Western tourism suffers a Trump-slump
Also: Drying continues, and study says there's no end in sight

Last month I took a look at national park visitation numbers for the first half of the year to try to get a sense of how a drop in international travelers is affecting Western gateway communities. It wasn’t all that conclusive: Most parks were seeing numbers similar to in the past, though they were beginning to dip in June.
Now July figures are available for many parks, and they show that the June slump was no anomaly. Media reports indicate the tourism sectors across the West is starting to feel the pain.
The Moab Times-Independent reported that community resort taxes for April were down 11% from the previous year. And that was even before visitation had started dropping off at national parks. Moab’s figures for June and July aren’t available yet, but local business owners told the Times-Independent that they’ve seen fewer international tourists this year. A Colorado Sun story by Jason Blevins records the same phenomenon on Colorado’s Western Slope, where visitation and tourist spending has dropped since last year.
The World Travel & Tourism Council predicted the U.S. will lose about $12.5 billion in international spending this year and is the only nation it tracks that is seeing a decline in tourism. Visitation from the U.K., Germany, South Korea, Canada, and other European countries is down significantly.
“This is a wake-up call for the U.S. government,” said Travel & Tourism Council President Julia Simpson in a written statement. ”While other nations are rolling out the welcome mat, the U.S. government is putting up the 'closed' sign.” That is to say, Trump administration policies and actions are generally hostile toward the rest of the world, which understandably is dampening the desire to travel to the U.S.
The good news is the crowds are ebbing slightly at some of the West’s most popular national parks. This, of course, isn’t so good for the economies of nearby communities that have come to rely almost entirely on tourism.
Some numbers:
Zion National Park had 529,798 visitors in July, a huge number, yes, but also the third lowest in the last decade (with only 2018 and COVID-affected 2020 lower).
Canyonlands had its second slimmest visitation in July since 2014.
Capitol Reef saw 111,183 visitors in July, which is higher than in 2022 (107,562), but lower than during any other year since 2014.
Lake Mead NRA saw 1.18 million visitors this June and July combined, the second lowest (after 2023) number for those two months since 1981. This jibes with tourism statistics for Las Vegas, where total visitor volume in June was down a whopping 11.3% from last year.
It’s a similar story at Bryce Canyon, Natural Bridges National Monument, Mesa Verde, Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, Joshua Tree, Great Sand Dunes, and the Grand Canyon (there is a huge fire burning there, after all, but the South Rim remains open).
The downward trend does not seem to have spread further north. Glacier, Yellowstone, and Grand Teton national parks are doing fine so far this year.

🥵 Aridification Watch 🐫
The good news: As I write this, there is a flash flood watch for parts of the Phoenix area and on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.
The bad news, climate-wise: Just about everything else.
This year’s dry and hot spell continues, manifested in trickling streams and smoky skies and heat-related death. The current “spell” is a continuation of the quarter-century-long megadrought that is the worst to hit the Southwest in 1,200 years. And a new study finds the aridification likely will continue well into the future.
Let’s start with the study.
University of Colorado researchers have found that the Colorado River Basin’s megadrought is linked to the Pacific decadal oscillation climate pattern, in which the ocean’s water temperatures fluctuate and move around in two-decade-long cycles. Or at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. But since the early 1990s, the oscillation has been stuck in its negative phase, causing a reduction in precipitation in the Southwest.
While the oscillation is natural, the researchers found that it can also be influenced by external forces, and since the middle of the last century, greenhouse gas and aerosol emissions have had an increasing impact and have been responsible for a good part of the megadrought. What this means, researchers say, is that if greenhouse gas emissions continue at current levels — which they almost undoubtedly will, given the societal reticence to give up fossil fuel burning — then the drought will continue for decades to come.
Meaning this year’s desiccation is, indeed, part of the new normal, which is damned frightening.
The ongoing aridification can be seen in very concrete ways in the streamflows — or lack thereof — in my home river, the Animas in southwestern Colorado (which I choose because its flow through Durango is largely unregulated, given there are no dams or large diversions upstream).
Today, the flow through Durango dropped below 150 cubic feet per second, putting some sections into the boat-bottom-dragging territory, and prompting rafting companies to consider shutting down operations early. But that’s bountiful compared to what’s happening downstream: The river below Aztec and through Farmington has come perilously close to drying out altogether. Check out the charts of the last month compared to last year:


Here’s another visual, sent to my by David Fosdeck. It shows the new surf wave infrastructure on the Animas as it runs through Farmington. Surf is not up, needless to say.
Lake Powell’s surface level has now dropped down to 3,552 feet above sea level, almost exactly what it was on this date in 2021.
And now for a quick update on the current fire situation:
The Lee Fire in Rio Blanco County, Colorado, has reached 134,000 acres, making it the fifth largest blaze on record in the state’s history. It is only 10% contained, meaning there’s a damned good chance it will jump up to the third largest before long.
The Stoner Mesa Fire in the southwest corner of the state has grown to 7,400 acres.
The Middle Mesa Fire east of Navajo Reservoir and just south of the Colorado-New Mexico line is now 92% contained.
The Dragon Bravo Fire on the Grand Canyon’s North Rim is up to 145,000 acres, but is 56% contained.
The other day, I was chatting with the venerable Sammy Roth of the Los Angeles Times for his Boiling Point podcast. We were talking about how fire season has changed in my lifetime, and I remarked that up until 2002, the Lime Creek Burn — which in 1879 charred forests south of Silverton — was the largest blaze in the state’s recorded history.
When I told Roth that the blaze was a mere 26,000 acres, he looked a little befuddled. That’s because in this age of megafires, a 26,000-acre wildfire is relatively small. In fact, the Lime Creek Burn no longer makes the state’s top 20 largest blazes — all of which have occurred since 2002. Even the 70,000-acre Missionary Ridge Fire, which seemed gargantuan when it blew through forests north of Durango in 2002, is now only number 7, er, 8 (because the Lee Fire slotted in above it).
The lack of a good monsoon so far has also meant the lack of cooling afternoon rains in the hottest parts of the Southwest. And that has exacerbated the danger posed by the heat. Phoenix has suffered through an unusually hot August so far, with daily average temperatures reaching 11 degrees higher than normal. If current trends continue, this could end up being the hottest August on record for the city.
And it’s taking its toll on the people of Phoenix, as Maricopa County’s heat-related mortality report shows. So far this year the heat has killed or contributed to the deaths of 35 people, but another 369 cases remain under investigation (at the end of the year, most of these tend to end up in the heat-caused or heat-contributed category).
Fascinating that the decline in visitation to the SW parks diverge so much from the flat visitation numbers to Montana Wyoming.
This confirms my suspicions. We just returned from a road trip and passing through Lake Tahoe, some of our favorite restaurants were half empty on Friday and Saturday nights.