Bridging Models and People in the Great Salt Lake Basin
When I joined the Southwest Climate Adaptation Science Center’s Natural Resources Workforce Development (NRWD) Fellowship, I expected to spend the year immersed in hydrology considering that the fellowship theme is “Functional Flows for Wildlife and Water Quality.” Modeling is where I feel most at home – in the structure of equations, the clarity of data, and the structure of a system. Functional flows at that time seemed like a natural extension of that world. I imagined myself as part of a team that would build a model and contribute a technical tool that could help support the Great Salt Lake Basin. What I did not expect was that this fellowship would push me into a completely different direction, one that challenged my assumptions about what “useful science” looks like and who it is ultimately for.
In our early cohort meetings, I was the one consistently advocating for a modeling project. I kept returning to the same point: if we want to understand functional flows, we need a quantitative framework. I believed that a model would be the most valuable contribution we could make. It felt like the obvious path, and it aligned with my training and identity as a hydrologist.
Cutler Reservoir in the Great Salt Lake River Basin
But as our discussions deepened, something unexpected happened. We began to map out the existing work on functional flows in the Great Salt Lake Basin, and the more we looked, the more we realized that the technical side was not the missing piece. There were already hydrologic models and flow recommendations. What was missing was something far less familiar to me: an understanding of how water right holders perceive functional flows and how they think about voluntary water leasing as an alternative to support the lake.
That realization was uncomfortable at first. Social science felt like unfamiliar terrain. I remember one meeting where we were discussing potential project directions, and someone asked, “Do we actually know what water right holders think about functional flows?” The silence that followed was telling. We didn’t know. And without that knowledge, any technical tool would be incomplete.
That moment shifted something in me. I began to see that my instinct to build a model, while valid, was only part of the picture. A model can estimate how much water the lake needs or where it has to come from, but it cannot tell us how people feel about giving that water up. It cannot capture trust, hesitation, or the lived realities behind every decision. It cannot explain why someone might support water leasing in theory but feel uncertain about participating in practice. Those questions live in a different domain, one that requires listening, not simulating.
As a cohort, we decided to step into that gap. Instead of building a model, we designed a survey for water right holders across the Great Salt Lake Basin. Our goal was simple but essential: to understand perceptions, motivations, and concerns related to voluntary water leasing. We wanted to know what people value, what they fear, and what conditions would make participation more feasible or appealing. In other words, we wanted to understand the human side required to implement a strategy such as the one proposed by functional flows.
Designing the survey was a learning experience in and of itself. We had to think carefully about language, clarity, and trust. We had to consider how questions might be interpreted and how to avoid assumptions embedded in our own disciplinary backgrounds. We had to balance the need for useful data with respect for the time and perspectives of the people we were reaching out to.
Through this process, I began to appreciate the importance of interdisciplinary work in a way I had not fully understood before. Hydrologic models are powerful tools, but they are only as effective as the social context in which they are used. If the people who hold water rights do not feel heard, understood, or supported, even the best-designed strategies will struggle to gain traction. Functional flows is not just a scientific concept; it is a negotiation between ecological needs and human realities. Recognizing that changed how I think about my own work.
The Great Salt Lake Basin is a place where these complexities are especially visible. The lake’s decline is both a hydrologic crisis and a human one. It affects ecosystems, air quality, cultural heritage, and local economies. It raises questions about responsibility, resilience, and the future of water in a rapidly changing climate. Voluntary water leasing has emerged as one of the few tools capable of moving water to the lake quickly, but its success depends on more than hydrologic calculations. It depends on relationships, trust, and a clear understanding of what motivates or discourages participation.
Working on this survey helped me see the Basin through a broader lens. I began to understand that the people who hold water rights are not just data points in a model; they are individuals with histories, values, and concerns shaped by generations of living with water. Their decisions are influenced by more than hydrologic conditions. They are shaped by identity, community, economics, and a deep connection to place. Any strategy for supporting the Great Salt Lake must honor that complexity.
This fellowship taught me that stepping outside my comfort zone is not a detour from my work as a hydrologist. It is an expansion of it. I still believe in the power of modeling, but I now see that models must be grounded in the perspectives of the people who will ultimately use or be affected by them. Technical tools are most effective when they are built with an understanding of the social landscape they inhabit. That insight will stay with me long after this fellowship ends.
As I look ahead, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. I want to continue building bridges between disciplines, between data and people, between hydrologic processes and human decision-making. The Great Salt Lake Basin needs solutions that are both scientifically sound and socially informed. This fellowship helped me see how those pieces fit together and how my work can contribute to that integration.
I entered the fellowship expecting to build a model. Instead, I learned to listen. And that lesson, more than any technical skill, is what will shape the tools I build in the future.
This post was written by Pamela Liliana Claure Gutierrez, a 2025-26 NRWD Fellow from Utah State University (USU).