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The Silurian Valley spared- but will it be conserved?

The Silurian Valley, a vast expanse of creosote scrub and sand dunes surrounded by rugged mountain ranges, has become a flashpoint in the debate about utility-scale solar in the California desert. Spanish energy giant Iberdrola proposed a massive solar facility in the Valley, which would have converted thousands of acres of this undeveloped desert basin into an industrial energy production zone. After months of waiting, the Bureau of Land Management Barstow Field Office denied Iberdrola’s application, stating that the potential impacts of the project to wildlife, historical resources, and recreational and scenic values, “likely could not be mitigated,” and ultimately deciding that, “the project would not be in the public interest.”

The Avawatz Mountains and Salt Creek as viewed from the recently denied solar project site.

Looking across the Silurian Valley. The Avawatz Mountains and Salt Creek as viewed from the recently denied solar project site.

BLM’s decision was bold, and perhaps a harbinger of a new paradigm in the permitting of such facilities in the California desert. The three extant utility-scale solar facilities constructed on Public Lands in the California desert, Ivanpah, Desert Sunlight, and Genesis, have proven to be the over-budget, under-performing, environmental catastrophes that many predicted five years ago. Rather than repeat the mistakes of the past, BLM has chosen to keep the Silurian Valley intact, preventing a similar disaster from unfolding on our Public Lands.

It is the reasons behind the decision that should give desert lovers the most hope. The Silurian Valley is not critical habitat for any particularly endangered species; it is not full of spectacularly unique natural features like one might find at a Yosemite or a Joshua Tree; indeed, most people had never heard of the Silurian Valley before the solar proposal gained national prominence. Instead, BLM recognized the landscape values inherent in the Silurian Valley, listing amongst its reasons for rejecting the application the “undisturbed” nature of the area. There are some places that should simply be left as they are: open, undeveloped, largely governed by non-human ecosystem processes.

Salt Creek Springs, a rare and precious water resource in the Silurian Valley which could have been impacted by the proposed solar development.

Salt Creek Springs, a rare and precious water resource in the Silurian Valley which could have been impacted by the proposed solar development.

The Silurian Valley is a part of the Amargosa River Watershed, and these undisturbed areas are also key to the local economy in the Amargosa Region. Since the decline of the mining industry in the area, tourism has come to define economic opportunity here. Tourists come for the wide open views, to experience the surreal sense of distance and scale that comes from traversing an enormous valley like the Silurian. The industrialization of these areas would mean doom for the economy of the Amargosa Basin: who wants to go on a long road trip to visit an industrialized energy production zone?

The sparing of the Silurian Valley also presents us with an opportunity. A key portion of the DRECP is the designation of National Conservation Lands, fulfilling a mandate first established in the 1976 Federal Lands Policy and Management Act. FLPMA designated the California Desert Conservation Area, but left specific designation of conservation lands for some time in the future. That time is now.

The Silurian Valley, with Dumont Dunes and the Ibex Hills in the distance. Lands worth of perpetual conservation.

The Silurian Valley, with Dumont Dunes and the Ibex Hills in the distance. Lands worth of perpetual conservation.

BLM has recognized the Silurian Valley as an inappropriate place for industrial development. The next step is to designate the Valley as National Conservation Land, and then manage that land for conservation purposes. There has been much rancor over the proposed National Conservation Lands included in the DRECP, and many questions as to their management and the durability of such a designation. These questions are valid, and the conservation community needs to push the REAT to ensure that the final DRECP has strong protections for lands so designated. But right now, in the DRECP, is the first step toward perpetual protection for the Silurian Valley and other wild lands like it in the California desert.

Saharan Solar, Part 1: A Wild-Eyed Vision

American readers of this blog will have noted that the rush to build utility-scale solar facilities is not confined to the desert Southwest, but has become a global phenomenon, as exemplified by the Spanish experience.  As Abengoa and BrightSource have proven these facilities can be constructed in the developed world, there has been an emerging interest in pushing for them in the developing world, as well.

The Trans-Mediterranean Vision

Enter: DESERTEC.  A wild-eyed, and possibly insane, dream of well-meaning industrialists from Germany, it proposed to finance a series of utility-scale solar and wind facilities across the Maghreb, and in particular the northern reaches of the Sahara.  They would then construct sub-Mediterranean power connections to EU countries, providing them with “cheap”, “abundant”, “renewable” energy.  Take a look at the map below.

DESERTEC's initial plan. Nothing like that upbeat, can-do German attitude.

DESERTEC’s initial plan. Nothing like that upbeat, can-do German attitude.

It was madness.  Conceived in 2009, when it appeared that the economic crisis might be behind us, it had a proposed price tag of €400 billion.  One more time, that’s FOUR HUNDRED BILLION EUROS (about $550 billion at 2009 exchange rates).  While that’s a staggering amount of money in any context, imagine it in terms of European economies: it’s equivalent to the entire GDP of Belgium.  Incidentally, it’s about the same amount as Europe spent on oil imports in 2012.

Initially this project it was conceived by the Trans-Mediterranean Renewable Energy Cooperation, which emerged as a joint venture by the Club of Rome (a high-profile European think-tank that has inspired truly insane Illuminati comparisons) and Prince Hassan bin Talal of Jordan.  They then incorporated into the non-profit DESERTEC Foundation, which functions as both a think-tank and clearing-house, bringing together renewable energy research arms of Maghreb governments, such as Morocco’s CDER (Centre de Développement des Energies Renouvelables, possibly now defunct based on the ancient website), and University researchers from around Europe.

Dii's Investors, from

Dii’s Investors, from

Realizing that a non-profit alone couldn’t push through a project this big, the DESERTEC Foundation then participated in the forming of Dii (which ostensibly stands for the DESERTEC Industrial Initiative, though they rarely come out and say it), a limited liability German corporation which was to promote the project more directly through investment.  The companies involved in Dii are a veritable Who’s Who of European finance and energy, both private and public, including Deutsche Bank, Abengoa, First Solar, Terna (the Italian energy giant), the Spanish Red Eléctrica (which operates the national grid); hell even oil companies like Royal Dutch Shell got in on the action.

However, as the financial crisis persisted, investing in hyper-sized energy projects began to seem like a suspect idea.  Last year, the German tech giants Bosch and Siemens, who both have been instrumental in many solar projects both in Europe and the U.S., withdrew from Dii.

The other shoe finally dropped last week, when, in rather dramatic fashion, the DESERTEC Foundation withdrew from Dii altogether, citing “communication issues” (hat tip to Chris Clarke).  DESERTEC co-founder Thiemo Gropp cited Dii’s abandonment of the trans-Mediterranean transmisison element as the primary reason.  As to the loss of the huge corporate backing for DESERTEC, Gropp said that, “They are big names but they have produced small results.”  Pretty tough words to be hurling at some of biggest names in renewable energy in Europe.  Dii predictably  has fought back, essentially calling DESERTEC irrelevant.  But there is some validity to what Gropp says, as Dii has slowly backed down from the initial DESERTEC vision, as the economic situation has grown more and more perilous.  (I’ll have more on the dissolution of DESERTEC in a different post)

Morocco Goes It Alone (with a little help from their friends…)

European political wrangling aside, there is still a market for clean energy in developing countries, particularly with financial incentives such as Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) available.  That link goes to a pretty thorough explanation of CDM, but the basic principle, established in the Kyoto Protocol, is that rich countries can invest in “clean development” projects in poor countries, and earn tradable carbon credits which can be applied to carbon markets.  Since Europe has a functional carbon credit trading market, European governments and countries were quick to move in the face of DESERTEC intransigence.

A sign along the highway at the site for the Ouarzazate CSP complex.

A sign along the highway at the site for the Ouarzazate CSP complex.

MASEN, the Moroccan Agency for Solar Energy, was more than happy to facilitate.  Thus was born the Ouarzazate CSP Project, a 500MW parabolic trough solar plant to be constructed just outside the desert city of Ouarzazate, Morocco.  The project is funded by a dizzying array of entities, including the World Bank, the African Development Bank, the EU itself, the European Investment Bank (the EU’s central bank), the German government, and the French government.  The project is owned by ACWA Power, a Saudi water and energy conglomerate backed by Saudi government money.  It will be executed by Acciona and SENER, two Spanish civil engineering firms which have been heavily involved in European utility-scale solar and wind projects, as well as Grupo TSK, a Spanish photovoltaic developer.

Not intending to be flip, it’s a bit surprising that Morocco actually has a fairly rigorous set of environmental review laws in place.  That, combined with money flowing from the World Bank and African Development Bank, and relatively strict CDM regulations, mean that the Ouarzazate plant has had a relatively thorough environmental review process.  The complete set of documents can be viewed here, but I’ll spare you the trouble, and review the particulars of the Ouarzazate CSP facility in the next post in this series.  You can also check out the Ouarzazate CDM certification here.

It should be noted that the CDM has drawn lots of fire, for enabling rich countries to continue polluting, while getting carbon credits on the cheap.  While Germany is funding this 500MW worth of solar in Morocco, with a total price tag of $2.65 billion, it is also adding a whopping 5,300MW of new coal-fired power plants in 2013.  After Fukushima, a reactionary German public decided they weren’t in favor of nuclear power after all, and decided to close all 17 nuclear reactors in the nation, which represented 22.4% of demand at the time.  While German deployment of solar, particularly on rooftops, is admirable, it’s just not a very sunny place.  And since DESERTEC’s ambitious plans for shipping solar energy across the Mediterranean appear to be twisting in the wind, countries like Germany apparently have little choice but to add more dirty coal to their energy mix.

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To Grade or Not to Grade…

Amongst the many site-based impacts of utility-scale solar facilities is the amount of terrain required to be graded, and how severe such grading needs to be.  The classic solar facilities like those seen at Kramer Junction, California, required a completely clean scrape- grading the entire site to a 0% grade, rendering it essentially a parking lot without the asphalt.  Newer facilities such as the infamous Ivanpah* SEGS purport to be an alternative, a kinder, gentler utility-scale solar facility, with far less grading than earlier designs.  But does it matter?

For our brief analysis here, we’ll take a look at three different facilities, employing three different technologies (all links go to BLM’s Environmental Impact Statement [EIS] pages): the Genesis Solar Energy Project, the Ivanpah Solar Electric Generating System, and the Desert Sunlight Solar Farm.  Genesis employs parabolic trough technology, the infamous Ivanpah (OK, I’m done for this post) utilizes concentrating power tower technology, and Desert Sunlight is a photovoltaic plant.

Parabolic troughs at Plataforma Solúcar in Sevilla province, Spain

Parabolic troughs at Plataforma Solúcar in Sevilla province, Spain

Genesis Solar Energy Project

Genesis, a 250MW nameplate capacity facility sited on 1,950 acres of Public Land, is certainly the most heavy-handed of the three when it comes to grading.  Parabolic troughs, by the very nature of their technology, require extremely flat land.  They concentrate sunlight in trough-shaped mirrors, focusing on a central clear glass tube which is full of a thermal transfer medium, usually oil.  This medium is then brought to a conventional heat engine, where (as with almost every other form of energy production known to man, except wind and photovoltaics) it is used to heat water, which boils into steam, which spins a turbine, thus generating electricity.  The length of the troughs and tubes, and their rather sensitive alignment, means that almost perfectly flat ground is required for the facilities.

Water diversion scheme for Genesis Solar Power Project, as depicted in the EIS.

Water diversion scheme for Genesis Solar Power Project, as depicted in the EIS.

Genesis, built in the Chuckwalla Valley outside of Desert Center, CA, required substantial alteration of local hydrology.  The entire 1,950 acre site was graded, resulting in 1,000,000 cubic yards of earth being moved, and substantially altering the function of 90 acres of ephemeral washes (90 acres of washes means literally hundreds or maybe even thousands of washes, given their linear nature and low acreage).  Water from all washes crossing the site was diverted in massive engineered drainage channels, which  send the water across the site and downslope in concentrated waterways. This causes downstream peak flow rates to increase dramatically, in some cases by as much as 300%, which increases downslope erosion, and potentially will “dry out” certain areas that are no longer receiving sheet flow. In order to attempt to slow down outgoing storm water, NextEra proposed to utilize hydraulic energy dissapators and downstream riprap splash pads. BLM and CEC were skeptical enough of the success of this plan that they required ongoing downstream monitoring for erosion and altered sediment loads, and revision of mitigation plans as needed.

CEC photos of the aftermath of the Genesis flood (courtesy of Basin and Range Watch)

CEC photos of the aftermath of the Genesis flood (courtesy of Basin and Range Watch)

There is some irony in the amount of time and effort spent discussing storm water diversion on this site in the EIS, given what happened in Summer of 2012. A powerful desert rainstorm, certainly not uncommon in the area, dropped 3.5” of water on the site in less than six hours, causing a massive flash flood. The project, which was still under construction at the time, experienced about $5 million in damages, as flood waters raced across the actual project site, breeching the flood channels and destroying solar panels. Afterwards, it was found that the channels silted up to the point where they could not accept water, hence the breech. According to NextEra, the channels and other flood control structures were not completely finished in their construction. But it was certainly a potent reminder that the desert’s hydrological patterns cannot be easily altered.

Ivanpah Solar Electric Generating System

An example of a concentrating solar power tower facility, Gemasolar, Sevilla province, Spain

An example of a concentrating solar power tower facility, Gemasolar, Sevilla province, Spain

More has been written about Ivanpah than I really care to reiterate here, so I’ll just give you a few links.  It is a concentrating solar power tower facility, wherein sunlight is reflected from dispersed heliostats (mirrors on modular bases) to a central, tall tower, which contains a steam engine generating power just like at Genesis.

Ivanpah’s unique design means that its footprint is substantially different than that of Genesis.  The heliostats’ sole function is to focus sunlight on the power tower, tracking the sun throughout the day to maximize the amount of reflected light.  Given that there are 214,000 heliostats, each individual heliostat is relatively unimportant to the overall project. As such, rather than grading off the entire 3,500 acre area which is covered by heliostats, BrightSource is generally maintaining the hydrographic profile of the area underneath the heliostats, grading and diverting water only around the power blocks, which is where the power towers are located.  Grading would result in the moving of about 250,000 cubic yards of fill, or one quarter as much as Genesis, spread over an area two times as large, which yields, by this particular measurement, a grading intensity one eighth as much as that of Genesis.  Additionally, however, there were concentring rings of heliostat access roads graded, adding somewhat to the hydrological impacts of the project.

Detail of the heliostat access roads in concentric circles at Ivanpah.  Photo courtesy Jamey Stillings.

Detail of the heliostat access roads in concentric circles at Ivanpah. Photo courtesy Jamey Stillings.

In the plans for reduced grading, BrightSource purports to adhere to the principles of Low Impact Design (LID).  LID is a set of principles intended to guide development such that it minimizes its impact on water resources, for instance by promoting natural flow regimes, by promoting groundwater recharge, and other virtuous impacts.  And indeed, compared to a wholesale grading of all 3,500 acres, they have minimized the impact of their design.  But the CEC/BLM staff who prepared the EIS are skeptical of the project’s success in this regard: “Even with these LID methods employed, project development would likely have effects that result in reduced storm water infiltration and increased runoff,”.  And indeed, the EIS reveals substantial changes to the hydrology during peak flow events: a 10-year storm event would see a 3% increase in peak flow volume after construction, with a 16% increase in maximum water velocity; while a 100-year storm event would see a 4.5% increase in peak flow volume, with a very significant 44% increase in maximum water velocity.

Desert Sunlight Solar Farm

Desert Sunlight is a 550MW nameplate capacity photovoltaic plant, sited on 4,144 acres of Public Lands, also in the Chuckwalla Valley, in the same vicinity as Solar Genesis.  Photovoltaics, not requiring a heat transfer medium or other centralized energy production facilities, are much more flexible in their deployment.  They can be mounted on steep rooftops, undulating terrain, or even insanely steep slopes.  As a result, Desert Sunlight utilized what might be referred to as a selective grading system.

Grading schematic for Desert Sunlight, from the EIS. Blue shaded areas outlined in dark solid black are Type 1; those outlined in red are Type 2; and the remainder of the area within the hashed-line project boundary is Type 3. Areas outlined in green are proposed stormwater retention basins.

Grading schematic for Desert Sunlight, from the EIS. Blue shaded areas outlined in dark solid black are Type 1; those outlined in red are Type 2; and the remainder of the area within the hashed-line project boundary is Type 3. Areas outlined in green are proposed stormwater retention basins.

Type 1 grading, traditional cut-and-fill leveling off of the ground, occurred on 31% of the site.  They claim that they are using an “isolated cut/fill and roll” grading method (Type 2), which they also refer to as “micrograding,” on about 9% of the site; these areas retain their basic hydrographic form.  And on the remainder of the site, they used a novel type of grading they call “disc and roll,” (Type 3) wherein conventional farming equipment is used to mulch vegetation and compact the mulch and churned up soils into a uniformly flat surface.  These non-conventional grading plans mean that they reduced their cut-and-fill amount from 1,350,000 cubic yards to 755,000 cubic yards, an almost 45% reduction.  (It should be noted that some amount of searching reveals no previous instances of “disc and roll” grading in any previous environmental review documents for any project of any kind; nor is there any mention of this sort of grading via google searches.)

The exact relationship between these “lighter impact” grading techniques and the flow of water across the project site is unclear from the EIS.  The majority of the heavy Type 1 grading occurs at the northwest corner of the project site, the upslope side, where a number of ephemeral washes come into the site.  These washes actually flow through the site, but a series of retention basins is to be built in various locations across the site, to slow down incoming water and reduce flow volumes and speeds.  However, behind those retention basins lies the area most heavily graded, which is meant to only support sheet flow, not concentrated flow as occurs in a wash.  Downslope from this area is the portion of the site that is lightly graded, where presumably the natural drainage structure will remain intact.  The question then, is will the retention basins be enough to stop water from concentrating in the washes which flow across the site?  The modeling in the EIS shows nominal increases to peak flow volume and velocity, less than was revealed in the Ivanpah EIS.  But, as was revealed in the Genesis flood, the desert can behave in unexpected ways.  Additionally, the analysis as to adverse impacts to downstream riparian communities is far less rigorous in the Desert Sunlight EIS, as they seem to anticipate no downstream impacts.  This seems highly unlikely, given the still significant alteration of flow regimes that the Desert Sunlight grading plan entails.

The Real Question

In my mind, the real question is: so what?  I’ve been analyzing EIS’s like those referenced above for months, trying to determine if there is a significant difference in the level of on-the-ground impacts between them.  Sure, Genesis is a completely clean scrape, leaving nothing of the native flora or fauna or habitat intact.  But is Ivanpah any better?  Is it any better to leave the bottom 18″ of plants on the ground, in a vain attempt to maintain current hydrological flow patterns?  Or is that simply paying lip service to maintaining ecological function in a site that will be horrifically degraded for centuries to come?  Will Desert Sunlight’s “selective grading” yield a site that is better able to recover in fifty years, when those photovoltaic panels are so pathetically obsolete that they aren’t even worth recovering for scrap?  I’m not even really sure how to answer this question yet (I’m just not there yet in my research).  I’ve heard opinions that Ivanpah might have a substantially smaller long-term ecological footprint, as compared with a clean scrape like Genesis.  I’ve also heard opinions that it’s really not even worth examining if one is “less bad” than another, in terms of impact, because ultimately it’s like comparing a gut shot to a head shot- they’ll both kill you.  So, in parting, I’ll leave you with a video posted by this blog’s illustrious host, Chris Clarke.  It shows Ivanpah’s “light on the land” grading in action.

*I’ve decided that from now on, I’ll always refer to Ivanpah as infamous.  Or perhaps ignominious.

On visual impacts, landscape, and NIMBYism

Please note: all links heretofore on this blog will go to English language pages unless otherwise identified.  Inconsistency with that might have been a pain in the butt in previous posts.

The Iberian Peninsula.  Notable are the Sierra de Cádiz, encircled here, and the long white Valle de Guadalquivir, just to the north.

The Iberian Peninsula. Notable are the Sierra de Cádiz, encircled here, and the long white Valle de Guadalquivir, just to the north.

I’d spent much of the past week meeting with and discussing utility-scale solar siting policy.  I was ready for a break.  Someone I’d been talking with recommended that I check out the Parque Natural de Sierra Grazalema, so I did.  The park, which has a lower level of protection than a Parque Nacional, but higher than plain old public land (what of it exists), consists of a series of serrated limestone ridges.  Located in the heart of the Sierra de Cádiz, it is the wettest place on the entire Iberian peninsula, because of storms coming in off the Atlantic.  You can see why in the picture here, where I’ve expertly encircled them in Microsoft Paint.  The are the first and only elevated area that storms in the Gulf of Cádiz will hit, thus dumping an entire ocean’s crossing worth of moisture.

As you can see in this kind of junky map from the booster-ish group Protermosolar, much solar thermal development has been focused in the Guadalquivir Valley.

As you can see in this kind of junky map from the booster-ish group Protermosolar, much solar thermal development has been focused in the Guadalquivir Valley.

Also notable is the Valle de Guadalquivir, the long northeast to southwest trending white area, just to the north of the Sierra de Cádiz.  It is the area with the highest, most consistent solar insolation in all of Spain; as viewable in many solar insolation maps, the boundary of the area of highest insolation tracks directly the northern boundary of the Guadalquivir Valley.  And indeed, it is where the most active deployment of solar, particularly thermal solar, has been.

Anyway, after a week of meetings and plant visits, I really needed to partake in some activity that wasn’t related to utility-scale solar.  So I headed up to the Sierra Grazalema to play around in the mountains.  After taking off up a limestone ridge, I found myself standing on the summit of the peak Simancón, which at 1569m (5020′) is amongst the higher peaks in the Sierra de Cádiz.  I took in the view, and as I’m wont to do, began identifying features in the distance.  When low and behold, what did I see, but…


I knew it before I even knew it.  It’s the Valle Thermosolar Plant, a 100MW parabolic trough plant located outside of San José del Valle in the Cádiz Province of Andalucía.  It’s owned by Torresol Energy, who in turn is majority owned by Masdar a/k/a the Abu Dhabi Future Energy Company, which is a subsidiary of the Mubadala Development Company, the official investment vehicle of the government of Abu Dhabi, in the United Arab Emirates.  And where does their money come from?  Americans buying their oil.  Yes, that’s right oil profits finding their way around the world to install utility-scale solar plants in the hinterland of southern Spain.

Valle Solar as seen from the summit of Simancón.

Valle Solar as seen from the summit of Simancón.

I was just shocked.  According to google maps, I was 25 miles (40 km) away by line of sight from Valle Termosolar.  And yet, there it was, and since the sun was directly behind me with respect to the plant, it actually was shimmering in the distance.  Check out this video (sorry- embedding doesn’t seem to work here) to see it a bit better.

[youtube 6cOv3BgP0Zk]


Now, I’m no NIMBY-ist.  And, in fact, NIMBY-ism has gotten a really bad name.  With regards to renewable energy, Cape Wind is certainly the most prominent case of NIMBY-ism in American history, featuring the politically powerful Kennedy family not wanting their views from the compound in Hyannis Port destroyed by wind turbines visible in the distance.  As a result, NIMBY-ism is now politically impalatable to the point where arguments are rarely made about visual impacts of projects in America.

In Europe, however, things are different.  NIMBYs still hold lots of sway in British energy politics.  In Spain, there has been a large academic focus on conceptions of landscape, and how landscape planning and integrity are compromised by the dispersion of solar energy developments.  Profesora Maria José Prados (enlase en Español), of the Universidad de Sevilla, has written extensively on this topic, including a prominent article in the highly influential journal Energy Policy, which somebody may have posted a PDF of here, and which that same somebody would highly recommend you reading if you’re interested in understanding the utility-scale solar scene in Spain.

I’m planning on writing a whole post about Spanish academics’ work on landscape integrity and renewable energy, but it is worth noting that it is a variation on the NIMBY argument- their issue with the way that utility-scale solar has been deployed is that it has been in an unplanned fashion, causing dispersed impacts on the landscape, which then shapes how people view the landscape around them, and perhaps how they treat it.  This PDF of a power point (in English), from Doctora Marina Frolova at the Universidad de Granada, gives another good look at what Spanish academics refer to as “landscape” integrity.

Americans might scoff at such NIMBY sounding concerns.  And yet, with some degree of fanfare, film director Robert Lundahl debuted his anticipated documentary “Who Are My People?”, a film which explores the conflict between Native Americans in the California desert and large-scale renewables, which they say are destroying their culture.  And most Americans probably wouldn’t dispute that Native Americans have a valid position to take regarding the desecration of land that is holy to them.  And yet, isn’t this another form of NIMBY?

My point is, in denegrating the concerns of the British or the Kennedys as “just NIMBY-ism”, but exalting the arguments of Native Americans as a valid concern for their spiritual birthright, we are both valorizing and essentializing Native Americans and their connection to the earth, while implying that Western Culture has no legitimate claim to a spiritual connection with place.  This is exactly what the Spanish are getting at- landscape concerns aren’t NIMBY-ism, they are about a Spanish territorial identity- an identity forged of a relationship to the land, dating back millenia, which is being rapidly changed by renewable energy deployment.  And perhaps, in their own crude, privileged, gauche way, this is what the Kennedys are getting at: that they have a spiritual or otherwise important psychological connection to the views from Hyannis Port, and that wind mills in the distance are a legitimate concern of theirs.

Standing at the top of Simancón, I reacted to the sight of a utility-scale solar plant the same way I reacted upon seeing the Mojave Generating Station from the top of the Dead Mountains in the California Desert, or upon seeing the extensive oil fields of the Pinedale Anticline from the top of the Wind River Mountains- concern for the local environment, and yes, some degree of personal dissatisfaction at having what is, for me, a spiritual experience of viewing a landscape from on high, impeded by an industrialized landscape.  I’m not using this post to take a stand in favor of NIMBY-ism, but what I am doing is asking people to reconsider why the knee-jerk reaction is to consider NIMBY an invalid argument.  We humans are a part of the landscape, and if we consider something to have negative impacts to that landscape, simply from an aesthetic point of view, isn’t that an argument worth considering?

I’ll be exploring this topic more this summer, but… please feel free to leave your thoughts below!

Hear That?

Before last summer, I had never actually stood in front of a utility-scale solar thermal plant.  We simply didn’t have any (at the time) that had finished being constructed yet in California!  While photovoltaic (PV) utility-scale solar facilities are, by their very nature, quiet, solar thermal facilities are a different story.  All solar thermal, be it parabolic trough, power tower, or even the mythical Stirling engine, operate on the same basic principle as every conventional power plant humanity has ever designed: heat up a liquid to its boiling point, and use the steam generated to spin a turbine.  Which leaves us with either billowing clouds of steam (not very efficient) or re-condensed and extremely hot liquid, requiring some form of cooling, typically in the form of what are essentially giant air conditioners.

Thus, a utility-scale solar thermal plant is actually extremely noisy!  Listen to this brief video from the Solnova Parabolic Trough facility, part of the Plataforma Solúcar, owned by Abengoa, near Sanlucar la Mayor, Andalucía, Spain (map link).  The whine could be heard from over a kilometer away.

(If the embedded video isn’t working, click here)