Ørsted, the wind farm Washington stopped twice, and the cushion

Friday, 22 August 2025, off Rhode Island. Revolution Wind, a wind farm Ørsted owns half of, has all its foundations down and most of its turbines up when America's offshore regulator orders the work to stop. This column is about one mechanic, the cushion: money lined up before the trouble, so you can wait out a no, and you will spot it before the room does.

The same day, Ørsted put a promise in writing: it aimed to keep building toward “COD in the second half of 2026”, shorthand for switching it on. Keep that sentence.

A wind farm with almost a third of its turbines missing and orders not to finish is, technically, the most expensive set of foundations in New England.

On Thursday I read Ørsted's third-quarter results while my coffee went cold. On 5 November it said Revolution Wind had reached commercial operations in October.

So how does a promise survive two stop orders it did not write? Today's law: keep owners willing to write the next cheque. Hold on.

This one had already slipped a year from its first date, 2025. Eleven days before the stop order, Ørsted had announced a plan to ask its owners for fresh money. It may be the only umbrella in corporate history ordered eleven days before the rain.

Most companies look for money when trouble arrives, at that day's price. A cushion is money lined up before the trouble, so the company can afford to wait while somebody else decides. So when somebody else can stop a promise, ask how long the company could afford to wait.

In October the owners answered: a rights issue, new shares sold to existing owners, raised about DKK 60bn ($9.4bn). The Danish state, which owns half of Ørsted, took its full half.

On 22 September 2025 Judge Royce Lamberth let the work restart. On 22 December the regulator paused it again, and on 12 January the same judge said go again. By January it was the only building site in New England with a judge for an on switch.

Page 4 of Ørsted's first-quarter report for 2026 said Revolution Wind “remains on track to commissioning in the second half of 2026”.

The danger was printed too, on page 26: a “continued risk of imposed construction delays outside of Ørsted's control”. Most companies print that sentence to protect themselves. Ørsted printed it with the umbrella already in the hall.

The last turbine went up in September 2026, and the farm can now power about 350,000 homes.

Here is the cold part.

Nobody here is accused of anything. In fairness, it was not free: the same report cut the value Ørsted puts on the project by about DKK 260mn ($39mn), and a US government request to cancel its earlier federal approval, filed in a case brought by opponents, still awaits Judge Lamberth. A promise kept on time can still arrive with an invoice.

Right of reply: Ørsted had not been asked for comment before publication on 8 November 2026. Any response will be added here, with the date it arrived.

The crews at sea and on the pier in New London went back to work twice. The money helped make sure there was work to go back to.

Three signals to watch: a promise somebody outside can stop; money lined up before the stop; the danger printed plainly in the report.

My verdict: Ørsted promised a date it did not control, then had the money to outlast the people who did.

A cushion is the only part of a business plan you hope never to sit on. Ørsted sat on it twice.

Keep that sentence, I said. Washington tried to take it away twice; Ørsted kept it, and handed it back in October.

Ørsted's next American promise, Sunrise Wind, is about 60 per cent built and due to switch on in the second half of 2027; it is in my diary. Next in my queue: Ford, and the two cents of every dollar that went missing.

Law No. 12 · Keep Owners Willing to Write the Next Cheque

Understand Business. Better.
Max Noble