There is a strange, quiet finality to the arrival of the New Corolla. It is a massive vessel, carrying two million barrels of crude—a literal, physical weight of energy—into the Port of Long Beach. It loaded up in Iraq on February 24th, just days before the world’s geopolitical plates shifted and the Strait of Hormuz effectively slammed shut.
By the time you read this, that oil will have been offloaded, refined, and moved into the capillaries of California’s infrastructure—into gas tanks, jet engines, and diesel generators.
And then, the silence begins.
California has long existed as an “energy island.” It is a geographic quirk that defines our modern life: we are disconnected from the domestic pipeline network that feeds the rest of the country. We don’t have the luxury of pulling from a pipeline in Texas or the Midwest. We are, by design, tethered to the horizon. We are dependent on the flow of tankers across the vast, deep blue of the Pacific.
For years, this worked. It was a invisible architecture of convenience. We consumed, and the tankers arrived with the metronomic precision of a clock. But the New Corolla is not just a delivery; it is a period at the end of a sentence. It represents the last of a supply chain that we assumed would be permanent.
When the analyst says, “all bets are off,” they aren’t just talking about prices at the pump or the logistical scrambling of refineries trying to source crude from Brazil or Guyana. They are describing the erosion of a certainty we didn’t realize we relied on. We have built a state—a massive, humming, technological engine—on the assumption that the world is a frictionless marketplace.
The crisis is not just about the supply of oil; it is the realization that we are fragile.
We look at our inventories, and we see them as a buffer. We are told they are “healthy,” but inventories are, by definition, a countdown. They are the water left in the glass after the tap has been turned off. We are now in the uncomfortable, interim phase where the supply lines are empty, and the new ones haven’t yet been built—or perhaps, cannot be built.
It is easy to look at this and see a political or economic failure. It is harder to see it as a human one. We have become experts at consuming the distant, while remaining strangers to the mechanics of that consumption. We have lived in the architecture of the “global everything,” and now, as the walls of that architecture contract, we are forced to look at the geometry of our own isolation.
The New Corolla will depart for distant waters. It will leave behind a void, and in that void, we will find out if our resilience is as robust as our rhetoric.
The future is only guaranteed for those who can afford to survive the present.
And for now, the present is a question of how much gasoline is left in the tank, how much jet fuel is available and how quickly we can learn to walk on our own.
It’s often said that the future arrives in disguise, wearing the hand-me-downs of the past. Nowhere is this more evident than in the scrublands of Texas, where a quiet revolution is taking place—one that looks suspiciously like the old status quo.
A recent New York Times story caught my eye: Not All Drilling in Texas Is About Oil. It details how the Lone Star State is rapidly becoming a hub for geothermal innovation. But here is the twist: they are doing it by repurposing the very tools, technology, and roughneck talent that built their oil empire.
“The state has become a hub of innovation for creating electricity using geothermal power. Just don’t call it renewable.”
There is a profound irony here. For decades, the narrative has been a binary battle: Dirty vs. Clean, Old Energy vs. New. But in Texas, the lines are blurring. The same drill bits that once pierced the earth for carbon are now hunting for heat. It turns out that if you know how to drill deep and manage pressure, you are halfway to solving one of the world’s most sustainable energy puzzles.
Here in California we’ve often prided ourselves on being at the vanguard of the green revolution, yet our own geothermal legacy is practically ancient history. Just north of San Francisco lies The Geysers, the world’s largest geothermal field. It has been quietly churning out electricity since 1960. It’s a marvel of the “old way”—tapping into rare, natural dry steam reservoirs. It was the low-hanging fruit of the geothermal world.
It turns out that what’s happening in Texas is different than at The Geysers. It’s the “hard stuff.” They aren’t just finding steam; they are engineering the earth to release steam, using advanced techniques to crack hot rock and circulate water. It is a technological leap that stands on the shoulders of the oil giants.
There is a beautiful lesson in this convergence. We tend to discard our past selves when we try to grow. We want a fresh start, a clean slate. But true evolution—whether in energy grids or our own lives—rarely works that way. We usually have to use the skills we learned in our “messy” phases to build our cleaner futures.
Years ago California showed us the resource was there. Texas is now showing us how to reach it in more places.
One of the most viewed posts on my blog is this article about Interstate 280 on the San Francisco Peninsula: The World’s Most Beautiful Freeway. It’s about the beauty of this freeway which runs from San Francisco south to San Jose.
For whatever reason, the site selection for this freeway was masterful as it routes through a truly beautiful section of the Peninsula passing by Crystal Springs Reservoir and a lot of rolling land that will never be further developed.
Perhaps the most complex interchange on this highway is where California Highway 92 crosses Interstate 280 in San Mateo County. Highway 92 comes southwest up the hill from the bay side as it heads up to Skyline Drive and then down into Half Moon Bay. The interchange itself has both overpasses as well as a tunnel connecting the various roadways.
This interchange is well designed and rarely a problem – except on those beautiful beach days when the weather in Half Moon Bay is warm and the usual foggy skies have rolled back. Then the traffic heading west on 92 can back up as that section is only single lane in each direction going over Skyline.
This morning I went looking for an image of the interchange and found this one on WikiMedia:
Unfortunately, the image is blurry and while it shows the overall design just fine the details are not really discernable. So I decided to try making up the design using one of the AI image generators. This one – from Microsoft’s Bing Image Creator – was my favorite:
Beautiful sweeping design with a few roads to nowhere! Looking closely at the image, it reminds me of the kinds of errors that these AI image creators often seem to make with hands and fingers. If you don’t examine them closely, they look just fine – until you do! So consider this a dreamy version of that interchange at Interstate 280 and Highway 92 in San Mateo County, California!
A few years ago when I stopped working full time I got interested in exploring the history of “the world’s most beautiful freeway” – I-280 that runs up and down the central portion of the San Francisco Peninsula.
At one point, a friend of mine and I were walking in San Francisco where we went into the main library which has a great history department. I spoke to one of the librarians in the history department who was quite encouraging about the resources they might have available that might assist in pulling together more of that history. But life intervened and I dropped the idea, not pursuing it any further. But it’s always been lingering in the back of my mind as something that might be “fun”.
A few weeks back, when I was exploring ChatGPT, I wondered how it might be helpful to me in thinking about writing such a history. So I asked it the following:
I’m writing a book on the history of the development of interstate 280 on the San Francisco peninsula. I would like an initial outline for the book including special emphasis on any especially interesting stories about people who were involved in its development or in fighting to prevent its development.
ChatGPT responded:
Certainly, here is an initial outline for your book on the history of Interstate 280 on the San Francisco peninsula:
I. Introduction
A. Brief history of the San Francisco peninsula
B. Importance of transportation infrastructure
C. Overview of the development of Interstate 280
II. Early Planning and Development of Interstate 280
A. Planning and proposals for the freeway
B. Design and construction challenges
C. Environmental and community concerns
III. The People Involved in the Development of Interstate 280
A. Key players in the development of the freeway
B. Their backgrounds and motivations
C. Challenges they faced and how they overcame them
IV. The Impact of Interstate 280 on the San Francisco Peninsula
A. Economic impact on the region
B. Changes in land use and development patterns
C. Impact on local communities
V. Opposition to Interstate 280
A. Environmental and community groups
B. Their concerns and arguments against the freeway
C. Strategies for opposing the development of the freeway
VI. Interesting Stories of the Development of Interstate 280
A. Personal stories of those involved in the development or opposition of the freeway
B. Unique challenges faced during the construction and development of the freeway
C. Anecdotes and interesting facts related to the development of the freeway
VII. Conclusion
A. Summary of key points
B. Reflection on the legacy of Interstate 280
C. Future of transportation infrastructure on the San Francisco peninsula
This outline should provide a good foundation for your book, with a focus on the people involved in the development of Interstate 280 and their stories. You can expand on each section and add more details as you conduct research and gather information. Good luck with your book!
Wow! ChatGPT just gave me a wonderful outline to just stimulate my further thinking about compiling such a history. Curious to learn more, I asked ChatGPT:
Tell me more about the key players involved in the development of interstate 280.
ChatGPT replied:
Certainly! Here’s some information about some of the key players involved in the development of Interstate 280 on the San Francisco peninsula:
Othmar H. Ammann: A Swiss-American civil engineer who designed many notable bridges and highways in the United States, including the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bayonne Bridge in New Jersey. Ammann was a key player in the design and engineering of Interstate 280.
Robert Moses: An urban planner and political figure in New York who also worked on infrastructure projects in other parts of the country, including California. Moses was an advocate for highways and was instrumental in the development of the Interstate Highway System, including Interstate 280.
James Rolph Jr.: A former mayor of San Francisco who later served as Governor of California. Rolph was a strong supporter of infrastructure projects, including the construction of Interstate 280.
William E. Kent: An environmentalist and politician who opposed the development of Interstate 280. Kent was instrumental in creating the Golden Gate National Recreation Area and worked to protect the natural areas on the San Francisco peninsula from development.
Dorothy Erskine: A journalist and environmentalist who founded the grassroots organization Citizens for Regional Recreation and Parks. Erskine was a vocal opponent of the development of Interstate 280 and worked to raise awareness of its potential impact on the environment and communities on the peninsula.
These are just a few of the key players involved in the development of Interstate 280, but there were many others, including politicians, engineers, and community leaders who played important roles in the planning, design, and construction of the freeway.
I pushed onward – asking:
Who was responsible for the selection of the route for interstate 280?
ChatGPT replied:
The selection of the route for Interstate 280 was a collaborative effort involving multiple parties, including federal and state transportation agencies, local governments, and community organizations.
The planning for Interstate 280 began in the 1950s, when the California Division of Highways (now Caltrans) began studying potential freeway routes in the San Francisco peninsula region. The San Francisco County Transportation Authority and San Mateo County Transit District were also involved in the planning process.
A number of route options were considered, including one that would have followed El Camino Real, a historic road that runs through the heart of the peninsula. However, this option was ultimately rejected due to concerns about traffic congestion and the impact on local businesses.
Instead, the final route for Interstate 280 was selected in 1956 and ran parallel to, but west of, El Camino Real. The route was chosen based on a number of factors, including the availability of right-of-way, terrain and geological considerations, and traffic patterns. It was also designed to connect with other freeways in the region, such as Interstate 880 and State Route 92.
Overall, the selection of the route for Interstate 280 was a complex process that involved multiple stakeholders and took into account a variety of factors related to transportation and community impact.
Then I asked:
Interstate 280 has been called the world’s most beautiful freeway. who suggested that?
ChatGPT told me:
The phrase “the world’s most beautiful freeway” is often used to describe Interstate 280 on the San Francisco peninsula, and it is attributed to several sources.
One of the earliest known uses of the phrase was in a 1967 article in Sunset Magazine, a popular lifestyle publication that covers the western United States. In the article, the author, who is not identified, referred to Interstate 280 as “a modern and scenic boulevard, perhaps the world’s most beautiful freeway.”
The phrase has since been used by numerous journalists, authors, and travel writers to describe the freeway’s winding curves, stunning views of the San Francisco Bay, and scenic landscapes of the Santa Cruz Mountains.
It is unclear who first coined the phrase “the world’s most beautiful freeway,” as it has been used in various contexts and by multiple sources over the years. However, it is widely recognized as a descriptor for Interstate 280 and has helped to promote the freeway as a tourist attraction in the San Francisco Bay Area.
The world’s most beautiful freeway indeed! There used to be a sign in the median of I-280 as it climbs out of the flat land of Cupertino into the foothills of the Peninsula. It’s no longer there – having been removed sometime in the last few years. You can find a photo of it here in this blog post from 2011.
Another one of my favorite photographs of I-280 is titled 280 Sunrise by Montara-based photographer Robert Buelteman – “an image of the emerging sun with the Interstate freeway in the foreground.” You can find that image in this article profiling Buelteman and his wonderful book The Unseen Peninsula. Buelteman grew up in Woodside and his book explores the Peninsula Watershed, a large piece of property that is owned by the San Francisco Water Department and not open to the public.
As for the book about this history of I-280, it’s still floating around in the back of my mind. It’s something that I continue to explore from time to time, looking for a story or three that might provide some interesting ways into telling the story of this beautiful freeway.
Here’s another photo from almost four years ago taken at the Castle Air Museum in Atwater, California. This time, it’s a C-47 Skytrain, the workhorse transport aircraft of WW II, the Berlin Airlift, etc.
This shot was taken using my first digital SLR, a Canon 30D, as a single RAW image. Postprocessing was done using Lightroom 3, Photoshop CS5 (to remove power lines, etc) along with Nik’s HDR Efex Pro and Color Efex Pro.
Maybe it’s the visit to the Ansel Adams show with Chris on Saturday that has sent me over the edge, but I’m continually intrigued by how one can take a color photo and turn it into a much more powerful black and white image.
See the photo below – it’s #3 from my initial Canon S95 HDR post earlier this morning.
Frankly, I didn’t spend much time on this photo – the point was to provide it (a traditional HDR post-processed shot) as a point of comparison with the new in-camera HDR feature built-in to the S95.
As I was looking at it, I wondered how a conversion to black and white might look – now that I’ve become acquainted and familiar with Lightroom 3’s excellent Black and White Mix controls.
So, I gave it a shot – here’s the result – after about 10 minutes of tweaking in Lightroom:
Obviously, it’s the same subject as the original photo – Rodin’s Gates of Hell – but it’s been transformed into a more powerful photograph through the conversion to black and white.
I also experimented for the first time using the new Lens Correction features in Lightroom 3 – to remove the distortion in terms of angle, etc. that I had in the original image. It now looks very close to a direct, head-on shot at the scuplture.
Finally, I tweaked it in Flickr – using Picnik to add a museum frame around it – dressing it up a bit.
It’s Sunday morning and while sipping coffee and reading the New York Times, I came across their 36 Hours travel column which this week is about Carmel-by-the-Sea, one of my favorite spots on the planet! Reading that 36 Hours article brought back memories and stimulated me to do a little writing about them!
I first got acquainted with the Carmel area over 20 years ago when I was working at Visa International. For many years, the Visa board of directors held its February board meeting at Pebble Beach every year – at the Lodge. I loved the natural beauty of the area – even if I didn’t have a golfer’s appreciation for it that most of the directors did!
Here’s my first attempt at handheld HDR photography using my new Canon EOS 5D Mark II.
The setting is Rodin’s Gates of Hell at the Cantor Arts Center on the Stanford University campus.
I love their description:
“The Rodin Sculpture Garden is open all hours, with lighting for nighttime viewing. Admission is free.”
I took three raw shots while seating on the ground, holding the camera as steady as I could, using Aperture Priority with three high-speed shots on the 5D Mark II.
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