Troubled Waters: One Man’s Fight for Fairness in Applewood

Picture settling into your Applewood home, where historic irrigation ditches bring water to life—until a developer’s changes disrupt that flow. For Greg, this challenge started when his ditch, carrying water rights from the 1860s, was buried and altered without his input, making it tough to access his water. While other nearby ditches received county support, Greg’s efforts to protect his rights met obstacles, including threats and harassment from Cottages at Rolling Hills HOA neighbors, like vandalism and intimidation. This isn’t just Greg’s story—it’s a community call to work together for fairness in Applewood, and we need your help to fix our ditch.

SIGN THE JEFFCO PETITION TO RESTORE GREG'S DITCH

Greg’s Story: A Fight for Fairness in Applewood

Imagine buying your dream home—a place with an acre of land, surrounded by flowing irrigation ditches, a slice of Colorado’s history and charm. That was me in 2009 when I found my property in Applewood. My family scraped together every penny to make it ours, planning to build our forever home here. But what started as a dream has turned into a nightmare, thanks to Jefferson County’s unequal treatment and a developer’s disregard for my rights. This isn’t just my story—it’s a battle that affects us all in Applewood, and I need your support to hold the County accountable and fix our ditch.

The Trouble Begins

It all started with a phone call in July 2019. My tenants were frantic: “Greg, the neighbors demolished our irrigation ditch! We can’t water the lawn or trees anymore!” I was stunned. This wasn’t just a ditch—it was my legal water right, tied to my property for over a century, part of Colorado’s “first in time, first in right” system. I called the developer behind the new Cottages at Rolling Hills subdivision (now an HOA), who casually told me Jefferson County had approved the changes—smack in the middle of irrigation season. No one had bothered to tell me or the other owners on my ditch lateral.

Here’s where it gets unfair. Jefferson County went out of their way to protect two other nearby ditches—Lee Stewart & Eskins and Rocky Mountain (owned by Molson Coors.) County staff contacted those ditch owners repeatedly during the subdivision process, ensuring their water rights were safe. They even helped secure binding, recorded easements to protect those ditches from encroachments. But me? Nothing. No calls, no letters, no chance to speak up. The engineering plans for the subdivision clearly showed my ditch, yet the County let the developer bury it under roads, sidewalks, and a 6-foot concrete wall—without my consent.

Buried and Betrayed

Before 2019, my ditch was a simple, open channel—easy to walk along, inspect, and fix with a shovel. Now, it’s a buried pipeline, relocated into Jefferson County’s right-of-way (ROW) along W. 32nd Ave and squeezed into HOA backyards. Concrete, walls, fences, utilities, and a 50,000-volt Xcel transformer sit on top of it. The developer trespassed on my property, flooded my yard, and cut off my water—all while I begged them to work with me. I asked for a proper pipeline and a dedicated easement, just like Coors and Lee Stewart & Eskins got. They ignored me, and Jefferson County let it happen.

The result? A mess. My new headgate—installed by the developer and Jefferson County —is too high, making it hard to get water, especially in low-flow seasons. The pipeline has a 0% slope in places (sometimes uphill!), leaving standing water and debris inside. It’s not even electronically locatable—no tracer wire was installed, despite rules requiring it for buried utilities. When I raised issues, Jefferson County staff brushed me off, saying the subdivision was already approved and allowed the developer to keep building.

Jefferson County’s Double Standard

Here’s where the County’s favoritism shines through. On May 24, 2020, I sent videos showing stormwater from the new subdivision pouring into Coors’ Rocky Mountain Ditch near my property. Within 48 hours, Jefferson County staff replied, “This needs to be addressed immediately,” and it was fixed fast. But when I reported my ditch being buried, flooded, and damaged? Crickets. I wrote emails, met with staff, even sent a 9-page letter to County Commissioner in October 2020. No action. Jefferson County bends over backwards for Coors—a global giant—but leaves small ditch owners like me to fend for ourselves.

Colorado law backs me up. Under the Prior Appropriation Doctrine (C.R.S. 37-92-103), my water right is real property, protected by “first in time, first in right.” The County should have ensured my ditch wasn’t harmed without my consent, just like they did for Coors. State law also requires ditch owners to maintain their channels (C.R.S. 37-84-101), but how can I when it’s buried under concrete and HOA yards? Jefferson County ignored these laws for me, but not for the big guys.

The HOA Takes Over

By 2023, the Cottages at Rolling Hills HOA took control, and my problems got worse. The pipeline’s shoddy construction—approved by the County—causes constant headaches. In 2022, a contractor (DrillTech) hit it while drilling in the ROW, and Jefferson County blamed me for not having it located (even though they never required the developer to install a tracer wire). Now, HOA residents have planted trees and built fences over my ditch, blocking access, despite their own covenants requiring them to keep it clear.

I’ve tried to work with HOA president, sending letters about the headgate, slope issues, and encroachments. Mostly, I’ve been ignored. In December 2023, things got ugly. While I watched the pipeline inspector check my pipeline (blocked by debris), an HOA resident threatened me: “If I see your face again, you’re in deep shit!” Since then, I’ve faced vandalism—rocks thrown at my antique tractor, “Small Penis Greg” scrawled near my headgate—and harassment from HOA members taking photos and videos of me. I feel unsafe maintaining my own ditch.

The Cost of Fighting

I hired a water attorney in 2020. They sent a cease-and-desist letter to the County and developer, citing my violated rights. The County called it a “private matter,” and the developer kept building. My lawyer said I had a rock-solid case—Colorado law protects my water right and access—but a lawsuit would cost $100,000-$150,000, with little chance of recovering fees. With a young child, a new business, and my wife in grad school, I couldn’t afford it. In 2024, another attorney confirmed my case is even stronger now, but the price tag? $300,000-$400,000. Without money, I’m powerless, even with the law on my side.

Coors Gets a Free Pass

Compare that to Coors. In 2022, I noticed them building a new ditch road off Isabell St (near Isabell & W. 32nd Ave—on Jefferson County land, no less. When I asked Planning and Zoning about permits, no one knew anything. After weeks of runaround, staff admitted the County was aware but unconcerned, and asked me to contact the Coors manager overseeing the new ditch road project about my concerns, seems a lot like the fox guarding the hen house. Coors didn’t need oversight or community input. Yet when I tried to fix my ditch culvert in 2023 to stop flooding, Jefferson County slapped me with a violation notice, demanding a permit and threating legal action and fines—after calling my ditch a “private matter.” Why does Coors get a free pass while I’m buried in a mess of red tape?

Why I Need You

My family’s dream home is now a battleground. We've already spent thousands attempting to protect our ditch and access my water reliably—April 2021 was the first time since 2009 I couldn’t access my 1860's water rights to irrigate. The County’s favoritism and the HOA’s hostility threaten my property and peace of mind. I’ve heard from neighbors about other small ditches destroyed by developers, with Jefferson County turning a blind eye. We’re not billion-dollar corporations, but our rights matter too.