As if the politics of our time are not soul-sapping enough….
The heat dome and drought afflicting the American West seems almost a bad dream here in the western mountains of North Carolina. Sometimes it seems our species is not terribly bright about settling inhospitable regions, water and shade being somewhat desirable. But then, humans also want to go to Mars.
In Phoenix, it’s 115 degrees by 2:30 p.m. (New York Times):
Across the West, housing markets and temperatures are both scorching hot. A punishing spring of drought, wildfires and record-shattering heat is amplifying questions about the habitability of the Southwest in a rapidly warming climate. But it has done little to slow the rapid growth of cities like Phoenix, where new arrivals are fueling a construction frenzy — as well as rising housing costs that are leaving many residents increasingly desperate to find a place they can afford to live.
The result: a double heat and housing crisis whose sweltering toll is falling hardest on people who have little choice but to suffer the sun and on those who can’t afford the housing boom powering the economy.
Construction workers and landscapers whose sweat is fueling the growth do not have the option of working from an air-conditioned office. Instead, they say they worry about passing out or dying on the job as 115-degree days come earlier and grow ever more common.
There are cooling centers in Phoenix, if COVID-19 allows, for those who hear of them and can get to them. For those who must work, there are long sleeves to protect skin from the sun and shade where one can find it.
It’s a brutal story about brutal heat and people least resourced to cope with it (some undocumented). There were a record 323 heat-related deaths in Phoenix last year. Possible evictions and rising housing costs threaten to put more people on the street in the scorching summer heat.
“Rents in Phoenix rose about 8 percent during the pandemic,” the Times reports via Zillo. The cost increase and the pandemic drove José Castro and his family out of their apartment . They live for now in an un-airconditioned garage belonging to his wife’s parents. They hope to win a subsidized apartment.
At 7 p.m. it is still 113 degrees in Phoenix:
As heat waves get fiercer and heat-trapping cities push ever outward, desert nights do not cool down like they once did. And air conditioning bills are pricier than ever. So as the sun set over the city of Mesa, John Nyre, 70, turned off the window unit in his trailer home and went to watch reruns of an 80s mystery series with his friend Gloria Elis.
Both worry about their power bills and try to run their air conditioners as little and low as they can. Ms. Ellis sets hers to 77 degrees. Mr. Nyre’s trailer is baking at 95 degrees some nights when he comes home.
People living in trailer homes face a heightened risk of dying indoors, and Mr. Nyre said one of his neighbors was found dead two summers ago. The friends spend time in cool grocery stores but said a nearby senior center where they once went to keep cool remains largely closed because of the pandemic.
“It’s not easy,” Ms. Ellis said. “There’s not much you can do.”
I think of Columbia, S.C. as the armpit of that state. Near the borderline between the piedmont and the sandy coastal plain, it feels like the hottest place in the state. Often breezeless and humid besides. (Charleston, at least, gets sea breezes.) A construction worker on a factory site I worked there in 2006 passed out on the roof. A coworker had to fireman’s-carry carry him down seven stories to receive first aid. It may have been over 100, but nowhere near 115.
It’s hard to imagine Phoenix at those temperatures.
The Anasazi vanished from the Southwest during a mega drought. Their civilization was a thousand years old.
William House writes at Medium:
The fate of the Anasazi is relevant to us today because researchers believe we are 20 years into the next megadrought. The tree rings tell us that the last megadrought in western America ended before the Pilgrims landed in 1620. So, the rise of modern America and the subsequent development of the American West occurred in a period of ample water. The term “ample” is used in a relative sense because, after all, we are talking about areas that are largely desert. But still, our calculations for water needs have used a higher baseline for available water than occurs in a megadrought.
Humans are generally better at chasing immediate gain as opposed to taking measured, long-term views of development. When developers apply to build massive new neighborhoods in Phoenix, the wisdom of preparing for the next megadrought is obscured in the push for profits and increases in the municipal tax base. Much like the movie “Field of Dreams,” people convince themselves to build it, and the water will come.
Yeah, good luck with that. “And thanks for all the fish.”