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It
Takes a Solar Village
Originally appeared
in the Washington Post
Friday, March 21, 2003
Page WE34
High
noon. Late summer. The thermometer read 119 degrees over the
cracked and sun-blasted asphalt parking lot of a former ConAgra
plant outside Charlottesville. It was an instructive lesson
in solar energy, but after several sweltering months of 12-
and 13-hour days, just another afternoon on the job for a
small crew of University of Virginia students here. They were
sunburnt. Their hands were blistered. Their T-shirts hung
limp with sweat and grime.
They didn't seem to care. In fact, they
were nearly offensively cheery, joshing and laughing, blithely
oblivious to the withering heat as they went about their work—painstaking
business with electric drills, hand tools and crowbars. The
subject of their labors was a trailer-size wooden box, open
on one side, set on poured concrete cubes. It sprouted a tangle
of yellow and orange wiring out the back. It didn't look like
much—not yet at least. But this box was going places.
This box had big dreams.
This weekend, you can judge for yourself
whether those dreams are likely to come true, when the sun
rises on the U.S. Department of Energy's inaugural Solar Decathlon.
On the National Mall, 14 college and university teams have
squared off for the final two weeks of a competition more
than four years in the making—to design and build the
most efficient, livable and aesthetically inviting home possible,
run entirely by the sun.
They've brought their houses, too. From
Texas and Alabama, Missouri and Colorado, Virginia, Maryland,
Delaware, Pennsylvania, North Carolina and even Puerto Rico,
14 distinct takes on the idea of solar living have been hauled
across mountain ranges and along highways, squeezed under
overpasses and floated over the ocean by boat. Now they've
been assembled in a temporary Solar Village on the Mall. For
the next nine days they'll be tested and measured against
one another on performance, but also on something more difficult
to quantify. Which home, the contest will ask, most successfully
marries aesthetics and technology? Which represents not so
much the "solar home of the future," but rather
the house any one of us might happily and comfortably inhabit
today?
An international design jury that includes
Australian Glenn Murcutt, this year's winner of the Pritzker
Architecture Prize, will be on hand to help make the official
call on this question. But the Solar Village is wide open
for you to come and form your own opinions on the matter.
And while you're there, you might learn a few things about
solar energy and energy efficiency that could surprise you—and
a few that you can take home and put to good use right now.
Plus, it's all going to be very cool.
The Solar Decathlon is the brainchild of
Richard King of the Department of Energy, and to understand
what inspired him to dream up this contest, first you need
to know a few key points about Americans and energy.
The United States today, with less than
5 percent of the world's population, is responsible for roughly
one-quarter of the world's annual energy consumption. Most
of that energy comes from burning fossil fuels such as oil,
coal and natural gas. It goes to power up our homes and cars
and businesses, our coffee makers and CT scans, our 24-hour
superstores and three-minute eggs, our economy, our excesses
and our necessities. Unfortunately, our fossil fuel habit
exacts its price in environmental, health and geopolitical
consequences; in particular, it means that the United States
is responsible for about one-quarter of the world's annual
emissions of carbon dioxide, the chief culprit among global-warming
greenhouse gases. Most climate scientists agree that if the
world doesn't slash those emissions seriously, and soon, then
things are likely to get ugly: rising seas, devastating droughts,
catastrophic storms, summers that make this year's heat wave
look like a cold snap. Short of pulling the plug on the United
States, though, what to do?
Enter King, photovoltaics program team leader
in the Department of Energy's Office of Solar Energy Technologies.
King, who has been with DOE since 1986, believes that solar
is the answer. Clean, free and so abundant that in a single
day the sunlight falling on the United States contains more
than twice the amount of energy the nation uses in an entire
year, solar energy is the way, King says, that "we Americans
can reduce carbon and still maintain a high standard of living
and quality of life." Worldwide, the market for solar
is now growing at 40 percent per year, but here in the States
it's still a barely tapped technology. So back in 1998, King
started thinking about how he might help us see the light.
Because our homes are where each of us individually uses the
most energy and where each of us has the power to make a real
difference, what King kept imagining was a contest that would
demonstrate conclusively "that everyone's rooftop has
enough area to provide the energy you need for your daily
life."
The idea he finally hit upon was a college-level
competition. "Students would design and build solar houses
from the ground up and put them side by side in a village
to compete with each other in aesthetics and effectiveness," he says. And why not host it on the Mall, thus assuring the
competition an unbeatable national stage (never mind the labyrinth
of National Park Service regulations to negotiate first)?
King thought up 10 fingers' worth of competition
categories, his wife suggested the "decathlon" angle
over dinner on a Caribbean vacation. King consulted with colleagues
at the National Renewable Energy Laboratory to help devise
the rules, and four years after he first came up with the
idea—two years after an invitation to take part went
out to every architecture and engineering school in the country—he
may be the most surprised of anyone to see those 14 houses
actually standing on the Mall.
As a measure of the creativity, innovation,
dedication and sheer determination it took to get them to
the starting line, the Solar Decathlon is already a success.
Every team has such a good story, has brought so much enthusiasm
and ingenuity to the contest, that it's nearly impossible
not to find yourself rooting for all of them to win.
There's tiny Crowder College in Neosho,
Mo., for example. The only two-year community college participating
in the competition, Crowder also has an impressive solar pedigree:
Among other accomplishments, the school built the first solar-powered
car to cross the United States. The 12-member team, which
includes a 75-year-old grandmother, faced the daunting challenge
of raising nearly all of the approximately $150,000 needed
to build the house and take it and the team to Washington
and back. With pragmatic ingenuity, the students came up with
a novel, Internet-age solution. They designed their house,
then auctioned it on eBay.
Then there are the students from the University
of Puerto Rico. They had to coordinate their project between
architecture and engineering campuses 100 miles apart, build
their house in a town equidistant between the two and then
consign it to a ship on the Atlantic in hurricane season.
There was that matter, too, of the occasional language barrier. "Conference calls were a bit of a challenge," says
UPR faculty adviser Fernando Abrua. "Students learned
that stateside people use acronyms instead of words regularly." It took some time before the team figured out that when Solar
Decathlon HQ talked about PR, it was a reference to publicity,
not the island commonwealth.
At all of the schools, the students—some
of them not even in their twenties—took on the responsibility
to raise funds, solicit donations, master solar minutiae,
devise and refine house designs, construct models, draw and
redraw blueprints and schematics, write programming, build
Web sites, work the phones, manage PR, solve every new crop
of problems, run wiring, bang nails, drive the forklift, test
equipment, make the pizza runs and labor under the summer
sun. Item by item and day by day, the students puzzled their
ways through what amounted to 14 ambitious experiments in
educated guesswork.
"I have a budget of $200,000, and I'm
moving a 45,000-pound house to D.C. What other student gets
an opportunity like that?" says Alex Yasbek, a senior
and project manager for the all-undergraduate University of
Maryland team.
Adam Ruffin, a project manager for the University
of Virginia team who completed his graduate architecture degree
in May, says that when he took up a hammer to start work on
the house this spring, he'd never built anything except skateboard
ramps. "To get down to the scale of nail and boards and
cladding and how water is going to creep into a building—most
people coming out of an architecture program don't know how
to do this," he says.
The acid test for all that work starts Monday,
when the students begin five days of living in the homes—cooking
meals, doing laundry and dishes, running the shower, watching
television, using the computer—in short, engaging in
the usual energy-consuming activities of a typical American
home. They'll even have to run errands; the DOE supplied each
team with a Ford Think Neighbor electric vehicle, which has
to be charged from the house's power for use on designated
trips around town. (King points out that the average American
household expends roughly as much energy on transportation
as it does in the home.)
Each home was required to include a kitchen,
a bathroom, a bedroom, a living area and even a home office,
all of it squeezed into a minimum of 450 square feet, with
a footprint of no more than 800 square feet. Each home has
to run entirely on the solar energy it can capture through
its own systems. The devil in the details here is a multi-page
set of specifics about the number of towels and place settings
to be washed every day, the number of meals cooked, the hours
the lights and the TV have to stay on. The water in the shower
has to be hot and the drinks in the fridge have to keep cold,
the oven has to cook, the computer compute. Appliances have
to be full-size, too—no dorm refrigerators or one-burner
stoves here. Climate controls have to maintain interior living
areas at a constant 72 degrees Fahrenheit, regardless of whatever
weather the District may be dishing out.
Monitoring equipment will take constant
readings from more than 480 "data points" altogether
among the 14 homes, measuring everything from room, hot water
and refrigerator temperatures to the amount of light falling
on the home office desktop and will track how much energy
is being used to run all these systems.
"This is not only a contest,"
says King. "You have fully instrumented houses that will
be compared side by side. That information is going to be
very valuable to the scientific community as well as to the
Department of Energy."
Come Saturday, Oct. 5, the team with the
most points wins. Strictly speaking, what they'll get for
their success is…a trophy. But everyone taking part
in the competition knows that as an educational experience,
as a research and development laboratory, as a uniquely imaginative
demonstration of solar energy at work, the Solar Decathlon
has already proved its value.
"This project, if it's successful,
will change the way people live. It will change the way we
think," says U-Va. student Charlotte Barrows.
All that makes winning almost beside the
point. Almost.
And what will it take to win the Solar Decathlon?
For this first one, no one, not even King, is altogether sure. "It's kind of a grand experiment," he says. "As
far as 'the wild factor,' this will be the cool one. You'll
walk through the village going, 'Wow, look at what this team
did, look at what that team did.' "
With no precedent to go by, each of the
14 homes represents a wholly original solution to the Decathlon
challenge. The result is so remarkably varied, so imaginatively
different a group of homes, that the Solar Village is a must-visit,
even if your idea of alternative energy is choosing between
premium and ultra at the gas pump.
"I think all of us will be oohing and
aahing," says King.
Among the entries from Maryland and Virginia,
the Virginia Tech house is progressively experimental, suggesting
an industrial-chic beach home. Its bones show in an external
structure of pultruded fiber-glass beams, but inside it's
all about light, thanks to translucent east and west wall
panels filled with an ultra-insulating material called Nanogel.
"One of the focuses that we tried to
use in the building was to have materials that had different
physical characteristics or attributes than you would find
in a normal building," explains Robert Schubert, faculty
coordinator for the Tech team.
The house has a movable interior wall with
a fold-up bed on one side and a fold-up table on the other
that lets the living space be reconfigured for day and night
uses. Warm, durable and sustainably harvested bamboo is used
for floors, walls, even cabinet facings. There's also locally
quarried granite underfoot; heated by the sun, it stays warm
long after night falls.
The University of Maryland team incorporated
sustainable features (such as bamboo flooring) and progressive
technologies (including exterior siding made from cement and
recycled newspaper), but built them into a house that could
slip unobtrusively into any American suburb.
"We are trying to focus on the fact
that solar power is viable right now," says Yasbek. "We
tried to stick to a familiar style so the general public would
be comfortable with it."
"Our house looks like a house down
the street, like something you can build right now,"
adds Maryland assistant project manager Catherine Buxton.
At first, she admits, with an all-engineering team, "Everyone
was fighting over who would do the HVAC, the plumbing. No
one wanted to do the design."
The opposite was the case at the University
of Virginia, where project manager Ruffin admits, "The
architecture has kind of taken over, for better or for worse." The U-Va. house, clad in reclaimed copper beneath slatted
rain screens made from salvaged wood from shipping pallets,
and topped by a small rooftop garden, balances a warm, organic
look with a modernist pedigree.
Among other teams, the University of Delaware
categorizes its semicircular house as "experimental."
The Tuskegee University house is a two-level with a loft and
an outdoor catwalk to a second-story screened porch. The Carnegie
Mellon University entry is the top-floor apartment of an urban
townhouse. The University of Colorado team, wanting to banish
forever the "cheese wedge" solar aesthetic of the
1970s—a roof with a house attached—devised a prototype
for a mass-producible, modular, sustainable home system. It
has a bathroom floor made from recycled auto vinyl.
The University of Texas at Austin and Auburn
University both drew on the traditional Southern "dogtrot" design (a central, front-to-back corridor that creates natural,
cooling air flow) for their homes.
"Our house is southern vernacular,"
claims Auburn faculty adviser Henry Brandhorst. "All
we need is a couple of hound dogs on the porch and rusting
cars in the front up on cinder blocks."
As for Texas, that team took the novel,
even whimsical approach of framing their home around an Airstream
trailer that houses the kitchen, bath and laundry functions.
Was it a tongue-in-cheek nod to another kind of Southern tradition?
The team isn't saying, and they offer you plenty of straight-faced
and perfectly legitimate arguments on behalf of their "mobile
utility environment," but Texas faculty adviser Michael
Garrison admits, "We all agreed that our style is to
create 'commotion.' "
Inside, the houses balance aesthetics with
efficiency—it's the Home Show meets Honey, I Shrunk
the Electric Bill.
"We want consumers to realize that
living with alternative energy supplies need not change your
lifestyle," says Auburn's Brandhorst. "We have used
appliances that you and I can go out and buy, but with a focus
on energy efficiency." As a result, he says, "We
believe we are going to be using on the order of one-half
less energy per square foot than a normal house."
That lesson in efficiency is the one thing
any one of us can take away from the Decathlon that could
yield immediate benefits for everyone. Use less electricity,
and you pay less on your bill and incrementally reduce our
nation's collective carbon output. Save the planet and save
a buck—hard to complain about that. Here's where a strolling
tour of the Solar Village could be well worth your while.
Maybe the super-efficient Fisher & Paykel
dish drawer (that's "dishwasher" to you and me)
isn't for you. Well, how about that Kenmore refrigerator,
then, the one that'll take a whopping bite out of your electric
bill? Or those compact fluorescent light bulbs, available
at any Home Depot? Talk to Joshua Galloway on the U-Va. team
about the rooftop garden, a green oasis that insulates the
house, helps control rainwater runoff, reduces the "heat
footprint" of a roof baking in the sun all day and just
happens to make a lovely place to sit. Look for team manager
Kelly Gossett lounging in the Crowder College house's outdoor
hot tub, thanks to a Sybaritic harvest of hot water from hybrid
solar panels the team created that generate electricity and
heat water at the same time.
The University of Colorado team's faculty
adviser, Michael Brandemuehl, hopes that after visiting the
Solar Village, we'll all start asking, "If a bunch of
college kids can do this, why can't the building industry
do this?"
Earlier this summer, on a day with code-red
air quality when the breeze blew stiflingly hot and dry through
the still-unfinished Maryland house, Alex Yasbek and Catherine
Buxton reflected on their own hopes for the Decathlon.
"Most of the skeptical people are amazed
that we can create enough power to power the whole house,"
says Buxton. "But when we tell them you're collecting
energy you don't have to pay for, plus also saving 70 tons
of pollution a year, they are less skeptical."
At the Decathlon, says Buxton, "I would
feel good if people walked away saying, 'Wow, I could do that.' "
SOLAR DECATHLON—Check out the decathlon
online for photos, contest details, consumer tips, links to
individual Web sites and more: www.solardecathlon.org.
Team rankings updated daily.
Date posted: 03.11.04
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