solar, and longtime critics of renewables acknowledge that the transition is inevitable. What’s needed most now is a push from the ground up.
Our grantees are delivering it. Their work on siting and permitting, for example, helped gain approval for nearly 20 gigawatts of clean capacity in 2025. That included projects like Wisconsin’s Badger Hollow wind farm and Illinois’s 210-megawatt Glacier Moraine solar project — which was initially denied a permit but triumphed in a reconsideration vote after more than a dozen local residents mobilized to sway public opinion. Greenlight America and their partners managed to win eight permitting campaigns over one week last December alone.
Yet funding for these efforts is limited. Climate solutions receive less than 2% of total giving. Most funding within that segment has long flowed to regulatory and policy-focused work, which made sense while clean energy needed policy support to compete on economics. But today, with clean energy cheaper than fossil fuels in most parts of the country, there’s a real gap between our goals and on-the-ground success that we can bridge by focusing more on getting projects built.
Deploying clean energy at the community level happens to be one of our most effective tools for drawing down greenhouse gas pollution — with the added advantage of helping to lower costs, strengthen economic growth and community resilience, and generate good jobs. Through Invest in Our Future, I’ve met leaders driving progress often in the most challenging places in the country. Despite all the setbacks and discouraging headlines last year brought, these leaders have not lost their sense of urgency, or their resolve to build clean energy. That resolve — and their track record of success — should give us all hope. We should give them our support in return.
Current conditions: It’s pouring in Boston today, with temperatures that could feel as low as 47 degrees Fahrenheit • Severe flooding in Turkey’s Samsun province has sent a dozen people to the hospital • Bear season in Yellowstone has started earlier than usual, raising the risk of more violent encounters between hikers and grizzlies.
President Donald Trump formally began talks with Chinese president Xi Jinping today as the leaders of the world’s two largest economies seek some kind of rapprochement after more than a year of escalating battles over trade. The discussions are expected to cover a range of topics, including Taiwan’s sovereignty and the market dominance over critical minerals that Foreign Policy called Beijing’s “most potent” tool in the trade negotiations. Indeed, China’s control over critical minerals means Xi “will have the upperhand,” according to the Council on Foreign Relations, which noted that Trump folded last year in his trade battle with Xi once Beijing threatened to restrict flows of rare earths.
While Trump may have hoped that the prolonged closure of the Strait of Hormuz would put Beijing in a more desperate position by the time the summit started, China’s oil market has shown “signs of resilience” that “should concern U.S. officials” as efforts to prop up the domestic supply provide more buoyancy than expected, Semafor reported.
Fervo Energy, until now the hottest startup in the next-generation geothermal industry, is now the hottest stock on the market. On Wednesday, the Houston-based company’s stock began trading on the Nasdaq, where share prices surged nearly 40% by market close. “Geothermal is so hot right now,” Sarah Jewett, Fervo’s senior vice president of strategy, told me in a Q&A for Heatmap. “The IPO is not a finish line for Fervo. It is a financing milestone that facilitates the build out of more clean, firm, reliable, affordable energy. That is what we are most excited about as we ring the bell in Nasdaq. As we celebrate, we are more excited than anything to get back to work, to put clean megawatts in the grid.”
The company, she said, expects to start making overseas development deals soon, and indicated that Fervo may build its first geothermal plants on the East Coast, where hot rocks have historically been too deep to tap into, within a decade.
Nearly 16 years after it was first proposed, New York City’s biggest new source of clean energy has come online, meaning its 1,250 megawatts of capacity will be available to shore up the grid as summer heat waves roast the nation’s largest metropolis. Until recently, New York State regulators had planned for the Champlain Hudson Power Express to enter into service in August. But last weekend, the 339-mile project stretching from Lake Champlain down the Hudson River to the electrical substations in northwestern Queens managed to complete testing just before the state’s hard deadline of May 10 at 5 p.m. ET, after which the developer would have to wait two months before finishing the bureaucratic process to start the clock on the contract between the state and Hydro Quebec, the French-speaking Canadian province’s state-owned utility. That means if prices soar high enough between now and the end of May, Hydro Quebec could choose to bid into the market. But the real milestone is that, starting June 1, the utility’s contract will take effect.
“We didn’t think it was possible. The state didn’t think it was possible. We were counting on capacity coming online in August, but that’s way too late,” Peter Rose, the senior director of stakeholder relations for Hydro Quebec, told me on a call last night. “We have heat waves in July. It’ll be good for New York City to count on that 1,250 megawatts of capacity going into July.” Since the Blackstone-backed project’s inception, its proponents have suggested hydropower from Quebec would ultimately supply 20% of New York City’s power needs. But two weeks ago, when Hydro Quebec ran 13 hours of trial runs to stress test its equipment, the line provided more than 33% of the city’s power for a part of that duration. That, Rose cautioned, was probably due to relatively low load. Still, he said, “Unbeknownst to everybody during the testing regime, a third of our consumption in New York City was coming from this project. Those were specific conditions. But still pretty remarkable.”
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Texas, newly-crowned the nation’s No. 1 solar market, has installed enough panels that the state is now generating more electricity from photovoltaics than coal for the first time. Solar generation is expected to reach 78 billion killowatt-hours in 2026 in the grid operated by the Electric Reliability Council of Texas, according to the latest forecast from the Energy Information Administration. That comes to just 60 billion kilowatt-hours for coal. As Texas’ solar boom continues, the federal researchers projected that about 40% of all solar installations in the U.S. this year will occur in the Lone Star State. Among the developments poised to come online this year is the solar and battery megaproject Tehuacana Creek 1 Solar farm. The 837-megawatt project will be the largest solar facility of its kind to enter into service this year. Meanwhile, Texas has no current plans for new coal plants.
The U.S. is going to need a lot more projects coming online. New forecasts from the National Electrical Manufacturers Association project U.S. electricity demand to surge 55% by 2050. Data centers are the biggest source of near-term demand growth, with a projected 300% surge in electricity demand over the next 10 years. But electric vehicles of all kinds are on track to keep the party going by spiking power demand 2,000% by the middle of the century. To meet that demand, storage, wind, and solar generation are on track to increase by 300% as renewables start making up a majority of the generation in the American West, New York, and the Southeast.
As I told you two weeks ago, Belgium is not only abandoning its plans to phase out its remaining nuclear power stations, it’s nationalizing the fleet. Now Brussels is entering into a deal with the pro-nuclear neighboring Netherlands to work together on building new reactors. The memorandum of understanding — signed Wednesday at a binational summit by Belgium’s energy minister Mathieu Bihet and Dutch climate and green growth chief Jo-Annes de Bat — establishes periodic meetings between the two nations, where the Netherlands can tap into Belgium’s existing knowledge from operating a larger fleet of reactors, and the Belgians can in turn garner tips on building new reactors as the Dutch embark on a construction program.
Pakistan’s solar boom has so far insulated the country from the full effects of losing access to oil and gas through the Strait of Hormuz. Now Islamabad is going all in. Pakistan is now targeting 95% renewable electricity by 2040, and 60% by 2030, according to a document seen by the business news site ProPakistani.
Corpus Christi is on the verge of running out of water. Stopping it would take a disaster.
Even in its frontier days, when it was a camp for General Zachary Taylor’s forces defending the border of newly annexed Texas, there was barely enough water in Corpus Christi to go around. The Tejanos, Americanos, and old Spanish ranchers crazy (or unlucky) enough to settle on the edge of this growing empire survived by drinking from arroyos, cisterns, and foul, sulphuric wells. The native Karankawa people lived nomadically to avoid straining the region’s streams, springs, and shallow groundwater resources.
You can follow Corpus’ subsequent history through the twists and turns of what historian Alan Lessoff calls the “endless search for a larger and more adequate water supply” in his book Where Texas Meets the Sea: Corpus Christi and Its History — the damming of local rivers, the failure of those dams, massive Depression-era reservoir projects, groundwater running dry, the consolidation of regional water districts, an expensive project to pipe in fresh water from 100 miles away, an even more expensive project to produce it on the spot. Take your pick of cities west of the 98th meridian: Phoenix, Las Vegas, Los Angeles. They’ve all followed similar beats.
But Corpus — never a superlative city, a chip on its shoulder that goes back to Taylor’s time — is now close to the inglorious distinction of becoming the first American metropolis to run out of water. Though it’s located on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, its fresh water reservoirs sit at less than 10% of their total capacity; Day Zero will arrive in November unless there’s 20 to 30 inches of rainfall before then. Those are hurricane numbers, an unsettling thing upon which to hang one’s hope.
But that’s what desperation does. You hope for the second-worst thing because it’s better than the alternative.
The first sign that something had gone very wrong in Corpus Christi came in 2016. Over the course of 10 months — in July 2015, September 2015, and May 2016 — the city issued 22 days’ worth of water-boil notices for possible E. coli contamination, low chlorine levels, and the presence of indicator bacteria suggesting low disinfectant levels. The water quality problems appeared to stem from restrictions Corpus officials had ordered during a recent drought, when low flow through old pipes can create “dead zones” for bacteria to grow between the treatment plants and home taps.
Then came December 14, 2016. Late in the evening, the city issued the strictest water advisory yet for its 317,000 residents — a “do not use” order stemming from a corrosive chemical that had leaked into the town’s water supply due to backflow from a local asphalt plant. The notice, which pertained to everything from drinking water to tooth-brushing and showering, lasted for four days.
“Our group connected at an emergency meeting and committed to start learning as much as we could about the city’s water policies and problems,” Isabel Araiza, the co-founder of For the Greater Good, a grassroots organization focused on protecting Corpus Christi’s water supply, told me. “I really had not been paying attention prior to that.”
It turned out the chemical leak was only the tip of the iceberg. City officials in the 1920s and 1930s had recognized Corpus Christi as a strategic shipping location, the closest American port to the Panama Canal, and had dredged a channel into its shallow inner bay that allowed large ships to come and go — at the time, mostly shuttling the region’s cotton exports. Following the discovery of oil to the west of the city a few years later, though, the channel enabled Corpus to begin exporting petroleum products. Industry pounced.
“Why are there so many cement factories and inorganic chemical plants and metal manufacturers [in Corpus Christi]?” Lessoff, the historian, asked me. “It’s because of all the energy they need. And those things also need a lot of water.”
Though the city was competing with the humid, semitropical petroleum hubs in Houston and Louisiana, where water is less of a concern, Corpus Christi pressed forward, even as its residential population quadrupled. By the end of the 1950s, industry-related uses accounted for almost 40% of water demand in Nueces County, of which Corpus represents as much as 90% of the population. “If you’re a city official, you’re looking at this growth, and you’re telling yourself, ‘Well, we’ll figure it out,’” Lessoff said of the ballooning problem.
The situation took a turn in late 2015, when Congress repealed the 1975 export ban on crude oil. Corpus was perfectly positioned to capitalize on the opportunity, given its proximity to the extraction operations in Eagle Ford and the Permian Basin, its deep shipping channel, and its industrial base. Billions of dollars in investment in new plants soon poured into a city waiting with open arms.
Corpus officials at the time assured ExxonMobil, among other chemical companies, that its $10 billion plastics facility, which opened in 2018, would have sufficient water available to it for the “foreseeable future” despite the plant using 25 million gallons per day during its peak production — enough to meet the needs of a family of four for 170 years. To Steel Dynamics, a year later, the city promised an additional 6 million gallons of water per day. “We have enough now to attract development and keep our lawns and parks green,” then-mayor Joe McComb boasted in 2018 when revoking drought restrictions that he claimed “gave a false sense that we were always running out of water.”
Beginning in 2018, the largest industrial water users in Corpus were also offered the option to pay a voluntary, year-round “drought surcharge exemption” rather than face larger financial penalties when a drought emergency is declared. The exemption charge of just 31 cents per 1,000 gallons is effectively a rounding error for companies like Exxon or Valero, and about 10 companies in the area take advantage of the program.
The city’s blasé attitude stemmed in part from its bet that desalination plants would come to its rescue. When they approved the new influx of manufacturing in 2018, Corpus leaders acknowledged that a new city-owned desalination facility needed to be up and running by “early 2023” to fill anticipated gaps in its natural water supply. Preliminary plans weren’t even presented to the city council, though, until 2019.
By 2022, a year before the city’s estimated deadline for needing the water, there were plans for five desalination plants around Corpus Christi Bay, including two that would have been city-owned. (City officials said the astronomical cost of building a plant — around $1 billion — would be offset by the drought surcharge exemption fund, which only brings in around $6 million per year.) Groups like For the Greater Good and the Sierra Club fought hard against the city’s plan for a desalination plant in the shallow Inner Harbor, arguing that the freshwater it produced would prop up industry, allowing it to continue its insatiable consumption, much as critics of carbon capture have argued that the technology would allow fossil fuel companies to continue emitting and running their businesses as usual.
“We as residents are not using the majority of this water, so there is no reason why we should have to subsidize any kind of infrastructure that’s primarily beneficial to private corporations,” Chloe Torres, the Coastal Bend regional coordinator for Texas Campaign for the Environment, which opposed the desalination plant, told me. “Even by the rules of capitalism, that’s a tough sell.”
Coastal desalination relies on reverse osmosis, a process that filters salt out of seawater and would discharge the hypersaline brine back into the shallow bay. “When I was living there in the 1990s, desalination was like, Who would want to do something like that?” Lessoff, the historian, told me. “It’s outrageous because of the energy involved, the environmental factors, and the effect on these estuaries.”
It was also in 2022 that national environmental groups helped elect two candidates to the city council, Jim Klein, the former president of the Coastal Bend Sierra Club, and Sylvia Campos, who said they’d focus on holding industry accountable for its water usage. By some estimates, industry was guzzling as much as 80% of Corpus’ available water supply, with residents using just a fraction. The 2022 election was critical because “desalination is not done through voter approval,” Campos told me. “It is done through the city council purposely so the citizens really don’t have a say.” For the several-hundred-thousand people who live in the metropolitan area surrounding Corpus, who can’t vote in the city elections but are subject to its decisions as wholesale purchasers of its water, the situation is even less democratic.
Heading into 2024, national climate and environmental groups such as Lead Locally and the Sierra Club again endorsed a slate of candidates who opposed desalination. But industry had wised up since 2022, and spent big on the race. Environmental candidates got clobbered — Klein lost his election for an at-large council seat; Araiza, the co-founder of For the Greater Good, lost her mayoral bid by 36 points; and four other city council hopefuls also failed in their bids.
Voters returned only Campos to the city council, but it wasn’t because of their environmental concerns. “When I was knocking on their doors, they weren’t talking to me about water,” she told me.
In purple Corpus Christi, Campos, a self-described socialist, told me she convinced other city council members to turn against the desalination plans by arguing that a billion-dollar investment in a plant producing only 30 million gallons of freshwater per day didn’t make financial sense. In September 2025, in a 6-3 vote, the city council killed the Inner Harbor desalination proposal — a move that prompted Moody’s, S&P, and Fitch to either downgrade or review the city’s credit rating given the “unexpected acceleration of water depletion risk.” William Chriss, a third-generation Corpus Christian and local political analyst, told me, “I don’t think [the city council] necessarily changed their minds about the need for a desal plant. I think they changed their minds about the cost of this particular desal plant.”
Indeed, the need for water hadn’t gone away. Corpus’ water department has said that about 70% of residents already use less than a proposed restriction of 5,250 gallons per month. First-time violators who exceed that amount could face a $500 fee; a proposed penalty for second-time violators would see their water shut off.
Under a proposal floated this week, residential customers could use up to 6,000 gallons per month, while industrial customers would be forced to adhere to a 25% cut in their average water use between 2022 and 2024 — and face water shutoffs if they don’t comply.
The big industrial consumers like Exxon, Valero, and Flint Hills Resources have so far refused to disclose how they would adjust their operations in order to meet such reductions on the grounds that it’s proprietary information, as Dylan Baddour has reported in his ongoing coverage of the crisis for Inside Climate News. (Exxon and Valero failed to return our request for comment. A spokesperson for Flint Hills, which runs two crude oil refineries in Corpus, told me in a statement that the company is “optimistic we will be able to manage the potential curtailment scenarios without significantly disrupting our operations,” and pointed me toward its plans to use up to 2 million gallons per day of treated city wastewater for its operations.)
Texas Governor Greg Abbott has warned Corpus Christi’s leadership that there is “only … a little time more before the state of Texas has to take over” managing the water crisis, and blasted the city for “squandering” a $750 million loan commitments from the Texas Water Development Board, most of which had been designated exclusively for the construction of the Inner Harbor desalination plant. President Trump has also visited the Port of Corpus Christi and floated funding a revived Inner Harbor desalination project. “This is called a serious money ask, and I’m going to get that thing approved for you guys,” he told the local media. Last week, the Corpus Christi City Council voted 6-2 to begin talks with AXE H2O, a private company seeking to build a desalination plant with the city’s guarantee of a 30-year water purchase agreement.
Campos was one of the “no” votes, expressing skepticism about the “too good to be true” proposal, which would dump its high-saline discharge into the deeper gulf rather than the isolated bay, theoretically lessening the environmental impact. But its energy-intensive process would also run on natural gas, likely via on-site turbines, which its chairman said would keep its water costs lower than regional competitors as prices on the Texas grid tend to vary wildly. (Corpus Christi Polymers, which is constructing its own desalination plant, has also solicited the city for a purchasing agreement.) There is also the inherent irony of using fossil fuels to fix a problem created by fossil fuels.
A new desalination plant also does little to solve the immediate crisis, leaving Corpus in the most desperate position of its long history. A worst-case scenario would involve shutting off the tap for industry and facing its lawyers in court; limiting or rotating residential water availability; or trucking in water to manually refill the cisterns, as Baddour has reported. “The lead time that it takes to fix some of these problems just does not allow for a head-in-the-sand approach,” Amy Hardberger, the director of the Center for Water Law and Policy at Texas Tech in Lubbock, told me, having watched the situation unfold from afar. “But I don’t want to vilify Corpus,” she added. “I just think they’re getting to this point a little ahead of other cities.”
Some optimists have entertained the idea that a major rainfall could potentially break the region’s drought and buy Corpus a little more time to find a way out of its current water crisis. “The only alternatives that exist for Corpus Christi between now and three years from now at the earliest” — when a desalination plant could be up and running — “are a series of hurricanes or tropical storms that will miraculously fill our reservoir,” Chriss, the political analyst, said.
But Lessoff, the historian, gasped when I suggested a hurricane might relieve some of the pressure on Corpus. “If you want to have the biggest environmental disaster in American history, go ahead,” he said in disbelief.
The city is a catastrophe waiting to happen, Lessoff went on. Because of its low-lying chemical plants and petroleum refineries, if or when a climate change-strengthened hurricane makes landfall on the Coastal Bend, “it’ll make the BP disaster in the Gulf look like nothing,” he said. In other words, if there were ever a way to make Corpus Christians nostalgic for a mere 22 days of boil-water notices, then a direct hit by a hurricane would be it.
But that also means, perversely, that the best outcome might be for Corpus to have to sit with the consequences of over 100 years of bad water policy, deference to industry, and electing officials more interested in economic boosterism than protecting the limited resources for its residents. If any good comes out of the situation, it might be that other cities in the urban southwest learn from Corpus’ mistakes.
“It doesn’t help me to say ‘I told you so’ when there’s no water coming out of my tap,” Hardberger, the water policy expert, said. “It’s like, ‘Please don’t put me in that position. I want to live here, too. This is my home. Please work with me.’”