On a warm evening in early June, Loretta Johnson pointed her white Chevy Silverado with a Navajo blanket-patterned steering wheel cover south on the main road leading out of Shiprock, New Mexico, and hit the accelerator 鈥� lightly.
The retired nurse drove herself and a friend on the plumb-straight road and weaved stories as mile-wide dust storms tumbled across a landscape that inspired the Road Runner cartoons. And as the stories picked up in her rolling cadence, the speedometer ticked down. She was on a mission and she tackled it at her own pace, so the occasional driver on the road pulled around and passed her with no honking or lights flashing.
Johnson and her friend (who did not want to be identified over concerns for his job) are Din茅, as the Navajo people call themselves. She grew up in a small house in a small valley near a small town several miles from where she鈥檚 driving on the nation鈥檚 biggest Native American reservation.
On the treeless horizon to the west stands the iconic stone peak Shiprock, and ahead is a water well that played a pivotal role in her life. Not so many years ago, before poor health kept her husband at home, Johnson and he would come to this well to fill a pair of 55-gallon barrels with water they would haul to their cattle in Red Valley, 30 miles away.
鈥淪omeone told me it was saltwater. But the cows, they drank it,鈥� she said as she pulled up to the site. What she didn鈥檛 know then has since become clear.
An unmarked fence surrounds the spot, and truck traffic has turned the entry into a muddy bog. The well鈥檚 history is murky; it was drilled decades ago, and has few existing records. The wellhead itself is a six-inch pipe a little over four feet tall and crusted in rust and white deposits. A takeoff line runs along the ground to a nearby elevated tank where people still drive in to fill up.
It鈥檚 not the only well like this. Dozens of old, unplugged wells speckle the rangeland in this corner of the Navajo Nation. And it鈥檚 not always clear what their original purpose was. Today, some are just rusty pipes in the ground. But some smell like gasoline. Some occasionally burp oil. And several produce copious amounts of water in a parched region.
Oil and gas drilling here goes back more than a century, and the further back you go, the fewer records exist of what was drilled where or for what purpose. An unknown number of today鈥檚 flowing water wells come from that industrial legacy. 鈥淚f somebody鈥檚 drilling for oil, they鈥檙e going to hit water bodies along the way,鈥� said Steve Austin, a senior hydrologist with the Water Quality Program in the Navajo Nation Environmental Protection Agency鈥檚 Shiprock office. And that can lead to contaminated water wells.
Johnson never drank the water from this particular well herself, and she wouldn鈥檛 let her dogs drink it, either 鈥� which was probably for the best. A water quality test seven years earlier determined it is laced with sulfates and benzene 鈥� a common component of crude oil and a known carcinogen 鈥� at rates that exceed federal and tribal standards for human consumption and could make livestock sick as well.
When her friend tells her that this well where she used to water her cattle 鈥� like many on the Navajo Nation did 鈥� is an old, contaminated well, possibly from the oil industry, Johnson pauses before saying, 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know what was in those waters.鈥�
* * *
The federal Environmental Protection Agency knew.
In 2018, scientists from the agency tested 46 old wells on the Navajo Nation that run in an arc from Shiprock northwest into Utah. The agency in 2019 documenting what they found: a lot of polluted water.
The study looked for dozens of chemicals including lead, arsenic, sulfate, benzene, uranium and chloride, as well as total dissolved solids 鈥� a measure of minerals in suspension. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 one of the good things about this study,鈥� said Austin, the hydrologist with the Navajo Nation EPA. 鈥淚t showed us whether or not they were a problem.鈥� Many were. Of the wells they tested, 18 had some sort of pollution that exceeded drinking water standards, sometimes dramatically.
For example, in the well where Johnson drew water for her cattle, labeled NM-013 in the study, the EPA recorded benzene levels at 7.9 parts per billion, 58% higher than the allowed for human consumption under the EPA鈥檚 own standards.
Many find even those standards too lax. The European Union鈥榮 drinking water limit for benzene of is one-fifth the EPA level, meaning the levels in NM-013 exceed European standards by 690%.
The Environmental Working Group, an environmental research and advocacy organization, tracks levels and other pollutants in water systems across the country and recommends even stricter standards than those used by the EPA or the European Union: 0.15 parts per billion, or 1/33rd the EPA level.
鈥淚f you鈥檙e thinking about this in terms of human consumption 鈥� In drinking water, you want the level to be zero,鈥� said Tasha Stoiber, senior scientist at the Environmental Working Group.
Of other, more polluted wells on the EPA list, she said, 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 even want to touch that water.鈥�
Looking through the tables of contaminants in the list, she said, 鈥淥bviously, there鈥檚 arsenic issues, there鈥檚 hydrocarbon issues 鈥� benzene, oil and gas contaminants.鈥� And most of the water on the list: 鈥淚t鈥檚 not fit for human consumption.鈥�
But NM-013 is still open for business. Stoiber said that beyond the benzene pollution, the level of total dissolved solids in the well was enough to make people and livestock acutely sick. 鈥淚t鈥檚 also going to taste really, really bad,鈥� she said.
On the Navajo Nation, many rely on open wells 鈥� flowing or pumped 鈥� to raise small livestock herds, as Johnson did. Water has always been precious in this arid corner of the country, and it has grown even more scarce. The past winter鈥檚 woeful snowpack and negligible spring runoff led tribal President Buu Nygren to declare a at the beginning of June. According to the announcement, more than 7,500 stock ponds and 900 wind-powered wells had lost 鈥渃apacity and functionality鈥� across the Nation. That leaves people with fewer choices among the remaining water wells.
At the Navajo Nation EPA, Austin monitors and regulates everything from septic systems to mine sites to wastewater spills 鈥� anything that affects the Navajo Nation鈥檚 water quality. (The Navajo Nation EPA operates independently of the federal body with the same name, but uses the same water standards.)
As soon as any water flows on the surface, 鈥淚t is a water of the Navajo Nation,鈥� Austin said, and it falls under his office鈥檚 jurisdiction. Same for anything that pollutes those waters. Oil and gas production aren鈥檛 directly in his wheelhouse, but, 鈥淚 come into play if there is a spill or some kind of mess,鈥� he said. Over the past 15 years, he has added finding and mapping mystery wells to his duties.
All together, the Navajo Nation Water Quality Program has a staff of six to cover an area a little bigger than West Virginia. 鈥淲e have a lot less water than West Virginia,鈥� Austin said. 鈥淪o there鈥檚 a tradeoff there.鈥� He is the lead water watcher for most of the eastern half of the reservation.
He began working with the tribe in 1998, and, from the beginning, the small staff and modest funding have kept him bouncing from project to project. But he said the flowing wells have been on his mind since he started.
Back then, the Bureau of Land Management plugged extremely salty flowing wells that drained into the San Juan River, harming its quality. That program eventually ran out of money and ended.
In 2010, Austin started tallying the small water wells as they popped up in his work across the eastern reaches of the Nation. The area overlapped with a large portion of the neighboring San Juan Basin and Paradox Basin oil and gas fields. It鈥檚 not a coincidence.
If an oil company drills a well that doesn鈥檛 produce oil (or not enough to make a profit), it often plugs the well, filling the steel-lined hole with cement and sticking a metal pole in the spot to warn of the underground risks. But, sometimes, companies only partially plug a well, leaving it open to a shallow, water-bearing layer so that water can be accessed. That鈥檚 what happened repeatedly on the Navajo Nation in years past. Most had some kind of valve to control the flow, 鈥淏ut over time the equipment that was there either got broken or rusted out, and so now they鈥檙e just free flowing,鈥� Austin said. Some trickle and some gush, creating everything from small bogs to small creeks.
That places the water in Austin鈥檚 jurisdiction, in part because 鈥淲e assume everything is going to be drunk by a cow or a sheep,鈥� he said.
But what鈥檚 good enough for cattle or sheep often isn鈥檛 good enough for people. Sometimes it鈥檚 not good enough for cattle or sheep, either.
鈥淚t鈥檚 untreated water. At the minimum, you鈥檝e got to be concerned about bacteria,鈥� Austin said. Some wells have high levels of arsenic, benzene and sulfates. And some flowing wells are also a nuisance, with undrinkable water washing out roads and hampering travel.
Several years ago, New Mexico asked the Navajo Nation to clean up a nuisance well that flowed from tribal lands onto state and private lands, turning the access road for a remote tourist spot to briny mud. Austin said he told the state, 鈥淲e鈥檝e tried. We don鈥檛 have the money.鈥� Then the state asked the federal EPA to do it, but the feds called Austin instead, and he told them the same thing. He also told them the problem was not unique 鈥� he鈥檇 found many such wells over the years. 鈥淎nd they鈥檙e like, 鈥榃hat are you talking about?鈥� I was like, 鈥榊eah, we have flowing wells all over the place.鈥� They鈥檙e like, 鈥榃hat?鈥欌��
Austin shared his list of 49 flowing wells he鈥檇 found across the Navajo Nation over the years in New Mexico and Utah. And in 2018, the federal EPA tested 46 of them, leading to the 2019 report.
鈥淲e do what we can,鈥� Austin said of his office and the Navajo Nation EPA. 鈥淏ut ultimately the federal government still has that trust obligation to take care of it.鈥�
According to the Department of Interior, is a 鈥渇iduciary obligation on the part of the United States to protect tribal treaty rights, lands, assets, and resources, as well as a duty to carry out the mandates of federal law with respect to American Indian and Alaska Native tribes and villages.鈥�
The Feds certainly haven鈥檛 taken care of it quickly. In the seven years since the initial testing, no wells have been plugged 鈥� but that may soon change. The Navajo Nation cobbled together settlement money from the of 2015 and from the to plug three wells: two in Utah that spill arsenic-laden water into the San Juan River, and the original nuisance well that still washes out the road near a tourist spot. As for the other 40-some wells, they鈥檙e still flowing.
In a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing, Austin says that in 2020 the BLM and EPA asked his office if it had any oil wells that needed to be plugged. 鈥淲e gave those lists to BLM and U.S. EPA and didn鈥檛 hear anything back from them,鈥� he said.
And since the original 2018 survey by the federal EPA, Austin has found another 12 mystery wells.
When asked about the federal government鈥檚 trust responsibility to the Navajo Nation regarding these wells, Mikayla Rumph, an EPA spokesperson, said the agency 鈥渃onsulted with multiple tribal, federal and state agencies to gather historical information and develop a sampling plan for all of the wells. After the results came in, EPA conducted extensive local outreach.鈥�
Eleanor Smith, Din茅, said, 鈥淭his [EPA] report specifically, this is the first time I鈥檓 seeing it, first time I鈥檓 hearing of it.鈥� She has lived much of her life in chapters (the most local form of Navajo government) with some of these wells. She works with , or Sacred Water Speaks, a Navajo environmental group active in the region.
鈥淚t should be posted next to these wells. It should have been posted in the chapter houses. It should have been put on the agenda at the chapter meeting to educate the public,鈥� she said. 鈥淥ur leaders, they should have been at the forefront to say, 鈥楬ey, there鈥檚 this study and it鈥檚 saying that the wells 鈥� are contaminated.鈥欌��
(Austin said that signs were posted in chapter houses near the most polluted wells.)
Nicole Horseherder, the executive director and a founding member of T贸 Nizh贸n铆 脕n铆, said the Navajo Nation government 鈥渉as to go after the [federal] EPA and say, 鈥楲ook, you allowed this. You need to fork over some money so we can hire consultants and get this cleaned up properly.鈥欌��
A Bureau of Land Management spokesperson said that questions directed to BLM were answered in the EPA response. The Bureau of Indian Affairs did not respond to Capital & Main鈥檚 questions.
* * *
It鈥檚 early June, and Austin takes a 30-minute drive from his office to the Rattlesnake Oil Field, making a tour of wells he has found over the years. The sky arcs overhead, deep blue as vast thunderheads rim the horizon. Stopping to open and close a cattle gate, he says he鈥檚 stayed with the Navajo Nation鈥檚 EPA for all these years because they treat him well. 鈥淭his is another reason,鈥� he said, nodding toward the great volcanic crag of Shiprock. 鈥淚t鈥檚 beautiful out here.鈥�
After cautiously navigating his pickup over notional dirt roads, he arrives at Rattlesnake 17: four tapered concrete and steel pillars surrounding a pipe splashing sulfur-scented water. The water looks clear, but the ground is stained orange. Another hint that the water is not fit for drinking: The well sits on cattle range, and there are no hoofprints around. But the well does have a postcard view of Shiprock in the distance.
Austin calls Rattlesnake 17 a nuisance well. The nearest homeowners, about a mile away, told him they don鈥檛 mind if it鈥檚 plugged. A century ago, Rattlesnake 17 was an oil well in the middle of the Rattlesnake community, a company town built for those working on the 200-some oil wells in the surrounding oilfield, one of New Mexico鈥檚 .
Bricks and bolts and other rusted bits and bobs lie scattered in all directions. The ground is white rock scraped clean of topsoil a hundred years ago for some kind of building. When the oil stopped and the people left, the land was not cleaned up. Austin said, 鈥淚t鈥檚 like an archaeology site.鈥�
Austin first found Rattlesnake 17 in early 2018. When looking for old wells, he follows a simple process: Scan Google Earth images for one of two things 鈥� either unexpected green oases in the broad tan landscape, or the white rock of barren ground like that near Rattlesnake 17. Then check it out.
He has tried comparing what he finds with various New Mexico well databases, old maps and court records, but wells often aren鈥檛 where they鈥檙e recorded being, if there鈥檚 any record at all. 鈥淚t鈥檚 really confusing,鈥� he said. And there鈥檚 no telling what鈥檚 in the wells he finds, if anything. His first test of any new find is simple. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a hole. Drop a rock. There鈥檚 a splash!鈥� he said.
About 100 yards away from Rattlesnake 17, the next well clearly wasn鈥檛 plugged. He looks around for a rock, bends over and drops it in the open pipe. Four seconds later it booms in some kind of tank at the bottom.
Another 50 yards: a dirt hole, maybe a foot across. He drops a rock and, after a second, it hits something with a 鈥減lop.鈥� Maybe water? Maybe something else? He doesn鈥檛 have the money to sample every well. 鈥淣obody has enough funding to sample every water body that鈥檚 out there,鈥� he said.
Another 50 yards: a rusty pipe with a closed valve on top, surrounded several feet in all directions by the remnants of an oil spill that鈥檚 turned into an inches-thick scab of black-brown tar. There is no marker, and Austin says there are no records for a well in this spot 鈥� it鈥檚 a true orphan well.
鈥淚t鈥檚 not a big leak, but clearly it鈥檚 got issues,鈥� Austin said. 鈥淎nd who knows what it鈥檚 doing in the water formations?鈥�
Austin stands next to a leaking oil well in the Rattlesnake Oil Field.
Most of the wells in the Rattlesnake field were plugged at some point. Five-foot rust-brown poles pierce the surrounding landscape marking plugged wells below 鈥� those are known factors. But what of the old, unplugged wells: Who drilled them? What were they for? Are they leaking underground? What are they leaking?
It鈥檚 not known exactly how many wells were drilled over the years. It鈥檚 not known exactly how many were properly plugged when they finally played out. It鈥檚 not known how many of those plugs may have failed over the decades.
鈥淚t鈥檚 hard to know how bad the problem is,鈥� Austin said. 鈥淚s it an emergency situation? No. Should someone deal with it? Yes.鈥�
* * *
Loretta Johnson still thinks of her cattle. She and her husband had 16 when they had to sell them a few years ago. When he got sick, she couldn鈥檛 tend them alone. 鈥淚t鈥檚 kind of sad when you drop them off鈥� at the auction yard, she said. 鈥淪ome of them had cute names like Looney Tunes.
鈥淕ood thing we didn鈥檛 eat any of those cows,鈥� Johnson said, thinking of hidden dangers in their flesh. Contaminated water isn鈥檛 the first hidden health threat that colors how many of the Navajo Nation view the world.
鈥淚t鈥檚 just like the uranium,鈥� Johnson said.
From the , working on federal contracts, companies dug up nearly 30 million tons of uranium ore from more than 500 mines on the reservation. Families often lived close to the mines where they worked and were generally poorly notified or uninformed of the danger. The health effects .
Johnson鈥檚 life has spanned most of the Nation鈥檚 decades-long history with uranium mining and its aftermath 鈥� sick people and contaminated land. She says when she was a young girl, her father built the foundation of their rural house and an outbuilding with yellow rock 鈥� uranium ore from a nearby mine where he worked. She says that one day men wearing protective clothing came and tore the house down and buried the rock, and her family moved to Shiprock town.
鈥淭hat was not good for our health and our people didn鈥檛 know,鈥� she said. She knows a couple of women her age who lived near the mines and died of cancer 鈥� a common local story, and one that gets her thinking about what she recently learned.
She said, 鈥淭hey say [the water鈥檚] not safe, it鈥檚 contaminated,鈥� but people watered their animals at the wells and 鈥測ou don鈥檛 know which persons butchered their cows or sheep or goats to eat.鈥� She remembers a family that owned a trading post and traded for sheep and goats; they all got stomach cancer in their 30s, she says.
鈥淭hat was weird,鈥� Johnson added.
Meanwhile, the nature of traditional ranching combined with the ongoing drought puts more pressure on the remaining wells 鈥� including polluted wells. 鈥淚f they鈥檙e contaminated, they really should be shut down,鈥� Smith, with T贸 Nizh贸n铆 脕n铆, said. 鈥淏ut I know a lot of times, even in uranium areas, people are so desperate for water that they鈥檒l even drink the contaminated uranium water. So it鈥檚 not a good situation.鈥�
鈥淥ne of the big problems with the Navajo Nation is that they do not understand that no one is looking out for them,鈥� said Horseherder of T贸 Nizh贸n铆 脕n铆. 鈥淣ot the government, not the Department of Interior, not the State of Arizona [where the majority of the Navajo Nation sits] and not the company鈥� that drilled the well.
Over the years, her group has fought to protect tribal water rights while fighting against coal mining and other fossil fuel developments on the nation.
鈥淚f we don鈥檛 get a handle on this, we鈥檙e going to be living in a toxic dump site,鈥� Horseherder said. 鈥淚 truly think that it鈥檚 intentional. It鈥檚 intentional towards Indigenous people.鈥�