Musings

I have been considering the ‘facts’ surrounding the global warming controversy and trying to get a handle on reality. In this arena, one’s grasp is tenuous indeed. Conflicting studies and evidence abound, and the issue is now so politicized that rational, objective discussion of the data sets is no longer possible.

But, one thing has become clear to me; the menace of Methane Hydrates. This compound forms primarily on the off-shore continental shelves of the world’s oceans, but it is also widespread on land in the form of Arctic tundra and peat bogs. Under the proper conditions of pressure and temperature, this compound exists as a solid, a sort of snowball. The worldwide deposits are staggering in magnitude; many times the energy stored in all deposits of conventional fossil fuels such as oil and coal.

If we learn to tap this supply of what is essentially swamp gas, the world energy crisis disappears. A number of companies are rushing to develop an economical technology for sucking up these marine deposits as a ‘solid’ and storing it on the surface in pressure tanks as a ‘gas’.

On the other hand, there is a sinister aspect to the situation: a global temperature rise of only 5-7 degrees may be sufficient to cause widespread, uncontrolled venting of this gas into the atmosphere. Already, bubbles of gas venting from oceanic deposits in the so-called ‘Bermuda Triangle’ are suspected to have sunk a number of ships due to a loss of buoyancy. This gas is 50 times as powerful a greenhouse gas as carbon dioxide. It could be a fast trigger switch for catastrophic climate change, far beyond that imagined in the recent U.N. report.

But what really grips my imagination is the potential for an overwhelming aroma.

You see, I live near the Great Salt Lake, and this stagnant inland body of water supports few living things. But those organisms that do thrive and survive eventually die and decay, sinking to the bottom of this shallow lake. So, on occasion, when the wind is just right, the waves roil up the mud on the lake bottom, and the gases released drift into Salt Lake City. It is chemical warfare of the most savage, nauseating nature, and the refined nostrils of the city’s inhabitants slam shut in horror and a massive group anaphylactic shock sets in.

Under these conditions, when you are not gagging and retching over the toilet bowl, you are trying in vain to appreciate the aroma of a freshly scrubbed woman, Chanel #5, or a good Cabernet.

Now, imagine that the melting tundra and belching sea floor releases quintillions of tons of this stuff into our air supply. The whole world becomes Salt Lake City’s backyard. And nothing will be fun anymore except visiting the domed horticultural museums, where, under positive air pressure, you will be able to breath, smell, and remember the good old days.

My cat, being a truly brilliant animal, illustrates below the danger of odors: