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Armstrong is going for a walk and she's preparing for battle. The retired anthropologist explains that even though she and her husband live deep in the desert - 45 miles from Yuma and 18 miles from the nearest neighbor - they are forced to endure what they describe as a mind-piercing sound. That's because Armstrong's view on those walks boasts the picturesque charm of the ghost town the couple calls home, the stunning Castle Dome Mountain in her backdrop and an Air Force balloon — larger than the
"The sound — ‘WHOO-ooo-WHOO-ooo.’ It's there. It's always there," Stephanie said, pointing to the floating figure in the sky. "There is no such thing as a quiet walk. My headphones usually just muffle it out, and between that and my footsteps, you can kind of block it out. But if it's a really bad day, I just have to put on music." The couple have armed their home with two feet of insulation, fans, TVs, air conditioners, indoor fountains — anything they can find to help block the sound. "The worst is when there's a power outage and all of our appliances making white noise go off. Then you're putting pillows over your head and you're feeling like you just went crazy," said her husband, Allen, pausing a bit. "To me, what's worst about this sound is that it's not just something you hear. It's also something that you feel." Eye in the sky Drivers on U.S. Highway 95 may often wonder what they are seeing hanging in the sky above the mountains northeast of the Yuma Proving Ground facilities.
This amazing piece of military technology keeps its state-of-the-art eye focused on only one thing: low-flying airplanes. Part of a six-aerostat team forming a radar fence along the entire southern United States, it's watching for drugs being flown across the international border. The aerostat is on the Army's Yuma Proving Ground, but officials there have little to say. YPG just provides the location and airspace security, but the Air Force operates it, according to Chuck Wullenjohn, YPG spokesman. The aerostat facility features a crew of 10 to 12 employees and has an impressive ground support facility. It is located east of Highway 95, three miles from where the Armstrongs welcome about 56,000 tourists a year to their Castle Dome Museum. The source of the Armstrongs' consternation is how the balloon receives its power. The aerostat's vigilant and far-reaching electronic stare requires a great deal of electricity to power its onboard computers and radar systems. Electricity for the onboard computers used to be distributed via a simple and silent power cord. But five years ago, a generator with an allegedly loud roar was installed onboard. And the Armstrongs' psychological nightmare began.
The Armstrongs said the sound was cut down by a third when a muffler was installed shortly thereafter.But they insist that their noisy neighbor still forced them to sleep with headphones — and continue to build their small army of fans to drown out the sound. The biz about the buzz When Paul Cornes stops to fill up a roadside box of brochures and maps for tourists visiting the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge, there's sometimes a pulsing buzz blowing in the breeze that just happens to catch his ear."It's just like a low hum from what I have heard and remember," said Cornes, manager of the refuge. Some of his staff members mention the sound from time to time, and others have never said a word. "You certainly don't hear it all over the refuge, but when you're in the area of the museum or along the road, you can hear it, depending on the location," he said, adding that he's fielded numerous complaint calls from Allen Armstrong. "Allen knows his engineering, though. He really knows what he talks about with this stuff." Professionally, Cornes says he's curious about the aerostat's effect on bats and wonders if it could be painted blue to match the sky a bit better. Cornes included those concerns in the most recent, and ongoing, environmental assessment of the aerostat — which includes sound studies.For his part, Cornes says, the whole thing reminds him of the legendary and mysterious hum some people claim to hear around Taos, N.M. The Taos hum cannot be detected by microphone, and people who can hear it claim it sounds like a distant diesel engine. The Arizona Wilderness Coalition is another group that contributed comments to the current assessment. "With all the money being spent on monitoring this, it sounds like the military could easily make some adjustments so everyone gets a win-win out of it," said Jason Williams, a Prescott-based regional director for the coalition. Wullenjohn said, too, that he's never heard the noise himself and believes the only complaints YPG has received have come from the Armstrongs. "Some people say they can't hear it and other's say they can't stand it. Some people just hear sounds differently than other people," Wullenjohn said. "But one thing's for sure. This is driving Allen Armstrong crazy." Still covering their ears and saying their prayers Sitting in a pair of chairs in their comfortably rustic desert home, Allen Armstrong compares the problem to whales being bombarded with military sonar. The whales can't escape the sound waves, either. "The waves are 180- to 300-feet long. We just can't stop the penetration. "The problem is that these are long wavelengths at a low frequency," Allen said, adding that the aerostat's drone is actually worse inside buildings because the sound waves resonate off the walls."It's not that it's that loud. It's that the sound is penetrating and continuous." Said Stephanie, "We've been married 30 years and the first 25 we didn't have a TV. We bought it as a noise blocker." The couple claims that they lose sleep over the noise, which they say has taken a considerable toll on their senses. "Some days it's ‘Got a dollar? I'll sell you the museum!’ ” Stephanie said, laughing. The Armstrongs describe the sound as something they hear right away. For others, though, it might take awhile to first tune in to the vibration before the complaints begin. Stephanie quipped: "Our only friend who hasn't heard it is Chris — and he's deaf."The Armstrongs say the aren't the only locals being irritated. "The cactus wren, Arizona's state bird, has seemed to disappear," Allen said. "There are drifts in the mines where I've gone in the winter and there have been no bats where there used to be." While city dwellers seek the tranquility of the region's mountains and canyons, the Armstrongs head into the traffic and city bustle for peace and quiet, they said.The couple also swear they are not overly sensitive to sound. Allen says he's worked around loud tools all his life, and Stephanie related how she even spent several years of her childhood on Langley Air Force Base, which runs the aerostat. "Even the blimp is fine. We just don't want the noise," she said, smiling and shaking her head. "I honestly wouldn't mind six blimps — if they just didn't make this noise." The Armstrongs moved to Arizona from Washington, where Allen lived off the electrical grid for 20 years and built log cabins for a living. Allen, who comes from a wealthy San Francisco family, traded a future in the business world for a life rebuilding historic Castle Dome City, a mining town bigger than Yuma in the late 1800s. The couple met one day when Stephanie saw long-haired Allen thumbing for rides along the road. To Allen, it's important that the public doesn't get them wrong."I just don't want it to seem like I'm sitting out here blasting the military, some crazy guy who lives out in the desert, who hates everybody and wants to push them away." Instead, Allen wants people to see them as a couple who are asking their neighbor for a favor: to simply quiet down a little. White balloon tethered with red tape Several sound studies and environmental assessments spurred by the noise issue have been conducted and say some pretty interesting things about the project. YPG conducted the first study in 2004, which the Armstrongs believe resulted from their calls to U.S. Sen. John McCain. In the end, the government decided that no negative impact could be found, but the researcher always claimed to have felt differently. That researcher, Dale Donelson, is now retired but he still reacts with anger when remembering how he claims the Army punished him for suggesting that the military should step up and just fix the problem. "It really made me mad how they were being so pig-headed for such an easy fix," Donelson told The Sun. "I felt sorry for the guy. He's a nice person. He wouldn't harm anybody." Donelson studied industrial noise for the federal government for more than three decades, including 12 years at YPG. He recalled taking his equipment to the Armstrongs' museum for several days in a row and taking measurements at different times of day in 2004. However, even he did not find the same sound the Armstrongs experience. "For a sound to be considered hazardous, it has to be 85 decibels and above," Donelson explained. "It wasn't hazardous noise." What he found were decibel levels ranging from 22.7 to 34.1. Local audiologist Sheila Fitzgerald, owner of Audiology and Hearing Aid Associates, said she found it difficult to believe that a generator — even that high up — would create so little noise. "It's got to be louder than that," Fitzgerald said. Putting those decibel readings into perspective, she pointed out that 10-20 decibels is considered barely audible to the human ear. Even 40-50 decibels is classified as a "quiet, pleasant sound" such as a gentle breeze or the hum of a refrigerator. Fitzgerald also confirmed the Armstrongs' theory that people hear sound differently and that in some cases, especially with low-frequency sounds, it may take some a while to hear or tune in to a sound. The next year, a study was done by Wyle Laboratories — hailed as an international leader in aviation sound study — and the result was much the same. That report claimed that aerostat sounds were audible for up to two miles away, but still "the loudest sound was the chirping of birds and the noise from vehicle traffic" on the highway. The report further said: "The low noise levels on the ground ... would not cause human health concerns or interfere with speech or sleep, would not disturb wildlife, and would not represent a negligible impact on opportunities to experience natural quiet environments in surrounding areas." The Armstrongs, meanwhile, counter that recent studies have failed to measure the sound at the right time and place. "Whoever wrote the (2005) report didn't even come out here," Stephanie said. "It's like it was an armchair report." The couple also point to the fact that the 2005 study's numbers were measured in just a single morning, a fact the report itself confirms. Hate the sound, love the source The Armstrongs say what frustrates them most is that the solution is so simple.
Allen says it would only cost $1,400. Then to top it off, the Armstrongs say they've offered numerous times to pick up the tab themselves. "They're going to pay millions studying a problem that could be fixed for $1,400," Allen said. The couple stresses how frustrating it feels to be listened to a little and then ignored overall. Saying how he often portrays himself over the phone as mayor of Castle Dome City, Allen related a long list of conversations and contacts with the military and Lockheed Martin, the aerostat's manufacturer. Allen stressed how local officials have actually responded with genuine interest and concern, which hasn't always been reflected further up the federal hierarchy. The official statement Regardless of the aerostat's noise level, one player remains quiet on the subject. Officials at Langley Air Force Base, which runs the aerostat, have declined The Sun's request to interview an official about the aerostat. Instead, a spokesperson issued an e-mail that confirmed that the current environmental study remains in the works. "Noise is one of the elements considered," wrote Maj. Laurel Tingley. "There is no finalized action at this time." The Sun was not granted permission to interview members of the local aerostat crew. The military has issued a draft of the current environmental assessment, which compiles 50 pages of old and new data that reads like an autopsy of the aerostat. It includes minute details of the sound studies, surrounding soil types and how much area groundwater lies underneath the balloon. But for the first time in years, there is a surprising development in this ongoing plot: the Armstrongs' growing optimism. The husband and wife both stress these days that they now believe more than ever that their battle against the blimp just may have a happy ending after all. That's because they continue to see the military examine the issue and because there have been recent letters and phone calls that the Armstrongs think just might indicate a new chapter of cooperation in the works. "I believe in my heart that we have a lot of allies and friends in this and that bureaucracy is slow to move," Allen said. Plus, Allen thinks they have a trump card working in their favor: history. It turns out that the military and Castle Dome City are actually old, good friends. He explained how the historic site's deep mines produced a big chunk of the metals America needed to win World War II. "Five million pounds of lead was mined for bullets," Allen said with clear pride. "This place was Japan's No. 1 target to bomb in the whole United States." To thank the miners for their hard work, generals and soldiers showed up at the end of the war to sing the workers' praises. They also traveled there to make a promise. "They said ‘We are eternally grateful to Castle Dome City and if you ever need anything, we will never forget you,’ ” Allen said. "I find it interesting that 50 years later I come and I say ‘I want one thing. Can you do me one favor?’ Yeah, I'm a little guy sitting here. I don't have any clout or authority like the military does, yet they should remember what Castle Dome has given." But again, Allen's optimistic, although he's also quick to remind the military of its duty here with this noisy sentry in the sky. "It's time the military remembers what it said. Now it's time for them to honor America and honor their word. Now it's time for them to produce. "I do believe that Castle Dome won't be forgotten." Darin Fenger can be reached at dfenger@yumasun.com or 539-6860.  |
Eye in the Sky
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