wind-powered gas line?

There was a funny moment today in the Capitol when a VP from Canadian pipeline builder TransCanada updated lawmakers on his company's proposed $26 billion natural gas pipeline from the North Slope to Alberta. Trying to demonstrate the small footprint of the pipeline's compressor stations, which pump gas down the line, the VP, Tony Palmer, compared the facilities to wind turbines -- a whole station would cover an area smaller than the spread between two turbines, he said, and the tallest building would be only one sixth as tall as a wind turbine. It seemed like an odd comparison. Palmer actually said something like, "So if you're familiar with wind turbines, . . ." which I imagine most Alaska lawmakers are not.
Once on the subject, Palmer took the opportunity to mention that TransCanada is building Canada's largest wind farm -- totaling 740 megawatts, or several hundred utility-scale turbines. This also seemed like an odd thing to note. Did Palmer think oil-state legislators would be impressed by the green-power project? Lawmakers did include a softly worded requirement in recent pipeline legislation requiring companies to say how they would handle future carbon regulation, but environmental concern is rare here.
Palmer went on with his presentation, and a little later, one of the committee members, Bryce Edgmon, returned to the turbines. Is TransCanada planning to put turbines in Alaska? he asked.
This really was an odd question. Lawmakers have studied this project for many months, and it's hard to imagine that something like using wind turbines to power a giant natural gas pipeline would simply slip past unnoticed.
But Palmer's response suggested the idea wasn't completely off base. TransCanada is planning to use natural gas to power the compressor stations, he said, but the company has used electricity on other pipelines, and has built power plants (burning natural gas) at some compressor stations.
"Will those be things that we look at?" Palmer asked himself. "Clearly they will be."
So maybe Edgmon is onto something.

dan moller

It's been another weekend of beautiful weather and marginal snow. I skied Saturday above the Dan Moller cabin, atop a ridge on Douglas Island with views down Seymour Canal and Stephens Passage. Tonight we're all hoping for snow. And no, that's not my dog.

mt troy

Well, the boots are out. I've been a little busy lately, but did get outside this weekend. On Saturday, I hiked up to the tram with my snowboard, although I didn't bother with the heavy, wet snow. On Sunday, I skinned up Mt. Troy with some folks and got in a few turns, despite crusty ice at the top and small ridges formed by runoff below that (shown here). With any luck, it's a temporary downturn in the skiing conditions. I can't complain about the sunny skies and T-shirt weather.

stuck in a cold place

I made it to Juneau.
I mention this because for a while there, I thought I might not. I left Fairbanks on Friday, a little later than planned, and promptly got stuck a few hours down the road in Tok, the place that was so cold last week it made national news. I’d stopped to send an e-mail and noticed smoke from under the hood. It was just getting dark. A woman stopped behind me – as people will do when it’s cold in Alaska – and offered to follow me into town. Later, when I ran over a rabbit and stopped again, we checked the oil, found none, and added a quart. It was windy, and you had to be careful with your fingers. The oil turned to molasses in the minute it took to pour it.
This woman and later her husband, longtime Tok residents, showed a kindness that went beyond helping the needy traveler and took me somewhat by surprise.
I followed the woman to her house, where her husband added some more oil. When I noted the cold, the husband explained that it had actually warmed up – it was only 62 degrees below zero, and had been 69 below a few nights before. We could see now that oil was splattered on both sides of the engine.
I spent the next 20 hours at Fast Eddy’s restaurant, the accompanying motel, and the towing and service shop across the highway. I once tried walking the half-mile to the gas station for a candy bar, but turned around when my nose started to tingle. The temperature never got above 39 below.
At first I considered pushing ahead, as the problem itself wasn’t that bad (there was oil in the engine, it just wasn’t showing on the dipstick) and would presumably resolve itself if I could just get out of this frigid cold.
But it wasn’t a good time or place to be driving an unreliable car. Even with bunny boots and down, 60 below would give you a chill fast. And the Yukon isn’t exactly populated. I remembered that awful Jack London story about the man whose life depends on his ability to start a fire in the cold, and I decided to get the car fixed.
The shop, Willard’s, gracefully fit me in to what was clearly a booked schedule – cars, tractor trailers, even a U-Haul were failing in the cold. My problem proved to be a frozen pressure control valve, which meant the truck basically just had to thaw out. The mechanic, short on sleep and with hands that looked like he’d given up on washing them, worked the ice out of various tubes and valves.
At Fast Eddy’s, where I must have drank a quart of coffee, everyone was talking about the weather – about the dog musher with the totally white nose, or the thermometer bottoming out at 65 below, or the pipes that froze in the school and flooded the computer room. I eyed humongous plates of food and watched the cars drive by out the window. I had already missed one ferry to Juneau and worried I would miss another.
When I finally got my truck back at 4:45 Saturday afternoon, I got in and drove. I reached Canada a few hours later, crossed Chilkat Pass around midnight, and drove back into the U.S. a little after 1 a.m. The snow was deep, the trees huge. And it was warm.