Overload (21 page)

86

Wally greeted him cheerfully. "Hi, Nim! What brings you here?"

Nim told him about the two-day press briefing, then asked, "And you?"

Wally glanced at the high voltage lines above them. "Our helicopter patrol

found broken insulators on one of the towers-probably a hunter using them

for target practice. My crew will replace the whole string, working with

the line hot. We hope to be finished this afternoon."

While they talked, a third man joined them. Wally introduced him as Fred

Wilkins, a company technician.

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Goldman. I've heard of you. Seen you a lot on TV."

The newcomer was in his late twenties, had a shock of bright red hair and

was healthily suntanned.

"As you can see from the look of him," Wally said, "Fred lives out here."

Nim asked, "Do you like the camp? Doesn't it get lonely?"

Wilkins shook his head emphatically. "Not for me, sir, or the wife. Our

kids love it, too." He inhaled deeply. "Breathe that air, man! A lot

better'n you'll get in any city. And there's plenty of sunshine, all the

fishing you need."

Nim laughed. "I might try it for a vacation."

"Daddyl" a child's voice piped. "Daddy, has the mailman come?"

As the trio turned their heads, a small boy ran toward them. He bad a

cheerful, freckled face and bright red hair, making his parentage un-

mistakable.

"Just the company mailman, son," Fred Wilkins said. "The post office van'll

be another hour." He explained to the others, "Danny's excited because it's

his birthday. He's hoping for some packages."

"I'm eight," the small boy volunteered; be looked strong and sturdy for his

age. "I had some presents already. But there might be more."

"Happy birthday, Danny!" Nim and Wally said together.

Moments later they parted company, Nim continuing toward the visitors'

bunkhouse.

16

In the tailrace tunnel's semi-darkness, above the mighty thunderous sound of

confined rushing water, Oakland Tribune shouted, "When I get through these

two days I'm gonna ask for a quiet week on the obit desk."

Several others nearby smiled but shook their heads, unable to bear the

words for two reasons-the all-enveloping water sound and plugs of

87

absorbent cotton in their ears. Material for the plugs, which muffled the

echoing tunnel noise a little, bad been handed them outside by Teresa Van

Buren. That was after the group scrambled down a steep rock stairway to

where the tailrace of Devil's Cate 1 generating plant emptied boisterously

into Pineridge River, twenty feet below.

As they fiddled with the earplugs, preparing to enter the tunnel, someone

had called out, "Hey, Tess! Why you takin' us in by the back door?"

"It's the tradesmen's entrance," she answered. "Since when did you

characters deserve better? Besides, you're always sounding off about

needing color for your stories. Here it is."

"Color? In there?" Los Angeles Times had said skeptically, peering

forward into the blackness which was punctuated only by a few dim light

bulbs. The tunnel was approximately circular, hewn out of solid rock,

with the walls left rough and unfinished as at the time of excavation.

The light bulbs were near the roof. Suspended halfway between them and

the turbulent water was a narrow catwalk on which the visitors would

walk. Ropes on either side of the catwalk could be grabbed as handholds.

Earlier, following breakfast, Nim Goldman had explained what they would

be seeing-"a hydroelectric plant that's completely underground, inside

a mountain. Later we'll talk about the proposed Devil's Gate pumped

storage plant which will also be underground-entirely out of sight."

He continued, "The tailrace, where we're going, is actually the end of

the generating process. But it will give you an idea of the kind of

forces we're dealing with. The water you'll see has passed through the

turbine blades after having been used to spin the turbines, and comes out

in tremendous quantities."

The massive flow bad been evident outside the tunnel to some who had

leaned over a metal guardrail above the river, watching the awesome

torrent join the already angry maelstrom below.

" By God! I'd hate to fall in," KFSO Radio observed. He asked Van Buren,

"Has anyone ever?"

"Once that we know of. A workman slipped from here. He was a strong

swimmer, even had some medals we found out after, but the flow in the

tailrace pulled him under. It was three weeks before the body came up."

Instinctively, those nearest the guardrail took a step backward.

Something else Nim had told them in advance was that this particular

tailrace was unique. "The tunnel is a third of a mile long and was cut

horizontally into the side of a mountain. While the tunnel was being

built, and before any water was let in, there were points where two

construction trucks could pass side by side."

Nancy Molineaux had pointedly stifled a yawn. "Shit! So you got a long,

fat, wet cave. Is that news?"

88

"It doesn't have to be news. This entire two-day deal is for background,"

Van Buren pointed out. "That was explained to everyone beforehand,

including your editors."

"Did you say 'background' or 'craparound?"' Ms. Molineaux asked.

The others laughed.

"Never mind," Nim said. "I'd finished anyway."

Some twenty minutes later, after a short bus ride, be had led the way

into the tailrace tunnel.

The cool dampness was in contrast to the warm, sunny day outside. As the

group moved forward in single file, only a few feet above the

foam-flecked water rushing beneath them, the circle of daylight behind

receded to a pinpoint. Ahead, the few dim light bulbs seemed to stretch

into limitless distance. Now and then someone would pause to look down,

all the while clinging tightly to the guide ropes.

At length, the end of the tunnel and a vertical steel ladder came in

sight. At the same time a new sound intruded-a hum of generators, growing

to a mighty roar as the ladder was reached. Nim motioned upward and

ascended first, the others following.

They passed through an open trapdoor into a lower generating chamber,

then, by way of a circular staircase, to a brightly lighted control room

two floors above. Here, to general relief, the noise level was

diminished, only a faint hum penetrating the insulated walls.

A wide, plate glass window provided a view of two huge generators, both

in operation, immediately below.

In the control room a solitary technician was writing in a logbook as he

studied an array of dials, colored lights and graphic pen recorders which

occupied one wall. Hearing the group enter, he turned. Even before that,

Nim recognized him from his shock of red hair.

"Hullo, Fred Wilkins."

"Hi, Mr. Goldman!" The technician offered a brief "good morning" to the

visitors, then continued writing.

"Where we are standing," Nim announced, "is five hundred feet un-

derground. This plant was built by sinking a shaft from above, the way

you would for a mine. There's an elevator goes from here to the surface

and, in another shaft, high voltage transmission lines."

"Not many people working here," Sacramento Bee commented. He was looking

through the window at the generator floor where no one was in sight.

The technician closed his logbook and grinned. "In a couple of minutes

you won't see any."

"nis is an automated generating plant," Nim explained. "Mr. Wilkins here

comes in to make a routine cbeck"-he queried the technician-"how often?"

"Just once a day, sir."

"Otherwise," Nim continued, "the place stays tightly locked and

89

unattended, except for occasional maintenance or if something goes wrong,"

Los Angeles Times asked, "How about starting up and shutting down?"

"It's done from the control center a hundred and fifty miles away. Most

new hydroelectric plants are designed this way. They're efficient, and

there's a big saving in labor costs."

"When something is wrong, and there's a panic," New West inquired, "what

then?"

"Whichever generator is affected-or even both-will send a warning to

control, then shut down automatically until a service crew gets here."

"It's this kind of generating plant," Teresa Van Buren interjected, "that

Devil's Gate z, the proposed pumped storage plant, will beremoved from

view so it won't mar the landscape, also non-polluting and economic."

Nancy Molineaux spoke for the first time since coming in. "There's one

teensy item you left out of that snow job, Tess. The goddam great

reservoir that would have to be built and the natural land which would

be flooded."

"A lake in these mountains, which is what it will be, is every bit as

natural as dry wilderness," the p.r. director retorted. "What's more, it

will provide fishing . . ."

Nim said gently, "Let me, Tess." He was determined, today, not to let

Nancy Molineaux or anyone else ruffle him.

"Miss Molineaux is right," he told the group, "to the extent that a

reservoir is needed. It will be a mile from here, high above us and visi-

ble only from airplanes or to nature lovers willing to make a long, hard

climb. In building it we'll observe every environmental safeguard . . ."

"The Sequoia Club doesn't think so," a male TV reporter interrupted.

"Why?"

Nim shrugged. "I have no idea. I guess we'll find out at the public

hearing."

"Okay," the TV man said. "Carry on with your propaganda spiel."

Remembering his resolve, Nim curbed a sharp reply. With media people, be

thought, it was so often an uphill battle, a fight against disbelief no

matter how straightforward anyone involved with industry and business

tried to be. Only radical crusaders, and never mind bow misinformed,

seemed to have their viewpoints quoted verbatim, without question.

Patiently, he explained pumped storage-"tbe only known method of hoarding

large quantities of electricity for use later at times of peak demand.

In a way, you could think of Devil's Gate 2. as an enormous storage

battery."

There would be two levels of water, Nim continued-the new resergo

voir and Pineridge River, far below. Connecting the two levels would

be massive underground pipes-or penstocks and tailrace tunnels.

The generating plant would be between the reservoir and river, the

penstocks ending at the plant, where the tailrace tunnels start.

"When the plant is producing electricity," Nim said, "water from

the reservoir will flow downward, drive the turbines, then

discharge into the river beneath the river surface."

But at other times the system would operate the opposite way

around. When electrical demands everywhere were light-mostly during

the night-no electricity would be produced by Devil's Gate 2. In-

stead, water would be pumped upward from the river-some three bun-

dred million gallons an hour-to replenish the reservoir, ready for

next day.

"At night we have great quantities of spare electric power