Roaring Fork Flows at 40 Percent Amid Record Drought

Aspen —The Roaring Fork is running on a skeleton.

As of October 1, the river flows at just 40 to 65 percent of its normal volume for this time of year. That is the hard number from Christina Medved, director of community outreach at the Roaring Fork Conservancy. She wrote it in their weekly River Report, a document that tracks flows at 11 stations from the Continental Divide down to the confluence in Glenwood.

Read that again. The artery of our valley is bleeding out, and the calendar water year just ended on September 30 with little fanfare.

Medved’s report doesn’t mince words about the conditions that got us here. The 2026 Water Year is likely to be recorded as the hottest on record. It broke records for the lowest snowpack and the warmest winter, spring, and summer in history. Despite a recent dusting of snow in the high country, the U.S. Drought Monitor still classifies the watershed as being in exceptional and extreme drought.

The river is a touchstone for many of us. It’s the life source, the metaphor, the thing we check daily to see if we’re still alive. For Lorenzo Semple, who writes for the Aspen Times, it’s a personal obsession. He tracks the level, the flow, and the turbidity of local streams with the precision of a scientist. He even uses a specific rivulet near Slaughterhouse Fall as his personal gauge.

Semple’s take on the summer is split down the middle. On one side, he praises the conservation efforts by the city of Aspen, Snowmass, and Pitkin County. He says we conserved a considerable amount of water. Those who followed the rules deserve applause.

On the other side, he’s angry. He calls them "entitled scofflaws." Semple witnessed multiple water violations every single day this summer. He saw people watering with impunity, acting as if the restrictions didn’t apply to them. It maddened him. He notes that he wrongly assumed locals knew better, but the non-compliant behavior was predictable and large-scale.

He’s left with questions the officials haven’t answered publicly. What were the total fines levied? How did water bills actually differ this year compared to last? How many homeowners ripped out their lawns entirely? Semple doesn’t know. He just knows he was on the verge of ripping his hair out watching neighbors ignore the rules while the river shrank.

The Roaring Fork Conservancy’s data is blunt, but it doesn’t tell the whole story of human behavior. The drought is a physical fact. The compliance is a social one. We can measure the flow in cubic feet per second, but we struggle to measure the will of a neighbor who thinks Tuesday is still a watering day.

The 2026 Water Year is over. The next one starts October 1. The snowpack is already low. The temperature records are set to be challenged again.

Medved’s report ends with a warning about the current state of the watershed. Semple’s column ends with a suggestion: make daytime watering, from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m., strictly enforced or banned.

The river doesn’t care about our excuses. It only cares about the water we leave in it.