Energy policy and visual blight

click photo to enlarge

In recent times a disfiguring tide of supposedly environmentally beneficial technology has swept across the country, inflicting high-tech litter wherever it has flowed. The gaze of every passer-by notices the interlopers, and the eye-sores themselves will undoubtedly become semi-permanent fixtures across rural and urban landscapes. I refer, of course, to... roof-mounted solar panels!

Given that much UK housing is mediocre in both style and substance the affixing of these panels to roofs makes buildings look abysmal. They are always a negative visual contribution. The environmental blight that they are responsible for is, to my mind, worse than that caused by wind turbines. That they make some sort of green contribution to the generation of electricity is, no doubt, true. But what is also true is that it comes at a very high price. And what I find truly remarkable is that I have heard not a single voice raised against them. Perhaps that's, in part, because the people who have fitted them have been bought off with the profit to be made from the feed-in tariff and their eyes have been blinded by the glitter of the promised piles of money.

In my part of the world I see these glossy abominations fitted to roofs new and old, to slates, concrete tiles and pantiles, their sleek, black rectangles like alien sores, destroying any architectural integrity that a building may once have had. It seems strange to me that a proposed wind farm stirs up oppositions whenever and wherever it is mooted but these accretions are meekly accepted. Could it be that the small scale, virus-like spread of roof-mounted solar panels will mean that people will wake up to the environmental damage they cause only when it's far too late? I can't help feeling that a programme of retro-fitted house insulation of a magnitude greater than the current weak efforts would have achieved greater results at less monetary and environmental cost.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 238mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Energy, turbines and magic

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It's nothing short of remarkable how, in the past couple of hundred years, mankind's use of energy has grown from a barely measurable amount to 500 Exajoules (2005).

Before, say, 1700 most energy came from man and animal power, from burning wood and some coal, and from wind and water. And, in most cases it was consumed at the place where it was generated. Today, in the form of coal, gas and oil, energy is often transported across the world before consumption, just like many other traded commodities. And even when it is generated in the country in which it is used, electrical energy is transmitted to centres of population and industries by a grid of wires. In the past the windmill's power was used where the windmill stood - either for grinding corn that was brought to it, pumping water that was immediately adjacent, or sawing wood from nearby trees, and most were in or near settlements. In contrast the windmills of today, the 100m high wind turbines that generate electricity, are often sited where there are few people - on hills, offshore, or as with those in today's photograph, in a sparsely populated agricultural area - in this case the Fenland of Lincolnshire.

One could wish that energy generation was less intrusive upon the landscape: nuclear and coal fired plants are big eyesores, and many find wind turbines just as objectionable. However, just as there are people who are capable of appreciating the looming bulk and man-made clouds of cooling towers, so too are there those who see beauty in the wind turbines. To walk around these otherworldy creatures under a blue sky flecked with cloud, the swish of the blades and the flicker of their giant shadows the only disturbance to a beautiful summer afternoon is not an unpleasant experience. In many ways a wind farm becomes more appealing the closer you get to it, and what can appear to be a blot on the horizon transforms into something with a hint of magic about it when you stand among them.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 15mm (30mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Wind power

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A new wind farm has recently appeared on the Fens of Lincolnshire. I've taken an interest in its construction, making several journeys to watch the turbines being erected. On each occasion I met people doing the same thing. One man had an interest in cranes, and had come to see the particularly large machine that was used to erect the columns, nacelle and blades. Others were fascinated by the size, shape and otherworldliness of the turbines. And quite a few recognised the significance of the appearance of these modern windmills in this flat landscape that once held a multitude of windmills and windpumps.

Perhaps those who went to view the erection of the wind farm were a self-selected group who harbour no ill-feeling towards these giants, but it surprised me to find that everyone I met was favourably disposed towards them. Many commented on their elegance and beauty. Some said they were greatly preferable to the electricity pylons. Quite a few recognised the necessity for more environmental forms of power generation, and the need for the electricity to be controlled entirely by our own national government. There was none of the "not in my backyard" (nimbyism) that often characterises the debate about wind turbines, and, whilst I know that what I heard was not representative of all public opinion, it did give me hope that a change is underway.

Today's photograph shows nine of the thirteen turbines seen across an almost ripe barley field. A strong wind is blowing away the fair-weather clouds, and replacing them with a more threatening sky. Some say that turbines are a visual abomination that spoil the view. Such people are usually condemning change and the loss of the familiar. They forget (if they ever knew) that our beloved, "timeless" English landscape of carefully tended fields, trees and farms would be unrecognisable and probably abhorrent to our forebears of only a century or two ago. In the Fens, and elsewhere, change will and must happen, and even a wind farm can make a positive contribution, if only people cast aside their blinkers and let their eyes see it!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20mm (40mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f11
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Blowin' in the wind

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"It always is wretched weather according to us. The weather is like the government — always in the wrong. In summer-time we say it is stifling; in winter that it is killing; in spring and autumn we find fault with it for being neither one thing nor the other and wish it would make up its mind...We shall never be content until each man makes his own weather and keeps it to himself." from "Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow", Jerome K. Jerome (1859-1927), English author

The quotation above pretty much sums up the British attitude to the weather - there's always too much of it and it's always the wrong sort! I suppose that attitude (and the penchant for holidays where the sun always shines and the temperature is always high) comes from living on a damp, cloudy, windy island where three kinds of weather each day is not unusual. But will this always be our attitude? There's a good chance that global warming will lead to Britain's weather being seen as highly desirable. Increasing warmth and plentiful rainfall could well be the envy of many countries. And, in an age of rising fuel prices those regular westerlies offer the prospect of wind-generated electricity for all. But for that to happen the people of these islands must get over their NIMBY-based opposition to turbines.

Yesterday I watched a wonderful feat of skill and engineering as the blades of a wind turbine were assembled at the base of its tower and then lifted into place. Cranes, men on the end of steadying ropes, and a man standing on top of the column (can you see him?) all performed a sort of high-tech ballet to elevate and rotate the assembly and place it on its nacelle. On the flat Fenland landscape of Lincolnshire the turbines can be seen for miles. Perhaps, in time, people will see them as spinning beacons of a greener, reliable energy supply, rather than blots on the landscape, and realise that for Britain's energy needs the answer is (at least in part) "blowin' in the wind." Cue harmonica, acoustic guitar and wailing, nasal voice!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 48mm (96mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/1250
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On