Skip to main content

Powering the West

In this episode – Powering the West . . .

Welcome back to On the Fly, your podcast for curious minds exploring the unexpected. Today, we're soaring across the Pacific Northwest down to sunny California, tracing the fascinating history of the Pacific Northwest–Pacific Southwest Intertie.

Imagine a massive power line stretching over 800 miles, carrying electricity from the mighty Columbia River in the Pacific Northwest to the sun-drenched valleys of California. This is the Pacific Northwest–Pacific Southwest Intertie (Intertie), a marvel of engineering that revolutionized power transmission in the Western United States.

Professor Carl Magnusson from the University of Washington had a vision as early as 1919 to create a high-voltage network that would connect the Pacific Northwest, rich in hydroelectricity, with the energy demands of the Southwest. This vision gained momentum during the droughts in California during the 1940s, highlighting the need for a reliable power source beyond local resources.

This journey from vision to reality wasn't easy. The Bonneville Power Administration (BPA), established in the 1930s, played a crucial role in promoting the Intertie's development. The Columbia River Treaty with Canada in 1961 secured increased hydropower generation, providing a reliable energy source.

What is an Intertie?

In the context of electrical power systems, an Intertie refers to an interconnection permitting the passage of electricity between two or more separate electric utility systems. It's a network of high-voltage power lines that allows for the exchange of electricity between different regions or countries. This enables “Balancing” energy needs. Regions with surplus electricity can export to areas with higher demand, improving overall grid balance, efficiency, and reliability. (The Electric Grid)

Interconnected energy systems can share resources and enhance grid stability during disruptions. Construction finally began in 1964 after overcoming numerous obstacles, including negotiations between various stakeholders.

The construction of the Intertie was a gradual process that took different phases. The Alternating Current (AC) Intertie was constructed between 1968 and 1993 and involved the progressive building of three AC lines, each increasing the Intertie's capacity.

The Pacific Direct Current (DC) Intertie was built in 1970 and marked a significant milestone as the first long-distance high voltage direct current (HVDC) line in the United States. This development significantly increased Intertie's overall capacity and efficiency.

The Pacific Northwest–Pacific Southwest Intertie is a power system that has had a significant impact on the Western United States. It allowed for the exchange of surplus hydropower from the Northwest to California, providing a reliable power source for millions during periods of peak demand. But Intertie's benefits go beyond just exchanging power. Intertie has also improved the stability and reliability of the Western US electrical system by interconnecting the power grids of two regions. Additionally, Intertie's use of clean hydropower has helped California reduce its reliance on fossil fuels, promoting a cleaner energy future.

Looking ahead, the Intertie is constantly evolving through upgrades and potential expansions to meet the region's ever-growing energy demands. It proves the benefits of collaborative efforts, highlighting the advantages of interconnected power grids and sustainable energy solutions.

So, the next time you flip on a light switch in California, remember the invisible thread connecting you to the mighty rivers of the Pacific Northwest, a testament to human ingenuity and the power of collaboration.

I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. I'll see you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

A Mother’s Day Reflection

With Mother’s Day here and the world bustling with cards, brunches, and busy schedules, I find myself reflecting on something a bit simpler: taking a moment to remember the person who helped shape my earliest sense of home. Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom. We arrived in Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition whose enormity I only fully appreciate now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped into Midwestern life with remarkable courage. Her smile could warm the coldest Illinois morning, and her hugs lingered long after she let go—quiet reminders that you were deeply loved. Born February 16, 1934, the third of four children, she grew up in Nazi-occupied La Rochelle. As kids, we listened wide-eyed to stories of soldiers patrolling her streets and fear shadowing everyday life. Yet she carried none of that darkness forward. What endured was resilience and an unwavering devotion to family—qualities she carried across the Atlantic and planted firmly in C...

That Fateful Four-Letter Word

In this episode, A Masterclass in Efficiency. For nearly four months, the western border of our property has stood as a living monument to determination, dubious planning, and forensic-level lumber acquisition. Since February, our neighbor Steve has been conducting what can only be described as a masterclass in deliberate calculation. This was never going to be one of those slick home-improvement shows where a cheerful pair of men installs a fence between commercial breaks, sipping lemonade. No. This was real life in retirement. We scaled the vertical wilderness of our hillside. We mixed concrete with the precision of medieval alchemists. We bled, we sweated, and we fought hand-to-hand with a buried tree stump that had the structural integrity of a Cold War bunker. By this week—May 16th, for those keeping score—the glorious end was finally within reach. The fence stood proudly, the line was straight, and victory practically hummed in the air. Only one major task remained: installing t...

Truth for Sale

This episode is inspired  by Elton John & Bernie Taupin On Memorial Day, I took my first bike ride  since the accident , seeking proof that my legs, lungs, and nerves still remembered the road. The morning air carried that familiar Southern California mix of ocean haze, exhaust, eucalyptus, and sun-baked asphalt. My tires hummed across pavement I’ve ridden for years. Somewhere between the steady click of the chain and the rhythm of my breathing, Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s The Captain and the Kid found its way into my ears. There’s a strange kind of magic when the cadence of a ride syncs perfectly with a song you know by heart. Suddenly, the music and lyrics stop being background noise and become a lens. And through that lens, the road started talking. I've been cycling on this road some, Can't help feeling I've been showing my friends around. I've seen it grow from next to nothing, To a giant eatin’ up our town. Called up the tealeaves and the tarots, Asked the...

The Giants We Chase

In this episode, The Gleam Within We grow up steeped in fairy tales and grand mythologies. From a young age, we are taught to scan the horizon for the hero—the knight, the savior, the titan who will arrive to make sense of the world. We marvel at the mountains' beauty and nature's majesty, yet, as the old wisdom goes, "we pass over the mystery of ourselves without a single thought." I remember being the little guy from a small town in rural Illinois, looking up at the world and seeing only Giants. I would listen to Earl Nightingale’s Our Changing World broadcasts, mesmerized by the towering figures of success and intellect he described. When you feel small, you naturally seek out those Giants for a glimpse of their light—hoping some of it might rub off on you, preferably without having to do whatever it was they did to earn it. In 1985, while I was earning my G.G. credential, I met Richard T. Liddicoat, the Patriarch of GIA. To everyone in the industry, he was the Fat...