California’s Precarious Future and the Promise—and Limits—of Desalination

Visibly low water conditions at Shasta Lake in Shasta County, on October 13, 2022.
Andrew Innerarity / California Department of Water Resources.

Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink.  — Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

The ocean covers about 70 percent of Earth’s surface and holds 96 percent of its water. But because it’s saturated with salt, it isn’t drinkable. Sailors have known this for centuries, and that’s a profound challenge for California, with more than 800 miles of coastline and a history of drought that has persisted for over two decades despite occasional relief from heavy rains.

Remember those rains?

The atmospheric rivers of 2024 in California briefly filled reservoirs and restored snowpack, but drought has already returned to parts of the state, underscoring the state’s precarious water future and fueling renewed debate over desalination as a long-term water solution.

The Los Angeles Rifer flows high following atmospheric river storms in 2024 (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Several regions facing severe drought have turned to desalination with notable success. Israel now supplies up to 40 percent of its domestic water through desalination and is widely recognized as a global leader in technological innovation. In the Gulf, countries like Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Kuwait, and Qatar depend heavily on desalinated water, with the region producing roughly 40 percent of the world’s supply of desal. Saudi Arabia’s Ras Al-Khair plant, for example, is the largest hybrid desalination facility in the world. Australia has also invested heavily, with Adelaide’s desalination plant able to provide up to half of the city’s water and ramping up to full capacity during the 2024–2025 drought.

By contrast, California, the world’s fourth-largest economy, continues to struggle with recurring droughts despite some relief from those recent rains.

Many new projects are underway to recycle and store water, but desalination remains an important option that could play a larger role in how California manages supplies for its residents and farmers. For now, the state has only a handful of desalination plants, with just two operating at significant scale, leaving California far behind global leaders.

The Piggyback Yard rail site in Los Angeles, long used for freight operations, is now at the center of a proposal to transform the space into a massive stormwater capture and storage project. (Photo: Erik Olsen)

California will keep bouncing between wet and dry years, and that reality has pushed seawater and brackish-water desalination from a thought experiment into a real, if specialized, tool. It’s a big deal: The promise is reliable “drought-proof” supply. The tradeoffs are clear: high costs, heavy energy demands, and the challenge of careful siting. California has pushed the frontier of desalination technology, but it remains far from being an integral or dependable part of the state’s supply. Many observers doubt it ever will be.

But let’s take a look at where we are.

Desalination is already part of daily life in a few places. The 50-million-gallon-per-day Claude “Bud” Lewis Carlsbad Desalination Plant supplies roughly a tenth of the San Diego region’s potable demand, making it the largest seawater desalination facility in the United States. Water from Carlsbad is reliable during drought, but that reliability carries a premium: Recent public figures put its delivered cost in the low-to-mid $3,000s per acre-foot, higher than most imported supplies when those are plentiful. Even advocates frame the key tradeoff as price and energy intensity in exchange for certainty.

Claude “Bud” Lewis Carlsbad Desalination Plant (Photo courtesy of Carlsbad Desalination Project)

Rules matter as much as membranes. Since 2015, California has required new ocean desal plants to use the best available site, design, technology, and mitigation measures to minimize marine life mortality at intakes and to limit brine impacts at outfalls. These standards make facilities gentler on the ocean and they shape where plants can be built and what they cost. But it’s complicated.

The permitting bar is real, some say too onerous. In May 2022 the California Coastal Commission unanimously denied the proposed Huntington Beach seawater desalination plant after staff raised concerns about high costs, harm to marine life from an open-ocean intake, exposure to sea-level rise, and a lack of demonstrated local demand. That decision did not end desalination, but it clarified where and how it can pencil out. The same year, the Commission unanimously approved the smaller Doheny project in Dana Point because it uses subsurface intake wells and showed stronger local need and siting.

The Seawater Desalination Test Facility in Port Hueneme, Ventura. (Photo: John Chacon / California Department of Water Resources)

Doheny is frequently described as a late-2020s project, but its official timeline has slipped as partners and financing have taken longer to come together. That’s so California. The South Coast Water District has projected completion and operations in 2029, with key procurement milestones running through 2025. Given California’s regulatory climate, I’d say these dates are optimistic rather than bankable.

Elsewhere on the coast, the California American Water project for the Monterey Peninsula cleared a major hurdle in November 2022. Designed to add about 4.8 million gallons per day and pair with recycled water to replace over-pumping groundwater (a huge issue), it underscored desal’s role where other options are limited. In August 2025, the CPUC projected a 2050 supply deficit of 815 million gallons per year and cleared the way for construction to begin by year’s end. So, yeah. We’ll see.

Project site map of the Doheny Ocean Desalination Project (South Coast Water District)

Desalination is not only ocean-sourced. Several California systems quietly run on brackish water, which is less salty and cheaper to treat than seawater. Antioch’s brackish plant on the San Joaquin River is designed for about 6 million gallons per day to buffer the city against salinity spikes during drought. It was slated to come online this year, but operations have yet to begin (at least, I could not find any new info to this effect). Up the coast, Fort Bragg installed a small reverse-osmosis system in 2021 to deal with high-tide salt intrusion in the Noyo River during critically low flows, and it has piloted wave-powered desal buoys for emergency resilience.

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Santa Barbara’s Charles E. Meyer plant was reactivated in 2017 after years in standby and now functions as a reliability supply the city can dial into. In 2024 it contributed a meaningful slice of deliveries.

These are targeted, local solutions, not silver bullets, and that is the point.

Energy remains the biggest driver of desalination costs. Even with modern technology cutting usage to 2.5 to 4 kilowatt-hours per cubic meter, desal still requires far more power and therefore higher expense than water recycling or imported supplies. Beyond cost, desalination also brings added challenges, from greenhouse gas emissions tied to electricity use to the disposal of concentrated brine back into the ocean.

Santa Barbara’s Charles E. Meyer plant (City of Santa Barbara)

But the reality today is that the biggest additions to statewide water supply are coming from large-scale potable reuse, aka recycling. San Diego’s Pure Water program begins adding purified water to the drinking system in 2026 and scales toward about 83 million gallons per day by 2035. Metropolitan Water District’s Pure Water Southern California is planning up to roughly 150 million gallons per day at full build-out. These projects do not replace desal everywhere, but they change the calculus in big metro areas by creating local, drought-resilient supplies with generally lower energy and environmental footprints.

With most desalination projects carrying steep costs, success may hinge on innovation. Several new approaches now being tested in California waters are showing early promise. In 2025, OceanWell began testing underwater desalination pods in a reservoir near Malibu. These cylindrical units are designed to test how membranes perform when microorganisms are present in the water, since bacteria and algae can grow on the surfaces and form biofilms that clog the system.

A drawing of OceanWell’s underwater desalination pod system (OceanWell)

The longer-term vision is “water farms” made up of subsea pods tethered 1,300 feet down, where natural hydrostatic pressure does much of the work. Each pod could produce up to a million gallons of fresh water per day with roughly 40 percent less energy than a conventional onshore plant. Because the brine would be released gradually at depth, the approach could also reduce ecological impacts. OceanWell has said its first commercial-scale project, called Water Farm 1, could be operating by 2030 if tests and permitting go as planned. It’s interesting, for sure, but in the end, we’re talking long-shot here.

Big picture, desalination works best as a specialty tool—it’s not the answer everywhere, but it can be a game-changer in the right spots. Think coastal towns with little groundwater, islands or peninsulas with fragile aquifers, or inland areas that get hit with salty water now and then. California’s rules now push projects toward gentler ocean intakes and better brine disposal, but the real strategy is a mix: conservation, stormwater capture, groundwater banking, recycled water, and just the right amount of desal. Those huge atmospheric river storms are not predictable. Who knows if we’ll get another next year or the year after that? The next drought will come, and the communities that invested in a full toolkit will be the ones that hold up the best.

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Cadillac Desert: How Marc Reisner Changed the Way We See Water

Los Angeles Aqueduct passing through Palmdale, California (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Marc Reisner’s Cadillac Desert: The American West and Its Disappearing Water remains a towering achievement in environmental journalism, decades after its publication in 1986. Chronicling the history, politics, and ecological consequences of water management in the American West, Cadillac Desert is not just an exposé of the past—it’s a cautionary tale that resonates today. With precision and passion, Reisner unraveled the intricacies of an arid region’s improbable transformation into one of the world’s most agriculturally productive and densely populated areas. His work has had a profound and lasting impact on how we understand water politics and environmental sustainability in California and beyond.

Cadillac Desert stands as a fitting successor to Wallace Stegner’s Beyond the Hundredth Meridian, continuing the exploration of water’s defining role in the American West. While Stegner championed the visionary work of John Wesley Powell and exposed the folly of ignoring the region’s arid realities, Reisner picked up the torch decades later to chronicle how those warnings were systematically ignored. Where Stegner painted a historical narrative of ambition and hubris, Reisner delivered a scathing and urgent critique of water politics, detailing the environmental and economic consequences of massive dam-building projects and unsustainable resource exploitation.

Colorado River

Cadillac Desert is, at its core, a gripping investigation into the manipulation of water resources in the American West. Reisner meticulously details how the construction of massive dams, reservoirs, and aqueducts enabled the transformation of a naturally dry landscape into a gargantuan economic powerhouse. From the Colorado River to the Los Angeles Aqueduct to California’s Central Valley, Cadillac Desert paints a vivid picture of engineering triumphs and environmental sacrifices, revealing the cost of this development to natural ecosystems, Indigenous communities, and future generations.

One of Reisner’s central stories is the tale of the Owens Valley. In the early 20th century, this fertile agricultural region was drained dry when the Los Angeles Aqueduct diverted its water to fuel the growing metropolis of Los Angeles. The story, replete with backroom deals, broken promises, and outraged locals, serves as a symbol of the greed and ambition that defined water politics in the West. Reisner weaves this narrative with the larger saga of William Mulholland, the ambitious engineer whose name is synonymous with both the success and hubris of L.A.’s water empire. This saga of water, power, and betrayal would later inspire the dark and iconic tale of Chinatown, the Roman Polanski film that captured the moral ambiguities and human cost of Los Angeles’ relentless thirst for growth.

Marc Reisner (Water Education Foundation)

Another cornerstone of the book is the story of the Colorado River, a waterway Reisner calls the most controlled and litigated river on Earth. He charts the creation of the Hoover Dam and the vast network of canals and reservoirs that distribute its water across seven states. The book reveals how over-allocation of the river’s resources, coupled with decades of drought, have pushed it to the brink of collapse—an issue that has only grown more urgent since Cadillac Desert was published.

Hoover Dam in 1936 (United States Bureau of Reclamation)

Reisner also dissects the Central Valley Project and the State Water Project, two gargantuan efforts to turn California into an agricultural Eden. By moving water from Northern California to the arid south, these projects enabled California’s emergence as a global agricultural leader. But Reisner doesn’t shy away from exposing the social and environmental consequences: drained wetlands, salt buildup in soils, and a system that prioritizes agribusiness over the needs of small farmers and urban residents.

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What makes Cadillac Desert extraordinary is not just its scope but its style. Reisner’s journalistic rigor is matched by his ability to tell a compelling story. He brings characters like Mulholland and Floyd Dominy, the brash commissioner of the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation (part of the U.S. Department of the Interior), to life with vivid detail. At the same time, his writing is infused with moral urgency, challenging readers to question the sustainability of a society built on unsustainable water use.

Owens River in the Eastern Sierra (Erik Olsen)

The book’s legacy is immense. It galvanized environmentalists and policymakers, inspiring debates about water rights, conservation, and the future of development in the West. Documentaries, academic studies, and even contemporary water management policies owe much to the awareness Cadillac Desert raised. In California, where water battles continue to define politics and development, the book remains as relevant as ever.

As we face a future of intensifying droughts and climate change, Reisner’s insights grow more prescient by the day. California is still grappling with the overuse of groundwater, the challenges of aging infrastructure, and the inequities in water distribution. And while new technologies and policies offer hope, the central question Cadillac Desert poses—how do we balance human ambition with the limits of nature?—remains unanswered.

California Aqueduct (Erik Olsen)

Tragically, Reisner passed away in 2000 at the age of 51 from cancer, cutting short the life of a writer who had so much more to contribute to our understanding of environmental challenges. His death was a significant loss to the fields of journalism and environmental advocacy, but his legacy endures through his groundbreaking work. Cadillac Desert continues to inspire new generations to confront the urgent questions surrounding water use, conservation, and the future of the planet.

Marc Reisner’s Cadillac Desert is not just a history of water in the West; it is a call to rethink our relationship with one of the planet’s most precious resources. At once an epic tale and an urgent warning, it stands as a monumental testament to the price we pay for bending nature to our will.