Potash Road, Part 2
Posted on September 21, 2009 by James McGillis | Comments
A Place Called Potash, Utah, USA
After skirting the
Moab Pile,
Potash Road then flows in close proximity to the
Colorado River, hugging its right bank for most of the
seventeen-miles to the place called Potash.
There, at pavement's end,
Intrepid Potash-Moab, LLC operates its “Cane Creek Plant”.
Although a rocky road continues on, Utah Route 279, the
Potash Road ends there.
The fact that
Kane Creek (with a “K”) enters the Colorado River
upstream from the plant and on the opposite bank made us
wonder if the plant was misnamed. Further research indicated
that raw potash deposits are contained within a geological
structure known as the “Cane
Creek Anticline”, which is part of the broader
Paradox Basin. Thus, the plant name reflects its
geological underpinnings, not a fanciful geographical
location adjacent to Kane Creek.
Watch the Video, "Potash Utah, USA"
For a number of miles between
Moab and Potash, the canyon accommodates both the river
and two wide banks. Thick stands of
tamarisk lined each bank, often blocking our view of
the river. After its excursion through a deep road-cut
and tunnel near Corona Arch, the Union Pacific
Railroad’s Potash spur line joins Potash Road for the
second half of the run to Potash. In the 1960’s the
Denver & Rio Grande Railroad built the line to service
the then-new potash mine. Reflecting its support for the
mining industry, the State of Utah provided access to
the mine by constructing State Route 279. Although now
used mainly for recreational purposes, the
route
is still the only paved access road to Potash. The rail
line and the highway opened in the early 1960s, just in
time for the first shipments of processed calcium
carbonate, commonly known as potash.
While driving along the
riverbank, we saw rock spires, buttes and many distant
views. Often showing barely a ripple on its surface, the
river here runs fifty or sixty feet deep in its bedrock
channel. In William Faulkner’s novel, “As I Lay Dying”,
Darl says, “Before
us the thick dark current runs”. Before us, the
thick dark Colorado River ran like a solid mass. Looking
tame within its banks, an undercurrent produced its
silent power. On
the
way to Potash, we had no way of knowing that the river
would soon enter the dramatic
Colorado River Gorge. Looking up at the escalating
height of the canyon walls brought back our premonition
about the
Perfect Flood. Our vision of the future included a
flood so large that it spanned from one canyon wall to
the other. Its immense volume swept away everything in
its path, including any sign of man or road.
At one time, there were plans
to continue the paved highway to the top of the high
mesa, near Dead Horse Point State Park. Because of the
difficult terrain along that former cattle path, Utah
abandoned the route-extension in the 1970s. In the late
1970s, the longer and less arduous
State Route 313 became the primary route from Moab
to Dead Horse Point and Canyonlands National Park.
The
Cane Creek Potash plant operates on a grand scale,
including sprawling settling ponds, a processing plant
and loading facilities for both railcars and trucks. As
we approached the plant, its midcentury-modern
industrial architecture dominated the tranquil riverside
setting. More than fifty years old, the facilities still
served their intended purpose. As we traveled past the
plant that afternoon, we neither saw nor heard another
human. With nothing moving at the area, Potash had the
feel of a 1950’s ghost town.
Operated as a deep mine at
its inception, an
August 1963 mine explosion killed eighteen miners.
With its human toll placing it in the top five U.S.
mining
disasters
since 1940, the mine operators opted to change over to a
water injection process. The subsequent use of deep
water injection required conveying large amounts of
scarce Colorado River water to the mines and ponds,
there to evaporate in the desert sunlight. With water
accomplishing all of the underground work, there are now
both fewer miners and a reduced threat to their lives.
Mining engineers now pump Colorado River water uphill to
the mining sites, where they inject it three thousand
feet down and into the Cane Creek Anticline. Once
inside, the water loosens the raw calcium carbonate,
creating a plastic flow, which migrates back to the
surface. Once
the
minerals are at the surface, huge pipes conduct the
brine to the settling ponds below. For reasons of
efficiency, gravity conducts the minerals downward, in a
series of steps that end at the processing plant near
the riverbank.
Intrepid Potash’s
predecessors created the settling ponds in the late
1970s. Terraced into
anticline bench lands above the river, the settling
ponds cover hundreds of acres. Large enough to show as
geographical features on our Utah Atlas, the settling
ponds created for us a striking
blue and white oasis in the desert. Because their
location covers two sides of a bulge on the Cane Creek
Anticline, the ponds are visible from many locations
around the area. With the blue and white pools appearing
in so many photographs, taken from so many different
angles, even some Moab locals think that there are
several different settling pond facilities in the area.
Although we are not aware of
any declared seismic risks within the anticline, its
geological history suggests large-scale upheaval and
subsidence. With that as background, common sense tells
us that the diminutive and elegant earthworks at Potash
might not survive even a moderate seismic event. In our
mind, we pictured continued injection of water into the
Cane Creek Anticline precipitating such a seismic event.
If the resulting earthquake were large enough, it could
liquefy or slump the earthworks at the settling ponds.
If breached, highly concentrated brine could cascade
down-slope toward the Colorado River.
With the decades-long drama
taking place at the the Moab Pile, only a few miles
upstream,
identification and remediation of other potential
threats to the Colorado River have taken a back seat. It
would be a shame to save the Colorado River from nuclear
peril, only to witness an accident at Potash. Collapse
of the settling pond system could pollute the river with
untold amounts of potash, which is primarily used as
crop fertilizer. Although placing poor second to the
danger of radiation entering the Lower Colorado Basin,
surely a large dose of industrial strength fertilizer
would not help water quality.
According to legal documents
available on the internet, Intrepid Potash uses both
temporary and permanent pipelines to conduct potash
brine from their mining sites to the settling ponds. A
second set of pipes conducts the chemicals from the
ponds to the plant for processing. During our own drive
past
the settling ponds, we saw evidence that raw potash
slurry had recently cascaded down a streambed and into
the ponds. Although little was growing along that
streambed prior to its flooding, the heavy coating of
crystalized brine will prevent new plant growth there
any time soon.
At the
Moab Confluence Festival in October 2008, author and
naturalist
Craig Childs signed for us a copy of his classic
book, "The
Desert Cries". The subtitle of Craig's book is, "A
Season of Flash Floods in a Dry Land". On the title page
of our copy, Craig wrote, "Put your hand on the ground.
Feel for the flood. It is coming, always".
In December 2008, three
million gallons of toxic fly ash and water cascaded
downstream from a Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) power
plant. Once its
retention pond failed, there was no way to save the
valley below. A river of toxic chemical-sludge
obliterated the local landscape, ruining it forever as a
place to live. If nothing else, the senseless
destruction at the TVA facility tells us that old,
earth-dam retention ponds like the ones at Potash
require periodic, independent inspection and public
disclosure of their current risk.
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James McGillis