Protesters rally against Velvet-Wood uranium mine: ‘Don’t fast-track Utah into a wasteland’

As high-desert winds swept through under a late-morning sun, a small group gathered Saturday on public land east of Lisbon Valley to protest the reopening of the Velvet-Wood uranium mine — Utah’s first project approved under a federal fast-track process tied to a declared national energy emergency.

The protest drew about 20 people to a site just over four miles from the Velvet-Wood mine in San Juan County, which will produce both uranium and vanadium. Uranium can be processed into fuel for nuclear reactors, while vanadium is commonly used in steel alloys.

From that vantage point, attendees could see the rugged hills in the distance, with the mine sites tucked behind them. Wind whipped through handmade banners that read “Don’t fast-track Utah into a wasteland,” “Keep Shootaring Mill closed” and “Stop Velvet-Wood Uranium Mine.”

“This cannot be happening,” said Luis Miranda, one of the organizers. “We are fast-tracking ourselves into creating a wasteland in Utah out of this precious environment. Today, we’re gathered here because we need to do something about this.”

The Velvet‑Wood project, owned by Canadian company Anfield Energy Inc., was approved by the Bureau of Land Management in May — just 11 days after the Interior Department ordered the agency to complete an environmental review within 14 days. That directive came in the wake of a January executive order from President Donald Trump declaring a “national energy emergency,” which allowed federal agencies to shorten certain reviews from months or years to as little as two weeks.

Critics say the accelerated timeline bypasses meaningful environmental analysis and public input.

“This fast-tracked permitting is reckless, unjust and dangerous,” said Ava Curtis, an environmental justice coordinator with a New Mexico-based coalition focused on uranium mining impacts and one of the protest’s organizers. “There’s just no way to ensure safety in such a short amount of time.”

The protest was the first of two being held Saturday. After the Velvet-Wood gathering, some participants planned to caravan 180 miles along the proposed ore transport route to the dormant Shootaring Canyon Mill near Ticaboo, which Anfield also plans to reopen. The route crosses tribal lands, Bears Ears National Monument and the Colorado River — raising concerns about potential contamination from uranium-laden trucks.

“These projects enrich foreign investors while endangering U.S. communities and sacred lands,” the press release about the event stated. “Permitting uranium operations that impact sovereign tribal lands, water systems and national monuments without public or tribal consent is a violation of trust.”

The Velvet-Wood site, which produced about 400,000 tons of ore between 1979 and 1984 before shutting down, now contains more than 5 million pounds of uranium ore, according to Anfield. The company says reopening the mine will disturb only three additional acres. If the Shootaring Mill does not reopen, the White Mesa Mill near Blanding — owned by Energy Fuels — remains a possible site for processing.

While the Bureau of Land Management has approved the project’s environmental assessment, Anfield still needs multiple state and federal permits before mining can begin. The Utah Division of Oil, Gas and Mining must approve the mine plan; the Division of Water Quality must sign off on a pilot water treatment plan; and the Division of Air Quality must authorize construction and modification of ventilation shafts. The U.S. Mine Safety and Health Administration also must approve mine safety infrastructure, and the project may still require local land-use or utility permits.

Curtis said she’s particularly alarmed by Anfield’s plan to pump and treat more than 50 million gallons of water currently stored in the mine.

“There’s the concern about specific health impacts of this mine — how it affects the community and the water — but also the precedent this sets for future extraction of uranium and other critical minerals,” she said.

State and federal officials have embraced the project as part of Utah’s broader effort to become a leader in the domestic nuclear energy supply chain. The state’s energy strategy includes investments in small modular reactors, uranium enrichment and fuel-processing infrastructure. In May, Gov. Spencer Cox praised the Velvet-Wood mine as an example of “a faster, more efficient permitting process” that supports energy independence.

U.S. Sen. John Curtis called the mine “vital,” citing national security concerns and the need to reduce uranium imports from Russia and China.

Miranda said those arguments overlook the environmental and social costs.

“What I’m seeing is a lot of false solutions,” he said. “Multinational companies get contracts to build these things that come at a constant cost to ratepayers, when we have other forms of energy.”

Jessica Wiarda, a Hopi researcher working in Utah through a fellowship with the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance, said uranium extraction often parallels colonization.

“It’s like a poison,” she said, describing uranium’s visual similarity to corn pollen, a sacred substance in many Native cultures. “Instead of worshipping the corn, some people are worshipping the yellowcake instead.”

Uranium’s path from mine to reactor begins with ore extraction. The ore is then processed at a mill into a concentrated powder called yellowcake, which is converted into gas and enriched before being turned into fuel pellets used in nuclear reactors.

Several members of the White Mesa Community — a Ute Mountain Ute village south of Blanding — also attended the protest. Residents there have long opposed the nearby White Mesa Mill, the country’s only operational conventional uranium mill.

“Our lands that belong to us … look how beautiful it is out here,” said Yolanda Badback. “Digging holes in the ground and hurting our Mother Earth, it’s like hurting us. She hurts as well.”

Local residents helped coordinate the protest through Moab Mutual Aid.

“The land needs us,” said Rachel Gravens, representing Moab Mutual Aid. “It is not just empty space. It isn’t just used for extraction. It is sacred and we need to be here to speak up for it and protect it.”

For Miranda, Saturday’s gathering was one step in a larger campaign against the extractive industry on the Colorado Plateau.

“This fight did not begin last month or with the Trump administration,” he said. “This land was stolen centuries ago and continues to be colonized. We continue to destroy the only possibility of a future beyond climate catastrophe.”