The Tug of War Over Colorado's Oil and Gas Future
May 6, 2025, 4:14 am
In the heart of Colorado, a battle rages. It’s not just about oil and gas; it’s about safety, health, and the environment. The Front Range, with its sprawling neighborhoods, is at the center of this conflict. Residents are caught in a tug of war between energy companies and their own desire for a safe living space.
The Lowry Ranch site is ground zero. Here, Crestone, a subsidiary of Civitas Resources, seeks to drill 17 wells. The state’s Energy and Carbon Management Commission (ECMC) gave the green light. But for many residents, this is not a victory; it’s a call to arms. They feel like David facing Goliath, armed with studies and community support.
Jason Ephraim, a resident of Southshore, embodies this struggle. He’s not just worried about his home; he’s concerned for his daughter’s future. A recent study from the Colorado School of Public Health links childhood leukemia to proximity to oil and gas wells. This revelation hits hard. It’s not just numbers; it’s about lives. Ephraim and his neighbors are determined to fight back.
But the industry is formidable. Civitas claims to follow some of the strictest regulations in the nation. They tout electric rigs and sound walls as innovations that minimize risks. Yet, for residents, these assurances feel hollow. A recent incident in Weld County, where a Chevron well released oil and gas, serves as a stark reminder of the dangers. One person was injured, homes were evacuated, and a school was closed. The fear is palpable.
Colorado ranks fourth in the nation for oil production. In 2024, the state produced 172 million barrels. This wealth of resources, however, comes with a price. The Front Range neighborhoods, built on the edge of mineral deposits, are now facing the consequences. The 2017 explosion in Firestone, caused by a severed flow line, is a haunting memory. Two lives were lost that day, and the community is still reeling.
In 2019, the state took a step back. Senate Bill 181 was signed into law, shifting the focus from industry growth to public health and safety. This law aimed to change the game. It gave regulators more power to impose conditions on drilling permits. Yet, the struggle continues. Residents feel the weight of new developments looming over them.
Crestone’s proposed 32-well pad, State Sunlight-Long, is particularly concerning. It’s too close for comfort, just 3,200 feet from the Aurora Reservoir, the main source of drinking water for the area. Residents like Sakhawat Hussain, a retired doctor, are raising alarms. He argues that the topography doesn’t support Crestone’s claims of safety. The risk of contamination is too high.
Arapahoe County officials insist they have strict regulations. They promise to balance quality of life with energy development. But for residents, these assurances feel like a thin veil over their fears. The community is demanding transparency and accountability. They want to ensure their health and safety are prioritized.
Ephraim’s concerns extend beyond human health. He worries about wildlife too. The Lowry Ranch area is a habitat for pronghorn and mule deer. The potential impact on these animals adds another layer to the debate. It’s not just about people; it’s about the ecosystem.
The tension is palpable. In southeast Aurora, state regulators are promising public hearings for all proposed pads. This is a shift from the norm, indicating the growing resistance to drilling. The community is rallying together, united in their fight against what they see as encroachment on their lives.
Erie, a town 40 miles north, offers a glimpse into the future. There, a fierce battle erupted over plans to drill 26 wells near a residential area. The community fought back, demanding safer alternatives. This is a trend that could spread across Colorado as more neighborhoods emerge near mineral-rich lands.
As the Front Range continues to grow, the stakes are rising. Each new well pad adds to the cumulative impact of drilling. The argument is clear: homes and oil wells don’t mix. The community’s voice is growing louder, demanding change.
The future of Colorado’s oil and gas industry hangs in the balance. Will it prioritize profits over people? Or will it heed the warnings of residents and experts alike? The outcome remains uncertain. But one thing is clear: the fight is far from over.
In this battle, the residents of the Front Range are not backing down. They are armed with knowledge, community support, and a fierce determination to protect their homes. The oil and gas industry may be powerful, but the voices of the people are rising. The future of their neighborhoods depends on it.
The Lowry Ranch site is ground zero. Here, Crestone, a subsidiary of Civitas Resources, seeks to drill 17 wells. The state’s Energy and Carbon Management Commission (ECMC) gave the green light. But for many residents, this is not a victory; it’s a call to arms. They feel like David facing Goliath, armed with studies and community support.
Jason Ephraim, a resident of Southshore, embodies this struggle. He’s not just worried about his home; he’s concerned for his daughter’s future. A recent study from the Colorado School of Public Health links childhood leukemia to proximity to oil and gas wells. This revelation hits hard. It’s not just numbers; it’s about lives. Ephraim and his neighbors are determined to fight back.
But the industry is formidable. Civitas claims to follow some of the strictest regulations in the nation. They tout electric rigs and sound walls as innovations that minimize risks. Yet, for residents, these assurances feel hollow. A recent incident in Weld County, where a Chevron well released oil and gas, serves as a stark reminder of the dangers. One person was injured, homes were evacuated, and a school was closed. The fear is palpable.
Colorado ranks fourth in the nation for oil production. In 2024, the state produced 172 million barrels. This wealth of resources, however, comes with a price. The Front Range neighborhoods, built on the edge of mineral deposits, are now facing the consequences. The 2017 explosion in Firestone, caused by a severed flow line, is a haunting memory. Two lives were lost that day, and the community is still reeling.
In 2019, the state took a step back. Senate Bill 181 was signed into law, shifting the focus from industry growth to public health and safety. This law aimed to change the game. It gave regulators more power to impose conditions on drilling permits. Yet, the struggle continues. Residents feel the weight of new developments looming over them.
Crestone’s proposed 32-well pad, State Sunlight-Long, is particularly concerning. It’s too close for comfort, just 3,200 feet from the Aurora Reservoir, the main source of drinking water for the area. Residents like Sakhawat Hussain, a retired doctor, are raising alarms. He argues that the topography doesn’t support Crestone’s claims of safety. The risk of contamination is too high.
Arapahoe County officials insist they have strict regulations. They promise to balance quality of life with energy development. But for residents, these assurances feel like a thin veil over their fears. The community is demanding transparency and accountability. They want to ensure their health and safety are prioritized.
Ephraim’s concerns extend beyond human health. He worries about wildlife too. The Lowry Ranch area is a habitat for pronghorn and mule deer. The potential impact on these animals adds another layer to the debate. It’s not just about people; it’s about the ecosystem.
The tension is palpable. In southeast Aurora, state regulators are promising public hearings for all proposed pads. This is a shift from the norm, indicating the growing resistance to drilling. The community is rallying together, united in their fight against what they see as encroachment on their lives.
Erie, a town 40 miles north, offers a glimpse into the future. There, a fierce battle erupted over plans to drill 26 wells near a residential area. The community fought back, demanding safer alternatives. This is a trend that could spread across Colorado as more neighborhoods emerge near mineral-rich lands.
As the Front Range continues to grow, the stakes are rising. Each new well pad adds to the cumulative impact of drilling. The argument is clear: homes and oil wells don’t mix. The community’s voice is growing louder, demanding change.
The future of Colorado’s oil and gas industry hangs in the balance. Will it prioritize profits over people? Or will it heed the warnings of residents and experts alike? The outcome remains uncertain. But one thing is clear: the fight is far from over.
In this battle, the residents of the Front Range are not backing down. They are armed with knowledge, community support, and a fierce determination to protect their homes. The oil and gas industry may be powerful, but the voices of the people are rising. The future of their neighborhoods depends on it.