Coverage of tribal natural resources is supported in part by Catena FoundationThe Interior Department has greenlit a Utah uranium mine in record time. A process that has typically taken years was finished within just 11 days.
It's known by the name Velvet-Wood, and the project's Canadian owner got the go-ahead back in May as the first to undergo an "accelerated," two-week environmental review, during which tribes had only seven days to reply.
This new timeline is a manifestation of President Donald Trump's agenda to expedite federal permitting for energy projects on public lands, especially in the West. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum called the Velvet-Wood announcement "a turning point in how we secure America's mineral future."
While the foreign mining company is celebrating this feat alongside the Trump administration, tribes and environmentalists say this "rushed" decision is merely a rubber stamp.
'Outrageous and indefensible'
Velvet-Wood sits within the Lisbon Valley in southeastern Utah.
Like many spots atop the sprawling Colorado Plateau, it's synonymous with mining. In 1892, copper was first discovered and uranium followed, being found a few decades later in 1913. Eventually, that way of life there ceased during the 1980s as mineral prices dropped worldwide.
The EPA is still even cleaning up that legacy in the Lisbon Valley. Now, it's silent and desolate. Dirt roads — some inaccessible — snake through the mountainous terrain dotted by trees and shrubs bordering the edge of Colorado.
This remote region roughly 30 minutes north of Monticello in San Juan County neighbors Bears Ears National Monument and is becoming the hub of the U.S. uranium renaissance.
It's a growing resurgence and opportunity that Canada's Anfield Energy, based in British Columbia, wants to tap into. But first, the federal government had to consult with tribes and gather their input — but with a much narrower window.
The Bureau of Land Management contacted 30 of them, including Arizona's Navajo Nation and Hopi Tribe. Only three of them commented: Colorado's Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, in addition to the pueblos of San Felipe and Pojoaque in New Mexico.
And letters obtained by KJZZ from the BLM detail how deeply disappointed tribes are, writing how could there be any meaningful consultation between them and the U.S. if they're only given seven days to respond?
Keely Yanito, program manager for the Ute Mountain Ute Tribal Historic Preservation Office, provided a lengthy response on Anfield's proposal. He asked about water and aquifers as well as where the uranium would be trucked to.
Tribal Historic Preservation Officer Fermin Lopez with the Pueblo of Pojoaque — north of Santa Fe — shared that his office "will not have the opportunity to review the project in its entirety nor provide any meaningful Indigenous consultation." He wrote "cultural heritage is at stake" when tribes, like his own, aren't given ample time.
The tone from Gov. Anthony Ortiz and Lt. Gov. James Tenorio from the Pueblo of San Felipe, north of Albuquerque, was defiant. They penned "unequivocal opposition" in response to this "deeply flawed decision."
Ortiz and Tenorio urged the Interior Department to "reverse course before irreparable harm is done — not only to the land, but to the federal government's standing with the Tribal Nations it is bound to protect."
"That this action is being justified as part of a national energy strategy while advancing the interests of a Canadian-owned mining company mining U.S. public lands royalty-free under the 1872 Mining Law is both outrageous and indefensible."
'Drill, baby drill'
"Drill, baby drill," said President Trump, declaring a national energy emergency in the Capitol Rotunda on his first day in office. "We will bring prices down, fill our strategic reserves up again, right to the top and export American energy all over the world."
That directive is giving this administration — focused on mining, fracking and fossil fuels — the legal latitude to effectively circumvent federal laws, like the National Historic Preservation Act and National Environmental Protection Act.
Some see Velvet-Wood as a guinea pig.
Anfield Energy CEO Corey Dias has not responded to several interview requests from KJZZ, but he made a pitch to investors on the promise of Velvet-Wood just days before news broke of the BLM's fast-tracked approval back in May.
"This is one of the core assets that we have within our portfolio," said Dias during the 2025 Metals & Mining Virtual Investor Conference. "There's historic production at the site of 4 million pounds uranium, 5 million pounds vanadium. We continue to work with the state of Utah to get the license upgraded from its standby status to operational."
While the feds approved the Velvet-Wood project in record time, Anfield still needs to obtain more permits from Utah, like ones for air and water quality. And it's unclear how many have been acquired by the Canadian mining company.
But according to a December inspection, the latest done by the Utah Division of Oil, Gas and Mining, a fence surrounding the surface entrance to an underground mine — called a portal — was not anchored or locked. "Not properly sealing the portal is a public safety concern and will need to be fixed" before the next inspection, reads the report.
Sarah Fields, program director of the Moab-based nonprofit Uranium Watch, suggests Anfield is leveraging the situation "to put out news releases and talk about this, and things are going ahead — great, great, great — so please invest in us." Once all is done, she bets underground mining may begin within the next two years.
Part of Anfield's plan is to also reopen its old facility, Shootaring Canyon.
The mill is north of the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area — roughly 180 miles away by road from Velvet-Wood — and could one day process up to 1,000 tons of uranium ore daily.
Dormant since 1982, Shootaring Canyon Mill is one of only three licensed conventional uranium mills nationwide. Of the two operational mills, one is in Wyoming and other sits in San Juan County.
The latter, commonly known as White Mesa, is owned by Anfield rival Energy Fuels and processes uranium ore trucked in from the Canadian company's Pinyon Plain mine near the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.
On Anfield's May investor call, Dias shared they're almost 20 times smaller than Energy Fuels but hopes to emulate them, seeking to gain more market share once Velvet-Wood goes online.
Dias is also setting sights on other uranium deposits throughout the Four Corners, explaining "we think that there's significant upside to investment in our company, given what we do have planned to get into production, vis-à-vis peers."
'It's an insult, it's designed for failure'
Keeping tabs on Velvet-Wood has been a tall order for staff attorney Aaron Paul with Grand Canyon Trust. He read through Anfield's entire proposal and commented to the BLM on the nonprofit's behalf.
"The mine plan was over 700 pages long," admitted Paul. "It's difficult for anybody to review quickly. There's no good reason to rush this permit and it's essentially a way to sidestep environmental review, truncate it and shorten it so much that it can't be meaningful."
Zuni Tribal Historic Preservation Officer Kurt Dongoske didn't even realize the BLM reached out. Tribes are inundated with requests to review proposals, like this very uranium mine, that could impact cultural and natural resources.
"I get a lot, and depending on the agency, I have to make a decision on whether it's worth the time and effort to respond," said Dongoske, "because oftentimes I will — with comments — and I never hear back from them."
Historically, on average, a company waits about 4 years for a federal permit to be issued. Both sides of the political aisle on Capitol Hill largely agree that reforms are much-needed.
Arizona's Democratic U.S. Sen. Mark Kelly along with Utah Republican Sen. John Curtis introduced a bill in March 2025 that would amend NEPA by mandating the Council on Environmental Quality to release an annual report documenting costs, timelines and delays stemming from such reviews.
This week, Trump touted "final sweeping reforms" meant to "unleash American energy." It comes after his White House Council on Environmental Quality rescinded regulations from the NEPA handbook to cut red tape and "modernize outdated and duplicative requirements."
The Interior Department claims it's "one of the most consequential permitting overhauls ever undertaken." University of Arizona law professor Justin Pidot believes Trump's so-called solution has gone too far.
"They're going full bore across a lot of domains," said Pidot, who is the Ashby Lohse Chair in Water and Natural Resources at the James E. Rogers College of Law, "at a speed that is breathtakingly fast, part of a flood-the-zone approach. It's clear they don't want to do it right."
Pidot was appointed general counsel for President Biden's Council on Environmental Quality. He also served as Deputy Solicitor for Land Resources during the Obama-era Interior Department and says this "streamlining" is making a mockery of the landmark Nixon-era law.
"It's an insult, it's designed for failure," added Pidot. "The idea that you could give a tribe seven days and feel like you are doing anything that is honoring the trust responsibility the United States has to tribes is laughable."
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