Keeping Springfield Safe

As trace amounts of radioactive material from failed Japanese nuclear reactors are being found around the world, the authorities are assuring us that there is no health hazard. But just to be extra, extra safe, some broadcasters in Canada and Europe are refraining from showing any episodes of "The Simpsons" that depict nuclear emergencies. Because the more you think about a nuclear meltdown, the more likely it is to happen? Because humor is bad way to deal with stressful situations? Because viewers sometimes confuse "The Simpsons" with a documentary? Because people might become alarmed and start thinking that nuclear power isn't safe?

Time for a new obsession?

Photo: Abandoned condos with a view of Jordan Cove, in Coos Bay, Oregon

A lot has changed since I started following the development of natural gas import terminals two years ago. Nationally, most of the proposals have died, and new reserves of domestic natural gas are being tapped, creating a whole new world of health and environmental nightmares.

Of the three projects that were proposed for Oregon, one is dead, one is hanging by a thread, and one is still more or less proceeding through the regulatory process. The big news this month is that Northwest Natural has withdrawn its application for approval of the Palomar Pipeline. This major pipeline was originally tied to the Bradwood Landing import facility, which went bankrupt last year. There was speculation that Palomar could hook up with Oregon LNG, the second import facility in the Astoria area. That didn’t happen, though, which does leave Oregon LNG in a bit of a pickle. It’s own pipeline only would go only partway across the state, rather than all the way to the north-south transmission network that connects Oregon to California.

Anyway, at this point Oregon LNG can’t even get its pipeline through Clatsop County, the first of five counties the pipe would have to cross after leaving the coastal import station. After a changing of the guard in recent elections, the county board revoked the pipeline’s permit. Of course, the whole thing is tied up in court, and Oregon LNG’s promises to work with the community have dried up into a rancorous tangle of litigation.

That leaves the third project, Jordan Cove LNG, which is also muddling its way through a series of legal hurdles, including the objection of the state of Oregon to federal approval of the project. It is also having trouble with its pipeline — turns out that obtaining the right of eminent domain over the property of 675 landowners, many of them unwilling, creates a bit of a headache. The thing is years behind schedule. Really its only hope is that it takes so long to get approval that the U.S. actually uses up its domestic natural gas in the meantime — we’re estimated to have only enough for next 100 years or so.

Springwater Six: Lonesome Town

I’m sorry to say that the sixth leg of the Springwater Corridor trek was the worst. I set off from the trail’s intersection with Southeast 82nd Avenue on a bitterly cold day. The wind was blowing off 82nd like it was Lake Michigan. The first thing I saw was a city truck driving down the path. The truck stopped and the young man inside warned me that there was some wet paint on the trail.

I noticed some patches of black paint on the pavement and realized he’d been cruising down the path, painting over graffiti.

On either side of the trail were scraggly bushes, and occasionally the backs of buildings.

At one point there was a rickety home-made bench under a tree that was dedicated to someone in rough paint. Behind it was a falling-down shed. Two people were leaving the shed, saying goodbye to someone inside. I wanted to take a picture of the bench but I didn’t because I was afraid the people were cooking meth in the shed.

There was ice on the puddles and the sky was the color of a dead whale. The wind kept blowing. There was garbage in the tall dry grass.

Jackie was nervous. She was especially unhappy when we walked under the overpass for I-205, six or eight lanes of traffic going overhead at 70 miles an hour. During most of the walk, she stayed out ahead of me, weaving back and forth across the path like she was sniffing for land mines.

On the way back to the car, I walked by a culvert that ran under a busy street. I saw a man ducking into the tunnel, I assume to do drugs.

Couldn’t wait to get back to the car.

That was in January. Now it’s March, I need to buck up and get back out there.

Meltdown

I've been mulling over ideas for a drink in honor of the ongoing nuclear crisis in Japan, but I don't think I can do better than the cocktail I was served at a place called Vintage last night. First the bartender mixed Maker's Mark and Cynar (the Italian artichoke liqueur) with ice in a pint glass. Then she went into the back room for some reason. Then she poured green Chartreuse into a wine glass and set it on fire. She strained the first mixture into the wine glass to douse the flames, then singed a bit of orange peel and tossed it in.

The government claimed it was not strong enough to cause any harm, but I beg to differ.