On Saturday, our thermometer registered 100.7 degrees F, in the middle of a humid (65%) afternoon, in which the combined demand from airconditioners and pool filtration pumps overloaded the transformer for our street, causing it to trip off line.
One hundred degrees and 65% humidity may be par-for-the summer conditions in many parts of the country, but not in San Diego. A high pressure system settled in over Arizona and pulled in a flow of humid air from the warm Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California), our mini version of the Gulf of Mexico that contributes to phenomenon climatologists call “monsoonal flow” that is responsible for most of the late-summer rainfall in the mountains of Arizona and New Mexico.
We reached an all-time high for electric power demand that day. When our neighborhood was built in the early ’60′s, few homes had airconditioning. Temperatures rarely exceeded ninety, and when they did, the condition never lasted more than a couple of days, and with the low humidity, the evenings were cool. And we usually had the marine layer (“onshore flow”) that arrived in the evening to spoil the lawn party and drive everyone indoors to escape the chill.
But airconditioning was installed in more and more homes, as more homeowners wanted relief from the occasional humid monsoonal conditions that strayed in from the East, as well as the hot, dry Santa Ana winds that often blew in from the desert (“offshore flow”) as the East Pacific High came ashore in Central California.
We also put in more pools. And these pools had filtration pumps. And our appliances, though vastly more efficient, are more numerous and powerful. So much so that building codes have increased the ratings for electrical service in home remodels.
But the transformer on our street could not meet the load. So it shut itself down.
I did not know this. I thought it was a grid problem or a selective blackout, since I knew our grid was at 95% capacity, and a radio report said that 30,000 homes were without power. Figuring therefore that the blackout would last until the sun went down and demand cooled, I turned off the air conditioner and other power strips in the house, and we went to the home center to pick up some needed supplies. In neighboring Santee, where the nearest home center is located, the temperature was at least ten degrees warmer: it felt like Palm Desert.
Arriving home, we saw the power was still out. We took a leisurely dip in the spool. Uncertain when the power might be restored, we were careful to keep the house closed up and not to open the refrigerators or freezers, and dressed to go out for dinner.
We headed home from dinner after the sun had set, so as we drove though our neighborhood, we looked for streetlights and lights in porches and windows to indicate power had been restored. What we saw gave us hope — until we turned onto our street. It was black.
Neighbors on the street told what the cause of the blackout was — the transformer in front of our own home. The power company had been notified, but we would have to wait.
By now, after six hours, the heat had invaded our well-insulated home, and the temperature had climbed above 85 degrees. It was time to open all of the windows and skylights for cross-ventilation. By nine-thirty p.m., it was cooler outside than inside, and there was no breeze. I sat out on our back patio under the palapa, reading under torchlight and drinking a cool refreshment from our patio refrigerator, until time to retire.
Lying in bed with the patio door open, I realized that I could have done without air conditioning, if only I could have a rudimentary fan to produce an artificial breeze for sleeping. But with the power out, I had to settle for still, hot, humid silence.
Just before midnight, I awoke to what sounded like a bizarre cell phone ring tone. Fully awake, I heard nothing more, and decided that I must have been dreaming. Then I heard the Diesel engine of a large truck, not the sort of sound that invades our street at midnight, and realizd that it must be the SDG&E truck. The truck’s brakes squealed just in front of our house, and the bright lights of the truck reminded me of Spielberg’s Close Encounters. A half dozen men emerged from the truck and went to work without saying a word.
The sound of the truck’s engine woke Carol, and she got up and closed the patio door. The bedroom, while quiet, now felt like a coffin, and I went to the family room in the rear of the house where it seemed cooler. I had no idea how long it would take to fix the outage. How long does it take to replace a transformer?
But in just under ten minutes, the base station of our cordless phone beeped, indicating that its power had been restored. Was it possible that the transformer was not damaged, but could be reset? This question was going through my mind as I turned the air conditioner back on and closed all the doors and windows.
The following six hours of sleep were among the most comfortable in recent memory. Thank you, SDG&E.
