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

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...

The Yellow Legal Pad

In this episode, the Art of Refiring July 1st is staring me in the face, less than two weeks away. For years, retirement seemed like something that happened to other people. Suddenly, it's on my calendar. I've been thinking a lot about the dreaded "R-word" lately. Not because I'm worried about having enough to do. Quite the opposite. What fascinates me is this strange paradox: Why does retirement make so many of us nervous, while having a job—even one that regularly drives us crazy—somehow feels comforting? Let's be honest. Most of us spend years complaining about meetings that should have been emails, reply-all disasters, impossible deadlines, and that one coworker who insists on microwaving leftover fish in the breakroom. Yet when the idea of walking away finally arrives, we hesitate. I think I've figured out why. A career isn't just a job. It's a highly structured coping mechanism. For forty-plus years, somebody else has basically decided what I...

The Big Rip and the First Tee

The telescope (Celestron) sits quietly under its cover, temporarily blinded by Southern California's annual meteorological hostage situation – June Gloom. Somewhere above that thick gray ceiling, photons that began their journey before humans appeared are streaming across the cosmos, only to be intercepted by a marine layer that seems to have veto power over astronomy. Instead of observing the universe, I find myself imagining – The End of Everything (Astrophysically Speaking) by physicist Katie Mack. According to modern cosmology, the universe may eventually end in a Big Rip, a Big Crunch, Heat Death, Vacuum Decay, or some other catastrophe that sounds suspiciously like a rejected heavy-metal album title. Astrophysicists spend their careers calmly discussing the possibility that reality itself could suddenly cease to exist because a quantum field had a bad day. It's a remarkable way to start a Saturday morning. One moment you're contemplating the ultimate fate of spacetime...

Rediscovering the Magic of Summer . . .

Summer mornings, especially on a holiday weekend, have a special magic. The air is cool, the world quiet, and the day full of possibilities. This July 4th weekend, Lori and I decided to capture a bit of that magic by beating the holiday traffic with an early morning bicycle ride. We went through our usual pre-flight checklist: Stretched out the morning stiffness. Filled the water bottles. Strapped on the helmets. Checked the tires. Three tires passed inspection. The fourth had apparently declared independence. The rear tire on my e-bike was flatter than a Kansas highway. “Well, it looks like we’re not riding today,” Lori said, with the calm acceptance of someone who had already mentally promoted coffee to the day’s main event. “Why not?” I replied. “I’ll ride my old bike.” She gave me that look —the one that safely translates as, "Are you sure about this? " “Absolutely,” I said. “Why not?” I dragged the bike stand out and surveyed my options. One glance at the aggressive gear...