Water pays zero respect to the borders we scribble on our maps – it's a harsh reality that hits home when floods surge across lines without a second thought.
I recently delved into the devastating floods that battered Washington State last week on my Substack, The Eyewall (check it out here: https://theeyewall.substack.com/p/record-flooding-prompts-trouble-in). The situation was dire, with some spots hitting all-time high water levels and others seeing the worst since 1990. But in my coverage, I barely touched on how this relentless rain and flooding were slamming Oregon or spilling over into British Columbia (for more on that, see this article: https://fvcurrent.com/p/province-says-flood-impacts-will-linger-for-days-as-abbotsford-evacuee-numbers-rise-and-more-rain).
Let's break this down for clarity, especially for those new to geography and weather patterns. The Nooksack River begins its journey in the stunning North Cascades National Park, near the peak of Mount Shuksan. It travels northward before curving west, ultimately emptying into Bellingham Bay along Puget Sound. The local terrain plays a tricky role: when the Nooksack swells dramatically, it overflows northward into the Sumas River. The Sumas River originates in Whatcom County, Washington, meanders past the Nooksack, and eventually joins the Fraser River in British Columbia, just northeast of Abbotsford.
Now, here's where it gets controversial – these aren't just acts of nature; they're often the result of choices we made decades ago that backfired spectacularly. This entire region sits on a broad, flat expanse left behind by retreating glaciers, serving as a natural floodplain for these rivers (for a deeper dive, explore this piece: https://thetyee.ca/Analysis/2021/11/18/Mapping-Abbotsford-Flood/). Known as the Sumas Prairie, it was once a full-fledged lake. Back in the 1920s, engineers built dikes and drained it, unlocking rich farmland for agriculture and cutting down on floods along Canada's Fraser River. But water doesn't vanish just because we say so – it was there for good reasons, like acting as a natural reservoir. Fast-forward to today, and during massive storms, the area tries to 'refill' that old lake, only now homes and lives occupy what was once underwater territory. Think of it this way: the Nooksack's watershed (the area where rainfall collects and drains) sits higher than the Sumas's, so excess water 'spills' downhill from Washington into the Sumas, which then crosses into Canada.
After the catastrophic 1990 floods (detailed in this report: https://www.weather.gov/media/publications/assessments/Western%20Washington%20Floods%20November%201990.pdf), a binational team formed to brainstorm flood control strategies, focusing on the spillover point near Everson, Washington, where the Nooksack meets the Sumas Prairie. They ran computer models, floated ideas, but as time passed and the immediacy faded, the project fizzled out by 2011. The 2021 floods revived it (as covered here: https://vancouversun.com/news/local-news/no-easy-solutions-to-cross-border-flooding-that-has-devastated-both-b-c-and-washington-state), yet the catch is brutal: a fix that eases flooding in British Columbia and Everson could unleash havoc farther downstream. It's a classic trade-off – solve one headache, ignite another. And this is the part most people miss – after these events, there's always fresh energy for action, but the challenges are labyrinthine. Some remedies could drag on for years (see the Vancouver Sun article again for timelines) and demand huge investments. Others mirror dilemmas with aging dams, like silt accumulation. The Nooksack has been artificially narrowed for ages, whereas in the wild, rivers expand and shrink with seasons. This confinement lets sediment pile up, shrinking the river's capacity to handle water – a problem compounded by fiercer atmospheric river storms in the Northwest (learn more from the USDA Climate Hubs: https://www.climatehubs.usda.gov/hubs/northwest/topic/atmospheric-rivers-northwest). Picture it: more rain from above, less space below to absorb it, plus a built-in floodplain, equals inevitable chaos. It's a puzzle rooted in straightforward arithmetic, but with layers of human history.
This isn't confined to Washington and British Columbia. Across the border, flooding woes prompted the International Joint Commission – established by the 1909 Boundary Waters Treaty to tackle shared U.S.-Canada water issues – to suggest fixes for the Lake Champlain-Richelieu River system, spanning Quebec, Vermont, and New York (their final report is here: https://ijc.org/en/lake-champlain-richelieu-river-study-board-releases-final-report). Interestingly, the IJC hasn't waded into the Pacific Northwest problems yet.
Closer to home for me in Texas, tensions are brewing between Harris County and Montgomery County. A planned development in Montgomery County, just west of the flood-vulnerable community of Kingwood in Harris County (more on this resolution: https://reduceflooding.com/2025/12/13/harris-county-passes-ramsey-resolution-on-moco/?utm_source=Kingwood.com), pushed a Harris County commissioner to draft a strong resolution urging Montgomery to adopt Harris's stricter drainage rules. Montgomery's standards are laxer, and if ignored, their choices could worsen flooding for folks outside their area. It's a reminder that decisions in one county can ripple into another, like dominos falling.
Up in Canada, Abbotsford's mayor is venting frustration at the federal government and Washington neighbors (reported in: https://www.richmond-news.com/national-news/abbotsford-mayor-blasts-feds-for-flooding-inaction-as-water-starts-receding-11615216). Beyond Lake Champlain, the IJC stepped in after the devastating 1997 Red River floods, affecting the Upper Midwest and Manitoba, and in 2017, they released a review showing significant progress (download the PDF: https://ijc.org/sites/default/files/2021-01/IRRHowAreWeLivingFinalRev_March%202017.pdf). In Asia, simmering disputes over cross-border waters – think China and India managing rivers that start in one country and flow into others (a great read on glacial geopolitics: https://www.newsecuritybeat.org/2021/09/simmering-glacial-geopolitics-upcoming-crises-transboundary-water-cooperation-asias-burner/) – highlight ongoing tensions. In Africa, Ethiopia's Nile dams have sparked outrage downstream in Egypt, where officials argue they hold stronger rights to the river (explore the Atlantic Council's take: https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/menasource/the-nile-at-a-crossroads-navigating-the-gerd-dispute-as-egypts-floodwaters-rise/).
But here's where it gets really controversial: at what exact moment should one community step up to protect neighbors from their actions? Take the Colorado River as an example (I wrote about severe flooding in the Pacific Northwest here, but it ties in: https://theeyewall.substack.com/p/severe-flooding-for-the-pacific-northwest). This is more about water rights than floods, yet fierce debates rage between upper and lower basin users, including Indigenous tribes. These aren't simple fixes – they demand teamwork. The Colorado River Compact of 1922 provides some governance, but a hodgepodge of rules instead of one unified body complicates things, as seen in Southeast Texas where booming counties like those around Harris (which added nearly a million residents each in the last 15 years, with growth set to persist) influence Houston-area neighborhoods. No regional flood oversight is in the works yet.
Yet, these are exactly the issues we must confront as floods intensify. Climate change grabs the spotlight, and rightfully so – it's a key player. But it's not the sole culprit. For the Sumas-Nooksack mess, blame largely falls on draining that 1920s lake, which nature intended, and choking the river to build up sediment. In Houston, we're paving over prairies and fields with varying building codes, speeding up runoff. On the Colorado, we've dammed and divided a finite resource. Instead of chalking up Washington-British Columbia floods to just a wild storm, let's view them as another alarm bell about our growth choices. Is it fair that past decisions haunt future generations? Should international bodies like the IJC have more power, or is local autonomy sacrosanct? Do you agree that human interventions often amplify nature's fury, or is this overblown? Share your thoughts in the comments – do these cross-border water woes demand global cooperation, or are they just inevitable growing pains? I'd love to hear your take!
