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At a New York Mets game this weekend, I saw something I’m not used to seeing until late summer. No, not the inexplicable late-season implosion of a beloved local franchise — a neon-red setting sun.
West Coasters know this sun well. I call it the “Eye of Sauron” sun; others say it’s “blood-red.” In reality, the color is harder to describe, more like the red-orange-pink insides of a halved grapefruit. It feels unnatural and eerie, and is the effect of shorter wavelengths of light being filtered out of a sunrise or sunset by particles in the air caused by pollution, including wildfire smoke.
I immediately grabbed my phone to find the source of the haze, but a quick Google search of “Where is this smoke coming from?” didn’t turn up any immediate results. In fact, it can be frustratingly difficult to figure out the origin of wildfire smoke when you see or smell it. This only gets more difficult as fire season wears on; is the smoke you’re inhaling from a small nearby fire, or part of a bigger burn blowing in from somewhere else?
Unfortunately, there isn’t a handy app yet that will simply tell you “the smoke overhead is from the Canadian fires” — which, in the case of the pollution I was experiencing in Flushing Meadows, it actually was. But you can cobble together an answer about where smoke is coming from by using a few different methods.
When you climb a mountain, an inaccurate forecast can be the difference between life and death. I learned about the MyRadar app from an experienced mountaineering guide who swears it is the most accurate weather app on the market. It’s also become my go-to app for figuring out where the wildfire smoke I’m inhaling is coming from.
The app pulls data from the United States Geological Survey, InciWeb, and the United States Forest Service’s Risk Incident Information Management System to build its smoke and fire maps (it also received a wildfire detection grant from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration last year). Hovering over my house at around 2 p.m. on Monday, the app clearly told me I was experiencing “moderate air quality” and “heavy smoke hazard.” Zooming out, it’s easy to guess based on the shape of the “heavy smoke hazard” cloud that the pollution is wrapping down from the massive fires burning in Alberta, Saskatchewan, and British Columbia. You can also overlay wind patterns on the app for further confirmation.

MyRadar’s visuals can get a little cluttered, though, and parsing this information still leaves you with an informed guess. But it’s one that can be easily cross-checked against the EPA’s AirNow app.
The EPA app is a little more straightforward: It gives users an upfront measurement of their air quality index, or AQI, which, with a click, can be broken down into “primary pollutants.” In the case of New York City on Monday, it was PM2.5, the expected particle from wildfire smoke (and also “the bad one” when it comes to your health). The app also shows a “forecast” of how the AQI is expected to develop over the coming hours; in New York’s case, it was going to get worse before it got better.
The AirNow app additionally has a “smoke” tab that shows a similar smoke plume overlay as MyRadar’s. By clicking on the globe in the upper left-hand corner, you can view additional fire information, including how far away the nearest burn is, and confirm if you’re under a smoke plume. Using these two pieces of information together, you can further deduce if the smoke you’re experiencing is blowing in from somewhere far away or nearby (some of New York’s smoke may be from the Cannon Ball 2 Fire to our northwest, in Passaic County, New Jersey, but the app shows me that fire is fairly small — 107 total acres — and so in this case, it is not the main culprit).

The BlueSky Canada Smoke Forecasting System (FireSmoke Canada) is run by the University of British Columbia, and while it has an emphasis on Canadian air quality, it is run in partnership with the United States Forest Service and includes U.S. data too. The FireSmoke Canada website specifically tracks PM2.5 smoke particles at ground level from wildfires across North America (“ground level” is an important distinction because sometimes smoke plumes will be too high in the atmosphere to actually affect your health). The FireSmoke Canada map throws in a time-lapse animation and for my purposes, it clearly showed that the smoke in New York was coming down from the Canadian fires.
The FireSmoke Canada map is also a great way to figure out the origin of local fire smoke too since it often shows plumes from even small blazes (though it has technical limitations too, which it details in its FAQ). Unfortunately, the service doesn’t allow users to click on a fire to learn more information about it, which means toggling back and forth between the AirNow or MyRadar app, or the FIRMS U.S./Canada website, to get a fuller picture of what is going on.

Other discrepancies between the apps can be frustrating; AirNow, for example, still shows the Great Lakes Wildfire as burning in North Carolina, though it’s not appearing on FireSmoke Canada’s tracker; MyRadar provides the most context, showing the containment at 90% and labeling its status as “minimal.” On the other hand, MyRadar and AirNow don’t show a fire near Hanford, Washington, while MySmoke Canada does.
Short of doing your own detective work with various wildfire tracking services, local media otherwise remain the best option for figuring out where smoke is coming from. The Hanford blaze that eluded MyRadar and AirNow, for example, is easily confirmed by the regional press; started by lightning, the fire reportedly burned around 1,000 acres and is now 100% contained.
Turns out, Googling “Why is it smoky outside” — while it might feel archaic — still might be one of the best options.
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What happens when one of energy’s oldest bottlenecks meets its newest demand driver?
Often the biggest impediment to building renewable energy projects or data center infrastructure isn’t getting government approvals, it’s overcoming local opposition. When it comes to the transmission that connects energy to the grid, however, companies and politicians of all stripes are used to being most concerned about those at the top – the politicians and regulators at every level who can’t seem to get their acts together.
What will happen when the fiery fights on each end of the wire meet the broken, unplanned spaghetti monster of grid development our country struggles with today? Nothing great.
The transmission fights of the data center boom have only just begun. Utilities will have to spend lots of money on getting energy from Point A to Point B – at least $500 billion over the next five years, to be precise. That’s according to a survey of earnings information published by think tank Power Lines on Tuesday, which found roughly half of all utility infrastructure spending will go toward the grid.
But big wires aren’t very popular. When Heatmap polled various types of energy projects last September, we found that self-identified Democrats and Republicans were mostly neutral on large-scale power lines. Independent voters, though? Transmission was their second least preferred technology, ranking below only coal power.
Making matters far more complex, grid planning is spread out across decision-makers. At the regional level, governance is split into 10 areas overseen by regional transmission organizations, known as RTOs, or independent system operators, known as ISOs. RTOs and ISOs plan transmission projects, often proposing infrastructure to keep the grid resilient and functional. These bodies are also tasked with planning the future of their own grids, or at least they are supposed to – many observers have decried RTOs and ISOs as outmoded and slow to respond. Utilities and electricity co-ops also do this planning at various scales. And each of these bodies must navigate federal regulators and permitting processes, utility commissions for each state they touch, on top of the usual raft of local authorities.
The mid-Atlantic region is overseen by PJM Interconnection, a body now under pressure from state governors in the territory to ensure the data center boom doesn’t unnecessarily drive up costs for consumers. The irony, though, is that these governors are going to be under incredible pressure to have their states act against individual transmission projects in ways that will eventually undercut affordability.
Virginia, for instance – known now as Data Center Alley – is flanked by states that are politically diverse. West Virginia is now a Republican stronghold, but was long a Democratic bastion. Maryland had a Republican governor only a few years ago. Virginia and Pennsylvania regularly change party control. These dynamics are among the many drivers behind the opposition against the Piedmont Reliability Project, which would run from a nuclear plant in Pennsylvania to northern Virginia, cutting across spans of Maryland farmland ripe for land use conflict. The timeline for this project is currently unclear due to administrative delays.
Another major fight is brewing with NextEra’s Mid-Atlantic Resiliency Link, or MARL project. Spanning four states – and therefore four utility commissions – the MARL was approved by PJM Interconnection to meet rising electricity demand across West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania. It still requires approval from each state utility commission, however. Potentially affected residents in West Virginia are hopping mad about the project, and state Democratic lawmakers are urging the utility commission to reject it.
In West Virginia, as well as Virginia and Maryland, NextEra has applied for a certificate of public convenience and necessity to build the MARL project, a permit that opponents have claimed would grant it the authority to exercise eminent domain. (NextEra has said it will do what it can to work well with landowners. The company did not respond to a request for comment.)
“The biggest problem facing transmission is that there’s so many problems facing transmission,” said Liza Reed, director of climate and energy at the Niskanen Center, a policy think tank. “You have multiple layers of approval you have to go through for a line that is going to provide broader benefits in reliability and resilience across the system.”
Hyperlocal fracases certainly do matter. Reed explained to me that “often folks who are approving the line at the state or local level are looking at the benefits they’re receiving – and that’s one of the barriers transmission can have.” That is, when one state utility commission looks at a power line project, they’re essentially forced to evaluate the costs and benefits from just a portion of it.
She pointed to the example of a Transource line proposed by PJM almost 10 years ago to send excess capacity from Pennsylvania to Maryland. It wasn’t delayed by protests over the line itself – the Pennsylvania Public Utilities Commission opposed the project because it thought the result would be net higher electricity bills for folks in the Keystone State. That’s despite whatever benefits would come from selling the electricity to Maryland and consumer benefits for their southern neighbors. The lesson: Whoever feels they’re getting the raw end of the line will likely try to stop it, and there’s little to nothing anyone else can do to stop them.
These hyperlocal fears about projects with broader regional benefits can be easy targets for conservation-focused environmental advocates. Not only could they take your land, the argument goes, they’re also branching out to states with dirtier forms of energy that could pollute your air.
“We do need more energy infrastructure to move renewable energy,” said Julie Bolthouse, director of land use for the Virginia conservation group Piedmont Environmental Council, after I asked her why she’s opposing lots of the transmission in Virginia. “This is pulling away from that investment. This is eating up all of our utility funding. All of our money is going to these massive transmission lines to give this incredible amount of power to data centers in Virginia when it could be used to invest in solar, to invest in transmission for renewables we can use. Instead it’s delivering gas and coal from West Virginia and the Ohio River Valley.”
Daniel Palken of Arnold Ventures, who previously worked on major pieces of transmission reform legislation in the U.S. Senate, said when asked if local opposition was a bigger problem than macro permitting issues: “I do not think local opposition is the main thing holding up transmission.”
But then he texted me to clarify. “What’s unique about transmission is that in order for local opposition to even matter, there has to be a functional planning process that gets transmission lines to the starting line. And right now, only about half the country has functional regional planning, and none of the country has functional interregional planning.”
It’s challenging to fathom a solution to such a fragmented, nauseating puzzle. One solution could be in Congress, where climate hawks and transmission reform champions want to empower the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to have primacy over transmission line approvals, as it has over gas pipelines. This would at the very least contain any conflicts over transmission lines to one deciding body.
“It’s an old saw: Depending on the issue, I’ll tell you that I’m supportive of states’ rights,” Representative Sean Casten told me last December. “[I]t makes no sense that if you want to build a gas pipeline across multiple states in the U.S., you go to FERC and they are the sole permitting authority and they decide whether or not you get a permit. If you go to the same corridor and build an electric transmission that has less to worry about because there’s no chance of leaks, you have a different permitting body every time you cross a state line.”
Another solution could come from the tech sector thinking fast on its feet. Google for example is investing in “advanced” transmission projects like reconductoring, which the company says will allow it to increase the capacity of existing power lines. Microsoft is also experimenting with smaller superconductor lines they claim deliver the same amount of power than traditional wires.
But this space is evolving and in its infancy. “Getting into the business of transmission development is very complicated and takes a lot of time. That’s why we’ve seen data centers trying a lot of different tactics,” Reed said. “I think there’s a lot of interest, but turning that into specific projects and solutions is still to come. I think it’s also made harder by how highly local these decisions are.”
Plus more of the week’s biggest development fights.
1. Franklin County, Maine – The fate of the first statewide data center ban hinges on whether a governor running for a Democratic Senate nomination is willing to veto over a single town’s project.
2. Jerome County, Idaho – The county home to the now-defunct Lava Ridge wind farm just restricted solar energy, too.
3. Shelby County, Tennessee - The NAACP has joined with environmentalists to sue one of Elon Musk’s data centers in Memphis, claiming it is illegally operating more than two dozen gas turbines.
4. Richland County, Ohio - This Ohio county is going to vote in a few weeks on a ballot initiative that would overturn its solar and wind ban. I am less optimistic about it than many other energy nerds I’ve seen chattering the past week.
5. Racine County, Wisconsin – I close this week’s Hotspots with a bonus request: Please listen to this data center noise.
A chat with Scott Blalock of Australian energy company Wärtsilä.
This week’s conversation is with Scott Blalock of Australian energy company Wärtsilä. I spoke with Blalock this week amidst my reporting on transmission after getting an email asking whether I understood that data centers don’t really know how much battery storage they need. Upon hearing this, I realized I didn’t even really understand how data centers – still a novel phenomenon to me – were incorporating large-scale battery storage at all. How does that work when AI power demand can be so dynamic?
Blalock helped me realize that in some ways, it’s more of the same, and in others, it’s a whole new ballgame.
The following chat was lightly edited for clarity.
So help me understand how the battery storage side of your business is changing due to the rise in data center development.
We’re really in the early stages for energy storage. The boom is really in generation – batteries aren’t generators. They store, they shift, they smooth power, but they don’t generate the power from fuel. In this boom right now, everyone is trying to find either grid connections or on-site power generation. Those are the longest lead time items ± they take a while — so we’re still in the early stages of those types of projects coming back and saying, we need to start procuring batteries. We need to start looking at the controls and how everything’s going to work together. That’s still a little bit in the future.
Are you seeing people deploy batteries responsibly, in an integrated way, or is it people unsure what they need?
There’s definitely uncertainty as to what they need. The requirements are still hard to nail down. A lot of the requirements come from the load curve of the AI workloads they’re doing, and that’s still a bit of a moving target. It’s the importance of knowing the whole system and planning that out in the modeling space.
The biggest space of all this is the load profile. Without a load profile, there’s uncertainty about what you’re going to need –
When you say load profile, what do you mean?
The AI workload. The GPUs. The volatility. In a synchronized training load, all of the GPUs are generally doing the same thing at the same time. They all reach a pause state at the same time, and you’re close to full power on the data center, and then they say, okay now we go idle. It has a little bit of a wait and then starts back up again.
It’s that square wave, very sharp changes in power – that’s the new challenge of an AI data center. That’s one of the new uses of BESS that’s being added compared to the traditional data center doing data storage. They’re more stable which use less power and are more stable.
The volatility is where some of the friction comes in, and that has to be handled by some technology.
So what you’re telling me is that data center developers do not know how much they need in terms of battery storage? Simply put, they don’t know how much power they need?
Traditionally, utility-scale batteries – the projects we’ve been doing – come from a PPA, an interconnect agreement. There’s something in place where they know exactly how many batteries they can install. They know how many megawatts they’re allowed to install. Then they come to us and they say, I need a 4-megawatt battery for two hours. Tell me how many batteries you’re going to give me.
In a data center, they don’t know that first number. They don’t know how many megawatts they need. So that’s the first question: well, how big of a battery do you need?
If you have a 1-gigawatt data center that means the load change is 60% of that – 600 megawatts is the step up-and-down. The starting point is 600 megawatts for two hours. That’s the starting point that’ll cover being able to take care of that volatility. The duration is a part of it, too. From there you get into more detailed studies.
When it comes to transmission, how much of a factor is it in how much storage a data center needs?
The first thing is whether it’s connected at all. The battery is a shock absorber for the whole system. If you are grid-connected, the BESS is still a stability asset – it’s still improving the power quality and stability at an interconnect. If you’re doing on-site generation, it becomes vital because you have only one system being controlled.
As far as when you talk about permitting and transmission, the details of that don’t really play that much into the BESS, but it’s tangentially related. The BESS is an important part of how you handle that situation. Whether you get to interconnect or not, it’s an extremely important asset in that mix.
With respect to the overall social license conversation, how does battery storage fit into the conversations around energy bills and strain on the grid?
Bias aside, I think it’s the most important piece.
If you look at the macro scale, it’s like transitioning to renewables where they’re intermittent; batteries turn intermittent generation from renewables into firm, dispatchable power. It’s still not going to be available all the time – you’re not going to turn a solar plant into a 24-hour baseload plant – but a battery allows you to shift the energy. It greatly alleviates the problem.
The other aspect is it’s a stability asset. The short version of that is you have big thermal plants – rotating metal masses that have momentum to them that stabilize everything on the grid. As you take those offline, the coal plants and the gas plants, the grid itself loses that inertia so it is more susceptible to spikes and failures because of small events. Batteries are able to synthesize that inertia.