Abriel Ferreira '10

Abriel FerreiraCape Wind

Chapter 1: 'Tis the season

            "Who on earth would put a windmill there?" I think as we drive over the Sagamore Bridge onto Cape Cod, and the Christmas Tree Shop and its windmill come into view. After a long flight from The Netherlands, a large wooden windmill is the last thing I expect to see, other than a Christmas shop open in June. My uncle patiently explains to me that the Christmas Tree Shop is in fact a year-round bargain store, selling everything from toys to furniture to, indeed, Christmas decorations. "That still makes absolutely no sense." I complain. "And it doesn't explain the windmill."

Go back two hundred years, and windmills sprouted across the Cape like dandelions. After advances in mass food production, they were no longer used for grinding corn. After the construction of the Eerie Canal, when cheap salt became available from Kentucky and New York, they were no longer used to haul water for the region's salt industry. After advances in plumbing, they were no longer used for pumping water for indoor plumbing. Recently, however, windmills have been making a comeback. Wealthy homeowners have been building replica windmills because they find they fit Cape Cod's quaint character, complete with weathered wooden clapboard structures.

Cape Cod has long been a popular seaside destination. It was among the first places settled by Europeans in North America, and its first town was established as early as 1636. In the late 19th century it became a popular destination for Bostonians trying to escape the hustle and bustle of the city, as well as the hot summer weather. Now in 2006, the Cape is settled by roughly 230,000 year round inhabitants, but suffers a huge influx of tourists every summer. Many urbanites come from all over New England, and even the world, to enjoy the mild summer weather and warm beaches. Today is certainly no exception. From the second we get off the Sagamore bridge, cars with license plates from Connecticut to Florida inch along the highway like ants on their way to a feast.. During this long wait in traffic, I look out the window and notice that the Christmas Tree Shop is not the only thing out of season. There are deciduous trees as well as evergreens lining the highway, but there are scattered patches of trees that are completely bare, as if a winter wind had blown through them.

My uncle, the history teacher, explained that Cape Cod has long been subject to intensive land use. The receding Laurentide glacier created the Cape about 18,000 years ago. The thin soil was unsuitable for many crops familiar to the early English settlers. There were, however, many trees, which proved quite useful. They used the wood to heat their homes and the slash burning of woodlands became common because it released nutrients into the soil. Unfortunately, improper and intensive farming led to erosion and the loss of topsoil and by the time Thoreau took his famous visits to the Cape in the 1850s, trees were scarce and vegetation was depauperate. The Cape had been transformed into one big sand dune. The early industrial revolution bypassed Cape Cod due to a lack of significant waterpower in the area, and combined with its geographic position, it developed as a large fishing and whaling center. It was originally named Cape Cod because at one time you could simply dip your hand in the water and pull out a cod. Because of over fishing, those days are long over, although it is still an important source of income for many year-round residents.

"Then, why are there trees here?" I ask my uncle. "They don't even seem to be in straight rows, like the ones in Holland."

My uncle pauses a moment then explains that after the opening of the West in the 1860s, agricultural abandonment began on the Cape so that by 1950 it had more forests than at any time since the 18th century. This current loss of forest seems worrisome to me. Part of the reason is the bad wind storms over the winter, but, my uncle tells me, the true culprits are the winter moths. They are only about one inch long and are a dull grey-brown, but beneath their drab appearance is a very hungry and destructive insect. Once the larvae hatch in the early spring they feed ravenously on leaves and fruit and strip trees of their bark. They only thrive in years with wet summers and long autumns, and usually the trees can recuperate. If the moths come back too frequently however, it is harder for trees to survive.

"This is the second consecutive year, and some of the trees will not recover." He says, obviously concerned, "The larvae are now buried under the sandy soil, ready to come out in the fall, after the tourist season is over. With global warming, the plague of the winter moths is only expected to get worse."

The moths are not the only visitors. Now there are even coyotes on Cape Cod. Driven out of their natural habitat, they have been reduced to snacking on many outdoor cats and small dogs. As we take exit six and begin to drive through Hyannis, Burger King, Wendy's, Taco Bell, K-Mart, and Dunkin Donuts crowd the side of the road. Winding through side roads to get to my uncle's house, I noticed there were many new, rather large, houses being built. Soon, the coyotes might have problems here, too.

As soon as we get out of the car at my uncle's house, the first things I'm shown are his squirrel-proof bird feeders in the front law. "Now that I'm an old man, bird watching has become one of my favorite hobbies. The coyotes help too, eating everybody's cats so they don't eat the birds," he chuckles. "I wonder how long it's going to be like this though. Between McDonald's and McMansions, there's a lot of sprawl. Now they also want to build hundreds of windmills out on Nantucket Sound that could kill the birds, not to mention the view. It's a big controversy over here."

I think about the drive to the Amsterdam airport from my house. At first you pass the old wooden windmills, with 4 long blades and canvass sails, but once you get onto the highway you pass the white, tall, slim modern versions, slowly rotating in the wind. No one seemed to complain about them back home. Could they really do that much harm?

Chapter 2: Hihowareyou?

            Even though my freshman year of college won't start until August, I came the US early to, as my father put it, get acculturated to America and learn some working-class values while I'm at it. I began working for the Massachusetts branch of the Public Interest Research Group, a non-profit NGO that focuses defending the public interest, on issues from the environment to product safety and identity theft. I was hired as a canvasser, meaning I go door-to-door raising funds for their most recent campaign, which focuses on decreasing the impacts of global warming.

I slowly raise my clenched hand to the door and knock. "You have to do it harder than that, Abriel," Mark quips as he cuts in front of me and pounds loudly on the screen door, making it rattle. This is my first day of training at work, and the associate director Mark is with me to make sure I don't make too many mistakes.

"Come 'round back guys! The burgers are ready!" I follow Mark to the back porch.

"Is this allowed? I thought we weren't supposed to..."

"Just follow me." Mark is a tall, gangly nineteen year-old with a last name that matches his shock of red hair: Bushy. "Hi, how are you?" His tone of voice is like that of a radio announcer, and it is incredibly effective at masking the insincerity of this phrase. It's something I have found many Americans ask each other, even when they don't care about the answer. Mark is an experienced canvasser, in fact one of the top fifteen in the country. His canvassing persona makes him seem a somewhat awkward but enthusiastic youth. He walks from door to door with purpose, and never stumbles on his words. The enthusiasm shows most at the end of his rap when he begins asking for money.

On the porch there is a short, slightly portly, middle-aged woman with short curly brown hair, sunglasses, and a grey t-shirt with CAPE COD emblazoned across the front. Her husband is an older looking grey-haired man with sunglasses, flipping burgers on the barbeque. "Hi there!" She catches site of our navy blue shirts with MASSPIRG." Oh, it's just the PIRG people," the woman says to her husband. Mark gives me the nod, and I start to recite the script.

"Hi, my name's Abriel and I'm with MASSPIRG, the statewide environmental group. Right now we're focused on global warming." Pause for a breath. Slow down, you're doing fine. "As you may have heard," now pause and give them a concerned glance, "2005 was the hottest year on record. Here in Massachusetts global warming means a rise in sea levels, more severe storms, and um..." what's the last line, " and more smog pollution." I quickly cover by flashing an enthusiastic smile and saying in an upbeat voice, "So we need legislators to get us back on track, and we're doing that by building public support. And that's why I'm here today! Here, take a look at our statement of support, it outlines the work that we do." I feel relieved as I thrust my clipboard into the woman's lap. I glance over at Mark, who gives me a reassuring nod.

"I don't get it," the woman replies, ignoring the clipboard. "What exactly is in this legislation anyway?"

"It's..it's for cutting carbon emissions." I offer helpfully. "Like a regional adaptation of the Kyoto Protocol." This is how it had been explained to me earlier, hopefully these people know what Kyoto is.

"Is it for renewable energy? You don't support Cape Wind, do you? I'm all for protecting the environment and renewable energy, but this Cape Wind thing is just such an awful idea. Jim and I have researched it and we don't support it at all, do we Jim." The man shakes his head vigorously, but still keeps his eyes on the burgers. At this point I'm not sure about what to do. No one has really told me the details of the legislation yet, and I don't really know anything about Cape Wind other than that it's a bunch of windmills out at sea.

Mark butts in, "Actually this legislation has to do with reducing the emissions from already existing power plants. We have not actually taken a stance on Cape Wind yet because..."

"Well, you should take a stand because this is bad for the environment! Its hurting the birds and the whales and...," she retorts.

"Because the environmental impact statement hasn't come out yet."

"But what else do they need to know? The Sierra Club called them the cuisinarts of the air!"

"Actually, the Sierra Club is one of our allies, and they're in the same position we are. That statement was on an anti-Cape Wind website and the Sierra Club made them take it down."

"So you are Pro-Cape Wind!"

"No it's just...here why don't you take this flyer, it has our website on it, and you can read more about it there. Have a nice day!" he gives in.

As we make our way back to the street and round the corner, he begins to lecture me. "Abriel, don't ever do what I did. That was a bad example of canvassing. Always let them think that they're right. Once you have to explain too much, it's not worth the time. You have to learn that some people are with you, and some people are against you. Just find the one's who know who we are and who support our cause, and target them for as much as you can." He combs his bushy hair with his fingers and shakes his head. We continue down the next driveway at a brisk pace. This was not at all what I had expected. Isn't part of our mission to educate people about these issues? When I first heard that I would be asking people for money at their doors, I imagined the volunteers from the National Cancer Foundation in Holland coming around to our doors asking for spare change. When I was told I'm meant to ask people for $50 to $100 at every door ("we take cash check or credit card!"), my jaw dropped.

Before we get to the next door I stop abruptly in the middle of the road. "Mark, what's the deal with Cape Wind?"

He rolls his eyes just a bit and explains "The Cape Wind proposal would have roughly 130 turbines clustered on a 24 square-mile area of Nantucket Sound. With one of the three blades pointed toward the sky, each turbine would reach 426 feet above sea level (the Statue of Liberty is 305 feet). They would be roughly 1/3 of a mile apart. It has been proposed by Jim Gordon, an entrepreneur who has made millions working for an energy company. It was first proposed in 2001 but has been slowed down because there is a lot of opposition, especially from the Kennedy family, who sail in that area, and it's right off of their family compound. It would be a great source of clean energy, but we haven't decided if we support it yet because we are waiting for the environmental impact statement to come out. If this really hurts birds and fish, we're not in on it. Our help would come mostly in the form of lobbying, since they're trying to pass some laws in Washington that would stop it from being permitted. Of course having the support of one of the nation's largest environmental groups helps."

A few days later I've had a really bad day. Thirty dollars away from making the quota of one hundred and ten dollars, I meet up with the other director, Melanie, and tell her that even though it's getting late, there's one more house I want to hit. Though the paint on the house was chipping, and the screen door didn't close all the way, the car in the driveway was a Prius, and had bumper stickers like "Kerry Edwards 04," "Support Our Troops, Bring them home!" and a "YES" sticker with a picture of a windmill.

"Good job, your learning fast. Those are good signs to look for. Don't worry about it girl, everything's gravy," Melanie says as she flicks her blond ponytail and turns to knock on the door. The barks of what could only be a very large dog vibrate through the door. An older man with long grey hair and a faded tie-dye t-shirt opens it. He is probably in his fifties or sixties, and probably had his heyday in the fifties or sixties. "Hey, how are you?" Melanie chimes in an up beat voice. After making small talk about golden retrievers, Melanie gives me the nod to start the rap again. By the time I get to thrusting the clip board in his face, he eagerly begins to fill it out. Melanie jumps in and explains that just today we've joined an alliance with Cape Wind, because their environmental impact statement came out, and Mass Audubon just completed a study that has shown that there will be no significant effect on birds.

"Convenient," I mutter under my breath, as he writes us a check for $100.

Chapter 3: Take a deep breath

We get back to the office at about 9:30pm, and I sit hunched over a table in the un-air-conditioned office, anxiously filling out paper work so I can get home. It's been a week since I started, and I don't yet have a knack for filing papers fast. Most of my coworkers have been working here longer than I have, and usually finish their work before me. They look about my age, though mostly two or three years older. About six of them stood outside smoking cigarettes and sharing stories of the characters they had met on their turf today. I hurriedly fill out my last form so I could go outside and hear the best tales, and of course share my own as they blow little puffs of white smoke into the air.

Air quality on Cape Cod is some of the worst in the country. But urbanites from Boston or New York looking for a fresh sea breeze will be hard pressed to find it on Cape. According to a recent report, Barnstable County, which is where our office and my uncle's house are, has had higher pollution levels and more bad air days than Boston this year. In general, New England's air quality is bad because pollution from the industrial mid-west is carried over by wind to the North East. Since we drive to various parts of the Cape everyday, I get a first hand view of the bumper-to-bumper traffic, which certainly doesn't help either. The biggest polluters, I learn from MASSPIRG's campaign, are power plants. Many Massachusetts power plants have avoided modern pollution controls for years.

My turf today had been in a neighborhood in Sandwich near the worst of Massachusetts' notorious "filthy five" power plants. The neighborhood I had was not the best neighborhood in an economic sense. I came across many retirees living on fixed incomes, or people with health problems who couldn't afford anything other than the little health care they had. I had also been reprimanded for criticizing power plants. "Is this legislation going to provide jobs?" One man had sneered at me before he promptly slammed the door in my face.

I mentioned to the group that there was one very kind elderly couple I came across. Today was a hot day, certainly in the nineties. These days used to be rare for New England, especially for Cape Cod, but they've been becoming more and more common. The couple let me come in and have a glass of ice water. They can't give me much money, but they support the cause, especially because the man worked at the Sandwich power plant for years. He is a cancer survivor, but he's convinced that his job had something to do with it. Apparently cancer rates are unusually high in this town. After I told them more about our campaign they told me about their worries about the effects of global warming, particularly on their grandchildren, and pointed at various pictures around their living room.

My coworker Sean butts in, "I had a woman today tell me she's going to die any day now so she doesn't care about global warming. I asked her what about your grandchildren? And she said "I don't care about my grandchildren!"

"Shut up Sean, you're lying," Christina says as she rolls her eyes.

"No way, true story."

"Truth is," Christina says as she pauses to exhale a puff of smoke, "most people here don't have beach front property or sailboats. But what may be one person's 3rd home could be right next door to someone struggling to keep up with the rent."

Chapter 4: The Naysayers

"I'm sorry, usually I love what you do, but I oppose this project for aesthetic reasons. It's visual pollution."

I was quite surprised by this woman's answer. I had been looking forward to today since I began working at MASSPIRG. Today we are canvassing Provincetown, a notoriously liberal town known for its large gay community and also home to many artists. I may not have been here long, but I have learned Cape geography fairly quickly. People explain Cape geography by holding out their arm as if they were doing a bicep curl. The knuckle at the end of the clenched fist is Provincetown. The Cape Wind project is six miles south of Hyannis (home to the Kennedy compound), which is directly between the elbow and the armpit, no where near Provincetown.

"Well you don't have to have beach front property to be opposed to this project. I'm opposed to it on principle. It's another example of a big company making a profit from a public resource. "

I briskly stroll up another driveway. Only one more hour to go! I'm about to ring the doorbell when out of the corner of my eye I spot "Save Our Sound" sign boards leaning against the side of his house, just waiting to be put in a front yard. I see the shadow of a man approaching through the smoky glass. Maybe if I make a run for it he'll think it was just the neighborhood kids playing a mean trick on him. But it was too late. He opens the door and stares straight at the white block letters proclaiming MASSPIRG across my chest. I nervously clutch my clipboard to my chest.

"Hihowareyou? My name is Abriel and I'm with..."

"I'm fine and I know what you guys do. Is it true that you support Cape Wind?"

"Yes" I say, clutching my clipboard and bracing myself for what might come next.

Unlike me, this man remains calm and composed. "How much do you know about this company?" he asks. "For a non-profit that claims to represent the public interest this seems like a poor cause to support. There's a cost-benefit analysis that has just come out says this plan may make money for this company but it's going to hurt the locals in the long run. My electricity prices have doubled in the past three years, and I can't afford to have them going up anymore!"

The Cape's first windmill was built in 1687 at Cobb's Hill in Barnstable Village by Eastham resident Thomas Paine, who was paid 32 pounds. By the end of the 18th century, Cape Cod had nearly 40 windmills grinding grain across the peninsula. The men who ran the windmills - millers - were considered so important that they were exempted from taxes and military service. They also kept one-tenth of what they ground.

One day, instead of asking us to come in early so we could practice our hihowareyou's on each other, our bosses asked us to come in early to hear Mark Rodgers, a Cape Wind spokes person, speak on the issue. He came with a power point projector, I came with questions.

            "How much are you making from this? Is it true you'll be getting over a billion dollars in subsidies? What energy price will you be offering? Is it true that most of the power generated won't even stay on Cape Cod?"

            "Whoa, slow down there," he chuckles. He's wearing black slacks, a white button up shirt, and a blue tie. He seems to be in his early thirties, and despite his formal business dress and snappy power point presentation he is very relaxed. His appearance contrasts sharply with our rather informal office. Our office is one room with long tables around the edges and fold out chairs strewn haphazardly about. The walls resemble a 5th grade classroom more than a true office. They are covered with maps of Cape Cod, and various colorful handmade posters. On one wall a checklist of Massachusetts legislators who have supported. On another wall are colorful posters with the daily and weekly goals written in, and brightly colored sharpies are scattered nearby so we can fill them in at the end of the day.

            "I can't give you an exact price right now, because that will be determined by market forces. But I can tell you that once this gets built and once you've got all the cost loaded into it, it will be able to produce electricity at a fixed cost which in all probability, I can't say for sure, but in all probability will be lower than where natural-gas prices will be. Electricity has not been publicly owned since the 1950s. We would enter a competitive market, and people can choose whether they will get our energy or not. We wouldn't be pursuing this if we didn't think it would pay off. That being said, we are not just here to take from the public. We will be getting subsidies, probably somewhere around twenty million dollars." I raise my eyebrows in skepticism. "The whole project will still cost well over a billion dollars," he replies, smiling at me. "Our company would definitely be bearing the brunt of the costs."

            "What about costs to the birds and the fish? And navigation?" Christina asks. "A lot of people have been asking about that."

            "There is no doubt that wind technology has hurt birds in the past. But with the newer technology, the blades would rotate slower and cause less damage. Audubon and the Institute for Oceanographic Studies at Woods hole, two of the most respected organizations in Massachusetts, have both done studies on the effects on wildlife and have given us their support." Upon hearing this many of us exchanged relieved glances and begin to nod, since this was a concern with many people we had spoken to.

            "As some of you may have heard, the Beacon Hill institute has recently come out with a study that claims that the costs of this project outweigh the benefits. The analysis neglected to say that if you remove Cape Wind's own business investment into the project, the study finds that the benefits outweigh the costs three to one. The report does not even classify new jobs or electrics savings as benefits. Another interesting fact is that it was funded in large part by donations from the Egan family, a family that is a part of the Alliance to protect Nantucket Sound and has some great beach front property."

During the Revolutionary War there was an impetus for wind power on the Cape. The British imposed both a blockade around the peninsula and an embargo of goods, leading to dire shortages of some items, such as the salt needed to preserve fish in pre-refrigeration days. As the price of salt soared, Cape Codders turned to the laborious method of boiling saltwater in huge iron kettles. But the method was grossly inefficient, author William Quinn points out in his book The Salt works of Historic Cape Cod "It took almost two cords of firewood to boil down four hundred gallons of sea water and produce one bushel of salt," Quinn wrote. The method also stripped local forests of wood.

"Right now," Rodgers explains, "we our power plants are dependent largely on natural gas and oil. But as we know, these are dwindling resources. Many people know about oil," he says as he clicks the remote control and a slide of an oil rig at sea appears against the white wall. "But most of our power plants on this grid rely on natural gas."

The Northeast power grid is a spider web-like network of 350 plants spread across six states. It is connected by 8,000 miles of transmission lines, carrying power throughout the region, and thousands upon thousands of miles of distribution lines, which distribute power to 14 million residents.

"Now the times of highest demand are hot days in the summer, when everyone has their air-conditioners on, or very cold days in the winter." As he said this a cartoon image of a beach was juxtaposed next to the cartoon image of a snow man. "The times when we can get the highest amount generation from wind often coincides with the times we can get highest amounts of need." He went on to explain what happened during the cold snap emergency of January 2004. For almost a week, temperatures dipped below zero at night, and only reached single digits during the day. One day, the natural-gas-fired power plant at Dighton could not find enough natural gas to buy, so they had to go offline. This wouldn't have been a problem if it had been an isolated incident, but slowly but surely more plants began reporting that they would be offline. Luckily, businesses and schools shut down, which decreased the demand, and more importantly, temperatures began to moderate. If there had been a grid outage, many people would have died.

"The fact is that there is a huge demand for energy in this area, but there simply isn't enough infrastructure to sustain it. Unless we drastically change our energy consumption patterns, something that will be difficult to do when more extreme weather comes, this region can't go without more sources of power. Anymore questions?"

"What about the view?" my coworker Ben asks.

"Oh of course. How could I forget." Rodgers flashes forward to a few slides with super imposed images of the wind farm. "You would only really be able to see them like this on a clear day. But it's true, they will be visible. Whether you like it or not is a matter of personal taste, but this area has energy needs, and the world has clean energy needs, and we believe Cape Wind would be an important step in the right direction."

Chapter 5: A well oiled machine

The main opposition to the Cape Wind project is the Alliance to Protect Nantucket Sound. One day after work, I decided to go to their website and find out a bit more about who is running it. Bill Koch is the owner of a major energy conglomerate that includes oil, natural gas and petroleum interests. He is also the co-chairman of the Alliance to Protect Nantucket Sound. Doug Yearley was a board member of Marathon Oil - and former president of the Alliance. Congressman Don Young of Alaska - a key leader in the "historic battle for approval of the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline," according to his website – is the author of legislation to derail the offshore wind farm proposed for Nantucket Sound. In addition, the Alliance cites Hy-line cruises, the Steamship Authority, and various local yachting clubs on their list of supporters. These groups have recently come under fire because it has been discovered that they often dump sewage and untreated waste directly into the pristine national treasure they try to protect.

Governor Mitt Romney is opposed to Cape Wind. "I've seen wind farms," he said. "They are not pretty...There are several areas in the Berkshire region where wind farms have recently been approved. There are a number of different areas along the coast of Massachusetts which may be appropriate as well." This seemed to be a common sentiment among people I canvassed. "They can go build it over by Fall River, or up in Maine, but not in a sacred place like Horseshoe Shoal!" One particularly angry man yelled at me.

At the end of April in 2003, on a nasty, windblown night, a barge bringing oil to Cape Cod's power plant veered off course and struck a ledge. Almost 100,000 gallons of the thick and incredibly toxic number six oil, also called Bunker C, found its way into ocean currents, spreading a sheen over ninety miles of shoreline. It covered sea life, ruined shell fish beds, killed endangered animals like roseate terns, and made many beaches unusable for months. "The smell was the worst part," one woman I canvassed told me. "The next day I had a bloody nose, and a headache."

The biggest cities around this area are New Bedford, formerly "the City That Lit the World" because of its 19th century whale-oil industry, and Fall River, known as "the Spindle City" because of textile mills that existed there long ago. They are also two of Massachusetts' poorest cities. This is a real industrial dumpsite, but no one seems to mind as much as they do about Cape Wind. People complained that tourists would avoid Nantucket Sound if the wind farm was built, but after the oil spill, tourists wanting to dig up their own clams for famous New England chowder were out of luck on Buzzard's Bay.

Chapter 6: It's not that simple

From a distance I saw a barefoot man with long, dark hair hosing down his boat in the driveway. As he sees me purposefully walk toward him with my clipboard, he does not threaten to call the police, or rush inside and lock the door (both of which have happened to me on previous occasions), but instead turns of his hose and waves, flashing a kind smile. We chat about the weather, and I feel much more at ease, and more like I'm having a conversation with someone rather than reciting a script.

"I'm sorry. I'm all for that stuff, but I'm a fisherman, and that's prime fishing turf for me. Can't shoot myself in the foot, you know? But it was nice to meet you! Hope you have a good day."

Mark Rodgers had enthusiastically told us that the length between each windmill would be 6 to 8 football fields, which is plenty of room for boats to get through. The area has already been subject to such devastating fishing techniques, but there might be a possibility that the windmills would act as fake reefs, attracting all sorts of fish. What he neglected to tell us was that the Massachusetts Fishermen's Partnership has refused to support the proposal, because there are fishermen who make over half their catch here. Cape Wind's environmental impact statement did not mention much about the impacts that dredging would have on the seabed. Nantucket Sound may not be pristine, but it is also not a desolate water wasteland.

Contrary to what the Cape Wind representatives would have us believe, not every person against this project is an upper-class sailor with a home in Osterville or Martha's Vineyard. Eight months after I finished working for MASSPIRG, I was back in Massachusetts for a march for climate action in Boston. I gathered with the protestors in Copley square, and sang songs about saving our planet and stopping the warning. We admired each other's clever signs and environmentally friendly water bottles. We enthusiastically cheered for every speaker who came up to the podium. At one point, a class of middle school students from the town of Chelsea came up.

"OK everyone get out your phones and take down this number!" One boy yelled over the microphone. "I just gave you Governor Deval Patrick's number so we call him and leave a message. We're going to say no to Jim Gordon's power plant he wants to build in Chelsea." A young girl pushes him out of the way and takes hold of the microphone. "This is the same guy who proposed Cape Wind, but now he wants to build a fossil fuel burning power plant right by our school. One, two, three, call!"

Chapter 7: Anything but pristine

Today's turf on Martha's Vineyard was short. I combed through it twice and was still done at seven thirty, an hour and a half earlier than usual. To pass the time before my coworkers come to pick me up I walk down to the beach. I kick off my shoes and run down to the water's edge. Before I venture any further I close my eyes and think about the beach around me. I can hear the wind blowing through the tall grass behind me, combined with the rhythmic sounds of the waves, like a drummer experimenting with two kinds of cymbals. I think about the wet sand under my feet. If I were at a certain part of Buzzard's Bay, there might be a tell tale film of oil in my footprint, left over from the un-degradable number six oil from the 2003 oil spill. On the other hand each Cape Wind turbine will be storing some oil as well. If a ship hits one and its shell ruptures, oil could get to the coast I am standing at in less than five hours. I open my eyes and try to imagine what 130 windmills on the horizon would look like. The controversy seems to be about more than just a view. I wonder whether this will really help Cape Cod, and won't be just another project that benefits the few.

Before I wade into the water any further, I take a few steps back and sit down in the sand. I pick up my clipboard and begin tallying up my total earnings for the evening. I then start to think about how much money has gone into this project, without a single turbine being built yet. The amount of money spent on legal fees from both sides is sickening.

"Hey, what are you doing here," a deep male voice suddenly snaps from behind me. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, this beach is private property."