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Why thermal energy storage is poised for a breakout year.

One of the oldest ways to store up energy is in hot rocks. Egyptians built adobe homes millennia ago that absorbed heat during the day and released it at night, and wood-fired ovens with bricks that radiate residual heat have been around since the Middle Ages.
Now, this ancient form of heating is poised for a breakout year as one of the hottest things in climate tech: thermal batteries. These aren’t the kinds of batteries you’d find in a laptop or electric vehicle. Instead, these stationary, shipping container-sized units can provide the high temperatures necessary to power hard-to-decarbonize industrial processes like smelting or chemical manufacturing. And thanks to the changing economics of clean energy and a generous tax credit in Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act, investors are increasingly bullish about the technology, helping Silicon Valley startups Antora Energy and Rondo Energy dramatically scale up production with new gigafactories.
The underlying technology is fairly basic. Using essentially the same technology as a toaster, electricity from renewable energy is converted into heat and then stored in thermally conductive rocks or bricks. That heat is then delivered directly as hot air or steam to the industrial facilities that the stationary batteries are sited on. Rondo says it can supply continuous heat at full capacity — that’s over 1,000° Celsius — for 16 to 18 hours, and Antora’s system is rated at 25 hours, helping fill the gaps when sun and wind resources are scarce.

The climate benefits of this process are clear — and potentially huge. Heat alone comprises half of the world’s total energy consumption, and about 10% of global CO2 emissions come from burning fossil fuels to generate the high temperatures necessary for industrial processes like steel and cement production, chemicals manufacturing, and minerals smelting and refining. These industries are notoriously hard to decarbonize because burning gas or coal has been much cheaper than using electricity to generate high heat.
That’s also why we haven’t traditionally heard a lot about thermal batteries. Before renewables became ubiquitous, the tech just wouldn’t have been very clean or very cheap.
But thanks to the rapidly falling cost of wind and solar, its economics are looking increasingly promising. “There’s this glut of cheap, clean power that is just waiting to be used,” Justin Briggs, Antora’s co-founder and COO, told me. “It’s just going to waste in a lot of cases already.”
John O’Donnell, the co-founder and CEO of Rondo, concurred.“This industrial decarbonization is going to start out absolutely absorbing those negative and zero prices,” he told me. “But it is also going to drive massive new construction of new renewables specifically for its own purpose.”
Of course thermal batteries aren’t the only technology trying to solve industrial heat emissions. Concentrating solar thermal power systems can store the sun’s heat in molten salts, carbon capture and storage systems can pull the emissions from natural gas combustion at the source, and green hydrogen can be combusted for heat delivery.
Indeed, the same forces making thermal energy more attractive are also benefiting green hydrogen in particular. Cheap renewables and lucrative hydrogen subsidies in the IRA mean green hydrogen is also poised to rapidly fall in price. But proponents of thermal batteries argue their technology is much more efficient.
Electrical resistance heating (i.e. turning electricity into heat like a toaster) is already a 100% efficient process. And after storing that heat in rocks for hours or days, you still can get over 90% of it back out. But producing green hydrogen through electrolysis and subsequently combusting it for heat is generally only about 50-66% efficient overall, says Nathan Iyer, a senior associate at the think tank RMI. Although emerging electrolyzer technologies like solid oxide fuel cells can push efficiencies over 80%, in part by recycling waste heat, many green hydrogen production methods could require around 1.5 to two times the amount of renewable electricity as thermal batteries to generate the same amount of heat.
“Pretty much all of the major models are saying thermal batteries are winning when they run all of their optimizations,” Iyer said. “They’re finding a huge chunk of industrial heat is unlocked by these thermal batteries.”
However, when it comes to the most heat-intensive industries, such as steel and cement production, combusting green hydrogen directly where it’s needed could prove much easier than generating and transporting the heat from thermal batteries. As Iyer told me, “At a certain level of heat, the materials that can actually handle the heat and move the heat around the facility are very, very rare.”
Iyer says these challenges begin around 600° or 700° Celsius. But the lion’s share of industrial processes take place below this temperature range, for use cases that thermal batteries appear well-equipped to handle.
And now, the gigafactories are on their way. Rondo has partnered with one of its investors, Thailand-based Siam Cement Group, to scale production of its heat battery from 2.4 gigawatt-hours per year to 90 GWh per year, which will equal about 200-300 battery units. This expanded facility would be the largest battery manufacturing plant in the world today — about 2.5 times the size of Tesla’s Gigafactory in Nevada.
Rondo, which has raised $82 million to date, says it can scale rapidly because its tech is already so well understood. It relies on the same type of refractory brick that’s found in Cowper stoves, a centuries old technology used to recycle heat from blast furnaces.
In Rondo’s case, renewable electricity is used to heat the bricks instead. Then, air is blown through the bricks and superheated to over 1,000° Celsius before being delivered to the end customer as either heat through a short high-temperature duct or as steam through a standard boiler tube.
“We’re using exactly the same heating element material that’s in your toaster, exactly the same brick material that’s in all those steel mills, exactly the same boiler design and boiler materials so that we have as little to prove as possible,” O’Donnell says.
Currently, Rondo operates one small, 2 megawatt-hour commercial facility at a Calgren ethanol plant in California. The company hopes to expand its U.S. footprint, something the IRA will help catalyze. Last month’s guidelines from the IRS clarify that thermal batteries are eligible for a $45 per kilowatt-hour tax credit, which will help them compete with cheap natural gas in the U.S.
Antora is already planning to produce batteries domestically, recently launching its new manufacturing facility in San Jose, California. The company has raised $80 million to date, and operates a pilot plant in Fresno, California. Similar to Rondo, Antora’s tech relies on common materials, in this case low-grade carbon blocks. “It’s an extremely low-cost material. It’s produced at vast scales already,” says Briggs.

When heated with renewable electricity, these blocks emit an intense glow. Much like the sun, that thermal glow can then be released as a beam of 1,500° Celsius heat and light through a shutter on the box.
“And you can do one of two things with that beam of light. One, you can let that deliver thermal energy to an industrial process,” says Briggs. Or Antora’s specialized thermophotovoltaic panels can convert that hot light back into electricity for a variety of end uses.
It’s all very promising, but ultimately unproven at scale, and the companies wouldn’t disclose early customers or projects. But they have some big names behind them. Both Antora and Rondo are backed by the Bill Gates-funded Breakthrough Energy Ventures. Antora also receives funding from Lowercarbon Capital, Shell Ventures, and BHP Ventures, indicating that the oil, gas, petrochemical, and mining industries are taking note.
Along with funding from Energy Impact Partners, Rondo has a plethora of industry backers too, including Siam Cement Group, TITAN Cement Group, mining giant Rio Tinto, Microsoft’s Climate Innovation Fund, Saudi chemicals company SABIC, and oil company Saudi Aramco.
“The investors that just joined us have giant needs,” O’Donnell says of the company’s decision to massively ramp up manufacturing. “Rio Tinto has announced 50% decarbonization by 2030. Microsoft is buying 24-hour time-matched energy in all kinds of places. SABIC and Aramco have enormous steam needs that they want to decarbonize.”
Primary uses of this tech will likely include chemical manufacturing, mineral refining, food processing and paper and biofuel production. Industries like these, which require heat below 1,000° Celsius (and often much less), account for 68% of all industrial emissions. While steel and cement production are two of industry’s biggest emitters, their heat needs can exceed 1,500° Celsius, temperatures that Rondo and Antora admit are more technically challenging to achieve.
In any case, 2024 is the year when hot rocks could start making a dent in decarbonization. The IRA’s tax credits mean this emergent tech could become competitive in more markets, beyond areas with excess renewable power or substantial carbon taxes. This is the year that Antora says they’ll begin mass production, and Rondo’s first commercial projects are expected to come online.
As O’Donnell says, “This is not 10 years away. It’s not five years away. It’s right now.”
Editor’s note: This article was updated after publication to account for emerging electrolyzer technologies.
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Roads bring people, and people start fires.
The United States has more roads than you could possibly imagine. Eighty-three percent of the land in the Lower 48 lies within one kilometer of a road; if you’re seeking isolation, the furthest you can get away from one is likely only about 25 miles, in a far-flung corner of Yellowstone National Park.
The Trump administration wants to build even more. Earlier this week, the U.S. Department of Agriculture filed to rescind the nearly quarter-century-old Roadless Area Conservation Rule, which protects about 45 million acres of pristine national forest lands from the construction of — and dissection by — new permanent roads. The USDA’s given reason? That new roads will provide the access forest managers and fire practitioners need to better prevent wildfires in the nation’s most remote locations.
Fire ecologists immediately cried foul. Researchers have long understood that roads enable wildfire ignitions by bringing people — who are responsible for starting nearly 85% of fires — into the landscapes. Just this past January, new research found that wildfires ignited four times more often within 50 meters of a road than in an untracked, intact forest. “The notion that you can prevent fires by building roads seems to me precisely backwards when you look at what the science says,” Ben Goldfarb, the author of the road ecology book Crossings, told me.
But this past spring, Americans got a good idea of what wildfires look like when there aren’t roads around. Lightning storms in Northern Ontario ignited fires in an area so remote that officials found it “impossible to get firefighters on the ground” to fight them, per The New York Times, or even to react early with airplane water tankers. The result? More than 1.8 million acres burned in the province so far this year, with the resulting smoke causing the Midwestern U.S. and New England to experience some of its worst air pollution in decades.
“There’s a duality — roads are neither necessarily good nor bad from a fire perspective,” Eric Kennedy, an associate professor of disaster and emergency management at York University, told me. “They bring opportunities for ignition and they bring opportunities for firefighting.” Those opportunities include the aforementioned access for fire personnel, as well as serving as a fuel break so crews can gain a foothold against an approaching conflagration. In a populated area, more roads can also mean more evacuation routes when there is a disaster, preventing potentially deadly traffic jams.
Forest defenders were already suspicious of the administration’s motivations when it comes to wildfire policy. “There’s all of the Trump administration directives to increase logging on public lands, which rescinding the Roadless Rule helps to facilitate,” Goldfarb noted. Environmental groups have pointed to attempted legislation such as the Fix Our Forests Act, which removes obstacles for forest management methods, including timber harvest, as another example of how the administration is allegedly using wildfire as a cover to cut down and sell more trees.
Viewed in the context of recent changes by the administration to weaken the Endangered Species Act — namely, narrowing the definition of “harm” to a species to exclude disturbances to its habitat — rescinding the Roadless Rule can appear to follow a kind of rapacious internal logic that “wildlife doesn’t need habitat, and we can build roads wherever we want to disrupt” the forest, Goldfarb went on.
Fires igniting in remote areas is also not a new problem. Agencies adapt to the fire conditions in their areas, such as Quebec, which has an entire apparatus for fighting fires in tractless wilderness, including shuttling in fire crews via float plane. “You can fight fires via helicopter. You can also build temporary roads under the Roadless Rule,” Goldfarb said. As one Montana-based National Forest manager of 25 years recently wrote for a local newspaper, in his experience, “the Roadless Rule doesn’t pose an insurmountable barrier to good land management; it simply requires baseline analysis and thought before impacting the landscape.”
Those who are cynical about the Trump administration’s motivations also pointed me toward the grandiose scale of the Roadless Rule rescission. Fire managers frequently talk about the need for tailored, local, and precise responses to America’s wildfires, which run the gamut from grass fires to chaparral fires to forest fires in regions that both do and do not have histories of regular burning. Policymakers would more appropriately approach wildfire management fireshed by fireshed, they say, and through proposed management plans. Perhaps most notably, the Roadless Rule protects about half of the nearly 17 million acres of the Tongass National Forest, a temperate rainforest and one of the wettest locations in North America, which “does not experience wildfires like those in other places,” the Alaskan environmental conservation group SalmonState wrote in a statement with other advocates and business groups.
Most cynical, though, is the argument that the Trump administration is proposing rescinding the Roadless Rule at the same time that it has gutted the Forest Service that is supposed to maintain all those roads. The agency already struggles with an overwhelming backlog of maintenance projects, from washed-out bridges to erosion problems that impact the water quality in drought-stressed areas. If the USDA were really interested in using roads to combat wildfires, the line of thinking goes, then it would be investing more in the Forest Service, people told me, not less.
“The wildfire challenge really calls upon us to be able to hold different dimensions and different layers and seemingly contradictory ideas at the same time,” Kennedy said, again emphasizing that one can make the case that roads have benefits in certain contexts and scenarios. But while there may be a valid line of debate about when, where, and how roads can help with wildfire management, using the cudgel of a rescission, it doesn’t appear to be one the administration is interested in having.
The facility will power OpenAI’s 10-gigawatt data center in Pike County, Ohio.
The Trump administration aims to complete its environmental review of what would be the biggest fossil fuel power project in the country in just a few months, Heatmap has learned.
This news follows Monday’s announcement from OpenAI that it intends to lease a new 10-gigawatt data center under development in Pike County, Ohio, financed by a mixture of money from a SoftBank subsidiary and the chip company Nvidia. This AI hyperscale facility — known as the PORTS-Pike project — is expected to draw power from the largest gas power facility ever built in the United States, a 9.2-gigawatt facility sited on federal lands that would be built and owned by the Energy Department.
According to OpenAI, the data center campus will be built and started up in phases, with the first 800 megawatts starting construction this year and operational in 2028. That first phase will rely mostly on existing power infrastructure operated by AEP Ohio. How things progress from there will depend at least in part on the permitting and construction timelines for the new power plant.
Building large infrastructure of any kind on federal land or with significant federal investment typically triggers a review under the National Environmental Policy Act. I’ve been curious to find out what kind of review this particular project was going to get, especially after the administration allowed a NEPA review for a solar project to be repurposed for a data center on federal lands earlier this year.
Turns out some information about the PORTS-Pike permitting process is public. Before OpenAI confirmed its involvement with the site, the Trump administration added the project to the federal FAST-41 permitting dashboard, where it posts regular updates on the timeline for getting federal sign-offs. Per the lone federal notice available about the PORTS-Pike project, it will include “several data center buildings and power plants.” That will require at least two federal greenlights: an Army Corps of Engineers permit and approval from the Fish and Wildlife Service, which is being consulted about potential endangered bats in the project area.
The NEPA permitting work for this historically large data center-plus-fossil fuel power project began on July 10 and will conclude on December 23, the day before Christmas Eve, according to the Trump administration’s estimates. This comes after paperwork to begin the review was submitted to the Army Corps in May, per the federal notice — a total timeline of about seven months.
Those familiar with NEPA and the debate over permitting reform will likely be surprised by the speed of this review. It’s moving fast in part because the project is receiving just an Environmental Assessment, the lesser and smaller type of analysis than the EIS. I do not know why the government decided to take this route because the government’s NEPA review determination is not currently public, but I have asked the Army Corps to explain this move.
I’m not sure exactly how air permitting will fit into this NEPA review, as the Clean Air Act isn’t listed as a review step on the federal dashboard. The Ohio EPA has primary authority over permitting projects like these under the Clean Air Act, and I’ve reached out to them to confirm whether PORTS has submitted a permitting application. The state agency’s permitting database does not have any information on air permitting for the project, though it does include reports from third-party consultants confirming wetlands and protected species warranted reviews from the Army Corps and Fish and Wildlife.
Lastly, these timetables are not sacrosanct. Under the Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2023, agencies are supposed to complete environmental assessments within one year, but nevertheless they regularly fail to meet them. The White House’s Council on Environmental Quality said in a report to Congress last year that from mid-2023 to mid-2025, the Army Corps was the agency that most often missed these statutory NEPA deadlines for environmental assessments.
Still, news of this speedy review for a priority Trump project is sure to excite pro-data center advocates who see expedited construction as an imperative in the global AI arms race. It’s also guaranteed to put a foul taste in the mouths of environmentalists already frustrated by federal revisions to NEPA regulations they say elide analysis of climate impacts.
What’s undebatable in all this is that, as my colleague Robinson Meyer wrote, the PORTS project could ignite a new era of mega-gas plants. This permitting timeline couldn’t be more important for the future of the data center boom — and the nation’s greenhouse gas emissions.
SB Energy, the SoftBank subsidiary behind the data center project, did not provide comment before publication.
A new front opens in the data center wars.
A series of lawsuits filed in federal court asks a big question – are data center moratoria constitutional?
In early August, data center developer DC Blox sued the city of Nashville in federal court to overturn a zoning moratorium stopping them from building a hyperscale facility adjacent to the city zoo. “The Data Center Moratorium, moreover, is a targeted attack against DC BLOX, in violation of federal constitutional protections,” the suit argued, claiming that it defied the corporation’s due process and equal protection rights.
Around the same time, another developer – Wixom Industrial One – filed a federal lawsuit against the city of Wixom, Michigan, to try and “invalidate the city’s illegal police power moratorium” blocking their data center.
These two cases were far from novel or the first of their kind, and they’re now a fresh front in the battle over hyperscale data centers. At least that’s what some who work on these cases say: In April, attorneys with the law firm Vorys published a “client alert” asserting “many moratoria may be vulnerable to statutory, procedural, and constitutional challenges.” The attorneys advised that constitutional arguments against moratoria “may be stronger where a government singles out data centers without a sound factual basis, treats similar land uses differently without a reasonable basis, or adopts a restriction driven more by political pressure than by defensible planning or regulatory objectives.”
Months later, according to court documents, the Vorys attorneys who authored the alert now represent real estate firm Thor Equities in a federal case against the Ohio city of Urbana, arguing the city’s decision to reject their data center project broke “fundamental protections” under the U.S. Constitution. (Vorys and Thor Equities did not respond to requests for comment.)
It’s unclear how many of these kinds of cases have been filed to date. Data on federal court cases is quite opaque. But legal experts and industry attorneys tell me we should expect them to be on the rise as developers seek whatever tools they can find to get projects built.
“Bringing a lawsuit like this is fairly cheap, something they can do at a relatively low cost, and imposes a real cost on local governments to defend themselves,” said Daniel Metzger, director of the Cities Climate Law Initiative at Columbia Law School’s Sabin Center. “The cases out there will be bellwethers. And if successful, there’ll be a lot more of them.”
What developers probably want looks a lot like Hill County, Texas, where an LLC proposing an $80 million data center project was stymied in May by the state’s first countywide moratorium. (It predated Governor Greg Abbott’s temporary freeze of data center development in Texas by three months.) Within a period of only a few weeks, the LLC sued and the county rescinded the pause on approvals. The case was dropped a month later. Local reports state the county had to afterwards pay the corporation $100,000 in legal fees – a drop in the bucket compared to what a drawn-out court battle would have cost the rural county.
Metzger said whether the companies will win these cases is ultimately not the point – their goal is to win a finished data center, not a judicial ruling. By filing expansive litigation in the national court system, a hypothetical developer can exhaust the coffers of a city or county with legal expenses that are chump change compared to would-be billions in private financing for compute infrastructure.
“These lawsuits may deter some local governments from taking steps to oppose data center development, just because of the cost it would impose on them to defend a lawsuit, even if they know they have a strong legal basis for the action they want to take.”
Those I spoke to in private practice about data center developers’ constitutional arguments agreed with Metzger’s assessment that it’s too early to tell whether the companies will win. Generally, they said, a city or county will win this kind of case if it demonstrates a rational basis for its decision-making and courts typically want to defer to governmental autonomy. The onus will be on the developers to prove a moratorium was meritless – that’s the due process challenge – or unfairly targeted their industry in a way other sectors don’t face, which is the basis of the equal protection claim.
“What they’re saying is in essence that these actions the municipality is taking are arbitrary and capricious, which is one of the sort of catch-all standards,” Thomas Allen, a partner at K&L Gates, told me. “They say the laws lack a rational basis. And then they make equal protection claims, saying data centers are being singled out because of political concerns as opposed to actual things relevant to the legislature’s directive. They’re not basing their decisions on the underlying merits of the project but reacting to political pressure.”
“It’s a reliance question and it’s about the treatment of their projects,” added Laura Morton, an attorney with Ashurst Perkins Coie. “It’s always been important to talk about and engage with communities where your infrastructure is planned. Here, I think this is the developers going in, maybe having conversations, and then suddenly they’re getting a reversal after already receiving these approvals and making investments based off of what the conversations and rules were.”
The likelihood of these constitutional challenges reaching higher courts anytime soon is quite low. It’ll be a long time before we see one of these cases reach a verdict, let alone some kind of appeals process come to fruition. Nevertheless, the new legal ambiguity around these local restrictions is an important new facet of the data center wars, including for developers.
“Companies want to act within the law to get [things] done, so whatever tactics they can do to help get the project over the line that are legal and ethical, they may try those,” Allen told me. “And if that includes the pressure of a lawsuit, that’s a judgment they’ll have to make.”