It was organized by Don Scott, the NBB’s “sustainability staffer” who has provided support to past Sustainable Biodiesel Summits. I have to say that from a distance it looked like a snoozer.

But sitting in that room was nothing short of electric. Although I had never heard of any of the speakers, they were a top flight crew who delivered climate change on a silver platter. I was blown away.

Lots of things intrigued me about the meeting. The first was the size. It was two to three times the size of any SBS, or Cooperative Biodiesel Conference I have ever attended.

The second was the audience. Some of the usual suspects where there, but by and large it was the Midwestern soybean crowd who appeared to be there for an education.

It was great. Climate change was not in question. It was hard hitting. It was wonderful. Don Scott and the NBB deserve a point for staging this day long session. By the way, the cost to attend (for non-conference goers) was $50.00. Impressive.

Unfortunately I had to head to Miami for the Grassroots Festival on Virginia Key. I caught a Disney bus for 30.00. Every other seat had a television screen which showed trailers for Disney films and I watched Nicholas Cage in Disney’s National Treasure.

As the sprawl of central Florida vanished in the rear view mirror, the excitement of Miami began to build. Last night was a blast—the festival is still rising from the earth—but today has brought intermittent rains. My tent has taken on water—and before this last deluge I was attempting to dry my sleeping bag on a makeshift clothes line I have strung across a couple of scrawny beach trees.

It would be easy to feel sorry for myself, except I am reading Behind our Doors, which is a riveting history of a Dutch family who hid Jews during World War II. Reading the story of Esther Warmerdam (as told by William Butt), I cannot help but think I have no problems.

The rain will stop. The dancing will begin. The birdlife is remarkable. Today I hiked through a nearby swamp in search of alligators. I came up empty, but Anna, one of Piedmont’s star interns, said she spotted a sixteen footer yesterday…

We have a lot in common. We speak the same language. We fight the same fights. At least the small producers do. Joe Jobe has often referred to this group as needing a “big tent,” and he is right about that.

When you go to a policy seminar the questions from the floor tend to come from Tea Party Iowans who want to bash on Obama’s lack of an energy policy. These are the same crew who thought Rick Santorum would make a fine president.

But time and again I bump into small producers. Guys who are wrestling with acid value and RIN sales and logistics problems. Our booth has been cooking. Enzymes are sexy. And we speak the language of the small producer. It’s been wonderful.

Tonight we did the town with our partners from Novozymes. We went to BB Kings Blues Club which felt like an authentic dive in the otherwise perfect Orlando. We took in Beautiful Bobby Blackmon and the 3-B Band. It reminded me of Atlanta’s Underground before it was discovered by the Travel and Tourism crowd.

On the cab ride back to our palm quarters Greg and I argued about the merits of Steam Punk vs. Disney vs. Rock and Roll. I miss pointless arguments with Greg.

Tomorrow I board a shuttle for Miami. I will shed my conference wear, get into some beach wear and work my way to Virginia Key. There I have a backpack, a tent, and a sleeping bag waiting for me.

In the back of my mind I know there is a “State of Bubble” meeting called for Thursday night. State of the Bubble brings in people from all over the project. Farmers and visitors, fuel makers, and members—folks converge from all over the place and each provides an update from their “corner of the bubble.”

Part of me wishes I could be there—where the food is wonderful and the company even better. Tomorrow I will stop at a roadside stand to score some grapefruit. I miss citrus on my “100 mile diet.” Last time I did that in Florida the product came from California. Tomorrow I board the Sunshine Shuttle. Forecast is for rain.

I’m a long way from the bubble. And it is other-wordly out here.

Part of me is looking forward to Miami. Jordan has asked me to represent Chatham County in a chess match against some fellow who builds life sized boards. Waiting for me in Miami is my top hat and a pair of rose colored glasses. Best of all, Tami is flying in. I really want to see her, but I know she really wants to see Chaka Khan. I’m looking forward to getting my Shakori on…

——————————————————————————————

Piedmont Biofuels announced today that the company has commenced the first commercial scale zero-waste production of biodiesel in the United States using its proprietary approach of enzyme catalysis. Biodiesel is a diesel fuel alternative made from fats and oils, which can be used in diesel engines without modification.

Piedmont has successfully scaled-up an enzyme-based technique to biodiesel production. The traditional biodiesel production method uses chemical catalysts like potassium hydroxide and sulfuric acid. These chemicals form soaps or salts which contaminate both the biodiesel and glycerin phases, producing low-grade co-products.  “With the enzyme process, we eliminate the caustic chemicals which allows biodiesel producers to decrease waste and increase yield, with all types of feedstocks,” says Lyle Estill, President of Piedmont Biofuels.

Piedmont Biofuels has been investigating enzyme catalysis for the biodiesel industry for over four years in efforts to find a successful zero-waste output. In 2009, Piedmont began collaborating with global enzyme producer, Novozymes. Their most recent research and development efforts have been supported by an U.S. Department of Energy, Small Business Innovation and Research (SBIR) grant in addition to the technology commercialization support. from the Clean Energy Alliance (“CEA”) under the Department of Energy Small Business and Clean Energy Alliance Partnership.

This is the first commercial production of its kind in the United States using enzyme catalysts for biodiesel. “ We are very excited to share our success this year at the National Biodiesel Conference,” states Rachel Burton, Research Director of Piedmont Biofuels, who will be delivering details about the production process at the conference in Orlando, Florida from February 5- 8th. “This milestone brings Piedmont Biofuels one step closer to a zero-waste, sustainable biodiesel process.”

About Piedmont Biofuels

Piedmont Biofuels operates North Carolina’s premier commercial biodiesel production plant since 2006. They are leaders in sustainable biodiesel production, research, and technology development, headquartered in North Carolina. Piedmont is committed to its mission to lead the sustainability effort through the development and production of clean, renewable fuels.

Contact: Rachel Burton, Rachel@biofuels.coop
220 Lorax Lane #1
Pittsboro, NC (919)321-8260
919-444-3495
www.biofuels.coop

I walk from the room to the show floor past lush gardens and fishponds with waterfalls. And it’s cold. There are palm trees in the midst of a giant atrium, but someone has the air conditioning turned up too high.

Today I needed to get warm, so I decided to go outside. That’s not easy here. I found my way to a “transportation entrance” where a tour bus was idling waiting for the next wave of passengers.

Joe Jobe, the CEO of the National Biodiesel Board delivered a masterful plenary address. He talked about his passion for renewable fuels and took us for a tour of his childhood. It was an impressive multi-media affair that jazzed 1200 people in the room.

That buzz was immediately killed by the introduction of a series of drab petroleum marketers. It was basically a bunch of old, rich, white guys bellyaching about how tough they have it in the fuel business.

I was on booth duty today. Whether or not I qualify as a “booth bunny” is open to debate. But our booth was hopping. Lots of people came to see the legendary Rachael Burton (NBB’s biodiesel researcher of the year). Lots of people came to see Piedmont. Lots of people came to learn more about our enzymatic processing technology—which is piping hot right now.

By dinner my feet were sore and I was exhausted. I thought I would get Leif to exit the resort and grab something to eat. Instead we found ourselves in the company of twenty or more colleagues. Randall Von Wedell. Bob and Kelly King and the Pacific Biodiesel crowd. Will Smith was there.

I promised him I would not tell Bob Armantrout that Will had been in Raleigh without visiting our side of the lake.

We converged on a Columbian restaurant in Celebration. That’s the Disney planned community that defines homogeneity and ultimate creepiness. Everything in Celebration is picturesque. Except perhaps the abandoned movie theater with its fully lit and empty marquee, its vacant box office, and its posters advertising Celebration in every window.

These are old friends. Colleagues. And there are lots of them. When you have been wedged into a roller coaster car with the same people for almost a decade, you develop a kinship.

The fly-by-night operators are long gone. The shooting stars have expired. Those still standing are still gathering to meet, and there is a genuine feeling of kindred spirits.

In some ways it was a day of renewal for me. David Thornton is here with his students from Clemson. Greg Austic has joined us from Michigan. And we are beset with interest and old friends from around the country. I can’t walk to the water cooler without stopping for a ten-minute flap with Bob McCormick from NREL. I can’t finish a session without ducking out to have a few laughs with Brian Potter of Potter oil.

At dinner I had a fascinating conversation with Carlo of Bently Biofuels. They have an amazing back-story that Carlo tells with relish and aplomb.

It’s impossible to end a day like this without reflecting on how well Piedmont is regarded in this community. I think we might have migrated from marginal hippy idealistic shit disturbers to members of the biodiesel establishment. Like everyone at this conference we are survivors. Our existence confers a certain degree of credibility upon us.

Tonight I found a quiet courtyard where I could write. I can’t see the full moon because of blinding spotlights illuminating the perfect grass. And I once again joined in with the Rhode Island/Vermont/Connecticut biodiesel crowd. By now they accept me as an annoying tag-along.

We had a rip-roaring conversation about our battles with “big fat.” It is amazing how similar the stories are from every region of the country.

No telling what tomorrow will hold…

I missed the alligator feeding. Again. I missed it the last time I came to NBB in Florida too.

Tonight at the annual Superbowl party I bumped into a bunch of people I know. And a bunch of people who know me.

Standing at the bar, waiting for a local beer to come my way, I bumped into Jim Malloy from Malloy Biodiesel in Rhode Island. He’s a distributor who built a house out of cob with the help of hundreds of volunteers. And he’s a guy who has steered his multi-generation family oil distribution business in the direction of sustainable fuel.

Jim completely “gets it.” He’s a current day Scott Nearing, without the uptight rules and regulations.

And I bumped into Mike Haas from the USDA. He’s the guy who once brought me a vial of squirrel fat for us to turn into fuel. I once made the claim in the press that I could “make fuel from a dead squirrel.” Mike was backing me up on that.

Todd Hill from Promethean Biofuels is here. He’s founded a “business to business” cooperative and is a long time survivor in this industry.

I had a great conversation with Don Scott, who manages sustainability for the National Biodiesel Board.

A common thread that winds through many of these conversations is the influence Piedmont has offered. Jim does a lot of outreach and education on his energy reduced lifestyle. And he tells me he dropped the use of Powerpoints because of us. I stand by my claim that Powerpoint is the death of public speaking, and I have no doubt that Jim can deliver a talk based on raw charisma.

Both Todd and Don have been to Piedmont, and both credit us with informing their thinking on sustainability, and on community scale production.

It’s weird. I wouldn’t think a Superbowl party in Orlando would be an affirming event for me. I don’t follow football. And I don’t frequent big fake resorts. But I have to say it is edifying to be constantly encountering friends of our project while simply waiting for a beer.

The trade show starts tomorrow. We’ll see how I feel after a day of booth duty, after which I generally find both my feet and my back begging for a break…

Their start point is a series of massive generators which are producing 3 megawatts of electricity from methane at the landfill. They take the waste heat off of the generators to power their 100K/year biodiesel facility.

The facility is gorgeous. It’s daylit, and new, with everything in a straight line. Simple. Elegant. Easy. We’ve done some work for them. We provided some tanks, and some designs, and some guidance. Some of our stuff has probably been helpful. And some of our work has been dead wrong.

I went up today to get the tour, and to do some consulting, and to do some back crawl on behalf of our design-build group.

What I found there was remarkable. Apart from their co-generation plant they have hundreds of acres in canola in the ground, along with a complete oilseed cleaning, drying, and crushing facility.

In many ways they are living the dream. Yet at the same time, their facilities are not yet spinning like tops. The money has been spent, the equipment is in place, and now the pressure is on to deliver economic performance. I was blown away by their project.

At lunch Jeremy recoiled at my use of the term “anomaly.” I feel like successful biodiesel projects require feedstock anomalies, and I feel like they have one under development.

For me “anomaly” is not a pejorative term. Perhaps a better word would be “niche.”
But I do think that for biodiesel to succeed it needs to find its own ecological niche where it can survive despite the vagaries of global commodity markets.

I believe that in Industrial Evolution I likened our project to a mussel. Something that clings to a rock for survival—part of its life spent trying not to be bashed into oblivion by high powered waves, and part of its life in serenity, trying not to be eaten by a sea bird.

Jeremy’s preference is for “replicatability.” And I can see that. That’s something that foundations want. Maybe Colleges desire as well. But I’m not sure it is something that is destined for the biodiesel landscape.

The best example of perfect replication might be the McDonald’s French fry. It is basically horrible the world over. But it is the same. It is successfully replicated.

I’m not sure things replicate in nature. I think that each project is different, and each is flavored by varying influences. Which means a biofuels program at Central Carolina Community College will be different from a biofuels program elsewhere. And a community scale biodiesel project in Louisville will be different from one in Pittsboro.

And I suppose that is because there are humans involved.

If this were simply renewable BTUs, it would be drop dead simple.

I came home from Catawba County jazzed by possibilities, impressed by the resources they had deployed, and delighted by the fact that they are bringing to fruition so many ideas that have been merely talked about in the biofuels community for lo these many years.

My trip to the Catawba EcoComplex inspired me. And it steeled my resolve toward improving the ecological performance of our own project…

I’m becoming a soap snob.

My eldest son, Zafer, doesn’t quite get it.  He’s studying “Career Management” in high school, and doesn’t understand why I would be tackling tough jobs at the plant.  He’s come in to help a few times, and he definitely prefers the Control Room to the plant floor.

Here is a video he has just completed, as part of his unending attempt to get me connected to the rest of the normal world:

Paul called from the lab around 5:00 to release our first product of the year from the terminal. Starting a delivery shift at dusk on a wintry Friday night had low appeal.  I was discharging on the subject when I backed the truck into the terminal to do the first pull of the evening.  Paul was there.  “Someone might thank you for this,” he said, remarking that he was below a quarter of a tank and would need a fill this weekend.

My first drop was in Moncure.  We keep that tank at B100 year round.  That’s what the Moncure users want.  I’m conflicted on the topic.  Sometimes I think they are a bunch of weirdos. And sometimes I admire their conviction.  Whenever I fill up in Moncure I am one of the users worthy of admiration.

From Moncure I returned to the terminal.  It was cold and dark and our terminal is not lit.  Rats.  Another night with the flash light in my mouth.  Refilling the truck with bio was a snap—I could probably do that with my eyes closed.  This time of year we adulterate most of our locations to B80, which meant I had to figure out the petroleum part.

That meant jump starting our aged short truck that is packed with dino diesel and topping off the load.  I got a hand from Mike who was at the plant late tending his tilapia project.  He kept an eye on the antique auto shutoff down below while I filled from the top.

I filled the Pittsboro tank with B80 and headed into the night toward Raleigh.  And a funny thing happened on the way.  The truck radio is dead (again), but I found some ear buds and snapped in a playlist from my phone.  It had been a long day, and I was zoning out to my usual roots rock favorites as I sped across the lake.  I started thinking about the creation of the B100 Community Trail and of all the drivers that had gone before me.

Driving for Piedmont has included a number of adventures.  We’ve had clogged fuel filters and tow trucks and blowouts and a roadside fire.  Many people have hauled various loads, from used cooking oil to reactors and tanks to fuel to our mega heavy Clean Technology Trailer across many nights.  We’ve used company trucks and personal trucks and trailers of all descriptions.

So instead of feeling “hard done by” I felt like I was merely carrying on a rich tradition.  And I thought of all those members on “empty” that were waiting for the tanks to be filled again.  It was humbling.

It’s why we came.

Last night at the Plant we had a “State of the Bubble” meeting.  Those from Piedmont in attendance kept mentioning “meaningful work.”  It struck me that nothing is more meaningful than filling tanks on the trail.  A lot of people worked really hard to deliver this batch of perfect fuel to the terminal.  It seemed like a little thing to move it out of the terminal and into the world.

I’m guessing a lot of us went to the  Mayor’s house tonight for Mary’s going away party.  It was on my list, but by the time I got back to the plant I had been banged about by the hose a few times and was ensconced in that “late day biodiesel film” that demands a shower and some high quality soap.

I parked the truck, returned the flashlight to the lab, put the distribution clipboard in its place by McCayne’s desk, hung the keys in the key locker and headed for my car.  The moment after I fired it up the “low fuel” bell rang and I was reminded that like so many others, I too was wishing the fuel was flowing.

I pulled over to the Pittsboro dispenser and put 13.8 gallons into my 14 gallon tank.  It was one last reminder of how grateful I am that the Trail is stocked again…