Story: JAMES J. McAULEY, PERSONNEL DEPT. Pictures : EUSTACE MALCOLM, PUBLIC RELATIONS DEPT.

Eustace Malcolm travelled eight miles—four on foot—to photograph Gzceedore from the opposite bank of the lake.

Y^/HEN the construction of Gweedore and stands like a monument to the achievement of Clady stations was in progress, the metering the local people who play a large part in the for supply to the site was mounted at the road- station's success. Two miles away, at the mouth side, on a pole. The meter reader for the area of the lake, the Clady river has been diverted dutifully recorded the readings on his rounds, to form the head race for the remote control and made his returns in the regulation manner. hydro station. The two stations, Clady and Of course the meter on the pole was purely Gweedore, supply a total of 9MW to the for records purposes, and it must have been a system. Negligible, you might think; but the puzzled Site Clerk who found in the post one change in the economic conditions in the locality morning a notification that if the E.S.B. bill is sufficient to justify the cost of building and wasn't paid in seven days, the supply would be running these remote stations, without any refer- cut off! ence to their efficiency—which, let me hasten to Gweedore has always been noted for its repeat, is beyond reproach. efficiency. In one of the most spectacularly After the journey up in the superb spring beautiful sites that anyone could have picked for weather through the most thrilling country I have such a project, on the shores of a lake at the ever come across, we met Charge Engineer Gerry foot of towering , and ringed by scenery Caffrey, who showed us round Gweedore station. that carries the eye to heaven, Gweedore station (Clady operates on a hillside six miles away, overlooking a rugged fjiord-like bay, and hums away unattended while the panels in Gweedore tell the operator everything he needs to know for the purposes of control.) Gweedore is the first hand-won peat station I've been in, and I was interested to hear the story of how at first, when it was announced that the E.S.B. were looking for turf to fire the boilers, the supply was very slow, even though the money offered was attractive. Slowly but surely, the gap between the station requirements and the supply from local contractors has closed, and now it is necessary to allocate quotas among the contractors to fill the needs of the station. Gerry Caffrey has been with the Board for five years, nearly three of which have been spent in Gweedore. He likes it there, he and his wife being natives of the county. It's strange how not one of the people I met in that far region ex- pressed a desire to live in the city. In the little office just off the turbine floor, Michael Gray, the clerical officer, was sorting cash in preparation for next day's pay. He has been in the Board for eleven years, having spent some time in Dublin No. 2, before opting for Gweedore. And he's a Dublin man! Figure that one out, if you can. There must be some- thing in the fastnesses of to appeal to Michael; with the weather we had up there that day, indeed, it would be very hard to tear your- self away. J. B. Donovan, Journal Correspondent, is the only single man on the station. It must be pretty isolated for a bachelor in these parts, I thought. But the twinkle in John's eye suggests that there are compensations. The fishing, for instance . . . His successor on the operator shift, Joe McElroy, came to Gweedore from Arigna five years ago, when the station had just been com- missioned in 1958. He likes it, and "fell into the way of going ", as he said himself. Married, with two children, he has an interest in radio, and, like most of the Gweedore staff, he fishes in some of the most rewarding waters in the country. He suddenly shot away from me in mid- conversation, to rectify a minor hitch in the

Top : Gerry Caffrey. Centre : Michael Grey. Bottom : Joe McElroy. operations which was signalled by an alarm on the panel. Unlike the other stations I have been in, the control panels are not housed in a separate control room, but are tucked into an alcove off the turbine floor. On this floor also is housed (Floor? Housed?) the telephone switch- board (you can dial a number on one 'phone, and a series of tones and buzzes will tell you the water storage level for the hydro station at Clady) and a miniature laboratory with water testing equipment. Station Supervisor Paddy Gailigan is another Dublin man who has got away from it all by opting for Gweedore. After spending five years at he came here three years ago, and he has settled down like a duck to water. The simile is an apt one, for Paddy's sport is swim- ming and skin diving, and the beautiful, unspoilt beaches and bays of Donegal give him plenty of scope. Paddy praised highly the local people, several of whom he supervises in their work at the station. " They're a very independent type of people," he says. " There's none of the 4 yes sir' and 'no sir' out of them — they're polite and friendly and [everyone told me this] they're tre- mendous workers." Paddy put these traits down to the fact that Donegal was never properly subdued by conquerors as other parts of the country have been. Hmm. . • • Turf Supervisor Eddie McCaul has perhaps the most interesting as well as the most trying job in the station. His task is to ensure that there is enough turf to keep the station fires burning. When operations began it was at first not easy to get supplies of sufficient quantity— and quality—to meet requirements. Now he has to administer a quota system among the 380 contractors. But the ticklish question of quality gives the most headaches. Part of Eddie's job is to go around and inspect the clamps of turf on the bogs supplying the station, to ensure that it is dry enough before it is brought to the station by lorry. If the turf arriving at the station is too wet, it has to be rejected, as it won't burn efficiently in the furnaces. I witnessed the rejec- tion of one lorry-load of turf—a rare occurrence nowadays—when it was found ta be a mixture of Top : Eddie McCaul. Centre : John Joe McGovern. Bottom : Anthony Penrose. Top : Paddy Galligan (left) and Anthony Ferry. Centre: Dominick . Bottom : James McLoughlin. pantomime when one of the King's followers was referred to as " comh dilis a's McCaul don ESB " — as "loyal" as McCaul in the ESB! Eddie confirms Paddy Galligan's opinion of the Gweedore people as being very hard-working —and why wouldn't he, being from that part of the country himself—, just twelve miles away? He went to Bord na Mona after leaving the Army, then to Rural Electrification on its inception in 1947, and took up work in Gweedore in 1957, just before the station was commissioned. He is on the reserve of officers. I asked him if he had seen many changes in the locality since the station had been started, and he confirmed other reports in saying that for about 1,200 families the station means that the heartbreaking tradition of emigration from the area has virtually ceased. Each year, about 34,000 tons of turf are bought, at £2 10s. Od. per ton. With the other salaries and wages, etc., from the station, this amounts to almost £100,000 per annum in circulation, where before most people were relying on seasonal emigration to the potato jobs in to supplement their income from the tardy acres of arable land. Paddy Boyle, for instance, one of the frank and friendly local men I talked to, spent five years in Britain, working in coal mines and on diggers in tunnelling operations. For him the existence across the water was a " punishment". Now he works as plant attendant at the station, and during his hours off shift he runs his five acres of land, on which he grows potatoes, and keeps a cow or two. He owns a stretch of bog, too, and sells a few tons of turf to the ESB every year. He makes ends meet, and it's a good life. Phil O'Donnell, Paddy's mate on shift, has, good turf and soggy stuff thrown in to make like Paddy, returned from work in England weight—the supplies being bought by the ton when there was work available at home. He too on the station weighbridge. has a few acres, is a supplier as well as an I can understand, therefore, when Eddie says employee, and reports that the locality has been that he has been the centre of many a contre- transformed since the advent of the scheme. temps with local people over the quality of turf Before that, the countryside for miles around was supplies, even though wide allowances are made denuded of its menfolk between St. Patrick's when the weather is bad. At Christmas, for Day and Christmas every year, when they went instance, in the new Taibhearch down the road off to earn the needful in the potato fields and in Gweedore village, Eddie was satirised in the on the building schemes in Britain. Top : Jimmy Quinn. Centre : Michael White. Bottom (I. to r.) :Joe Coll, Dan Boyle and Mick O'Donnell at Clady Weir. Anthony Barry is yet anorher of the Gweedore staff who has returned from England to work at a job which sees him on his native soil. He, like all the local men employed at the station, can speak Irish as fluently as he can speak English. Well, what price a bi-lingual community? John Joe McGovern was working in England, at Fleetwood Power Station, when he saw an advertisement for a job as fitter at Arigna, in his native county. By the time he got back from England, the Arigna job had been filled, and he was offered the job at Gweedore. He took it. He has some difficulty with Irish as it is spoken up there; but his children, mixing with the boys and girls of the neighbourhood, can prattle away in Irish just as if they had genera- tions of it behind them. In fact, if you asked them now, they wouldn't be able to say their prayers any other way but in Irish. Well, what price the revival cf Irish? Hmm? Anthony Penrose from has been working on the station since the beginning of construction. Before that he practised his trade as a carpenter in London, and would be there now if there was no work for him at the station. Like most of his colleagues, he works a small- holding in his hours off. Dominick Gallagher bears a proud Donegal name. He operates the mechanical loader which dumps the turf into a skip, which in turn carries the fuel to the bunkers at the top of the building. This is a mucky job in wet weather, and a dusty one when it's dry. All over the station the dust settles in crevices and corners, and a special gisawE device is soon to be fitted which will prevent this happening. New showers are being installed in a building at present under construction which at whose doors you could see a car, and in will also house new offices, detached from the din whose living-rooms you could watch television. of the turbine floor. To prove his case he pointed out his own typic- James McLoughlin, the skip operator, was one ally neat little house on a hillside near the road of those who praised the scheme which gave above the station. employment to so many of the local people. Jimmy Quinn is Civil Works Supervisor, who They were able, he said, to earn more now from looks after the catchment area supplying Clady supplying turf to the station than they had been station. The catchment area is exceptionally able to save from long, tough hours of work in steep, and therefore subject to flash flooding. It is Scotland and England. The rise in the standard part of Jimmy's job to get the most out of these of living was reflected in the number of homes sudden water rises, and to maintain the best pos- sible storage in the two small lakes at the foot away. The nearest shop of any kind is three of the mountain which dominates the landscape, miles down the road from the gates. And if Errigal. What you might call sidelines of his job you want to get a haircut, you've got to go are looking after the 37,000 trees planted on the twelve miles for it! acquired land along the banks of the lakes and Michael White, who weighs in the loads of rivers—stretching about nine miles from the foot turf from the lorries as they come and go all of Errigal to Clady Bay at the other end; and day, is a typical Gweedore man—tall, strong- caring for the fisheries. featured, genial, and bi-lingual. And he was A native of Ballyshannon, he has seen duty bcrn in Dublin! He came to Donegal as an in Marina and Cahirciveen, and came to Gwee- infant, and has lived there all his life. He dore as Civil Works Inspector. He's married, thought my feeble attempts to express myself in with four children. Irish showed promise, if only I would practice It was Jimmy who gave me an idea of the at it. Hmm. Well now. Na habair e. Go neiri remoteness of the station from what we townies an bothair libh, a dhaoine Gweedore, agus bail consider the basic necessities of life. The nearest a Dhia ar an obair. Slan is beannacht libh, sizeable town is , nearly forty miles a chairde. . . . The Case of the Frozen Cabbage Water By ERLE STANLEY FROSTBITE half twelve on Sunday the 13th what they He comes back and we stand lookin' up the call (in books) an ejaculation comes outa pole and he sucks his teeth enough to do the the kitchen and she after it saying "thelectric's three of us. While Tommy Keogh gives another gone!" "when do we eat" out of him, me man makes a I looks up slowly, focuses me eyes on one of phone call from inside of his van, and after a the chisellurs and says "Throw another log cabin while comes along a truck with a platform that on the fire, chicken, we're in for a long winter rises when a fella turns a handle and three bucks be the looks of it". Then I goes next door to see shin up it. if theirs is gone and if not to borrow a bit of They're suckin' their teeth up there and we're silver paper. A few minutes later, the neighbour suckin' ours down here when a small black car and me, sippin' a couple of large ones, kept for arrives with a man in a cap, Wellingtons and a fatal illnesses and emergencies such as now, see dark brown raincoat, and a pink face and nice this E.S.B. van comin' up the road sideways clean hands, and he starts lookin' up the pole. (it's the ice, not the large ones) and two fellas in We are all in the middle of lookin' up the pole gum boots and dark brown raincoats and berets get out and start lookin' up the pole. when Tommy Keogh shouts "It's back, the cabbage water's warmin' up." I strolls across and joins the two bucks, and the three of us stand there, suckin' our teeth and As the sound of suckin' teeth grew less, I lookin' up the pole. (I remembered to drain the stroll back to my residence, and as if I'd mended Gold Label before emergin' into the public it myself, I says to her: road). "It's back; put on the kettle and heat the Then Tommy Keogh shouts over "When do we babby's bottle." eat?" and the woman beyond him shouts "There's "All my babby wants" (I am too frozen 10 no water for the nappies and the grannie's take up that "my babby" bit) says she, "is her freezin' ". hot dinner, E.S.B. or no, and that's what I've I am just about to shout back in my witty way been givin' her this last ten minutes." "I didn't know the granny wore nappies" when "An' how did you heat the bottle, may I ask?" one of the two bucks goes into one of them little says I, in that maddenin' superior way I have. E.S.B. houses for machinery that's nearby, and Then came the shatterin' answer — "I went things go click-click. to Reilly's and done it on the gas," says she.