The Salton Sea Was California’s Strangest Catastrophe

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In California’s southeastern desert, the Salton Sea stretches across a wide, shimmering basin, a lake where there shouldn’t be one. At about 340 square miles, it’s the state’s largest lake. But it wasn’t created by natural forces. It was the result of a major engineering failure. I’ve long been fascinated with the place: its contradictions, its strangeness, its collision of nature and human ambition. It reflects so many of California’s tensions: water and drought, industry and wilderness, beauty and decay. And it was only relatively recently that I came to understand not just how the Salton Sea came to exist, but how remarkable the region’s geological past really is, and how it could play a major role in the country’s sustainable energy future.

In the early 1900s, the Imperial Valley was seen as promising farmland: its deep, silty soil ideal for agriculture, but the land was arid and desperately needed irrigation. To bring water from the Colorado River, engineers created the Imperial Canal, a massive infrastructure project meant to transform the desert into productive farmland. But the job was rushed. The canal had to pass through the Mexican border and loop back into California, and much of it ran through highly erodible soil. Maintenance was difficult, and by 1904, silt and sediment had clogged portions of the canal.

The Southern Pacific Railroad was forced to move it lines several times as the raging, unleashed Colorado River expanded the Salton Sea. (Credit: Imperial Irrigation District)

To keep water flowing, engineers hastily dug a temporary bypass channel south of the clogged area, hoping it would only be used for a few months. But they failed to build proper headgates, critical structures for controlling water flow. In 1905, an unusually heavy season of rain and snowmelt in the Rockies caused the Colorado River to swell. The torrent surged downriver and overwhelmed the temporary channel, carving it wider and deeper. Before long, the river completely abandoned its natural course and began flowing unchecked into the Salton Sink, an ancient, dry lakebed that had once held water during wetter epochs but had long since evaporated. (This has happened many times over in the region’s history).

For nearly two years, the Colorado River flowed uncontrolled into this depression, creating what is now known as the Salton Sea. Efforts to redirect the river back to its original course involved a frantic, expensive engineering campaign that included the Southern Pacific Railroad and U.S. government assistance. The breach wasn’t fully sealed until early 1907. By then, the sea had already formed: a shimmering, accidental lake nearly 35 miles long and 15 miles wide, with no natural outlet, in the middle of the California desert.

In the 1950s and early ’60s, the Salton Sea was a glamorous desert escape, drawing crowds with boating, fishing, and waterskiing. Resorts popped up along the shore, and celebrities like Frank Sinatra, Jerry Lewis, Rock Hudson, the Beach Boys, and the Marx Brothers came to visit and perform. It was billed as a new Palm Springs with water, until rising salinity and environmental decline ended the dream. There have been few if any similarly starge ecological accidents like it.

The erosive power of the floodwaters was immense. The river repeatedly scoured channels that created waterfalls, which cut back through the ground, eroding soil at a rate of about 1,200 meters per day and carving gorges 15 to 25 meters deep and more than 300 meters wide. (Credit: Imperial Irrigation District)

The creation of the Salton Sea was both a blessing and a curse for the people of the Imperial Valley. On the one hand, the lake provided a new source of water for irrigation, and the fertile soil around its shores proved ideal for growing crops. On the other hand, the water was highly saline, and the lake became increasingly polluted over time, posing a threat to both human health and the environment.

Recently, with most flows diverted from the Salton Sea for irrigation, it has begun to dry up and is now considered a major health hazard, as toxic dust is whipped up by heavy winds in the area. The disappearance of the Salton sea has also been killing off fish species that attract migratory birds.

The New York Times recently wrote about the struggles that farmers face as the Salton Sea disappears, and how the sea itself will likely disappear entirely at some point.

“There’s going to be collateral damage everywhere,” Frank Ruiz, a program director with California Audubon, told the Times. “Less water coming to the farmers, less water coming into the Salton Sea. That’s just the pure math.”

Salton Sea can be beautiful, if toxic (Photo: Wikipedia)

To me, the story of the Salton Sea is fascinating: a vivid example of how human intervention can radically reshape the environment. Of course, there are countless cases of humans altering the natural world, but this one feels particularly surreal: an enormous inland lake created entirely by accident, simply because a river, the Colorado, one of the most powerful in North America, was diverted from its course. It’s incredible, and incredibly strange. What makes the region even more fascinating, though, is that the human-made lake sits in a landscape already full of geological drama.

The area around the Salton Sea is located in a techtonically active region, with the San Andreas Fault running directly through it. The San Andreas Fault is a major plate boundary, where the Pacific Plate is moving north relative to the North American Plate (see our story about how fast it’s moving here). As pretty much every Californian knows, the legendary fault is responsible for the earthquakes and other tectonic activity across much of California.

If you look at a map of the area, you can see how the low lying southern portion of the Salton Sea basin goes directly into the Gulf of California. Over millions of years, the desert basin has been flooded numerous times throughout history by what is now the Gulf of California. As the fault system cuts through the region, the Pacific Plate is slowly sliding northwest, gradually pulling the Baja Peninsula away from mainland Mexico. Over millions of years, this tectonic motion is stretching and thinning the crust beneath the Imperial Valley and Salton Basin. If the process continues, geologists believe the area could eventually flood again, forming a vast inland sea, perhaps even making an island out of what is today Baja California. (We wrote about this earlier.)

Entrance to the Salton Sea Recreation Area (Wikipedia)

Yet even as the land shifts beneath it, the Salton Sea’s future may be shaped not just by geology, but by energy. Despite the ongoing controversy over the evaporating water body, the Salton Sea may play a crucial role in California’s renewable energy future. The region sits atop the Imperial Valley’s geothermal hotspot, where underground heat from all that tectonic activity creates ideal conditions for producing clean, reliable energy. Already home to one of the largest geothermal fields in the country, the area is now gaining attention for something even more strategic: lithium.

*An aerial view of geothermal power plants among the farmland around the southern shore of the Salton Sea.*
*(Credit: Courtesy Lawrence Berkeley National Lab*)

Beneath the surface, the hot, mineral-rich brine used in geothermal energy production contains high concentrations of lithium, a critical component in electric vehicle batteries. Known as “Lithium Valley,” the Salton Sea region has become the focus of several ambitious extraction projects aiming to tap into this resource without the large environmental footprint of traditional lithium mining. Gov. Gavin Newsom called the area is “the Saudi Arabia of lithium.” Even the Los Angeles Times has weighed in, claiming that “California’s Imperial Valley will be a major player in the clean energy transition.”

Companies like Controlled Thermal Resources (CTR) and EnergySource are developing direct lithium extraction (DLE) technologies that pull lithium from brine as part of their geothermal operations. The promise is a closed-loop system that produces both renewable energy and battery-grade lithium on the same site. If it proves viable, the Salton Sea could significantly reduce U.S. dependence on foreign lithium and cement California’s role in the global shift to clean energy. That’s a big if…and one we’ll be exploring in depth in future articles.

Toxic salt ponds along the Western shoreline (Photo: EmpireFootage)

Such projects could also potentially provide significant economic investment in the region and help power California’s green energy ambitions. So for a place that looks kind of wrecked and desolate, there actually a lot going on. We promise to keep an eye on what happens. Stay tuned.

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Creosote Bushes Are the Mojave Desert’s Time Travelers

Scene from BBC’s Green Planet in California’s Mojave Desert (BBC)

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The creosote bush, a seemingly unassuming plant that dots the arid expanses of North American deserts, holds secrets to aging that would make Silicon Valley longevity bros green with envy. In the Mojave Desert, one creosote plant known as “King Clone” is estimated to be over 12,000 years old, making it one of the oldest living clonal organisms on Earth. This astonishing fact was highlighted in the BBC series The Green Planet, where Sir David Attenborough brought the extraordinary resilience and survival strategies of desert flora to a broad public audience. The series as a whole is excellent, but the episode on desert plants, Desert Worlds, was especially fascinating and enlightening—particularly for a dedicated succulent fan like me. Watching it inspired me to research and write this article.

While many of the other filming locations were far-flung landscapes like the Succulent Karoo Desert in South Africa, one story unfolds in California’s Mojave Desert, where Attenborough, with his signature mellifluous voice, marvels at the remarkable longevity of the creosote bush. In a compelling scene, Attenborough revisits “King Clone” in the Mojave that he first filmed in 1982 for “The Living Planet.” Despite the four-decade interval, the bush had grown less than one inch, highlighting its incredibly slow growth rate.

King Clone, the 11,700-year-old creosote bush ring in the Mojave Desert (Wikipedia)

Creosote bushes, or Larrea tridentata, are native to the deserts of the southwestern United States and northern Mexico. Though often associated with arid landscapes, they are also a defining species of desert chaparral. Much of Southern California’s landscape is dominated by chaparral, a diverse and resilient plant community adapted to dry summers, periodic wildfires, and nutrient-poor soils. This ecosystem, characterized by drought-resistant shrubs like manzanita, chamise, and scrub oak, extends from coastal foothills to inland mountains, shaping the region’s ecology and fire cycles.

Creosote bushes thrive in some of the harshest environments on the planet, enduring scorching temperatures, relentless sunlight, and prolonged droughts. Few other plants are so hardy. The secret to their survival lies in their evolutionary adaptations, honed over millennia to combat the unforgiving desert landscape.

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As climate change intensifies heatwaves and disrupts rainfall patterns, even these desert survivors are showing signs of stress. Rising temperatures accelerate evapotranspiration, pushing groundwater further out of reach, while prolonged droughts hinder seedling establishment, threatening the species’ long-term viability. Scientists are studying how creosote’s resilience is being tested, and whether its decline could signal deeper ecological shifts in desert ecosystems already on the edge of survival. A 2021 University of California, Irvine study observed a 35% decrease in vegetation cover, including creosote bushes, in Southern California deserts between 1984 and 2017, attributing this decline to rising temperatures and increased aridity.

Golden bursts of resilience—creosote in bloom, thriving in the heart of the desert. (Erik Olsen)

Despite its usual appearance as a dry, uninviting shrub, the creosote bush surprises with delicate bursts of yellow when it blooms. After rainfall, its tough, resinous branches come alive with small, waxy flowers, adding a rare vibrancy to the desert. Unlike many plants that follow a strict seasonal cycle, creosote can bloom multiple times a year whenever moisture allows, a testament to its adaptability.

As mentioned, one of the most fascinating aspects of the creosote bush is its strategy of slow growth. This deliberate pace is not a sign of fragility but an ingenious response to scarcity. By growing slowly, creosote bushes conserve precious resources like water and nutrients, ensuring their survival even in the driest years. Few plants are quite so good at this feat. Their roots extend deep into the ground, tapping into hidden water reserves, while their leaves are coated in a waxy layer to minimize water loss through evaporation. This slow-and-steady approach has allowed them to outlast countless environmental changes and competitors. As a result of this unique adaptation, the creosote largely dominates much of the desert landscape, particularly in the Mojave. If you’ve ever driven along Highway 395 through the desert, creosote bushes often dot the landscape for as far as the eye can see.

Creosote in the Mojave desert (Photo: Erik Olsen)

The creosote bush’s longevity also owes much to its clonal growth pattern, where new stems sprout from the same root system, allowing the plant to persist for thousands of years. King Clone, for instance, is not a single plant but a massive clonal colony that spans over 11 meters in diameter. Each stem may live for decades before dying off, but new stems sprout from the same root system, creating a continuous cycle of renewal. This clonal reproduction ensures genetic stability and resilience, enabling the plant to survive for thousands of years. While King Clone represents one of the oldest clonal organisms, it is important to distinguish this from the bristlecone pine (see our story), which holds the title for the oldest singular organism. Unlike the creosote bush, which survives through clonal reproduction by sprouting new stems from a shared root system, the bristlecone pine—like the renowned “Methuselah“—is a single tree that has endured for nearly 5,000 years as an individual entity. (Ponder that for a moment).

Beyond its impressive age and survival strategies, the creosote bush plays a vital ecological role. It provides shelter and sustenance for desert wildlife, including insects, rodents, and birds. Its resinous leaves emit a distinctive odor after rain—a smell that is deeply evocative of the desert and beloved by many who live near these arid regions. Indigenous peoples have long used the plant for medicinal purposes, creating teas and poultices from its leaves to treat ailments such as colds, wounds, and infections.

A vast expanse of chaparral stretches endlessly across the eastern Sierra, its rugged shrubs and hardy vegetation thriving in the dry, windswept landscape. (Erik Olsen)

Recent scientific studies have uncovered more about the creosote bush’s unique chemistry. The plant produces a range of compounds to deter herbivores and pathogens, many of which have potential applications in medicine and agriculture. These secondary metabolites are a testament to the plant’s evolutionary ingenuity, further demonstrating how it has carved out a niche in an inhospitable environment. Researchers at the Skaggs School of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences at the University of California San Diego and the University of Colorado Anschutz Medical Campus have discovered that compounds from the creosote bush possess strong anti-parasitic properties. These compounds effectively target the protozoa responsible for giardia infections and an amoeba that causes a potentially deadly form of encephalitis. Similarly, The creosote bush contains the antioxidant nordihydroguaiaretic acid (NDGA), which has been extensively studied for its potential anti-carcinogenic, bactericidal, and preservative properties.

Creosote has played a starring role in the cultural mythology of the American Southwest, serving as a symbol of endurance, isolation, and the stark beauty of the desert. In Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire, the tough shrub embodies the rugged resilience of the land, surviving in the harshest conditions with roots that tap deep into the earth. Similarly, in Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy’s sun-scorched landscapes are often sprawling with creosote, reinforcing the novel’s themes of violence and survival. The plant also makes its way into music, as seen in Tom Russell’s song Creosote, where it becomes a poetic stand-in for the rough, untamed spirit of the Southwest. Even in visual media like Breaking Bad, the ever-present creosote in the barren New Mexico desert could be interpreted as a symbol of the transformation of Walter White, mirroring the show’s themes of survival at any cost. Across literature, music, and film, creosote remains an enduring emblem of the Southwest, its gnarled branches and pungent scent evoking both the loneliness and allure of the desert frontier.

By the time the animals were secured and they had thrown themselves on the ground under the creosote bushes with their weapons readied the riders were beginning to appear far out on the lake bed, a thin frieze of mounted archers that trembled and veered in the rising heat.
Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

One aim of this publication is to illuminate the mystery and wonder of the world around us. For those of us who call California home, as I have for most of my life (including being born here), we are constantly surrounded by a powerful, awe-inspiring nature—one that is both captivating and exhilarating. Yet, truly grasping the uniqueness of this place often requires more than a passing glance. Even a plant as seemingly ordinary as the creosote bush holds something extraordinary, a blend of magic and science waiting to be recognized. My hope is that on your next drive through the desert, you see that stark landscape with fresh eyes, with a little more respect, a little more wonder, and a deeper sense of admiration.

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The Ivanpah Solar Project is an Engineering Solar Power Giant in the Mojave Desert

Ivanpah Solar Power Facility in the Mojave Desert (Erik Olsen)

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Update (February 2025): The Ivanpah Solar Electric Generating System, once a milestone in renewable energy, now faces possible closure. Pacific Gas & Electric has agreed to terminate its contracts, citing the higher cost of Ivanpah’s solar-thermal technology compared to photovoltaics. If approved, two of the plant’s three units could shut down by 2026. Southern California Edison is also considering a contract buyout, adding to uncertainty. Environmental concerns, including bird and tortoise deaths from intense solar radiation, have further complicated Ivanpah’s legacy, reflecting the challenges of large-scale clean energy projects.

In the heart of the Mojave Desert, a glittering sea of mirrors sprawls across 3,500 acres, harnessing the relentless desert sun to power homes and businesses across California. As you drive to or from Las Vegas to the West, the facility rises from the desert, resembling an alien spaceport in the distance. From the air, passengers on flights over the desert can easily spot the plant, with its three towering structures gleaming nearly as brilliantly as the sun.

This ambitious undertaking, known as the Ivanpah Solar Electric Generating System, stands as one of the largest concentrated solar power (CSP) plants in the world. Since its completion in 2014, Ivanpah has been celebrated as a major milestone in renewable energy innovation, while also facing considerable scrutiny and challenges.

The idea behind Ivanpah was born from the vision of BrightSource Energy, led by Arnold Goldman, who was an early pioneer of solar thermal technology. Goldman had previously been involved with Luz International, a company that attempted similar solar ventures in the 1980s. Those early projects struggled due to high costs and limited efficiency, eventually falling victim to the market forces of low fossil fuel prices and a lack of policy support. But by the mid-2000s, the winds had shifted. California, driven by its Renewable Portfolio Standard (RPS), began pushing aggressively for renewable energy sources, setting ambitious targets that mandated utilities procure a large percentage of their electricity from clean sources. This provided fertile ground for a revived effort in concentrated solar power.

Ivanpah Solar Power Facility, a glittering sea of mirrors sprawls across 3,500 acres, harnessing the relentless desert sun to power homes and businesses across California. (Erik Olsen)

With significant financial backing from NRG Energy, Google—which has a strong interest in promoting renewable energy as part of its sustainability goals—and the U.S. Department of Energy (which provided a $1.6 billion loan guarantee), the Ivanpah project broke ground in 2010 and began operation in 2014. By its completion, it had become a landmark renewable energy installation—a bold attempt to demonstrate the viability of CSP technology at scale, with a capacity of 392 megawatts (MW), enough to power around 140,000 homes at peak production.

Ivanpah’s CSP technology differs significantly from the more common photovoltaic (PV) solar panels that typically sprawl across rooftops and solar farms. Instead of directly converting sunlight into electricity, Ivanpah employs a central tower system that uses concentrated solar power to generate steam. The facility harnesses the reflections of 173,500 heliostats (large mirrors) spread across the desert floor, each of which tracks the sun throughout the day using computer algorithms, reflecting sunlight onto a central receiver at the top of Ivanpah’s three 450-foot towers.

Photovoltaic solar array in the Mojave Desert in California (Erik Olsen)

Inside these towers, the intense, concentrated sunlight heats water to temperatures of over 1,000°F (537°C). This heat turns water into steam, which drives turbines to generate electricity. This process—turning solar energy into heat, then into steam, and finally into electricity—requires multiple stages of energy conversion, introducing inefficiencies along the way. While innovative, these conversions come with inherent energy losses that ultimately affect overall efficiency. Some of these inefficiencies and energy losses were unanticipated, demonstrating the complexities of scaling concentrated solar power to this level.

The theoretical efficiency of CSP systems like Ivanpah is generally around 15-20%. By comparison, modern PV panels convert sunlight directly into electricity, achieving efficiencies of 15-22%, with some high-end models exceeding 25%. The direct conversion of sunlight by PV systems avoids the multiple stages of transformation needed by CSP, making PV generally more efficient and cost-effective. That is not to say the project was not an unworthwhile effort, just that it has not yet met the early expectations for the technology.

Ivanpah Solar Power Facility from an airplane. (Erik Olsen)

While Ivanpah was a leap forward in solar technology, it has faced several challenges, both technical and environmental. One of the first issues arose in the initial years of operation: the plant produced less electricity than anticipated, often falling short of its projected targets. This shortfall was attributed to a combination of technical complications, lower-than-expected solar irradiance, and operational adjustments as engineers sought to optimize the plant’s complex systems.

In addition, Ivanpah relies on natural gas to preheat its boilers in the early morning or during cloudy weather, ensuring the turbines are ready to operate as soon as the sun provides enough energy. This auxiliary use of natural gas has sparked criticism, with some questioning whether Ivanpah can truly be considered a clean, renewable energy source. While the natural gas usage is minimal relative to the plant’s total output, it highlights a practical limitation of CSP systems, which need to overcome the intermittent nature of sunlight.

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Environmental impacts have also drawn attention. Ivanpah’s vast array of mirrors produces a phenomenon known as solar flux, a concentrated field of heat that can reach temperatures high enough to injure or kill birds flying through it. Dubbed ‘streamers,’ because of the smoke that comes from their wings when they burn in midair, birds that enter this concentrated beam often die. (Here’s a video about it.) A report from the California Energy Commission refers to what they call a “megatrap,” where birds are drawn to insects that are attracted to the intense light emitted from the towers. This unintended effect on wildlife has been a significant concern for conservation groups, prompting Ivanpah to work on mitigation measures, including testing visual deterrents to keep birds away.

A burned MacGillivray’s Warbler found at the Ivanpah solar plant during a visit by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in October 2013.
U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service/AP Photo

Moreover, the sheer size of Ivanpah, covering a significant area of desert land, has raised concerns about the impact on local ecosystems. The Mojave Desert is a delicate environment, and constructing such a large facility inevitably affected the flora and fauna, prompting debates about whether renewable energy projects should be balanced with efforts to preserve pristine habitats.

Ivanpah is just one of several large-scale CSP projects around the globe. Another notable example is the Noor Ouarzazate Solar Complex in Morocco, which is one of the largest CSP installations in the world. The Noor Complex uses both parabolic trough and solar tower technologies and, crucially, incorporates molten salt to store heat, allowing it to generate electricity even after the sun has set. The use of molten salt offers several advantages over water-based systems like Ivanpah. Molten salt can retain heat for longer periods, enabling the plant to continue generating power during periods of low sunlight or even after sunset, which greatly improves grid reliability and helps balance energy supply with demand.

The Crescent Dunes Solar Energy Project, once a symbol of cutting-edge solar technology with its 640-foot tower and field of over 10,000 mirrors, now stands as a cautionary tale of ambitious renewable energy efforts. Despite its initial promise, the project was plagued by technical issues and ultimately failed to meet its energy production goals, leading to its closure.
(U.S. Department of Energy)

Similarly, the Crescent Dunes project in Nevada was another attempt to utilize molten salt for energy storage. It initially showed promise but struggled with technical setbacks and eventually ceased operation in 2019 due to persistent issues with the molten salt storage system and failure to meet performance expectations. The technology, although innovative, struggled with high maintenance costs, particularly with the heliostat mirrors and salt storage tanks. The company behind Crescent Dunes, SolarReserve, went bankrupt after being sued by NV Energy for failing to meet its contractual obligations.

Despite these setbacks, the project has not been fully decommissioned. ACS Cobra, the Spanish firm involved in its construction, now operates the plant at reduced capacity, mainly delivering energy during peak demand at night. Although Crescent Dunes has never reached its full potential, it continues to produce some electricity for Nevada’s grid, albeit far below the originally planned levels.

Crescent Dunes underscored the challenges associated with large-scale CSP projects, particularly the difficulty of balancing complexity, maintenance, and operational costs. However, the use of molten salt in Crescent Dunes demonstrated the significant potential for improving CSP efficiency through effective thermal storage, highlighting a critical advantage over water-based systems like Ivanpah that lack extensive storage capabilities.

While CSP holds the advantage of potential energy storage—something PV cannot inherently achieve without additional batteries—PV technology has seen a steep decline in cost and significant improvements in efficiency over the past decade. This rapid evolution has made PV panels more attractive, leading to widespread adoption across both utility-scale and residential projects. Hybrid projects, like Phase IV of the Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Solar Park in Dubai, are now combining PV and CSP technologies to maximize efficiency and output, utilizing each technology’s strengths.

Ivanpah remains operational, continuing to contribute renewable energy to California’s grid.

Governor Gavin Newsom has commented on the importance of renewable projects like Ivanpah in meeting California’s ambitious clean energy goals. Newsom has praised Ivanpah as a vital component of the state’s effort to transition away from fossil fuels, emphasizing the need for innovative projects to meet California’s target of achieving 100% renewable energy by 2045. He has highlighted the symbolic value of Ivanpah, not only as a source of clean energy but as a testament to California’s leadership in renewable technology and environmental stewardship. Its story is one of both ambition and caution, highlighting the promise of concentrated solar power as well as its practical and environmental limitations. In many ways, Ivanpah serves as a testbed for CSP technology, providing valuable insights into the challenges of scaling such systems to utility-level production. It has also sparked discussions on the role of CSP compared to other forms of renewable energy, especially as battery technology advances to address PV’s storage challenges.

While CSP is unlikely to overtake PV in terms of widespread adoption due to its complexity and cost, it still has a role to play, particularly in regions with intense sunlight and a need for energy storage. The lessons learned at Ivanpah—both the successes and the setbacks—will inform the next generation of solar projects, driving innovation and helping policymakers, engineers, and investors make more informed decisions about the future of renewable energy infrastructure.

Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Solar Park (Government of Dubai)

California’s solar and renewable energy installations have seen remarkable success in recent years, as the state continues to push toward its ambitious goal of 100% clean electricity by 2045. In 2024, California achieved several milestones that highlight the effectiveness of its clean energy initiatives. For example, the state has more than 35,000 MW of renewable energy capacity already serving the grid, with 16,000 MW added just since 2020. A key component of this growth is the rapid expansion of battery storage, which has become essential for balancing the grid, especially during peak demand times when solar power diminishes in the evening. In 2024 alone, battery storage capacity grew by over 3,000 MW, bringing the total to more than 13,000 MW—a 30% increase in just six months

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In addition to storage, new solar projects like the Blythe Solar Power Project, which generates 485 MW of photovoltaic power and adds 387 MW of battery storage, are powering over 145,000 homes, further demonstrating California’s leadership in clean energy development. This continued investment not only strengthens the grid but also ensures resilience during extreme weather events, which have become more frequent due to climate change.

Despite these successes, California still has a long way to go. The state will need to bring an additional 148,000 MW of renewable resources online by 2045 to fully meet its goals. However, with the state’s rapid advancements in storage technology, solar capacity, and governmental support, California is well on its way to achieving a cleaner, more sustainable energy future.

Google arranged the mirrors at Ivanpah to create a tribute to Margaret Hamilton, the pioneering computer scientist who led the software engineering efforts for the Apollo space missions. (Google)

Beyond its role in renewable energy, Ivanpah has also found itself at the intersection of technology and art. One notable example is when Google arranged the mirrors at Ivanpah to create a tribute to Margaret Hamilton, the pioneering computer scientist who led the software engineering efforts for the Apollo space missions. This artistic alignment of mirrors highlighted Ivanpah’s versatility—not just as an engineering marvel for energy generation but also as a symbol of human achievement. The intricate choreography of heliostats to form an image visible from above served as a powerful visual homage, merging art, science, and technology in a striking way. Such projects have helped broaden the cultural significance of Ivanpah, presenting it not only as a source of renewable energy but also as an inspirational platform that celebrates human creativity and accomplishment.

The next time you’re driving to Vegas and spot the three massive, sun-like objects glowing in the desert, give a thought to the immense power—and challenges—of harnessing the sun’s energy in such a dramatic way.

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by Erik Olsen

The Mystical Sentinels of the Mojave: Unraveling the Secrets of the Joshua Tree

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Standing tall against the backdrop of the sun-scorched Mojave Desert, the Joshua Tree (Yucca brevifolia) is an emblematic figure of resilience and beauty. With its twisted, bristled limbs reaching towards the sky, this iconic species is not just a tree but a symbol of the untamed wilderness that is California’s desert landscape.

The Joshua Tree’s biology is as unique as its silhouette. It’s often considered to be a member of the Agavaceae family (along with agaves), more closely related to the asparagus than to other trees. This desert dweller is an arborescent, or tree-like, species of yucca, characterized by its stout, shaggy trunk and a crown of spiky leaves. Unlike most trees, the Joshua Tree doesn’t have growth rings, making it difficult to determine their age. However, these trees can live for hundreds of years, with some ancient sentinels estimated to be over a millennium old. The tallest trees reach about 15 m (49 ft). New plants can grow from seed, but in some populations, new stems grow from underground rhizomes that spread out around the parent tree.

The Joshua tree is also known as izote de desierto (Spanish for “desert dagger”). It was first formally described in the botanical literature as Yucca brevifolia by George Engelmann in 1871 as part of the famous Geological Exploration of the 100th meridian (or “Wheeler Survey“).

The moniker “Joshua tree” is believed to originate from Mormon pioneers traversing the expanses of the Mojave Desert around the mid-1800s. They found the tree’s distinctive shape—with its limbs persistently outstretched—reminiscent of the biblical tale where Joshua extends his hands for a prolonged period, assisting the Israelites in their capture of Canaan, as recounted in the Book of Joshua. The tree’s tangled leaves also contributed to this image, giving it the semblance of a beard.

Nevertheless, this charming story lacks direct historical evidence from the period and the name “Joshua tree” doesn’t appear in records until after the Mormons had already settled in the area. Interestingly, the tree’s unique form may bear a stronger resemblance to narratives associated with Moses rather than Joshua. The absence of contemporary accounts leaves the true origin of the name enshrouded in the mystery of the past, adding to the tree’s allure and the folklore of the American West.

Joshua Trees burned in the 2020 Dome fire. (Photo: Erik Olsen)

The habitat of the Joshua Tree is as unforgiving as it is beautiful. They are found primarily in the Mojave Desert, the highest and coldest desert in the United States. These trees have adapted to the extremes, flourishing at elevations between 2,000 and 6,000 feet where the temperatures can plummet below freezing at night and soar during the day.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the Joshua Tree is its symbiotic relationship with the yucca moth. In a marvelous evolutionary dance, the moth is the tree’s sole pollinator, and in turn, the tree provides the moth a place to lay its eggs. This mutualistic relationship underscores the delicate balance of desert ecosystems.

Joshua Tree National Park was established as a national monument in 1936 and later upgraded to a national park in 1994, largely to protect the distinctive Joshua Trees and the unique desert ecosystem they epitomize. The effort to safeguard this landscape was driven by citizens and supporters who were passionate about the conservation of its otherworldly terrain and the diverse life forms that inhabit it.

Despite their hardy appearance, Joshua Trees harbor secrets that are only now being fully understood by scientists. Their root systems, for instance, can extend vertically to 30 feet and horizontally to 36 feet, a testament to their search for water in arid soils. Moreover, these trees are a keystone species, providing critical habitat for a host of desert organisms, from the Scott’s Oriole that nests in its branches to the black-tailed jackrabbit seeking shade under its canopy.

However, the stability of the Joshua Tree’s future is uncertain. Climate change poses a significant threat to its survival. Rising temperatures and altered precipitation patterns are projected to shrink the suitable habitat for Joshua Trees by up to 90% by the end of the century. Efforts are underway to understand and mitigate these impacts, with conservationists advocating for policies to reduce carbon emissions and protect the Joshua Tree’s habitat from development and resource exploitation.

In August 2020, a devastating blaze known as the Dome Fire swept through the Mojave National Preserve, scorching over 43,000 acres of one of the most extensive Joshua tree forests on the planet, located at Cima Dome. The inferno, which was one of the most destructive in recent history, decimated an estimated 1 million to 1.3 million Joshua trees, transforming a once thriving ecosystem into a haunting landscape of charred remains.

This catastrophic event not only altered the physical landscape but also raised urgent questions about the future of these iconic trees in the face of escalating climate change threats. The resilience of Joshua trees to fire is typically low, and the recovery of these forests could be severely hampered by the changing climate, with hotter, drier conditions becoming more common. The loss of these trees in such vast numbers is a stark reminder of the vulnerability of desert ecosystems and the need for immediate action to mitigate the impacts of climate change and protect these natural treasures for future generations.

Although California came out of drought in 2023, there is no guarantee that dry, hot conditions won’t continue. If they do, Joshua trees could lose 90 percent of their range by the end of the century, Dr. Cameron Barrows, a research ecologist with the University of California Riverside’s Center for Conservation Biology told Outside magazine.

The Joshua Tree’s importance to California’s landscape is indelible. It’s not only an ecological mainstay but also a cultural and historical icon, inspiring artists, musicians, and nature lovers alike. The trees’ spiky profiles are a testament to the unrivaled beauty of the American West.

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