Photo: Erico Guizzo
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BIG, NOISY, AND SMELLY: San Cristóbal uses three 650‑kilowatt diesel
generators to produce electricity. The island’s
new wind system will reduce the amount of diesel
burned by 950 000 liters per year.
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AS WE LEAVE El Tropezón, Tolan recalls how he first
got involved with the project. He’d been working as a
project manager at Industry & Energy Associates, a
consulting firm in Portland, Maine. In 2001, Paul
Loeffelman, director of environmental public policy at
American Electric Power, the e8 member company chosen to
lead the San Cristóbal project, called him up. Would he
be interested in building a cutting-edge wind farm on a
tiny island located 1000 kilometers out at sea, where 85
percent of the land consists of protected national park?
Sure, replied Tolan, always up for a challenge.
To navigate Ecuadorian laws and energy policies,
Loeffelman picked Vintimilla, a former director of
Ecuador’s energy regulation agency. Tolan, a 47-year-old
detail-oriented, straight-talking New York City native
who graduated from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy in
Kings Point, N.Y., and Vintimilla, a 60-year-old
mild-mannered engineer widely respected in Ecuador, made
a formidable team.
Vintimilla’s first major task was persuading the
government to establish regulations for wind-power
projects, as San Cristóbal’s would be the country’s
first. Then there was the issue of ownership. The plan
was that the e8 would establish a trust entity to manage
the project and gradually transfer control to
Elecgalápagos, the local electrical utility. “We had to
do so many reports for so many different people,”
Vintimilla says.
In the meantime, Tolan pored over the engineering and
financing details. A 2001 study had estimated that a
wind system capable of reducing diesel generation by 98
percent would cost $5.4 million. To Tolan, those
numbers looked far too optimistic. What’s more, since
that initial study, annual electricity demand on San
Cristóbal had grown from 4950 megawatt-hours in 1999 to
7150 MWh in 2006. Tolan recalculated the project’s
cost—this time factoring in such details as how many
construction cranes you’d need to rent and how much
you’d spend relocating Miconia plants from
the site—and concluded that the project would achieve a
diesel reduction of about 50 percent at a cost of some
$10 million.
“Everyone was asking me, ‘Jim, what did you do?!’ ”
Tolan recalls. He had to explain that the typical costs
for a big wind project in the United States—$1000 to
$1500 per kilowatt—didn’t apply to the Galápagos, where
transportation and environmental-related expenses
brought the cost per kilowatt to $3500.
Tolan and Vintimilla also had to address concerns from
the local community. Wouldn’t the turbines disfigure the
pristine landscape and hurt tourism? The project
managers convinced local leaders that the visual impact
would be minor, because the towers wouldn’t be visible
from town. Moreover, they argued, the idea of renewable
energy in the Galápagos would appeal to environmentally
conscious visitors, who might even want to go see the
towering turbines.