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WaterJuly 19, 2026

Data Centers Keep Rising Beside the West's Fastest-Shrinking Lakes. Closed-Loop Cooling Still Draws From Them.

Utah has added at least 15 new data-center buildings or campuses since 2021, according to Planetizen's coverage of the West's fastest-shrinking lakes. Lake Mead, Lake Powell, the Great Salt Lake, the Salton Sea, Mono Lake, and Walker Lake all show measurable declines, and hyperscale campuses are rising within reach of nearly every one of them, from Box Elder County to the outskirts of Reno. The Great Salt Lake alone has lost 73 percent of its water and 60 percent of its surface area since 1850. The overlap tracks a specific kind of site: cheap land, water rights, and grid interconnects that developers screen for before anything else.

The Closed Loop Doesn't Mean Zero Water

Box Elder County, Utah is ground zero for the sharpest version of this fight. The Stratos data center campus plans to run its onsite power on air-cooled Allam-cycle turbines, which developers describe as having zero evaporative loss. That claim has not been backed by actual generator specifications in any permitting filing. Utah Clean Energy modeled the two likeliest alternatives instead: combined-cycle gas turbines and reciprocating gas engines. Run the power plant alone on either one and the water bill lands between 2 billion and 16.6 billion gallons a year, an eightfold swing depending on which gets specified. That range covers electricity generation only. It says nothing about the servers. Cooling the data center itself is projected separately, between 500 and 2,180 acre-feet a year at full build-out, roughly 160 million to 710 million gallons, drawn from the 13,000 acre-feet of water rights already attached to the property. Recycling reduces bleed. Evaporation at the cooling tower keeps running regardless, and a closed loop still needs a makeup water source for whatever leaves as vapor.

Nevada Already Has the Receipts

Southern Nevada shows what a real number looks like once someone finally requests it. Twenty-three data centers near Lake Mead used more than 716 million gallons of water in 2024, roughly the annual draw of 4,395 single-family homes, according to public records obtained by the Las Vegas Review-Journal. That reservoir sits at 27 percent of capacity. One state over, Phoenix's data center water use is set to jump ninefold against a Colorado River system with no reserve left to give. Multiply the Nevada pattern across Utah, Arizona, and inland California, and the aggregate draw on shrinking lakes stops looking like a rounding error against municipal supply.

The Canary Metaphor Has a Number Attached

Dr. Bonnie Baxter, who directs the Great Salt Lake Institute at Westminster University, put the hydrology in blunt terms. "This year, for example, we got about a foot of rise in lake elevation from winter precipitation, but we lost about three feet through summer evaporation," she said. The lake sits at the bottom of a closed basin with no outlet except evaporation, meaning every gallon diverted upstream, for a cooling tower or anything else, never comes back. "Using more water upstream means even less inflow," Baxter said. She calls the lake "a canary in the climate crisis coal mine," and 2.5 million people live downwind of a lakebed that turns to dust when it dries.

Greg Pierce, who directs the UCLA Water Resources Group, frames the transparency gap as a systems problem. Data centers behave like heavy industrial customers overnight, drawing from utilities sized for households, not server farms, he argues. "Water systems tend to be much smaller than energy utilities," Pierce said, and most lack the metering and reporting infrastructure that energy utilities built over a century of oversight. He wants data centers required to report water and energy use to state regulators, the same push behind Durbin's federal water-and-energy transparency bill. Right now, developers self-report acre-foot estimates that swing by a factor of eight depending on which engine or turbine gets specified, and no one outside the project can check the number before the permit gets approved.

Operators sitting near a shrinking lake now answer to two audiences: the state water regulator and the reservoir's own drawdown curve. Every acre-foot a closed loop claims to save gets checked against the gallons a cooling tower actually loses to the air, and the vendors who can produce that number before the permit hearing are the ones who get through review first.