Planting For Tomorrow
Restoring Watersheds to Build Climate-Resilient Communities In Honduras
Nelson and fellow community members pile into the back of a pickup truck — Leandro, Orlan, and Leonel among them — with four manual post hole diggers and two plastic soda crates carrying saplings, each small tree no taller than a pencil. Fine red dust swirls around the gravel switchbacks heading up the hillside to the footpath that will take them into the Rio Caje watershed.
A good rain would settle the dust, but rains in Honduras don’t come the way they used to. Across the country, rainfall is thinning — projected to drop by as much as 20% by the end of the century. As water becomes less certain, communities continue to grow, and each one carries the weight of securing safe water for the people who call it home. Cova’s sustainable water management support is helping to lighten the load.
Seven years ago, committed to raising their families in the area — only possible with a strong, reliable water source — community members in the Rio Caje watershed were forced to face the fragile water source and the limited, poor-quality water it provided. Rains ran fast and dirty over the dry barren cattle pastureland that made up the watershed, carrying sediment and contamination into streams and leaving springs vulnerable during the dry season. A concerted community effort to buy the land and organize to protect it was a slow but steady undertaking.
Since then, time, energy, and resolve have been poured into planting more than 5,000 trees throughout the hills and valleys that feed the watershed. Forest cover, roots, and vegetation serve to slow runoff, filter contaminants and strengthen the soil, allowing water to seep gently back into the land and replenish the springs below.
The truck slows to a stop. Nelson adjusts his wide-brimmed straw hat and climbs over the tailgate. One by one, the others follow suit and take to the trail. Once open and exposed, the hillside is now edged with tall vegetation. Pine and sweetgum trees — strong and tall and proud — pepper the landscape. The group fans out across the hillside with the saplings in hand and the tools to pierce the land.
Among them is Edin, a long-standing Cova Circuit Rider. After a short distance, he points to a sweetgum tree in delighted recognition — a quiet thrill he’s clearly enjoyed before. Now standing six feet tall or so and still going strong, he recalls planting this very tree as a sapling during his initial days with Cova three years ago, back when the land had been bare and the water contaminated. The presence of the tree isn’t altogether unexpected, but its pace of growth is, and he’s pleased by how well it has taken.
Today, more planting ensues. Leandro pulls open the handles of a post hole digger and takes a bite out of the earth. He frees a tiny tree from the soda crate, dirt still embracing its delicate root structure, and carefully settles it into the opening. The small hole is backfilled, and the toe of his weathered work boot gently presses the loose soil into place. Each man finds his own rhythm, the repeated physical investment its own reward. Dig, plant, press, repeat.
Faced with a changing climate, Cova’s work alongside communities has begun to take root in new ways. Tree nurseries have been established across the country, raising the next generation of forest. Saplings like the ones in these crates are planted not just for shade or beauty, but to slow the rain when it comes, to hold it in place, to give it time to return to the earth.
The careful decision to replant the landscape and restore the watershed’s resilience has paid dividends here in Rio Caje. The need to safeguard the source for future generations is deeply understood. There is promise in planting for tomorrow.
From the forest fire lookout tower, Leonel points out the extent of the basin. He gestures to a fallen tree far off in the distance, then moves his finger nearly one hundred and eighty degrees across the horizon before pausing where it ends. The confluence of small streams and seasonal springs leads to the water source they are working so hard to protect. The water board has just recently purchased the last of the land needed to secure control of this fragile area. A fence has been added to keep the zone free of wildlife, and the water board takes turns patrolling for cattle.
Once at risk of disappearing altogether, the water source has gone from a mere trickle to supplying four communities with water twenty-four hours a day. Thanks to rehabilitation efforts and in collaboration with Cova, a healthy water source and a simple water treatment system now mean safe water for seven thousand families. Parents who were born here; families now free to stay.
From this vantage point high above the communities now benefiting from a safe water supply, different kinds of roots are revealed. The roof of Leonel’s family home is just barely visible, and Orlan points to a nearby peak he summits during Semana Santa. There is quiet confidence that this place will continue to sustain those who call it home.
Back at the truck, brows are wiped and thirsts are quenched. A bag of empanadas — warm from the heat of the backseat — is retrieved and passed around.
And isn’t this just how community is built? Rooted in care. Squinting into the sun. Dirt-caked hands. Sharing empanadas.
Learn more at CovaAgua.org/Climate
