Aspiring amateur agrarian, Ben speculates that his engineering friends who dream of becoming farmers may be engaging in “subconscious rebellion against the rampant specialization of modern life.”

I think he’s right, but for me, it’s not subconscious.

An old friend of mine, who worked as a farmer in Maine, once quoted Emerson to me to explain his motivation. He wrote, “When people ask me why I work on a farm, the best answer I can give is that once I read Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay entitled, “Man The Reformer” and I found it to be so compelling, so resonant, that I could not ignore it.”

He then quoted from the passage below:

“But the doctrine of the Farm is merely this, that every man ought to stand in primary relations with the work of the world, ought to do it himself, and not to suffer the accident of his having a purse in his pocket, or his having been bred to some dishonorable and injurious craft, to sever him from those duties; and for this reason, that labor is God’s education; that he only is a sincere learner, he only can become a master, who learns the secrets of labor, and who by real cunning extorts from nature its sceptre.”

While I don’t find Emerson’s claim compelling enough to move to the sticks and plant an apple orchard, I do feel compelled to resist the specialization of labor, to the extent that I know how. As my friend Alex once pointed out, none of us are pure– “What are you going to do, smelt your own metal?” All the same, I try to reduce the distance between me and the work done on my behalf in the world.

It’s a curious bind. As an engineer, I’m at the extreme end of specialization, but I’d much rather spend the afternoon repairing a friend’s bureau than working for higher wages that I might pay to a carpenter to repair the bureau.

I had a friend’s mill in my garage for a while a few years ago. I didn’t use it very much, but I spent a fair bit of time doing maintenance on it– rewiring the switchbox to make it a bit neater, replacing some of the crappier fasteners with stainless socket head cap screws, and so forth. I’ll be the first to admit that that sort of behavior is pathological.

Still, taking care of the mill gave me a satisfaction that I’ve found hard to duplicate, despite my work as an engineer. Typically, the manufacture of stuff I design, and hence the care of tools, is performed by machinists, who will work for a lower wage than I do.

I suspect that a good deal of my desire to inject myself into the workings of machines is genetic. My dad, for example, mentioned to me a while back that in the 70’s he wrote a FFT subroutine in machine code (not assembly– he was typing raw hex). It makes me polishing the old mill look rational.

When I was a kid, I remember my grandfather finding a toy van in the garbage on the way to the beach. He replaced the floor in the van and repainted it, and my brother and I got to play with it whenever we came to visit. At the time, I was delighted. Looking back now, doing automotive maintenance on a vehicle too small to drive seems odd.

Regarding specialization, Wendell Berry wrote in 1977 in The Unsettling of America:

The disease of the modern character is specialization. Looked at from the standpoint of the social system, the aim of specialization may seem desirable enough. The aim is to see that the responsibilities of government, law, medicine, engineering, agriculture, education, etc., are given into the hands of the most skilled, best prepared people. . . . The first, and best known, hazard of the specialist system is that it produces specialists - people who are elaborately and expensively trained to do one thing. We get into absurdity very quickly here. There are, for instance, educators who have nothing to teach, communicators who have nothing to say, medical doctors skilled at expensive cures for diseases that they have no skill, and no interest, in preventing. More common, and more damaging, are the inventors, manufacturers, and salesmen of devices who have no concern for the possible effects of those devices. Specialization is thus seen to be a way of institutionalizing, justifying, and paying highly for a calamitous disintegration and scattering-out of the various functions of character: workmanship, care, conscience, responsibility.

The disintegration of workmanship, care, conscience, and responsibility is what drives me to resist the deepening of specialization. I want to avoid the conclusion that stuff should be left to “the experts.” No need to fix your toilet, a plumber will do that. No need to drag your trash to the curb, the condo manager’s henchman will do that. No need roust your corpulent form from its slumber, your mechanized exoskeleton will do that.

This next paragraph is a bit of tangent, but it’s a good story and a metaphor as well. My experience has been that you can achieve more than you might expect through severe effort. Around 1998, Oliver, Alex, and I were trying to move a very heavy, slate-topped lab bench from a quonset hut across some dirt and weeds into a workshop. We tried moving the table, and only managed to move it a few inches on the first attempt. Oliver and I started talking about going to get a furniture cart, or a dolly, or maybe a sled of some sort. Alex broke in and said, something like, “We’re not getting a cart. Just push harder. Come on. Push.” This effort was successful and taught me a good lesson about the use of force.

I’ve found repeatedly that my overly-specialized contemporaries generally assume that anything more difficult than lifting a coffee pot should be left to professionals. A few weeks ago, I was helping my parents clean some junk out their basement when we came across the trestle built from 1×3’s from an old worktable that would make good fodder for our woodstove. My mom made a comment about needing some tools to disassemble the trestle. I was able to wrench it apart in less than 30 seconds.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve discovered a lost secret. “No, really, you can sharpen knives by hand with a stone.” “No, really, you can make your own Ethernet cable that’s as long as you want. You just crimp the wires like this.”

The feeling of doing good work yourself is surprisingly liberating, and a little sample breeds a taste for more. After a little while, you’re in danger of attempting to reject industrial society entirely. As Wendell Berry writes at the conclusion of his 1993 essay, The Joy of Sales Resistance, “When the inevitable saleswoman comes to tell me that I cannot be up-to-date, or intelligent, or creative, or handsome, or young, or eligible for the sexual favors of so fair a creature as herself unless I buy these products, dear reader, I am not going to do it.”

Oh, also: I paid $4.20 for a gallon of diesel this week.

“Ultimately, my goal is to work at a small engineering company developing alternative transportation technology– projects like the solar car, but more practical.”

That was the first sentence of the second paragraph my graduate school application essay, submitted July 27, 1999.

7 years and 1 month later (August 27, 2006), I started working at GreenMountain Engineering. It took another 5 months before I was actually working on an alternative transportation project (a battery pack for a hybrid bus). I developed the goal a year or two before applying to graduate school. In total, it was a few months less than 10 years ago that I decided I wanted to do more or less what I’m doing now.

Maybe engineering is easier than programming.

Ten years from now? I hope that some of my efforts will have been successful. I hope it won’t be normal for my fellow Americans to drive cars with an average fuel economy of less than 30 miles per gallon, and I hope that some of our 140 servants will have been replaced with renewable sources of energy.

A more modest hope, given the hullabaloo on Wall Street this week, is that I’m not compelled to load up on handtools and firearms and head to the tropics before the Hard Times arrive.

Gotta focus on “losing the apocalyptic mindset,” in the words of a friend . . .

Hard times evangelist Ben Polito asked an interesting question on his blog a week ago: “Why is it that even people who care about [global warming and oil supply issues] don’t actually make relatively simple choices that could significantly reduce their impact?”

I’ve wondered about this myself. Our behavior is complex, but I think the answer is that we are accustomed to the idea that environmental problems can be solved by marginal changes. There are two ideas here– that our behavior is guided by our expectations of what sorts of behavior are customary, and that marginal changes can solve big problems.

Our yard is an example of the first idea. We live near the corner of two streets with a decent amount of pedestrian traffic and near a convenience store. The result is that trash is thrown in our yard at a rate of a few liters per month. There are two trashcans near the convenience store (and I don’t really know that the trash comes from the patrons of the convenience store), but people definitely throw trash over the fence into the bushes in our yard on a daily basis.

Mysteriously, of the thousands of hours I have spent walking around neighborhoods with other people, I have never– seriously, never– seen one of my friends throw trash in anyone’s yard, and I have never done so myself. I suspect that I live in a culture where littering is unacceptable, but I live in a city where a decent fraction of the population lives in a culture where littering is normal. It’s not that I think about throwing trash on the street every day but decide not to– I don’t even think of it.

To bring it back to climate change: I suspect that most people, even those who care about climate change, don’t think carefully about their levels of energy consumption. They feel worried about sea levels rising and hot summers, but knowing no solar hermits or people who grow most of their own food, they don’t place those among the options. To the question, “Want to see a movie tonight?” they do not answer, “Yes, let’s build a gigantic zoopraxiscope in the backyard.” Instead, it’s “Hmm, we already saw An Inconvenient Truth. How about the new Rambo movie? I know Sylvester Stallone is 61, but I hear he does all the killing with his shirt on.” Options that don’t involve living in a house regulated to 20 °C year-round and driving a car on a daily basis are not on the menu.

The second idea is the strangely common conviction that we can solve large environmental problems with marginal changes to our current behavior. I don’t know why this idea so popular. Suppose Ben invited me over for dinner party, and heavy rains meant that his basement was flooded. If I suggested to the dozen other guests, “Hey guys, I’ve got a great idea. We’ll each take one of these drinking glasses down to the basement and fill it up. We’ll bring them back up and pour the water on Ben’s vegetable garden. If we each do our part, we all win!” I would be correctly regarded as a moron. The problem requires a high capacity pump running for several hours, or hundreds of trips with a bucket, or thousands of trips with drinking glasses.

Our bizarre love affair with hybrid cars is similar. Let’s optimistically assume that hybrid cars can reduce fuel usage per mile by 50%. The real number is probably below 25%, but say the technology works better than we expect, and then assume that every vehicle in the US is instantaneously converted to use a hybrid drivetrain. In the US, at present, our fuel consumption for transportation usage has been growing roughly linearly for the last 60 years [58 kB PDF]. The best we can expect for this massively optimistic, nationwide hybrid conversion is to return ourselves to 1970, but with 40 years of oil gone.

Ben asks what we can do. As he notes, “There’s also a sense in which it is irrational for any one person to make any significant sacrifice in order to change his behavior, on a planet with 6 billion people, the vast majority of them striving to achieve a lifestyle that allows them to consume as much energy and resources as possible.”

In the film metaphor, we need to popularize the backyard zoopraxiscope. Our cultural norms have a time constant around a decade; ideas come and go, and we need to make sure that “Let’s all commute 30 miles in SUVs” is not the only movie to watch.

To his credit, Ben, with his wind turbine and cidermaking, has already begun.

I’ve been commuting by bike exclusively for the last 6 months, even in the snow and ice, and once I adjusted my expectations, it’s fine. We’ve reduced our heating bill by about 30% by using a programmable thermostat; we’ll see what else I can come up with. Our current house is about as well insulated as a milk crate, so there is hope.

Like a lot of semi-urban computer enthusiasts who plan on living for a few decades after the onset of global warming, I have a few computers that are always on, and I wish that I could find an economically viable way of reducing the emissions generated as a side effect of the power they require. Also, when the hard times come and grid power gets flaky or drops out entirely, it would make the local warlord happy if I could use a computer to calculate optimal irrigation ditch depths, or the like. (Note to self: learn to use abacus while leisure time still exists.)

Typically, solar arrays in urban or suburban areas are tied by an inverter to the local power grid. Such inverters cost a few thousand dollars; they both allow excess power to be released to other consumers and enable the use of AC appliances without any modifications. I live in a rented property, so installing a large solar array on the roof with an inverter in the basement is not an option. But, maybe I could run a smaller array without an inverter for DC loads only.

DC vs. AC
Computers, generally designed to connect to AC power, have as their first component a switching power supply that turns AC from the wall into DC. If I had a solar array, it would output DC, which would be converted to AC by the inverter, and then back to DC by each computer’s power supply, losing energy at each step. I call this “dumb”– why not just run the computers off of the DC directly?

The problem is that if you run the computers just off DC from the solar panel, the computers die when the sun is occluded by a cloud or a planet (at night, for example).

An alternative architecture
The system I’m building has a 24 V DC power supply fed from the grid at its core. This will run in parallel with whatever solar panel I eventually set up. For starters, I have replaced the ATX power supply that came with my desktop with a DC/DC converter from Ituner.com. I then power that from a beautiful DIN-mount Sola SDN 10-24-100P supply that I got off Ebay for $33.00 ($45.82 with shipping).

For the DC/DC converter, I looked at the pico-PSU, but rejected it in favor of the slightly larger M2-ATX-HV.

The M2-ATX-HV had a few advantages:

The M2-ATX-HV is a bit bigger, but my PC case is pretty large, so that wasn’t a concern. Including all the cables and shipping, I paid $96.40 for the M2-ATX-HV– about $30 for the advantages listed above.

Stage 1 complete
The DC system has been working reasonably well for a few weeks now. Next, I have to find a cheap way to test current sharing with a solar panel, as I don’t want to commit the full $700 or whatever for a 180 W panel until I have more evidence that it will work. I’m off to the beach to start collecting sand for a little homebrewed Czochralski action.

Mr. Ben Polito has recently beating his drum to the tune that I am a repressed mechanical engineer who needs to release his inner software engineer.

Normally, I am too busy with preparations for the arrival of the Hard Times to spend time busting the myths spread by a sailor in the dark, but a recent problem I ran into at work gave me pause. The first version of our corporate wiki, a tweaked version of mediawiki, left a hierarchy of a few hundred directories sprinkled with around 1600 files. These files were attachments to the old wiki, and while most of them were transferred to the new wiki, some were not.

I thought to myself, “Ah! I bet I could write a little Python function that recursed through the directories, copying out the files and calling itself for each subsequent subdirectory!” This was Friday night around 10, after a day spent writing PLC code for work. It was at this moment that I thought, “Perhaps Mr. Polito has a point.”

To that end, I present Pylito.

In a comment to my last post, Ben Harris suggests that I read Cape Wind by Williams and Whitcomb. I haven’t read the book yet, but I did read up on Cape Wind.

The outcry against Cape Wind is a travesty. It comes down to an unpleasant choice of how we get the energy we need. We have to satisfy our rising energy needs somehow. If you’re opposed to using local energy sources to fulfill our energy needs, you have to be in favor of either reduction of our energy needs (which have been strictly increasing for all of recorded history) or getting the energy from somewhere else.

The first choice, reducing energy consumption, requires either widespread, voluntary efficiency gains among the populace, forced efficiency gains via government intervention, or the arrival of the hard times. I think it would be imprudent to plan on any of those events occurring. Our understanding of efficiency improvements falls vastly short of what we need. Even the NPR-listening Prius drivers among us are making decisions around the level of 20% improvements by 10% of the population, while the population continues to increase. We’re excited about skyscrapers with green roofs, which collect water for irrigation of the plants in the lobby, and building-integrated solar, which can supply maybe 1% of the heating and cooling requirements of the building. We’re not thinking about changes on the level of, “You don’t get to heat your house in the winter any more.”

Forced efficiency gains via government intervention seems equally unlikely to me. The current US administration argues about whether we should mandate minor increases in fuel efficiency, while allowing exemptions for vehicles over 6000 pounds. The most recent increase was from 21.6 mpg to 24 mpg, and it doesn’t take effect until 2011. 10% decrease mandated in 4 years, while our vehicle usage continues to increase? This will not solve the problem.

The arrival of the hard times may well solve the problem, but I would strongly prefer to avoid having to affiliate myself with a local warlord in order to get bread, watery gruel, and a burlap sack to keep me warm in the winter. I don’t think that constraining energy usage by simply failing to build more power plants, be they clean or dirty, is likely to be an optimal solution.

If we won’t reduce our energy consumption, we need to get more energy somewhere. There’s a temptation to think that we don’t need to get energy locally, but everywhere is local to someone. If we had an uninhabited Oil Planet, we would need only design a sturdy pipeline to connect the two planets (akin to the Moon Bomb). The location of the Oil Planet is currently unknown, and nobody wants a coal plant in their backyard any more than I do. At some level, we need to collect energy locally.

It’s reasonable to debate the resolution of “local.” Do I need to get all my energy from my state? My town? My house? My desk?

Right now, eastern Massachusetts imports the vast majority of its energy. In Boston, the major electricity source is the Mystic Generating Station in Everett (you know, the pixelated section on Google maps, just north of the river). According to the Energy Information Administration, the 2600 MW Everett plant currently runs off of natural gas from the Gulf Coast, Canada, and the Appalachian Basin. Additional natural gas in liquid form is brought from foreign sources to the LNG terminal in Everett. According to the EIA, we also burn coal from West Virginia and Colorado. Coal is burned in the Brayton Point plant in Somerset, Massachusetts.

The limited availability of fossil fuels, the pollutants released by their combustion, and my assumption that if I don’t want my tap water tainted with mercury runoff from strip-mining coal, the residents of West Virginia probably don’t either, lead me to believe that we need to look for local alternatives for energy.If you’re going to satisfy your energy needs locally, what’s the best choice?

In Massachusetts, we get about 40% of our electricity from natural gas, 50% from coal and petroleum-fired power plants, and 5% from nuclear power. The remaining 5% is from hydro, solar, and wind. Nationally, the percentages are similar, but more hydro and nuclear, less natural gas.

The non-renewable options aren’t pleasant. We don’t have coal, oil or gas– you have to go at least as far as western Pennsylvania to find it. Robert Milici of the USGS says of the areas east and north of the Appalachians that, “these provinces do not produce oil or gas and are not currently viewed as prospective for oil and gas.” The USGS only studies 5 major coal beds; nobody is digging up coal in Massachusetts.

Nuclear power is waning in New England. Since the 1991 shutdown of the 540 MW Rowe nuclear plant in western Massachusetts, there is only one nuclear power plant in the state (Pilgrim, nominally 690 MW, in Plymouth), and one just over the state line in Seabrook, New Hampshire. The Seabrook plant is larger, nominally 1150 MW. Another New England nuclear plant, the 900 MW Maine Yankee plant in Wiscasset, was shut down in 1997 due to lack of economic viability. The spent fuel rods are still there under armed guard, as they will likely remain until at least 2017. There are two plants, totaling around 2000 MW, operating in Connecticut and one 650 MW plant in southwestern Vermont. There are currently no new nuclear plants planned [PDF] for New England.

There’s not much opportunity for large hydropower in Massachusetts– we’re a mostly flat state, especially toward the eastern end. The Idaho National Laboratory puts its total estimate of hydropower potential in Massachusetts at 132 MW, which is about a third the size of Cape Wind. Furthermore, the estimate include sites like Moody Street in Waltham, that face worse public acceptance problems than Cape Wind.

That leaves solar and wind. Solar power is great, but New England is not particularly sunny, compared to, say, Arizona or New Mexico. Cape Wind is proposing a wind farm that peaks at 420 MW. According to the Prometheus Institute in Cambridge, total US installations of solar this year are around 120 MW, with the bulk of them in California and New Jersey. (Sorry, Keith, for using peak numbers– I know you find it galling. Post better comparisons in the comments or, better yet, start your own blog.) The point is that on the scale of renewable energy projects, the Cape Wind installation would be massive. (On the scale of coal fired power plants, which currently top out around 1500 MW, it would not be that big.)

In eastern Massachusetts, wind power is a good choice. From a power density perspective, the site chosen by Cape Wind is in a zone characterized as “excellent” by the Massachusetts Technology Collaborative (MTC, hereafter) and verified by the National Renewable Energy Lab. (Disclosure: the company for which I work has recently worked on a technology assessment for the MTC, and we may do more for them. However, I have not been personally involved in any of the work, it hasn’t involved wind, and I didn’t know that MTC had done this study until a few minutes ago.)

While I do agree with Robert Kennedy, Jr.’s assertion in the New York Times that the project ought not to be enabled by government subsidies of $241 million dollars, his characterization of Nantucket Sound as a pristine region is ridiculous. I’ve been there; what I recall was a bunch of champions from the Buzzards Bay Power Squadron running two-stroke engines at full throttle. Maybe if I had a compound in Hyannis like that of Mr. Kennedy, I would feel differently, but I’m in the same boat as the roughly 6.4 million non-Kennedy residents of Massachusetts.

Currently, opposing wind power in eastern Massachusetts is extremely likely to result in the construction of new fossil fuel power plants like the plant in Everett. The cost of wind power incurred on the neighborhood is different from the cost incurred by a coal plant. If your kid breathes enough crap out of a smokestack for long enough, your kid will die. I won’t say that the visual damage done by wind turbines is nothing, but if forced to make the choice, as we are, I think choosing your view at the price of the lungs of some kid growing up across the street from the Brayton Point plant in Somerset is unconscionable.

The state approved the Cape Wind project in March of 2007, though the project is in federal waters, so state review is less significant than federal review. The Boston Globe predicts federal review to be complete in mid-2008. I would be proud to live in the state that supported the first offshore wind farm in the nation.

After a New York Times article this morning, Ben and I were hashing over the potential for successful tidal turbines (well, he was ranting; I was hashing).

Ben pointed out quite astutely that the requirements for a tidal turbine are actually surprisingly similar to a requirements for a wind turbine. The power density of both situations are similar. Wind velocity at a prime turbine location is in the low 10’s of mph, while tides are in the low single digits of mph. However, the power density scales with the cube of the velocity, to wind gains a factor of 1000 over water. This is roughly canceled by the ~800x difference in density between water and air.

Additionally, the Reynolds numbers for both situations are similar . The Reynolds number is Re = density * velocity * characteristic length / viscosity. Water is about 100 times more viscous than air, but that gets canceled by water’s ~800x higher density and 10x lower velocity.

This means that you want roughly the same blade geometry and tip speed ratio for a wind turbine as for a tidal turbine. The problem is that to get the same tip speed ratio in a medium that’s moving 10x slower, you have to reduce the angular velocity by a factor of 10 as well.

The folks at Verdant, featured in the New York Times article, have figured this out; they say that their turbines peak at 32 rpm. According to an interview with one of Verdant’s engineers, the turbines are about 5 m in diameter.

In the wind turbine world, Paul Gipe cites a 7 m wind turbine as having a peak speed of 310 rpm in his 2003 book Wind Power (p. 102), and Southwest Windpower’s new Skystream turbine, with a diameter of 3.7 m, nominally peaks at 325 rpm. So, Verdant has the right tip speed ratio– what’s the problem?

The problem is that the power density is the same, the size is the same, the angular velocity is 10x lower, and wind turbine blades are already made of composite materials to withstand high torques. Power is torque * angular velocity, so for a constant power, if the angular velocity drops by X, the torque goes up by X. It’s no wonder that Verdant’s turbines are getting ripped apart. Their plan now is to use cast aluminum, which has a yield strength around 150 MPa; composite materials are an order of magnitude higher (and remember, they need to beat wind turbines by 10x, not just match them).

The New York Times quotes the founder of Verdant: “‘The only way for us to learn is to get the turbines into the water and start breaking them,” said Trey Taylor, the habitually optimistic founder of Verdant Power.”

Just to be clear, while I do work in the renewable energy field, I’m not a friend or enemy of Verdant; I had not heard of them before today. I don’t have any investments in Verdant or any of their competitors.

Related links:
Some guy’s comment on Reddit

Last week, after building my own computers to run Linux for about 10 years, I ordered a computer from Dell with Ubuntu Linux pre-installed. Don’t get me wrong– I have enjoyed at least 80% of the hacking, crashing X11 repeatedly, trying to disable X11, giving up and using the terminal window at 640 x 480, crashing X11 repeatedly, and so on. In the last 2 or 3 years, Linux has become solid enough that I rarely need to perform tasks akin to surgery. With tested hardware from Dell, instead of hardware randomly selected from different (non-Belkin) vendors, I’m betting that I may not need to edit xorg.conf at all!

As I prepare to enter the realm of normal people, the realm of adults who buy computers to get work done, who don’t know about lolcats or frist psot, HTTP redirection or ARP cache poisoning, SSH or even RSS, it’s time for me to pass on what I sincerely hope will become useless tips.

When your GUI goes crazy, the screen starts cycling on and off, or just searching for inputs eternally:

1. Use Ctrl-Alt-Backspace to stop the X server and drop to a command prompt. Then you can try looking at /etc/X11/xorg.conf to see what’s wrong and restart X using the command startx.

2. Enable sshd as soon as you can, so that something goes horribly wrong, you can still ssh into the machine and execute commands.

3. Use Ctrl-Alt-F2 (or higher F-keys) to cycle to additional terminal windows if, as was generally the case, X is screwed up.

Those three tricks have kept me going for tens, or maybe even hundreds, of hours of debugging.

So, maybe I’ll need these skills again when the hard times come and production of new computers grinds to a halt, but until then, I’m turning my attention to higher level tasks, like implementing a sun-tracking algorithm in Python.

I’ve been arguing with my associate Ben about the relative costs of wind turbines. (We work at a GreenMountain, a renewable energy engineering firm near Boston, so this is what we do for fun.) We’re both puzzled over the continued growth in the size of wind turbines.

Aldo da Rosa writes in Fundamentals of Renewable Energy Processes, Elsevier Academic Press, 2005 (pp. 599-600):

“For a given wind regimen, the amount of energy that can be abstracted from the wind is proportional to the swept area of the turbine. . . . The mass of the plant (in a first-order scaling) varies with the cube of the diameter. . . . Hence for the same amount of energy produced, the total equipment mass varies inversely with the diameter. Since costs tend to grow with mass, many small turbines ought to be more economical than one large one.”

This is exactly the argument that Ben came up with last week. The flaw, as best as I can tell, appears to be that cost does not actually track mass. Historically, it appears that costs are dropping as mass increases.

(Chart removed because javascript was screwing up other scripts. It was just a falling line–just imagine looking at the right side of a silhouette of a mountain.)

The data above comes from Gil Masters’ Renewable and Efficient Electric Power Systems, Wiley-Interscience, 2004 p. 372, with the 1981 data point added from an American Wind Energy Association paper, “The Economics of Wind Energy.” Masters states that, “taller towers increase energy faster than costs increase,” (p. 372), but he does not directly address mass scaling relative to area scaling. Masters also cites data from the Canadian Ministry of Natural Resources that estimates the annual operating and maintenance costs (~$2m) of a 60 MW windfarm at 3% of the capital costs (~$60m).

Let me add here (because I can hear fellow wind energy enthusiast Keith gnashing his teeth over TCP/IP) that if I had the data, I would prefer to see wind turbine values expressed as $/(kWh/year), rather than $/kW, where the kW rating calculated can be achieved at some high windspeed found only in Stillwater, Minnesota.