No rain in Spain: what happens when Catalonia's reservoirs run dry

Local residents holding candles take part in a procession asking for rain in Perelada, a rural village in the northeast of Catalonia, Girona, Spain, on April 27. AP

Almost 100 kilometres to the north of Barcelona, in the rolling hills of Spain’s wealthy Catalonia region, lies the medieval village of Sant Roma de Sau. Its medieval church dates all the way back to the 11th century, and today visitors can step inside its stone walls to glance up into its ancient belfry, taking in nearly a thousand years of history.

Such buildings are, of course, not unusual in this part of Europe, but wandering inside this one is normally not so simple. Sixty-one years ago, Sant Roma de Sau and its church were drowned beneath the waters of the newly dammed Ter River, as a reservoir was created to supply water to Barcelona and the surrounding area.

When the Sau Reservoir is at normal levels, only the very tip of the old village church’s spire is visible. Now, however, rain in this part of Spain is an increasingly distant memory for locals, and the entire building lies high and dry some 20 metres from the water’s edge. The reservoir is already at less than 10 per cent capacity and summer has barely begun. “This is the worst period that we have had for the last 100 years,” Samuel Reyes, director of the Catalan Water Agency, told me when I visited the area last week.

In fact, the whole of Spain is experiencing an increasingly troubling drought. According to AEMET, the Spanish national weather service, the country received just 36 per cent of its average monthly rainfall back in March. In April, temperatures in the city of Cordoba soared to 38.8°C, smashing the country’s record for that time of year.

This region is a breadbasket for both Spain and Europe. For those farming the land near the Sau Reservoir, the absence of rain and the dwindling groundwater combine to devastating effect. Literally hundreds of thousands of acres of land are dry, and the crops growing on them are in deep jeopardy.

Farmer Santi Caudevilla wore a worried expression as he stood talking to me in a field of withered maize. He ruffled a handful of dry, crumbling grain. “This should be milky,” he told me. “We should be seeing the grain come up to here,” he continued, gesturing at waist height and then around at the stunted crops. “But it’s only like this. If it doesn't rain in the coming week, the crop will be zero.”

More than 1,500km north-east of the Sau Reservoir, Berlin last week hosted a climate conference – a precursor to Cop28 and a chance to tee up some of the vital conversations that will continue there. German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock, a member of the Green Party, warned that efforts to mitigate the climate crisis were failing, and called for specific action.

“We all know it's not enough to describe that we're not meeting our targets,” Ms Baerbock told delegates. “We have to say how we want to change course, to finally get back on the 1.5 degrees path.” UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres went further in his remote address, saying that the nations of the world need to “stop shutting their eyes”.

Back in Catalonia, such words will ring both true and perhaps hollow. March and April are normally the rainiest months of the year, and the lack of water is having a catastrophic impact throughout the region. “There is no precedent,” Marti Costal, head of water at Young Farmers and Ranchers of Catalonia told us.

Reservoir levels throughout Catalonia are hovering at around 25 per cent, well below their usual levels at this time of year. Most of the wheat and barley harvests on rain-fed land will be certainly lost, while on irrigated land they will be cut by half, Mr Costal explained. “If it does not rain in May, it will be a disaster,” he warned.

Any specific actions that can be taken here on the ground sound almost like science fiction. Authorities last month began to remove native fish from the reservoir and take them to other waterways to save them.

Remarkably, they have also now begun draining the reservoir, to prevent the remaining and precious water from being contaminated by the sludge lurking at the bottom of this once capacious pool. Elsewhere, desalination plants are being built to join the fight against the growing crisis. Residents in the nearby village now receive all their water from trucks and told us they can’t even remember the last time it rained.

Despite the best efforts of various agencies, Mr Reyes from the Catalan Water Agency believes that people living in Spain may soon have to accept a dramatically different way of life. “Sometimes I think about the capacity of the territory,” he told me. “I mean, is this a country where we can handle the increase of citizens, tourists, industry, farmers, agriculture? Or we should stop?”

Surveying the buildings of the once-submerged village of Sant Roma de Sau, its church spire standing proudly in the blistering sunshine, it is hard to escape the thought that we may be closer to that point than many are ready to believe.