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Canada's oil-sands boom creates vast
riches
FORT McMURRAY, Alberta — Energy security is not for the
fainthearted.
In the giant, open-pit mines north of
this sub-Arctic boomtown, oil literally is carved out of the
ground. Shovels the size of buildings scoop hundreds of tons of
oil-soaked dirt into Caterpillar dump trucks as big as
two-story houses. The trucks move to and from the pits in a
perpetual storm of dust.
Everything in the Canadian oil sands — from the machinery to
the seemingly infinite oil reserves — is extra
large.

"This is mining to the max — it's very
extreme," said Brian Patey, who came from Newfoundland in
eastern Canada and now runs the truck shop at the Albian Sands
Energy mine, a joint venture by oil companies Shell, Chevron
and Marathon. Patey said that when he first saw a mine truck,
"I thought it was the biggest thing in the world."
Once shunned by oil companies that preferred easier-to-exploit
reservoirs of liquid crude, Alberta's oil sands now have made
Canada the top foreign supplier of crude to the U.S. They
contain the world's second-largest storehouse of crude —
surpassing U.S. reserves by a factor of eight.
If the United States is to reduce its reliance on importing oil
from countries that are unfriendly or unstable, Canada's oil
sands are the place.
Yet, no other source of oil better
illustrates our society's Faustian dilemma between energy
security and environmental responsibility.
Extracting the tarlike oil called bitumen and converting it
into the light crude that refiners want is an energy-intensive
process that annually produces as much carbon dioxide as 6
million cars.
Put another way, extracting oil from the sands creates about
three times the greenhouse gases as conventional drilling.
Canada, which in 1997 signed the Kyoto treaty on reducing
emissions, now struggles to reconcile its newfound role of
energy superpower with its promise to cut greenhouse gases.
Some say oil-sands profits have cooled the country's enthusiasm
for the treaty.
"It's the one thing that is really dragging us in the opposite
direction from Kyoto targets," said Simon Dyer, a fellow with
the Pembina Institute, a Canadian environmental think tank.
Some U.S. policymakers question whether this country should
continue to increase its reliance on the oil sands, due to
their heavy environmental footprint.
And President-elect Obama could add pressure on the oil-sands
industry to clean up its act, said Chris Sands, a senior fellow
with the Hudson Institute think tank in Washington, D.C.
"For Obama, fossil fuels are something we should be moving away
from — the dirtier, the worse," Sands said.
Extreme mining
Northern Alberta reeks of oil. Over millions of years, vast
quantities of petroleum were trapped in beachlike sand
formations spanning an area roughly the size of Florida.
In some places, oil lies so close to the surface that it seeps
out of the earth, a black, viscous goop that sometimes
naturally spills into lakes and the Athabasca River, which
flows northward toward the Arctic.
Shallow deposits of this very thick oil — called bitumen — are
mined in open quarries, much like iron ore. Most of the oil,
though, lies in deeper deposits commonly exploited by injecting
steam into the ground to heat and liquefy the bitumen so that
it can be pumped out.
The smell of petroleum begins just a few miles north of Fort
McMurray, where both sides of the highway are lined with mazes
of tubes and tall cylinders called "upgraders." That's where
the bitumen is processed into synthetic light crude, the type
most valuable to refiners because it's easy to convert into
gasoline.
When the highway reaches the Albian Sands mine, a
4.5-square-mile trench carved out of the boreal forest, it's
the landscape that smells. The mine's giant trucks can haul up
to 380 tons of dirt, yielding about 190 barrels of oil, or
about 3,600 gallons of gasoline — enough to fuel the average
Washington state car for nine years.
The dug-up moonscape of the mine looks like an outlandish,
70-yard-deep sandbox for giants. Stand still too long, and your
shoes will sink a little in the oily muck.
"We're a vast dirt-moving operation," Shell spokeswoman Janet
Annesley said.
This rich region is about 700 miles north of the U.S. border,
but most of the 1.2 million barrels of oil extracted here daily
goes to the Midwest and even Texas, providing about 9 percent
of U.S. crude imports. Washington state's refineries receive at
least 10 percent of their oil from Alberta, a figure expected
to increase as production wanes on Alaska's North Slope.
Albian Sands, one of three active mines in the region, produces
about 155,000 barrels of bitumen a day; an expansion under way
will mean an additional 100,000.
Total output from the oil sands is expected to triple by 2020
to 3.5 million barrels of oil per day. Falling energy prices
have made oil companies delay some projects, but most analysts
still expect formidable growth in the long term.
"The oil sands have become a strategic resource for the whole
world," said Don Thompson, head of the Oil Sands Developers
Group. "All of a sudden, the spotlight is shining on us big
time."
Boreal boomtown
That spotlight has drawn thousands of workers to Fort McMurray,
a former fur-trading post that has seen its population nearly
double in a decade to 65,000. Thousands more live in temporary
camps near the oil sands.
Most come from Canada's eastern provinces, but there are also
Venezuelan petrochemists, Filipino hotel workers and South
African doctors.
Theresa Ballard, a former hair stylist from Newfoundland who
became a truck driver at Albian Sands, complains that the place
has grown so rapidly that "there's no breathing space."
Demand for labor remains so high that a recent Craigslist ad
seeking dishwashers at a pizza parlor promised $14.20 an hour
(Canadian), more than a starting mechanic at Boeing. Truck
drivers and oil-sands workers earn well into the six
figures.
Every day, Shell flies a Boeing 727 into the company's private
airstrip to rotate crews of workers from impoverished regions
in Atlantic Canada.
Two-lane Highway 63, which connects Fort McMurray's residential
areas to the oil-sands developments, is jammed at rush hour
with pickup trucks. Mobile homes can sell for $400,000, while
fancier houses sell for more than $600,000, among the highest
home prices in Canada.
More than 2,000 residences are under construction.
The runaway growth and profusion of highly paid single men have
given Fort McMurray a Wild West reputation as a land of easy
money, drug abuse and prostitution. The city also has one of
Canada's highest homelessness rates.
In their stark combination of opportunity and grit, "all oil
towns are pretty similar," Pedro Mujica said.
He and his wife, MariféValderrama, worked for Venezuela's state
oil company but fled for political reasons and now work at
different oil-sands operations. Politically, it's a lot calmer
in Fort McMurray and there's less crime.
Life here "is a lot better," Valderrama said.
On weeknights, she gives dance lessons and leads salsa workouts
at a fancy community center sponsored by oil money — a way of
sharing her family's Caribbean heritage with their new
neighbors.
Fort McMurray's good fortunes, however, have been accompanied
by huge emissions of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases.
In the long term, this could prove costly.
Climate concerns
At Syncrude, Canada's largest single source of petroleum, the
gleaming metallic skyline of the upgrader facility stands in
harsh contrast to the brown and yellow autumn hues of the
surrounding forest — a small city of towering vats, pressure
cookers and the largest tower crane in the world, crowned by an
immense plume of white vapor.
The plant also is Canada's third-largest emitter of greenhouse
gases, according to the Pembina Institute.
Most of the emissions come from heating the bitumen oil to
remove sulfur and from producing hydrogen that is later
combined with bitumen to form light, so-called "sweet"
crude.
Along with the mining, there are drilling operations where oil
producers extract bitumen after heating it underground. That
method burns natural gas — a relatively clean source of energy
that could be used elsewhere.
The potential climate impact of the greenhouse gases has some
asking whether the oil-sands crude is a good environmental
bargain.
Oil sands "are delaying the inevitable shift that has to come,"
said Pembina's Dyer. "Do we want to get on this trajectory, or
do we want to use this as a pretty clear signal that we've run
out of easy oil and we need to start thinking about
nonfossil-fuel alternatives?"
Oil companies and Alberta energy authorities downplay the fact
that producing oil here results in three times more emissions
than conventional drilling elsewhere. They say the oil sands
account for less than 4 percent of Canada's total emissions and
about 0.1 percent of global greenhouse gases.
They also say piping a barrel of oil to the U.S. from Alberta
is cleaner than shipping it from the Persian Gulf. Traditional
drilling also is becoming dirtier as the world runs out of
light, easy-to-extract crude, so the carbon-footprint gap
between conventional oil and oil-sands crude is narrowing.
Industry officials pass the buck to consumers, too, saying no
matter how much carbon is emitted in producing oil, it's
vehicle exhaust pipes that pump out more than 70 percent of the
greenhouse-gas emissions from petroleum fuels.
Still, oil-sands producers are scrambling to quell the
greenhouse-gas concerns by investing heavily in experimental
methods to capture the carbon-dioxide emissions and inject them
deep underground.
Government and industry officials say oil reservoirs and rock
formations in western Canada could retain several centuries'
worth of carbon-dioxide emissions from the oil sands.
"We have some of the best geological repositories in the world
to sequester CO2," said Chris Holly, an official with Alberta's
energy department.
In July, the Alberta government said it would put some $2
billion into the so-called carbon-sequestration technology. By
capturing carbon, improving energy efficiency and forcing oil
producers to buy offsets, Alberta officials say they expect
annual emissions to decrease by 5 million tons, or one-eighth
of the current total, by 2015.
This month, Shell began drilling test wells to inject carbon
dioxide into a porous rock and saltwater formation near its
Scotford upgrader, which processes bitumen from the Albian
Sands mine. The idea is to liquefy carbon dioxide from the
upgrader and send it deep underground, where it would stay
trapped in the rock's pores.
If it works, Shell could capture about 40 percent of the
upgrader's greenhouse-gas emissions by 2013 or 2014, said Rob
Seeley, Shell Canada general manager of sustainable
development.
Carbon sequestration has seldom been tested on a large scale,
but the experience has been successful so far, according to a
recent Rand report.
Biggest test project
The largest test is taking place in Weyburn, Saskatchewan,
where carbon dioxide produced by a power plant in North Dakota
is injected into a dying oil reservoir to help recover more
oil.
In Norway, oil giant StatoilHydro reinjects excess carbon
dioxide produced in some offshore natural-gas fields back under
the ocean floor.
"The technologies are known," Seeley said. "However, it's new
for oil sands. In some ways, it's putting together in a new way
different pieces that have been done and proven elsewhere."
Some wonder, however, whether the oil-sands industry is
pursuing what Pembina's Dyer calls "phantom mitigation."
Alberta penalizes producers $15 per ton of carbon dioxide if
they fail to meet the province's emissions-reduction goals.
But David Hobbs, head of global research at consulting firm
Cambridge Energy Research Associates, estimates that carbon
sequestration may cost between $80 and $140 per ton. So unless
the government makes carbon sequestration mandatory or puts a
heavy price tag on carbon emissions, it will be cheaper for oil
companies to release the emissions into the atmosphere and pay
the penalty.
"It's just talk, basically, at this point," Dyer said.
But many analysts think a carbon-emissions cap is likely, which
would make sequestration economically attractive. "It's not yet
cost-competitive, in the same way it was not cost-competitive
to buy a new higher-fuel-efficiency car right up until the
price of gasoline was going to hit $5 a gallon," Hobbs
said.
Giant client to south
Canada's biggest customer, the United States, is growing
increasingly restless with the oil-sands bargain as it awakens
to the climate-change issue.
The 2007 federal energy bill says U.S. government fleets can't
buy fuel from the oil sands and other sources whose production
emits more greenhouse gases than conventional oil. However,
it's nearly impossible for buyers to determine the origin of
their fuel, so that restriction is symbolic.
California's low-carbon fuel standard, which goes into effect
at the end of the year, also discourages buying such oil.
And in June, the U.S. Conference of Mayors singled out crude
from the oil sands as an environmental bad boy. Addiction to
Alberta's sludgy brew "slows the United States' transition to
clean, renewable energy sources," the mayors declared.
Canadian officials and oil-sands producers are conscious of
this image problem. "Canadians are nice people. If you say to
them, 'We want you to meet the standards,' they're going to
work to meet them," said the Hudson Institute's Sands.
But in a world starving for energy, with no large-scale options
to petroleum, Alberta's oil producers hold a lot of cards.
The oil sands are destined to play a huge role in meeting
energy needs "provided you deal with the environmental
implications," said James Smith, Shell's country chairman for
the United Kingdom, who recently toured the oil sands for the
first time.
"We want something that's clean and cheap and always on," he
said. "None of our current sources of energy fits the
bill."
Seattle Times
by Ángel González: 206-515-5644 or
agonzalez@seattletimes.com, -
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