For Calgary and Stampede, 'come hell or no water' is the only option
Festival will truck in non-city water to ease pressure on shortage-stricken Calgary
Stampede cleaning crews may hose down the grandstand seats less often after every beer-fuelled night at the chuckwagons. And while the visiting horses might get the sort of thorough showers that Calgary humans are discouraged from enjoying, it will likely be with trucked-in water, not from the city's own depleted supplies.
Despite the ongoing water crisis, the show will go on, city and Calgary Stampede officials stressed on Monday.
How could it not?
There's $282 million of economic activity tied to the 10-day festival, Stampede CEO Joel Cowley explained as he pledged his event will proceed in a "very responsible manner."
To cancel the Stampede three weeks ahead of time would serve a massive blow to Calgary's tourism and hospitality sectors.
That was the mentality in 2013 as well, when the flood ransacked the city and especially Stampede Park, only two weeks before the opening parade. The rodeo and midway still went ahead on schedule.
In an echo of that edition's makeshift slogan, the phrase "come hell or no water" is now making its rounds. And adapting to the latter option appears to be part of the Stampede's calculus to survive in 2024, by avoiding straining the city's already fragile water supply as residents are instructed to curb use by one-quarter while the city's most critical water main gets repaired.
A horse to water
The event is a voracious water consumer, and not just because of the hundreds of thousands of people frequenting the grounds over the week and two weekends. There are about 1,000 livestock animals on the grounds daily for the competitions and agricultural exhibition, all of which need to drink (and many to bathe).
Plus, there's the regular watering of the dirt chuckwagon track and rodeo infield, to prevent the Stampede from becoming a massive dust bowl.
While beloved by many fairgoers, partiers and breakfast-pancake inhalers, the event already draws its share of local skeptics and critics for various reasons. It would only harden the detractors' opinions if the Stampede consumed millions of litres of a scarce public resource to wet its dirt surfaces at a time when residents were banned from hosing down lawns and flower gardens, and being lectured about how often to flush toilets or wash their clothes.
The Stampede has said it will avoid tapping city supply wherever possible. It will truck in potable water for livestock, and try to use non-potable water for dust maintenance and cleaning, Cowley told reporters Monday.
Only three days into learning the city's water constraints will likely stretch into July and Stampede week, the organization does not yet have details about how much water it will import, and what types. (It's possible the provincial government could grant Stampede a special permit to draw untreated water from the neighbouring Elbow River, although it's early days for any such deal to be struck.)
But think back to the flood year for a sign of how far the Stampede is willing to go to keep Calgary's world-renowned western festival on track.
Stampede executives called in Servicemaster Recovery Management, a North American disaster cleanup giant that had done remediation work after several hurricanes and on the Pentagon after the 9/11 terrorist attacks.
Its staff came in from Florida, Washington State and all parts in between. They mobilized a crew that was 1,000 strong at times.
Even though LRT tracks hurtled through the wall of the Big Four building, they still repaired it sufficiently to use the upper floor. They removed the mud from the rodeo infield and chuckwagon track, and rebuilt them with 40 million kilograms of new dirt.
Organizers couldn't salvage the Saddledome in time for that year's Kiss or Carly Rae Jepsen concerts after the Elbow River flood water drowned eight rows of the arena's lower bowl. But almost everything else was up and running, like in any non-disaster year.
The massive effort proved the organization has the sort of determination that states: If we can't do it, nobody could. And lo, the Stampede did cancel in 2020, when the pandemic meant no show could go on without endangering public health.
Financial records also proved how good Stampede is at literally ensuring that its show will go on. Of the $48.4 million of remediation costs the organization incurred through 2014, all but $800,000 of that was covered by various insurance policies.
Part of that was business interruption insurance. While it's unclear at this early juncture what sort of coverage or contingencies the not-for-profit organizaton would have for the added expense of importing truckload after truckload of water, that sum is likely lower than the losses Stampede would incur by pulling the plug entirely.
As for all the Stampede visitors who need to flush and wash, Tourism Calgary CEO Alisha Reynolds said the city's hotels expect 138,000 people staying here. But that's offset by the many Calgarians who leave town during the event — those who check out of Calgary when their neighbours wear boots, buckles and big hats.
In like a dirty shirt
They'll also be asked in hotels to take shorter showers, and bring their dirty laundry home with them, said Coby Duerr, acting emergency management chief.
He expressed a sort of regret that city officials have to deliver tough news and requested some "very unfun actions" because of the catastrophic infrastructure failure that will stretch across a month or longer.
"I also want to assure you that fun is not cancelled. The summer is not cancelled," Duerr said.
The Stampede promises to deliver its annual dose of fun for the hundreds of thousands of Calgarians who enjoy it.
And that it won't make the city's water woes more dire as it accomplishes that.
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