However, the narrow corridor is overrun. And I'm not speaking of the endless stream of Jeeps rolling into town; rather, the canyon is chock-full of energy corridors. Both sides of the highway are laden with transmission lines of various sizes and natural gas pipelines marked by hundreds of yellow warning markers. These are our lifelines to comfort and ease.

Yet, few of us have ever looked into the source of this comfort, the true costs of the magic behind our light switches, or the places and peoples bearing the brunt of our ever-increasing thirst for energy. Until now. With the threat of global climate change literally looming over our heads, some communities are beginning to ask the important questions. And they're taking crucial steps toward a New Energy future.

"Our lives are being sacrificed for cheap energy," laments Dailan Long, a resident of Burnham, N.M., on the Navajo Nation. Long is a community organizer for Diné Citizens Against Ruining our Environment (Diné CARE), a group focused on environmental justice issues on Navajo tribal lands.

"We've been looking into the stories of what people have endured, family members they have lost, people becoming impoverished because they were relocated by coal mines. Who's being sacrificed for progress?  And how much have the Navajo people sacrificed?"
Long and Diné CARE are currently at the front lines of a battle against Desert Rock, a proposed $3.6 billion, 1,500-megawatt, coal-fired power plant on the Navajo Nation. It would be one of the largest coal plants in the country. And it would sit within 30 miles of two of the nation's worst polluting coal-fired plants: the Four Corners and San Juan facilities near Farmington, N.M. The coal would be taken from tribal lands and the power sent to burgeoning cities in Arizona, New Mexico and Nevada.

Theirs is a David-versus-Goliath story, with nonprofit, grass-roots-driven Diné CARE - whose members pay no dues but are defined by "taking up the cause of Honoring Mother Earth and Honoring our Relations to our Environment" - battling the well-funded, multinational corporation Sithe Global Power, LLC. Sithe, in partnership with the Diné Power Authority - and with support from the Navajo Tribal Council - has been laying the groundwork for this power plant for years.

And now, David has Goliath all tied up.

"The project could have been up and running by now if we hadn't been out there advocating for more information and really just throwing a wrench into their gears," says Long, whose work has largely been to educate communities about the health and environmental risks of coal-fired plants. "Now that people realize what's in coal ash and what it's doing to our communities, I think people are just fed up and frustrated. We're very optimistic that (Desert Rock) is not going to happen."

Long claims that the vast majority of Navajo residents oppose Desert Rock, and the Navajo Tribal Council's continued support of the project stands in opposition to the will of the people. The 54,000 anti-Desert Rock comments received by the Bureau of Indian Affairs seem to back up this assertion. However, when the tribal leadership looks at the Desert Rock proposal, they see much-needed dollar signs.

According to documents from Navajo President Joe Shirley's office, Desert Rock would provide the Navajo Nation with more than 1,000 union jobs during its five-year construction period and 400 permanent jobs once the facility and nearby coal mine are operational. Average wages are estimated at $60,000 per year. Furthermore, the plant would generate yearly tax revenues equal to 30 percent of the Navajo Nation's current spending budget. Such numbers are hard to ignore for a people as economically depressed as the Navajo. Desert Rock offers a glimmer of hope in a place where hope is in short supply.

However, history shows that Desert Rock may not be the economic panacea that the Navajo Nation is counting on. Existing coal-fired power plants in the area have done little to reduce astronomical unemployment rates. For instance, the San Juan Chapter of the Navajo Nation - which sits right next to the Four Corners Power Plant - has a poverty level of 100 percent. And if Desert Rock did bring jobs to the reservation, only residents of its northeast corner would benefit.

But Dailan Long and Diné CARE are not simply opposed to Desert Rock; they offer an alternative. This, perhaps, is where the Navajo will find the brightest glimmerings of hope.
"The Navajo people need something to stand behind," says Long. "We envision a healthy future for our Navajo Nation. We're not just some environmental group running around the reservation opposing everything. We have a prescriptive roadmap, and it comes directly from our grass roots."

The roadmap Long speaks of is called "Energy and Economic Alternatives to the Desert Rock Energy Project." It's a 160-page analysis, prepared by Diné CARE, comparing renewable energy alternatives to coal power.

The study is rooted in Diné Fundamental Laws which are based on centuries of traditional and natural guiding principles. Thus, the report doesn't just look at the environmental and economic impacts of wind and solar power; it also considers the spiritual components of these elemental forces and ways to work with the elements rather than ravage them. The document maps the path to a brighter future, one built upon the bedrock wisdom of a rich land-based cultural heritage.

"Energy and Economic Alternatives" makes the case that a combination of wind, solar, and efficiency measures - with a small amount of natural gas-fired electricity to shore up the reliability of renewables - is a viable and valuable option for the Navajo Nation. The alternatives to Desert Rock could produce twice as much energy, at two cents less per kilowatt hour. This energy could be delivered to some of the 18,000 Navajo residences that currently lack electricity. Desert Rock would deliver no power to the reservation. The alternatives would use half the amount of water to operate, emit 95 percent less carbon dioxide, and provide twice as many jobs. Furthermore, those jobs would be distributed throughout the reservation, bringing economic opportunity to more people in need.
Long has already fielded phone calls from interested renewable energy providers. They are ready to do business with the Navajo Nation based upon the report's findings. Now, it's just a matter of convincing the tribal council of the plan's worth.

"I think, so far, (the Navajo Tribal Council has) seen the Desert Rock opposition as hostile and completely resistant to discussion," says Long, "but how I would like us perceived is that we mean well, and that the Navajo Tribal Council doesn't have to come out looking like the bad guys. We have this report that can make them look like the good guys. They can initiate these projects, and we're here to help them do that."

The visionary report's humble beginnings found Long visiting Navajo elders and listening to their stories. He took inspiration from their words. He typed the report on a laptop in the desert, standing on hills to search for internet signals. And even before all this, it started with family ties to coal. His father and two brothers work at Four Corners Power Plant. Long laughs at the irony of coal money funding his activism, yet he understands how this unlikely background fuels his fight.

"I grew up in a power plant lifestyle. I know the boom and bust. I know what it's like to have your father come home and barely breathe from all the coal ash that's been blowing around," he says, his strident, anti-Desert Rock tone softening. "When I was younger, my father always told me, ?Do something better for yourself. Be more ambitious.'"
In taking these words to heart, not only did Long pull himself out of the grip of an industry's broken promises, but he and Diné CARE are showing the Navajo Nation how to do the same.

In late 2007, the Department of Energy, along with three other federal agencies, came out with a draft plan for West-wide energy corridors. The goal of this plan is to grease the skids for bringing more energy to a rapidly growing and power-hungry West. The proposal, mandated by the Energy Policy Act of 2005, lays out 6,055 miles of corridors across 11 Western states. Each corridor could hold as many as nine electric transmission lines, 35 petroleum lines, and 29 natural gas lines. The idea is to pre-approve a main network of energy corridors so that a future energy-infrastructure bonanza doesn't run roughshod over the landscape. One can applaud these federal agencies for thinking ahead in an attempt to mitigate landscape impacts.

But keep the applause brief.

In essence, the plan is a child's connect-the-dots game gone awry. And it's one with grave consequences. The dots are coal-fired power plants. And the connections impact private property owners, entire towns, national parks, and tribal lands, including the Navajo Nation.

The plan enlarges an outdated energy system of coal power and long transmission lines, while failing to consider the innovative energy solutions arising from a concerned but hopeful populace. Furthermore, the corridor plan gives no consideration to the fact that energy efficiency measures are the cheapest and most effective means of ensuring that the West continues to sparkle beneath its vast night skies.

The corridor proposal makes short-sighted assumptions about energy - that it can't be generated with cleaner technologies, produced locally, or used more efficiently - while further impacting already struggling landscapes. Where in Moab Canyon might we place nine 500-kilovolt transmission lines? As Dailan Long asks, what are we sacrificing for such progress?

"When you envision something on the scale of the energy corridors, it's a hard pill to swallow to have it impact what everyone agrees is a magnificent backdrop to New Mexico's second largest city," says Las Cruces City Councilor Nathan Small.

The mountains, with their granitic spires and shark's-teeth profile, contain portions of designated wilderness. The corridor would cross the mountain's base, a proposed National Conservation Area. This designation is supported by the City Council, County Commission, Las Cruces Homebuilder's Association, conservation groups and hunters. Thus, the current corridor proposal faces a bipartisan backlash.

Those focused on energy issues are none too happy with the plan, either. Steve Fischmann, Chair for Southwest Energy Alliance (SWEA), sees many flaws in the proposal, from its reliance on coal power to its long-lines configuration.

"It's an old-fashioned take on how to serve energy needs," he says.

Fischmann's group, which is based in Las Cruces, works to help the community come up with clean, affordable, and sustainable energy solutions. SWEA also shapes energy policy by working with local and state governments, New Mexico's Public Regulation Commission, and the utilities themselves.

After generating local momentum for clean-energy, Fischmann is disappointed by the federal government's approach.

"The thing about these long grids is, when you transmit power, there's loss. It's inefficient," he says. "It's also subject to damage, terrorism, and all this other stuff. However, when you get power sources closer to populated areas, there's less transmission loss. Also, because the power is coming from many different sources (like solar, wind, and geothermal), the system is much less vulnerable to shutdowns."
Fischmann points out that, despite backward federal policies, local entities do have influence over utility regulations. He says that the Public Regulation Commission, which sets the rules for the utilities in New Mexico, welcomes input from local governments and citizens. And he has faith in the new local leadership.

"We have a new city council that we feel will be a lot more sensitive to the issues," he says. "It's encouraging to see that the city is looking at pulling together a policy that looks at the big picture."

Nathan Small is the newest and, at the age of 25, the youngest member of the Las Cruces City Council. He brings with him a fresh perspective on a number of green issues, including energy. In addition to his city government duties, he works for New Mexico Wilderness Alliance. He's also an avid horseman and hunter. A native of rural New Mexico, this desert is in his blood, and he wants to do right by it. Thus, in collaboration with his colleagues, Small is leading the charge toward a new approach to Las Cruces energy. And as with Diné CARE, Small's aspirations are rooted in history.

"It's important to note that we have a backstory," he says. "We have the Southwest Technology Development Institute which has been around since 1977 (working on solar energy), and we've had geothermal projects since the 1960s. And now, there's a huge upsurge of interest in renewables."

That upsurge is coming from all sectors: community members installing photovoltaic systems on their homes, commercial solar projects coming online, a new City Hall that will be powered by renewables, and the utility - El Paso Electric - seeking out clean energy sources to meet state-mandated goals. Big changes are afoot.

Small points out that this is the time to pull the Southwest Technology Development Institute into the local mix. SWTDI, which operates out of New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, works in nations all over the world. The institute develops, promotes, and offers instructional courses on renewable technologies. Currently, clients in Bolivia and Bangladesh are receiving help from Las Cruces-based talent, but the Institute's hometown is missing out. One of Small's first priorities is to bring this homegrown expertise into partnership with the City. Another goal is to turn an industrial park within his district into a production facility for renewable energy infrastructure.

Yet, according to Small, his vision is but a small part of the overall equation.
"Citizens are in the driver's seat. This stuff really starts with regular folks," he says. "Those are the people whom we want to benefit from it, and those are the people who will sustain it. My role is simply to provide as much political leadership and will as possible."
SWEA's Fischmann concurs.

"I think there's good momentum going, and I say that not just because of what government's doing, but because of what some people in the private sector are doing." He adds, "There are folks who are not dedicated environmentalists that see benefits (in renewables and energy efficiency measures). That's really important."

In 2003, Sakrison challenged residents to sign up for wind power - at a greater cost per kilowatt hour - as a part of Rocky Mountain Power's Blue Sky Initiative. To become the nation's first "Blue Sky Community," five percent of area residents had to sign on. Moab surpassed the goal in less than a month, becoming the EPA's first "Green Power Community" in the process. Today, 15 percent of area customers pay to support wind power, including the City, the community radio station, and the local newspaper.

Now, the Mayor is relying upon community input to develop a far-reaching Sustainable Moab Mission Statement, with energy as part of its focus. Ideas are largely coming from the local group, Canyonlands Sustainable Solutions (CSS), of which Sakrison is a member.
CSS is a part of the larger Relocalization Network which includes 150 "post carbon" groups worldwide. Such groups focus on local solutions to an energy-constrained future.

According to its mission statement, CSS is "making other arrangements" - a term coined by author Howard Kunstler - to provide for area food, energy, transportation, housing, water and community needs through locally based initiatives.

Sakrison recalls just a dozen people attending the first CSS meeting last year. Now, nearly 100 area residents are involved, and CSS subgroups are sponsoring widely popular local events. For instance, the "Foodies" offer ongoing gardening classes, while the "Builder Bees" organized a sustainable building design workshop.

The energy subgroup is playfully known as "The Mighty Moab Power Rangers," and their self-described "cat-herder" is Lance Christie. Along with Sakrison, Christie was a founding member of CSS. He continues to be one of its most active participants.

A 30-year Moab resident, Christie is known as a local eccentric and a visionary genius. His résumé reveals five lifetimes of achievement: founding member of the Natural Resources Defense Council, an incorporator of the Earth First! Foundation, stints in psychoacoustical research for the Air Force and psychopharmacological research at UCLA, an author of several texts, and so on.

Most of Christie's intellectual output springs from a single-wide trailer he bought for $99. A bedrock devotion to the health of the Colorado Plateau anchors this tall man - and his equally large dog - to the rickety building. How it is that such big beings, ideas and enthusiasm can all be housed in such an economy of space is beyond me.

Of the success of CSS, Christie says, "We don't have to go out and proselytize. People are coming to us. Everyone senses what's going on. I think we're going to be a spectacular case study soon. In fact, there's nothing with this kind of coherence and the scope that I see anywhere else."

Christie himself has a complex and compelling vision for the energy future of Moab - a vision supported by Sakrison. By 2050, he envisions photovoltaic panels all over town, wind turbines on its outskirts, hydroelectric turbines inside the culinary water lines, helical turbines sitting in the free-flowing Colorado River, and a large catenary solar power plant sitting where the scourge of our 16-million-ton uranium tailings pile currently resides. He also predicts that homes and appliances will be much more efficient, thus mitigating the amount of power required. He is a devout optimist.

Christie points out that if a community consumes locally what it produces locally - whether it be food, clothing or electricity - a wealth effect is generated from those dollars staying in the community. Thus, by producing its own energy, Moab will enjoy a stronger economy.
"We will be much better off. Instead of going into a state of deprivation, we'll actually go to a state of greater prosperity by instituting these changes," says Christie. "All the relocalization efforts that we're talking about doing are fully justified on the basis of local economic development and prosperity considerations."

The Mighty Moab Power Rangers are currently working on a brochure to educate the public on available options, rebates, financing and benefits related to adopting renewable energy and efficiency measures. The group is also working with the City on the purchase of photovoltaic panels for city buildings while inviting local residents to join the order and achieve the discounted bulk rate.

"My approach to leadership is to provide information and then look around and watch for cusps and catalyze them," says Christie. "When people are ready for some information, then you provide it. Otherwise it just bounces off. You have to wait for the receptor site to show up."

I get the impression that Christie has been waiting a while for local energy-issue receptor sites. But now he's got them in spades, and he's one busy catalyst.

As for Sakrison, not only is he receptive, but he's proactive. His focus on sustainability isn't political; he lives it. He rides his bike to work every day and asks other residents to do the same. He attends all the CSS meetings. He served on the Governor's Blue Ribbon Advisory Council on Climate Change.

"I'm passionate about this. I'm trying to think seven generations down the road. I've got grandkids, and my son is getting married." He pauses and looks out the window. "We've got to do something."