Two aging dams on the Main Fork of the Eel could soon come down
By Anthea Raymond
Deep in Northern California, where old logging roads and creeks braid through steep canyons, the Main Fork of the Eel River is poised for a transformation. As early as 2031, Scott Dam and Cape Horn Dam could come out. If they do, the Eel would become California’s longest free-flowing river.
It’s a bold undertaking that brings together hydrologists, anglers, tribes, conservationists, and state regulators around the promise of ecological rebirth while raising concerns among farmers and lakefront property owners about what the new landscape will mean for them. 
The River as It Is Now
“The Main Eel is one of those rare places where you can still feel what wild California used to be,” says Pete Harrison, co-owner of Six Rivers Rafting. For decades, he’s guided spring trips down the stretch from Dos Rios to Alderpoint — a remote corridor some paddlers call the river’s ‘Grand Canyon.’
“You follow the abandoned Northwestern Pacific Railroad tracks, camp on sandy beaches like Cottonwood Flat, and maybe see bear tracks or a bald eagle swooping across the water.”
Harrison guides groups through Class III–IV rapids like Island Mountain and Kekawaka Falls — some of the most undertraveled whitewater in the state. “It’s seldom run, but for those who do, it’s beautiful,” he says. “The solitude is unmatched.”
Still, access is limited. Much of the land bordering the river is privately owned, and theft at shuttle sites is a known risk. “If we can open more access points and partner with landowners or along the abandoned rail section of the Great Redwood Trail, it could totally change how people use this river,” Harrison says.
Coming improvements at the Wildlands Conservancy’s Eel River Canyon Preserve, with 18 miles of river frontage along the main canyon, are expected to expand public access.
Expanded Fisheries and More Whitewater
Removing the two dams would reconnect more than 300 miles of habitat for salmon, steelhead, and Pacific lamprey — species whose migrations have been blocked for generations. For Scott Harding, American Whitewater’s Stewardship Associate, it’s a moment advocates have worked toward for years.
“These deadbeat dams have outlived their usefulness,” Harding says. “They don’t generate power, they’re seismically unsafe, and they trap sediment and heat that harm the river’s life.”
The utility PG&E, which owns the facilities, filed its license-surrender application with federal regulators in 2025, acknowledging the system’s obsolescence.
Harding, who also worked on the Klamath Dam removal project, is eager to see what emerges from beneath Lake Pillsbury. “When the reservoir drains, we’ll see the confluence of the Eel and Rice Fork Rivers for the first time in a century.”
“Confluences are magical places,” he adds. “We’re talking about miles of new river to explore — places you could paddle that no one alive has ever seen.”
Still, predicting what lies beneath is difficult. With an estimated 12 million cubic yards of sediment backed up behind the dams, forecasting the river’s exact post-removal shape is a challenge.
American Whitewater has already begun lobbying for a comprehensive recreational plan to ensure public access and safe boating routes through the former dam sites. “This could be the next great whitewater restoration story — like the White Salmon or the Klamath,” Harding says.
From Reservoir to River
Not everyone welcomes the change.
Farmers in Potter Valley rely on Eel River water diverted through a century-old tunnel into the Russian River basin. The proposed new facility would continue diversions at a similar amount through the existing tunnel, but their timing would shift to winter, which will affect irrigation schedules and costs.
“There’s real anxiety about the changes ahead,” says Alicia Hamann, executive director of Friends of the Eel River. “Many agricultural water users have relied on extremely cheap summer and fall diversions for generations. The future looks very different and will prioritize the health of the river but still provide diversions in the winter.”
Hamann emphasizes that dam removal is not simply about letting a river run wild but managing the transition responsibly. “The Eel is the most sediment-heavy river in the lower 48 states. We’re talking about mobilizing 12 million cubic yards of sediment once those dams come out,” she says. “It’ll be brown and muddy immediately following dam removal, but then the river will rebuild itself.”
“We’re unlocking a huge nursery for a declining population,” says Walter “Redgie” Collins, Vice President of Legal and Government Affairs at CalTrout. The ultimate goal is “a living river again — healthier fish runs, clean water, and the revival of a whole ecosystem.”
Tribal Lands and Restored Stewardship
For the Round Valley Indian Tribes and other Indigenous communities historically tied to the Eel, the project represents more than ecological restoration — it signals cultural renewal.
Any agreement would likely include compensation funds and formal tribal consultation on restoration planning. Harding and Collins both underscore the importance of Native guidance in shaping the post-dam landscape.
“The inundated lands are Native lands,” Harding notes. “Now, with the water gone, the Native communities can reclaim their connection to those places and their history.”
CalTrout’s Collins adds that Native leaders and fisheries scientists agree freeing the river offers the best hope for endangered summer steelhead, whose genetics persist only in isolated populations of rainbow trout high in the watershed. “Opening those spawning grounds could unlock a lost lineage,” he says.
A New Kind of Access
If all goes as planned, the upper Main Eel would emerge not as a motorboat reservoir but as a backcountry river defined by small gravel put-ins, primitive camps, and newly navigable kayak runs.
Harding envisions modest infrastructure. “We’re not talking marinas — more like a handful of access points that fit the landscape, places to reach the water’s edge, walk a kayak down a gravel ramp, and launch into the wild.”
In the short term, change will bring challenges. Sediment pulses, lower oxygen levels, and murky water could temporarily affect fish and recreation. But advocates argue the long view justifies the disruption.
“When the dust settles,” Hamann says, “you’ll have California’s longest free-flowing river — a place of restoration, discovery, and reconnection.”
Flowing Into the Future
In the years ahead, rafting trips like Harrison’s may trace entirely new routes — through once-flooded canyons of the Rice Fork, past freshly revealed boulder fields, and down tumbling waters below the former Scott Dam site.
“No dam is forever,” Harding says. “This is about giving the Eel River back its pulse.”
For now, the Main Fork remains a river in transition — wild, remote, and waiting. But if plans move forward, by the end of the decade the Eel could be reborn, flowing unimpeded through redwood country and reshaping one of California’s last great river systems.
***
Read More Industry News Here
