Biodiesel Cleanup

For the last three months or so, I've been helping out one of our Port districts with the cleanup of a biodiesel plant that caught fire and pretty much destroyed everything in the building.  The Port owns property and leases land and buildings to industries, providing jobs and economic growth to their region.  Washington State has 75 Port districts located throughout the state.

Washington Public Ports Association 

In this scenario, the Port had leased a former grain terminal to a biodiesel producer.  One summer night, kids set a porta-potty on fire next to the building which spread to the roof that was covered by foam insulation.  Everything inside the building was burned, baked, or smoked.  When I first inspected the building, there was vegetable oil spilled all over the building's floor and still vegetable oil, biodiesel, and glycerol (a byproduct) held in a number of tanks, totes, and drums.  Some of the remaining hazards were a stainless steel tank that held hazardous methoxide (a mixture of methanol and potassium hydroxide) used as a catalyst in biodiesel production.  There was also a few sacks of potassium hydroxide laying around.  Most of the vegetable oil, biodiesel, and glycerol was contained within the building with very little, if any, having leaked to the outside.  These materials do not pose a significant environmental or human health hazard.

It was the Port's desire to get the building cleaned up, rebuilt, and leased out once again.  Although my company can act as a general contractor, it was the Port's desire to have a third party do the cleanup oversight as owner's representative.  The Port hired me to prepare an RFQ for the cleanup and demolition, conduct a job walk with contractors, solicit bids for the cleanup, evaluate the bids and provide a selection recommendation to the Port.  I was happy that the Port decided to go with a local contractor who subbed with a reputable environmental contractor with a national footprint.

Once the cleanup was underway, I conducted an interim review of work progress.  At the conclusion of the cleanup project, I conducted a final visual review and prepared a closeout report.  The job went extremely well and I have some new regional contacts to pursue to potentially develop some new business.

At the start:

Cleanup action:

Cleanup complete:

Commercial Real Estate Warming Up

Commercial real estate is warming up.  I'm working on a Phase I Environmental Assessment of two large commercial properties.  I haven't seen anything like this in at least a year and a half.  Maybe prices have hit bottom and the rush is on.  It's still a trickle.  We'll see.

Portland in a Day

I took a quick trip down to Portland to do a Phase I site visit of an acre lot that had two houses constructed within the last five years. The drive down and back on I-5 is usually not too bad. I got an early start avoiding the bulk of Seattle traffic and arriving in Portland after their morning rush.

It should have been a slam dunk but I found an old unlabeled drum. I also found that 15 truckloads of fill dirt were placed on the property. What seemed like an easy residential Phase I turns out to have a couple RECs that will take a few extra paragraphs in the report. Things are never as easy as they seem.

Ending the Week

It’s Friday and just an hour or so before the lunch hour. I have a plan in my mind to tackle a few tasks that will carry me through the end of the day. I’m just looking for the motivation to carry out those tasks to the end of the work day. I should know better by now than to make plans because in this business, when the phone rings all the best laid plans fly out the window, if only Class A office space windows would, in fact, open.

And so the call comes in and I’m standing in one of my colleague’s office with another colleague. A client is ready to close on about 500 acres of working forestland out by Black Diamond. And gosh, they realize they need an updated Phase I. My initial thought was how this was messing up my Friday plans. Then I realized that I could do the site visit this afternoon if I hustled. Another colleague would get the project setup in our system and make all the requisite database and historical orders. This would be a perfect day to end Friday, a walk in the woods.

I made it out to the Black Diamond area at about 2 pm. I still had 500 acres to cover. I drove over the old logging roads, which were still in good shape for a passenger car like mine. I followed every un-drivable side road and trail on foot. That’s the best you can do in densely wooded areas. I didn’t see anything exciting or unexpected, just the usual rubbish in places, spent shotgun shells, shot up electrical equipment, an abandoned and overturned pickup truck. It was a little spooky at times because there are bears and cougars in the area.

I managed to wrap up as darkness closed in. I swung by the Black Diamond Bakery and they were still open. I picked up a loaf of Crystal Mountain bread and a big fat frosted walnut brownie. This was a great way to end the week.

Back to Seattle – Thursday 12-18-08

I got up early enough to have another round of hotel waffles, which I brought back to my room. I called Delta at the appointed time of 8:05 am, three hours before the 11:05 am flight I wanted. Sure enough, I am on hold for almost a half hour. But I got a seat, center seat, no problem, only an hour and forty-five minute flight. Oh, and the departure is 20 minutes late. No problem, I’m on.

Gear packed, I head to the airport. Drop off car. Kiosk – boarding pass. TSA, “Any liquids?” I’m thinking quickly if toothpaste is considered a liquid. “No”. No laptop either. Starbucks. Gate. All is well, still 20 minutes delay. Then it becomes an hour delay.

The boarding begins after the hour or so delay. We get cozy, buckle in. My seatmates on either side are a nice average size and friendly. Ah oh, the captain is at the front of the plane preparing to make an announcement. Whenever there’s a captain’s announcement, it always starts with “Folks …” The announcement is that SeaTac is closed temporarily because of blowing snow and stuff. We won’t push back until it opens, which will be in about two hours. So ‘folks’ you can deplane if you want, but stay close to the gate in case we get to shove off sooner.

I take a chance because I’m starving after all the delays and head down the concourse for some food. I find the Wall Street Deli and order up a ham & cheese (provolone) on sourdough. I have to say that it was a great sandwich. Wall Street Deli is now on my list of approved airport eateries.

I munch my sandwich, read, and briefly chat with some familiar passengers. The news from home is not good and I’m wondering if I can even drive home whenever we finally dock at SeaTac. It’s 27 miles from SeaTac to Edmonds and it’s been snowing heavy.
Two hours later we’re boarding. I got to my row and there were totally different people sitting there, two young women and a young girl in my center seat. They asked if I could move because it’s the young girl’s “first time flying.” Geez, they gave me such a pathetic, pleading look, as if I really cared where I sat because I already had a crappy center seat. Apparently, they had it all worked out and there was an open aisle seat a couple rows up. An aisle seat, score! It was next to a young couple flying with a six-month old baby girl. I’m a dad and crying kids are like background noise even though my two boys are well past the crying baby stage. I had an aisle seat and noise canceling headphones, I was set. The baby didn’t cry that much at all and the young couple were very nice.

Salt Lake to Seattle is a relatively short flight, maybe an hour and forty-five minutes. We landed smoothly on SeaTac’s new third runway (34L), my first time landing on this runway. I glanced out the window and indeed there was a ton of snow everywhere. I deplaned and after a short walk down Concourse A, I realized I had left my jacket under the seat in front of me. I went back to the gate and after almost all the passengers had deplaned, the first officer emerged with my jacket.

All carry-on luggage allowed me to skip baggage claim and head straight to the shuttle stop. I plant myself and my baggage a respectable distance from the curb, yielding room for folks to walk by on the sidewalk. Some clueless man comes up and plants himself and his baggage right in front of me, him standing about a foot in front of me. I had at least a ten foot radius of space around me before he showed up. I wasn’t moving, he’s a twerp, and I’ve had a long day. After a few minutes he had to step back to make room for folks to get by with their luggage, and so he bumps into me. I look into his face, which is now six inches away from mine, and say “Hi”. He harrumphs a little and moves a comfortable distance away from me.

The Doug Fox shuttle shows up and I’m the only passenger. The roads are covered in packed snow. The Doug Fox parking lot looks like a vast mogul field of buried cars. My Corolla is buried in about six inches of snow. I grab the snow shovel from the trunk and dig her out and also a path back to packed snow. Will she start? She’s 19 years old with 240K miles and has been sitting in the lot in subfreezing temperatures for over five days. I pump the pedal a few healthy times because she has a carburetor. She slowly cranks, nothing yet. I give up and release the key for another try when she comes to life. First time! She’s a keeper.


The roads around SeaTac are covered in packed snow but drivable. I get on the freeway and it’s a little better. I keep to about a 35 to 45 mph pace, like the majority of people on the freeway. A few folks go too slow and others too fast. In my head I’m planning the least hilly route home.

I get off the freeway in Lynnwood and the roads are real slippery. I slide uncomfortably well at a signal, almost sliding into the intersection. I won’t do that again. I get to the neighborhood and at the last little hill there’s a Prius sitting halfway up the hill with his flashers on. I stop a little more than a hundred yards away and wait. This is a hill that will need a running start for momentum to carry me up the last hill, basic Newtonian physics. I grow impatient waiting for the Prius to back down for another try or give up. I get out and walk up to the Prius. The gentleman rolls down the passenger window and tells me in a Middle Eastern accent that “I lost traction.” Great. I walk back to my car. Finally the Prius backs off and turns down a side street. Now’s my chance. I get up a good head of steam and hit the hill. I’m up it, no problem. In two blocks I’m pulling into the garage. The whole family comes out to greet me. I am ecstatic! I poor a beer and relax.

Hittin’ the Bricks with a Quick Walking Tour of Ogden – Wednesday 12-17-08

The Brick Guys met me at my hotel at 8:30 am. I was ready to roll, fortified by hotel waffles, baked to three minute perfection in those wonderful self-serve hotel waffle makers. I followed them up to Ogden on a beautifully clear, cold Wasatch Front morning. We traveled in separate vehicles because I had stay up there a little longer for some records review.

We spent the morning touring another brick place of which I can’t say much more. Suffice to say, I’ve learned a ton about bricks. After the tour, the Brick Guys and I had lunch at Jeremiah’s, home of the best burger in Utah, and it was. I enjoyed the Brick Guys, refreshingly non-Mormon.

I said goodbye to the brick guys and then did some additional review of the surrounding area before heading into Ogden. I needed to review some city directories because EDR’s product is so weak. I had no clue where the library was located. Without a laptop it’s back to the old fashioned way, looking in phone books or just wandering around, maybe asking directions. Oh how I was missing my laptop. I could find the location of the library in about 10 seconds on my laptop. I parked near the county offices and just started walking around. After a few blocks of wandering I found the Weber County Library and this being Utah, they had a fine collection of city directories.



I left the library and walked around a little. The ground and some sidewalks were still covered by crusty snow. I had never given much thought to Ogden, my perception being just a place on a map, overshadowed by Salt Lake City. Like any new town for me, walking the place yields volumes. I had been here in Ogden in early September and became instantly enamored with this railroad town and its remarkable collection of buildings. On this tour I strolled by the beautiful homes of the Jefferson Avenue Historic District, the Art-Deco style U.S. Forest Service Building constructed by the WPA, and the gothic Saint Joseph Catholic Church. Other buildings that must be seen include the Ogden/Weber Municipal Building, Ogden Union Station, U.S. Post Office and Courthouse, Peery's Egyptian Theatre, and the Eccles Building to name just a few.




Evening was wearing into darkness and I had to get back to Salt Lake. I stopped on the way in Bountiful for Starbucks and Costco gas. At a Barnes & Noble, I picked up another one of those Arcadia Publishing’s Images of America books on Ogden. I love these little books.


Back at the hotel room, I tried to score an earlier flight out of Salt Lake. I spent close to a half hour on hold with Delta to find out that it would be about $250 to change my flight unless I called three hours before the flight I was trying to get on tomorrow, in which case it would be only $50 to change my flight. I prepared for another thirty minute hold in the morning and went to bed.

Elko to Salt Lake – Tuesday 12-17-08

I had an 8:30 am flight out of Elko to Salt Lake. We’d had a little overnight snow in Elko. I pulled out the old Costco card again to scrape the ice off the car windows. Fortunately, it was pretty much just snow on the car windows, very little ice. The roads were OK. I took I-80 to the airport, bypassing town.

Elko Regional Airport is a nice little airport. The terminal is a relatively new building with lots of wood, exposed beams, and capped with a green metal roof, classic Western ski lodge style. I check in at the kiosk with only carry-on luggage, no human interaction. I observe those with checked-in luggage have to submit it to TSA where they do a physical inspection by opening the bags and rummaging about.


The flight to Salt Lake is delayed. Whatever weather disturbance came through Elko last night dumped snow on Salt Lake this morning, delaying the departure of our plane from Salt Lake. I read, wander the terminal, and make a few calls. Two hours later our plane shows up and we run through the usual security gauntlet. Here there is an x-ray machine, which for some reason doesn’t do double-duty with checked baggage.

The clouds were breaking and I walked across the tarmac to the plane with the other passengers. Elko was still freezing cold, the teens. I take my window seat on the right side of the Skywest Embraer EMB-120 twin turboprop. The window is dirty and the engine blocks any aerial photo potential. The women next to me bundles up and wraps her legs in a blanket as if we were going on a cold, breezy sleigh ride. It’s only about a 45 minute flight actual air time in a modern airplane that’s heated.


I try to pick out landmarks during the flight but it’s unfamiliar until we get near Salt Lake. The tall stack of Kennecott’s copper smelter at Magna comes into view. Soon we bank right along the eastern side of the Oquirrh Mountains then make a left U-turn heading north for a smooth landing on runway 34L.

I’m starving after the unplanned delay. Naturally, I find a Starbucks in the terminal and grab a vente nonfat latte and a nutritious chocolate muffin. I walked right to the Budget kiosk (Fast Break service) and get the keys to the car, a Dodge Caliber; such a manly name for a standard car. I go through my usual drill, mirrors seat, controls, and catch up on calls before bee-lining straight down the Bangerter Highway. Roads were clear, relatively, and my MP3 player was blasting.


The project in Utah is confidential and I can’t elaborate yet in any detail on it. Suffice to say it involves bricks. I met the Brick Guys in the afternoon and toured the Brick Place.

After the tour, I dropped off my sick laptop at a FedEx/Kinkos at Jordan Landing for shipment back to the office where the IT guys could work some magic. Conveniently a Bajio Mexican Grill was located right next door. I picked up a Burrito Clásico meal and headed north to the La Quinta Inn and Suites by Salt Lake City airport. This is where I usually stay when I’m in Salt Lake City. I checked in and made my nest. The place isn’t quite as new as it used to be. Maybe next time I’ll check out some of the newer hotels going up nearby.

Walking in Elko - Monday 12-16-08

A town is best experienced on foot to see its buildings, look into its shop windows, and pass its people on the sidewalk. The shops and business yield clues to its economy. Elko is ranching and mining. Elko is a town where the pickup trucks do real work.




On Monday, long after the Houston Guys flew away, I had the luxury of sleeping in. At 8 a.m. I called Avis and reserved a car. I took a cab to Elko Regional Airport and picked up a red Corolla. I made good use of my Costco card and used it to scrape the snow and ice off the windshield.

I spent a good share of the morning driving around looking for a shipping/packaging store for my hard hat and steel-toed boots, which I no longer needed and did not wish to lug them around to Salt Lake City, my next stop after Elko. I finally did the smart thing and went back to my room and looked in the yellow pages. Bingo! One listing, Ship It Postal Services on Court Street. Before I could complete the FedEx airbill, the shop woman had my hard hat and steel-toed boots neatly boxed and ready to ship.

Now I was ready to spend a little time exploring Elko on foot. I parked by the Elko County Library. My first stop weas the Elko County Courthouse, listed on the National Register of Historic Places. I walked around covering several blocks taking pictures of all the intersting buildings and things; casinos, the post office, old gas stations, and an old locomotive in a city park.




I stopped in at Carlin Trend Mining Services, lured in by all the cool stuff I could see through the window; geological supplies, drafting supplies, books, mineral specimans, and other really cool stuff. I walked out with an NBMG bulletin on the geology of Elko County and one of those Arcadia Publishing - Images of America books on Elko County. I love these little paperback books that are now covering many locations across the country. The Northeastern Nevada Museum was closed being a Monday.


It was late in the afternoon and I was getting hungry. I spied a Taco Time next to the C-A-L Ranch Store ("A Ranch and Home Store and So Much More!"). I had to check out the C-A-L Ranch Store before eating. This place had everything; guns, camo, horse gear, stock tanks, hardware, work clothes, and everything Dickies and Carhartt.


No longer able suppress my hunger I picked up a combo burrito meal at Taco Time. I took my meal back to my hotel room and started to do some actual work. I wrote up a summary of the mine and mill tourand put some photos and captions together. I emailed these off to our office doing the coordination of the project and deliverables. All was going well until my laptop crashed about 10 p.m.

Snake Mountains Romp - Sunday 12-15-08

I met the Houston Guys for breakfast at the Elko Red Lion, having made the chilly two block walk from the Holiday Inn Express. The Houston Guys were The Client and The Company Man. We engaged in the usual preliminary small talk about our kids, where we lived, and where we grew up. Turned out that all three of us are geologists and our kids are all boys. The Client is originally from Fresno and he carried the girth of a former football player. The Company Man is straight of the Texas oil man mold. One of his sons is Army Special Forces and another is a Navy Seal. Football is big in Texas. I like these guys but their Texas lifestyle affirms my conviction that I will never, ever live in Texas. Ever.

With breakfast over, we piled into an SUV and headed east on Interstate 80 for Wells. The Company Man took the helm, The Client shotgun, and me the back seat. Given my moderate hearing loss, I was in and out of the front seat conversation. The northern Nevada scenery was mostly hidden by clouds but the base of the Ruby Mountains was visible, teasing at what lay in their higher reaches.

In Wells, we met the Mine Manager and his Mine Assistant. The Mine Manager is a jovial guy, another old geologist. The Client and I interview the Mine Manager about operations, permits, and other environmental issues.

Meeting concluded, we piled into two of the mine's rigs, which were a bit more substantial 4-wheel drive units than the SUV rental unit that brought us thus far. The Company Man and Mine Assistant pile into one rig. The Client and I ride with the Mine Manager in another rig. The Client naturally takes shotgun. On the drive the talk turns to hunting and guns. I don't hunt and I don't own a gun so I have little to add to the conversation.

I observed a fault scarp paralleling our highway to the right. I mentioned it to break things up a little. The Client seems impressed and admits that his field geology is a little rusty. The Mine Manager mentions the devastating Wells earthquake whose epicenter was near the observed fault scarp we were passing(Thursday, February 21, 2008 at 06:16:02 AM; Magnitude 6.0).

The talk goes back to hunting and guns. The Client mentions that he had done a lot of hiking but never saw much purpose in it until he had a gun in his hand and, with that, he had a purpose. I guess I never needed a purpose to be outdoors, especially to shoot animals with high-powered rifles. Just being outdoors works for me. I have nothing against hunting and I'm sure I could do it. The idea of being stealthy and stalking prey appeals to me. Right now, it's not a priority in my outdoor pursuits.

We left the main highway and headed up into the mountains on the mine haul road. We made stops at the mill then farther up at the active mine and then up and over the crest to the inactive mine. At each location, we got out of the vehicles for a quick look around. It was bitterly cold and windy. Higher up at the mines it was snowing. I was comfortably attired in synthetic layers with a parka shell as an outer layer. The Houston Guys had blue jeans and jackets. They didn't take the cold very well.


On the drive down from the mountains, The Client spotted a herd of about a dozen mule deer. I had to give him credit for the hunter's eye.


Back in Elko, I met the Houston Guys for dinner and football on the teevee. It was the Giants at the Cowboys, so the Houston Guys had a heightened interest in this game. I didn't share that level of interest but there was beer involved. The Company Man had chicken wings and I think The Client snuck over to the buffet. I had a beef dip from the bar. The Company Man and I worked our way up to three beers. After some subtle goading from the Houston Guys during the day, about Seattle people wearing Birkenstocks and the perceptions of the Confederate flag, I was finally ready ready to show my hand, fortified by beer. But the Houston Guys had a 5:30 a.m. flight the next day and so excused themselves early for the evening. I walked back to the Holiday Inn in a lightly falling snow.

On to Elko - Saturday 12-14-08

I made SeaTac in plenty of time and parked at Doug Fox. I was the only passenger on the shuttle bus. The driver said that Saturdays were traditionally slow. I checked in at the kiosk and magically two boarding passes spit out, one for Salt Lake and one for Elko. Security was easy. TSA at SeaTac is friendly. I picked up a grande nonfat latte and a chocolate chip muffin at Starbucks.

Gate A12 is about the farthest gate at SeaTac. I took my time walking. Getting on the plane a young woman was sitting in my window seat. I was polite and she politely let me take my assigned seat. She had dyed blonde hair and I’m sure a boob job. Her friend showed up as the last passenger and so seats were exchanged so the two fake blond friends could sit together and the one who traded the seat sat next to me. She was another young woman attired ‘organically’ for lack of a better term. Normally I’m not chatty on planes and for the first portion of the flight I had my headphones on and my nose into Nevada mining regulations. But during the beverage service we began to chat and she was very interesting. She had left Bellingham where she had been making large puppets, the kind that are held up by long sticks. She was traveling to Santa Barbara for a few days then on to Alaska for a few more days with family. After that she had a one way ticket to Puerto Vallarta where she was entertaining at a large hotel there. Did I mention that she was a juggler and I’m sure a good one. She had spent four months over the summer in Europe, bicycling, and getting by being a street entertainer. She clearly was an environmentalist, having participated in tree sittings in the redwoods. She asked me if I thought the rainforest was the single most important resource on the planet. Trick question maybe but I gave a long answer, oxygen, climatic influence, deforestation, etc. Our conversation made for a quick flight and soon we were in Salt Lake, going separate ways.

I had two hours to kill in Salt Lake before flying on to Elko. Salt Lake had a big dump of snow that morning and it was cold getting off the plane. I picked up a tall nonfat latte and a ham & cheese sandwich at Starbucks. The sandwich was awful but I was hungry. I caught up with the family by text and a phone call from my wife. New computer at home, yeh!


Finally it was time to board for Elko. The plane was a small EMB 120 twin-turboprop. Only nine passengers were on board. There was an issue with the fueling truck that caused about a 40 minute delay. They finally brought out another fueling truck. After taking on a load of fuel we taxied to the deicing ramp for a glycol bath and then we quickly got in the air.


It was a short, quiet flight to Elko. The Holiday Inn had no shuttle but they called a cab for me. While waiting for the cab, I chatted with the Red Lion shuttle driver, an old guy about 70 years old. He told me that the Holiday Inn had been owned by ‘Mr. McCaskey’, a big hotel owner in the Intermountain West. The Holiday Inn was sold after ‘Mr. McCaskey’ died. The old guy told me about the fantastic woodwork in the Holiday Inn and turns out he was right. It’s a beautiful hotel, clean and new. Stephen at the front desk checked me in. He saw my book about Stonewall Jackson’s campaign in the Shenandoah Valley and we talked history.

I finally got to my room and made my nest. I’ll be here three nights. Tomorrow the mines of the Snake Mountains.

Reprieve

The Winter Storm Warning for western Washington was lifted yesterday afternoon. The low pressure tracked 100 miles farther north than originally predicted and the cold Arctic air is bottled up temporarily over central British Columbia, giving us a reprieve. The cold air will spill out this afternoon. My drive to SeaTac this afternoon should present no problems as far as snow, perhaps an icy spot here and there. I fly into Salt Lake tonight to make a connection to Elko. Salt Lake is under a Winter Storm Warning as the same Arctic air mass pushes a strong cold front into that area. Forecast for Elko tonight is 30% snow showers, down to 17 degrees; tomorrow 40% snow showers, up to 27 degrees. Things will be different up in the Snake Mountains where I'm headed on Sunday.

Jaws of Winter

A Winter Storm Warning has been posted for western Washington. Tomorrow afternoon I fly to Elko, Nevada to look at some mine and mill sites somewhere in Elko County. The sites are located up in a mountain area at elevations approaching 8,000 feet. Then Tuesday I leave Elko for Salt Lake City where I'll be looking at an industrial site in Ogden. Both projects are confidential at this point and I can't provide any more details. The initial hurdle will be making it to SeaTac tomorrow, especially if we get 6 inches of snow overnight as some have predicted.

Three Weeks Vacation

I’m back from a three week vacation to Germany and Austria. This is the first straight three-week vacation I’ve had since I started my working career. As any who work in this business knows, you are sort of a business within a business, with responsibility for project budgets, profitability, utilization, and perhaps more important, sales and marketing. You build up momentum. I was concerned about losing momentum during my vacation. I chose to leave the laptop at home and my Sprint cell phone service doesn’t work on the European system. I was afraid I’d come back and the bus would be accelerating down the street and I’d be chasing it through a cloud of dust and diesel exhaust. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case. It seems that ongoing projects carried on and no big crises occurred while I was out. In a small meeting I updated my colleagues and I called or emailed my clients before leaving. Some emails and voicemails I picked up on my return were something like “Hey, I hear your back. Can you give me a call?” New work: I picked up some Phase II work in San Diego and prepared a proposal. My ongoing sediment investigation project at a Tacoma marina is in the report phase and could lead to a sediment cleanup. I have a development project in Fife that will need some petroleum cleanup. And there are a few more things. Bottom line is I have work and I’m riding the bus.

Henderson

I always spend a fair amount of time when I get into a rental car adjusting the seat, mirrors, and finding the cubbies for my phone, Bluetooth, and now my Zen MP3 player. All the rental cars now have an input jack for MP3 players unlike my aging ‘89 Corolla, which I just can’t part with for some reason.

I kept my cardinal bearings flying into LAS and on the shuttle bus to the rental car center. Vegas is conveniently surrounded by some mountain ranges that once you have your bearings on those you pretty much know at least in which direction you’re traveling. I had carefully planned my route from the airport to my site. But with the off-site rental car center I found myself on the wrong street heading south, not sure where to pick up I-215 heading east to Henderson.

I found a Starbucks and pulled in for my venti nonfat latte. I couldn’t resist the glazed chocolate old fashioned, which was a bit rubbery compared to the excellent delicate texture of the true Top Pot fare found in the Starbucks around Seattle. This was a Starbucks where they take your name upon ordering your drink. I never give my real name. Today my name was “Buzz.”

From the Starbucks I headed east and eventually ran into I-215. Once on the freeway I knew the route, which I had somewhat memorized during my route pre-planning. I usually do some pre-planning before these trips, if I have the time. I pre-locate my favorite food and coffee places around my hotel, near my project site, and along my route of travel. This saves time by not having to drive around searching for these places. The internet is a wonderful thing.

I exited the freeway and headed east through the suburbs and strip malls of Henderson. The area reminded me a little of southern California where I grew up, with stucco-sided houses in shades of tan, some with faux adobe arch entries, all some variation from the same cookie cutter.

At my project site I met first with the plant manager, a man about in his sixties, with facial skin wrinkled and warbled by the desert sun. He also sported a small diamond stud earring, which I found odd for a man his age, but not out of character for the blingy Las Vegas metro area. He introduced me to the chief engineer and together the chief engineer and I toured the plant site. He was a quiet man, originally from Wyoming I found out. I was the third person he had to tour with over the years as the company changed hands; me being just another guy asking the same questions. But the engineer did warm up a little and was very helpful.

After the plant tour, I went to the city offices looking up permit records and fire department records. I didn’t exactly hit the jackpot but did find a few useful things. This was a low budget project that didn’t allow a lot of time to look at things not likely to be useful anyway. After doing these things as long as I have, you get a sixth sense of what’s important and not necessarily making sure you check all the boxes.

I checked into the Fairfield Inn, quickly washed up and changed into some clothes suitable for hiking and exploring. I knew right where to find the Chipotle, snagged a burrito and ice tea, and headed straight out to Hoover Dam.

Project Deep Freeze – A Tale of Two Cities

The mission was to look at a couple “facilities,” one in Henderson NV and the other in Denver as part of a larger portfolio of “facilities” that shall be nameless in the interest of client confidentiality. Let’s just say it’s one company buying another company and we’re all out doing the environmental due diligence of a portfolio of “facilities” around the world, most located in the U.S. I drew the Henderson and Denver facilities.

I had a 6 am flight Monday morning to LAS. SeaTac was refreshingly quiet. I felt relaxed and unhurried running the TSA gauntlet. I had plenty of time to grab a breakfast burrito at Qdoba and then chased that down with a grande non from Starbucks. The Horizon C-gates were a virtual ghost town at this time of the morning.

The Alaska flight was completely full, mostly Vegas bound tourists. I sat next to a young couple, the young woman giving me plenty of elbow room. The snack was a bag of horrid tasting cinnamon-flavored pretzels that not even coffee could help.

The approach into LAS took us right over the southern shoulder of snow-clad Mount Charleston and Red Rock Canyon. We made a tight left turn over Henderson for a smooth landing to the west.



Alaska Airlines is the apparent stepchild airline at LAS. While Southwest enjoys a whole row of conveniently located gates in the B and C terminals, Alaska has a single gate at the far reaches of the new D terminal. This futuristic D terminal has a control tower that looks just like Bender, the alcoholic chain-smoking robot on Futurama.


You board a tram to get from the D terminal to the main terminal. The tram starts out underground, then emerges into the sunlight before docking at the main terminal like a sand worm rising from the surface of Dune.

The terminal is filled with ranks of slot machines tended by change girls, mostly Asian. Faux desert rock and palm trees give it an oasis feel except for the glaring signs hawking the latest Vegas shows and stars. My one checked bag finally showed up on the carousel and I was off to get my car.


LAS has an off-site rental car center. To get there you catch a common shuttle bus. I have Budget FastBreak, which means I bypass the counter and go straight out to the cars. The keys and agreement are already in the car. I’m off to the races in a Chevy Cobalt.

Can You Have Something in Less Than a Week?

My cell phone rang during my early morning commute. It was my colleague calling from down in the Bay Area where she's doing some training. She has a client who's emailing her two Phase I reports for a two building office property somewhere south of Seattle. The client needs a review of these reports and needs to discuss them this morning. He also wants to know if we can pull together a Phase I report of this property in less than a week. My colleague is tied up with training and needs to hand this off to me. The minute I get into my office the phone rings and it's the client. My computer is still booting up. I tell him give me an hour to review these reports and I'll get back to you with my 10,000 foot view. I head straight for the executive summaries and conclusions.

The site had been a power company service center before its current development as an office property. Of course, the power company had had a vehicle maintenance building, tanks, and a utility pole storage yard. The tanks were pulled and some excavation of contaminated soil had occurred. They had put in some monitoring wells, one well had contamination greater than cleanup but a month later had less than cleanup. Everything had checked out at less than cleanup levels for soil and groundwater but with still some "residual contamination left in place at less than cleanup levels" whatever that means. Both reports indicated that the remedial actions had been performed under the Voluntary Cleanup Program (VCP). Gee, when you go through the VCP you usually end up with a "no further action" determination, or not. Neither Phase I report indicated whether an NFA was pursued. The Phase I reports did not mention whether the monitoring wells were still present or whether they were appropriately decommissioned. The Phase I reports did not indicate whether the tanks had been removed with appropriate sampling data and documentation submitted to Ecology. Both Phase I reports classified the remedial actions as a "de minimis condition" even though the site was still listed by Ecology as a contaminated site.

I gave the client a rundown of my findings, that my gut feeling was that the site was probably "clean" but the paper trail was weak and some loops needed to be closed. He asked me why the other consultants didn't raise these concerns. Well, I'm not a mind reader but I do look for the things that can come back to bite you. So why wasn't a no further action determination pursued?

By the way Mr. Client, we can have a "red flag memo" to you by next Tuesday. He's going to get back to me.

Commuter Hell in Seattle

It took me four and a half hours to get home to Edmonds last night. All looked good when I left the office in Redmond at 5 pm. As soon as I got up Avondale Road a short way it started snowing heavily. The traffic was barely moving. It took me two hours just to get to Cottage Lake. I then heard on the radio that Interstate 405 north was totally blocked. I turned around and went back to the office and grabbed my laptop and some files. I checked the traffic map and decided on a 520 bridge west crossing. That worked well. As soon as I got on I-5 northbound, I got off the very first exit at 45th and headed west to Ballard hearing that I-5 from Lake City Way north was not moving. From Ballard I went north via 15th and then Greenwood. Greenwood got more crumbly icy the further north I went until finally at 145th it was a skating rink. Where Greenwood turns into 155th and meets 99, it was Zamboni time, smooth ice on a slight hill. Two Metro buses were off to the side. The young gal in front of me hit her breaks and went sideways. I gently eased to a stop and watched her slide away. Once stopped I noticed that I was very slowly, almost imperceptably sliding. The gal in front of me was cleared out so I let off the breaks and kept on a straight course to the flat. Once on 99 it was OK all the way to Edmonds. I made it home about 9:40 pm. The family was waiting up for me. My wife made me a couple egg burritos …mmmmmm.

Salinas Valley Redux - California Dreamin' Part VIII

I covered my trip northward through the Salinas Valley in Part II. In this last segment of California Dreamin' I'll cover it again, only with a few photos and some additional details.

In Part VII, I had just pulled into Paso Robles on a Wednesday night after traversing up and over the Parkfield Grade. I had one more medical office building to look at in Templeton for a mold assessment, part of my whirl-wind week-long tour of California with sites in San Leandro, Los Gatos, and Manteca. Templeton lies between Paso Robles and Atascadero. I was booked into a Hampton Inn on the southern edge of Paso Robles for Wednesday and Thursday nights. It was a brand new hotel catering to the Central Coast wine tour crowd. With that theme in mind, I picked up a bottle of Castoro Cellars Fume Blanc from the local supermarket along with some other food items to stock in my room's pony fridge.

I met my site contact Thursday morning and went through the small building of medical office suites, mostly vacant. The site contact obviously had more important responsibilities, being the facilities manager at the local hospital, but he was polite and made sure I saw everything I needed. He was a younger good old boy who grew up in Bakersfield, a chunk of Oklahoma dropped into the center of California. He had a real nice rig, a Toyota Tundra in bright metallic blue, lifted and tricked out, and too nice to thrash off road. I was the only consultant (among several disciplines on this project) who had called ahead and scheduled an appointment for a site visit so he gave me some credit for that. My years of doing these things have taught me to head Murphy off wherever you can and confirming site visits is plain old Consulting 101. It surprises me to hear about consultants who just show up expecting to walk through. I couldn't afford any schedule glitches on this week-long tour.

I wrapped up the site visit in about an hour. I supposed I could've made a flight out of Oakland later that day. But the San Leandro draft report was due the following day (Friday) and I would've have lost a precious day driving up to Oakland. I sequestered myself in my room the rest of the day and into the night working on the San Leandro report. I finished it and emailed it off that night.

I didn't get to see much of Paso Robles except for driving around looking for places to eat and buy a latte at anyplace but Starbucks. I vaguely remember Paso Robles from passing through there on family vacations on the way up to Oregon for camping. We stayed in a motel there once. I had a shoebox full of wooly bear caterpillars that my mother allowed me to bring along on the trip or else they would starve. As a kid I always had some captured creatures I would keep like caterpillars, spiders including black widows, and lizards. Caterpillars were most fun because they eventually pupated and emerged as moths or butterflies. As it turned out, the shoebox of caterpillars was left behind outside of the motel room. When I realized we had forgotten the caterpillars we were already well down the road. I think my parents were secretly relieved of having to deal with a box full of caterpillars through a whole family camping trip.

I left Paso Robles Friday morning heading north through the Salinas Valley to catch a flight out of Oakland back to Seattle. I made several stops along the way as I mentioned in Part II.



My first stop was Mission San Miguel Arcangel. Early morning low clouds added grayness and mystery to the mission buildings. The history of the mission includes the tragic murders of the Reed family here in 1848. I walked all around the perimeter of the mission, the gift shop and museum not opening until later in the morning. The church was closed indefinately, undergoing repairs from a December 2003 earthquake. The cracks in the front church wall are readily obvious. The repair operations are much in evidence around the church and associated buildings.



Across from Mission San Miguel is the Rios-Caledonia Adobe. I was the only there this morning except for the still slumbering caretaker. I feely walked the grounds without another soul to disturb my thoughts.



I stopped to photograph an old feed mill in San Miguel. It reminded me of the old CC Stafford feed mill near where I grew up as a boy, the mill already in decay as suburbia grew around it.



My last stop was at Mission Nuestra Senora de la Soledad. The mission sits out in the middle of the Salinas valley lettuce fields, isolated, with no adjacent town or city. I pretty much had the run of the place being the only tourist present. From my readings I recognized one of two marked graves as that of Jose Joaquin de Arrillaga.



"As soon as we were informed of the arrival of the gobernador [Arrillaga], Lieutenant Davidov was sent ashore to welcome the company and extend our warmest acknowledgements for the friendly manner in which we had been received. On the following morning, when we expected our visit to be returned, there came two religiosos tendering apologies of the gobernador that, being advanced in years and of feeble constitution, he hoped to be excused from returning the visit, and at the same time requesting Rezanov, with all of the officers, to visit him at the presidio. The invitation was accepted, and we all went to the presidio, where we became acquainted with the gobernador, a venerable looking man of sixty years. He had come a distance of no less than twenty-five German miles, solely for the purpose of showing respect to us and making our stay as agreeable as possible."

Georg von Langsdorff - 1806



John Steinbeck describes the essence of California and the Salinas Valley the best in the opening of East of Eden.

"The Salinas Valley is in Northern California. It is a long narrow swale between two ranges of mountains, and the Salinas River winds and twists up the center until it falls at last into Monterey Bay.

I remember my childhood names for grasses and secret flowers. I remember where a toad may live and what time the birds awaken in summer - and what trees and seasons smelled like - how people looked and walked and smelled even. The memory of odors is very rich.

I remember that the Gabilan Mountains to the east of the valley were light gay mountains full of sun and loveliness and a kind of invitation, so that you wanted to climb into their warm foothills almost as you want to climb into the lap of a beloved mother. They were beckoning mountains with a brown grass love. The Santa Lucias stood up against the sky to the west and kept the valley from the open sea, and they were dark and brooding - unfriendly and dangerous. I always found in myself a dread of west and love of east. Where I ever got such an idea I cannot say, unless it could be that the morning came over the peaks of the Gabilans and the night drifted back from the ridges of the Santa Lucias. It may be that the birth and death of the day had some part in my feeling about the two ranges of mountains."

John Steinbeck - East of Eden

Happy Birthday My Son

Yesterday was my youngest son's eleventh birthday. He's such a wonderful kid - handsome with his loosely curled blonde hair and blue eyes, polite, great vocabulary and a vivid imagination. He had three friends over for a sleepover plus older brother, who managed nicely not to pound or humiliate his little brother in front of his friends. Fun was had by all - electronic games, pizza, soda, pancakes and bacon for breakfast, followed by backyard potato gun fights. Nobody got hurt and nothing got broken.

Parkfield Grade - California Dreamin' Part VII

I had looked over a number of California state road maps at a Barnes & Noble in Tracy. I was exploring a number of ways to get from Manteca to Paso Robles the long way. One map, and only one of the maps I looked at showed a sliver of a road that left Highway 198 just after Coalinga and headed south through Parkfield connecting with Highway 46. Naturally, this was the map I bought.

In Part VI, I had stopped at a BLM pull-out for a leg stretch and snap shots. From there, I headed west again on Highway 198, vigilant for a side road to my left that would take me to Parkfield and beyond. Sooner than I could blink, I spotted a side road with a small sign that read "Parkfield Grade." Well that had to be it so I turned left.
The road traversed over a broad rolling oak-studded plateau, dipped into a couple dry washes, then began twisting and climbing up into the rounded ridges of the central California Coast Ranges. I found a pull-out on the narrow road that afforded a grand view of the plateau I had just crossed. I loved being here. This was the real California with all the sights, smells, and familiarity of growing up and tramping through the golden hills of California. This time of year, they were truly baked to a shimmering gold. Were this March, these hills would be emerald green, teeming with wildflowers and buzzing insects. On this day life slumbers here beneath the withering late summer sun and twisted live oak branches.

I past interesting rock formations composed of ophiolite and serpentine, oceanic crust that was squeezed up by colliding crustal plates. The rocks were covered with a brilliant red lichen.

Climbing further, digger pines appeared, and then the pavement ended. I was sure that I was lost now, having seen only one other vehicle. The road became dirt and gravel yet still well graded enough for my rental car. On I went. I had plenty of gas.
I crested at the county line leaving Fresno County and entering Monterey County. The road, still dirt, wound it's way down. I could see down the to Cholame Valley. I stopped just after the crest for more pictures of vistas and oak trees.
I finally reached valley bottom at the V6 Ranch that later research told me was a bit of a working and guest ranch. From here the road was level and relatively straight, crossing the dry Little Cholame Creek on standard box truss bridges.

I pulled into Parkfield and it might as well have been a ghost town. The inn and restaurant were both closed. I had been looking forward to a lunch stop here. There's a small USGS building and an information board, Parkfield being the locus of earthquake prediction study along the San Andreas fault because of the regularity of earthquake occurrence.
Just south of Parkfield, I stopped at the bridge where every tourist stops, the bridge slightly contorted by the slow creep of the San Andreas fault. One side of the bridge is the Pacific plate and the other is the North American plate. Whichever side you're standing, the opposite side will be moving to your right, assuming you're facing the other side. Therefore, as is well known, the San Andreas fault is a right-lateral strike-slip fault.
My little country road adventure finally came to an end at the intersection with Highway 46 under the low late afternoon sun at the bottom end of Cholame Valley. I stopped for a couple more snapshots before heading on to Paso Robles for the night. It was very near here where James Dean was killed on September 30, 1955 in a head-on collision at the intersection of Highway 46 and Highway 41. I was 6 months old at the time.