Don Quixote concluded that the giant who had cleverly morphed into a windmill in order to unhorse him was the work of an evil sorcerer. I wonder if the grotesque titanic claws defacing our Southwestern horizons are not similarly the product of some squalid hocus-pocus magically worked between policy-makers and private-sector sleazes as an idiot public gapes and applauds… or am I as insane as the Knight of La Mancha for asking so many questions?
Properly speaking, this bit of musing has little to do with Denver; but when you drive across West Texas and through Oklahoma or New Mexico into southeast Colorado, you see thousands of wind turbines (not hundreds—thousands). Therefore, turning (or not turning) blades have come to be associated in my mind with bronco country.
Besides that, the progressive lunacy justifying our plague of wind turbines has something distinctly Denveresque about it. So… here goes:
Why are wind turbines spread so far apart? Yesteryear’s clipper ship was able not only to pack sails one beside another on her masts, but also to create productive drafts from the proximity that channeled greater thrust into sheets farther forward. I would estimate that no turbine is within ten blades’ length of its neighbor. Why is this so—why do these monstrosities have to take up so much real estate? Is it a safety precaution? If the blades are likely to fly off and helicopter over that kind of space… aren’t they a menace to every nearby farmhouse?
Can blades be turned to draw most effectively on the day’s prevailing winds? If the wind backs from north to southwest (as it frequently does in these states at certain times of year), can the rig be rotated to tap the shift? I think the answer has to be “no ‘; for why, otherwise do so many blades stand utterly motionless on a given day? If turbines cannot be thus rotated to a new quadrant, then doesn’t that introduce immense inefficiency into the system? But if they can indeed be shifted (a confirmation which all of the gung-ho wind energy websites I viewed suspiciously evaded), then how much energy is consumed in the shift, and what proportion of the turbines’ daily yield does this gnaw away?
Why are some blades, once again, oriented differently from others in a large group if all turbines are not fixed inflexibly? If the issue of adjustment were ever to be addressed, I suppose the operation would have to be centralized; you couldn’t very well send out a crew to dither with each one in a forest of hundreds. I catch the malodorous scent of hidden cost once more. Either a centralized or a unit-by-unit adjustment would introduce astronomical expense.
And in the matter of centralization… if wind energy is such a great idea, then why cannot individual residences be equipped with half a dozen windmills on their roofs? We seem to be saturated with images of futuristic domiciles sporting solar panels… so why not spinning blades? Why is there no private enterprise addressing this market as there is for solar power? Why must the harvesting of wind be centralized? Such complications as wind variation could certainly be addressed much more promptly and thriftily on the micro- than the macro-level, at least when the individual consumer is putting money in his own pocket by being attentive.
And on the subject of blades… why blades? Why not sails, and why not a horizontal rather than a vertical mount? That is, what about a kind of double bicycle wheel with sails between its spokes and perched parallel to the ground on a great axle? Several wheels could actually be mounted up and down a single axle. This rig would turn whether the breeze was blowing north, south, east, or west. It would also be far less likely to interfere with avian traffic. Passing birds might be grabbed up in the revolving door and slightly accelerated in their flight plan, but they wouldn’t be guillotined by a mighty arm descending invisibly from nowhere. Who decided upon the present design?
Was it a band of engineers working for oil companies? Because our wind turbines, you know, are primarily constructed of petroleum products like epoxy. The popular assumption that their gargantuan fingers are clean of any association with black gold is the kind of canard which industry insiders and their bought-and-paid-for political shills find so easy to sell to the iPhone generation.
When we discover within the next ten years—as we surely shall—dramatically cheaper and more efficient ways to produce energy, what we will do with all of these tens of thousands of insolent middle fingers across our landscape? I suppose they’ll stand there giving the bird to our lichen-brained “green” voters for the next five or six centuries. Removing them will be unconscionably, prohibitively expensive. We’ll just have to let them sit and scoff at Don Quixote’s crumpled body. Even an EMP won’t make them budge.
All of us do stupid things every day. What so irritates me about wind turbines is their “emperor’s new clothes” quality (and, no, the iPhone generation will not recognize the folkloric reference). All of our progressive, morally superior, intellectually scintillant young people (picture David Hogg in a biking helmet and riding a skateboard) are “down” for turbines as soon as the words “wind” and “energy” are juxtaposed. I realize that many of my questions reflect a basic ignorance of the process: that’s why I’m asking them. I lack information. Maybe the emperor is wearing some kind of diaphanous space suit. I’m just remarking that, to me, he looks naked. At least I’m observing and asking—but our “savior generation” acquires less information on a subject that you could squeeze into a Tweet, then calls everyone who fails to march lockstep with them a Nazi or a mass-murderer.
Well… guess what, young Einsteins? You will have to live with the consequences of these choices a lot longer than I will—always barring an EMP. Google that.