A green heating system seemed like a good idea at the time – but after four years of patience and forbearance, Ruairí's owner, GERRY HARRISON, is hot under the collar
TO FACE the oncoming winter, two weeks ago last Sunday I decided to fire up my boiler. This is no easy flick of a switch, but is instead something of a ritual, as befits a Sunday morning. It requires beseeching the boiler, which we have named Ruairí, to behave, caressing his handsome shoulders while I pour fuel into the hopper, and dropping reverentially to my knees to inspect the fire chamber.
When my wife and I first “blew in” to Co Clare, we were determined that, in our small way, we would help make this green and pleasant land more green and more pleasant. Ours would be no ordinary, run-of-the-mill, boiler, although Ruairí then was just a twinkle in the eye. We needed a boiler to heat our proposed underfloor system and provide hot water, but we did not want to burn oil, gas or solid fuel, so we chose one that burned wood pellets.
Carbon-neutral Ruairí is now here. He is somewhat fickle at times, but when he is raising the temperature, he roars. Hence: Ruairí. The travel writer, Dervla Murphy, has a bike, Roz; we have Ruairí.
In 2006 the Sustainable Energy Authority of Ireland (SEAI) had an impressive website, offering us a grant of €4,200. Today, under Phase III, it is still approving grants, but these are much lower, at €2,500. Back then, the website produced a long list of suppliers, whose product names were either given in initials or reflected their continental origin.
At a trade show we met a supplier from Kerry who explained the new technology, although the details remained slightly vague for dim pensioners like us. He displayed a red-painted Italian number. He also omitted to inform us that, from the end of that very month, the SEAI was awarding its grant – we learned that elsewhere – and that his particular boiler did not qualify.
We compared the costs of different boilers and then looked at some of the expensive continental models on display. One boiler on the list, with a Greek-sounding name, Gerkros, we discovered was Irish-made. Including VAT, Ger Crosse’s boilers, known as Woodpeckers, cost over €5,000, but were eligible for the grant. This would be our Ruairí, we decided, but we felt apprehensive, like any pioneers.
We applied for the grant, the simplest part of the process, but from that moment our problems commenced. The nearest supplier appeared to be in Co Sligo. He drove down to explain things, we were convinced and wrote out a cheque. But we soon realised that the Sligo man, the plumbers and the electrician we had employed, had little idea of how it all came together.
Clearly, we were not the only pioneers. The commissioning was not a success, to put it mildly, the installation was faulty, and it took an inspector’s random visit and a year of anxiety to rectify this. But at least we now had Ruairí, who became a welcome but awkward member of the family.
We had seen childishly literal translations of boiler manuals from other countries, but this home-produced one was incomprehensible.
During one of the phone calls that ensued, some of which were never answered, I offered to translate it into user-friendly English. However, “Goosebump” has since produced on the internet a guide on how to tame the temperamental Gerkros boiler.
Ruairí’s arrival became local news. An understandable question from curious neighbours was how much he actually cost. The answer then, with all the bits and pieces, was around €6,000, with running costs similar to oil. But surely, costs alone miss the point: the end must justify the means. If Ireland is to reduce its carbon footprint, then we must sometimes pay a little more. Oil can only rise in price, but wood pellets are local and renewable. Why the acres of planted spruce trees that so disfigure the natural Irish landscape are not felled for pellets, or anything else that is useful, is beyond me.
We discovered that if you buy in bulk, minimum three tonnes, pellets become much cheaper. But we also learned that they are imported from Enniskillen, and require a vast hopper to accommodate them.
We simply don’t have that space. And if they are dusty or damp, then you’re in three tonnes of trouble.
We chose instead to buy in 18.1 kg bags. Much later, I noticed the small print on these particular bags. It informed me that they were imported from Canada. After communing with Ruairí, I was convinced that a transatlantic container load would destroy the planet less swiftly than a few full tanks of oil.
Whenever I noticed a wood pellet customer in the supplier’s yard in those days, I used to discuss such matters of concern, but my interest was seldom returned.
We have an outbuilding in which Ruairí now sits comfortably, his hopper beside him. Beside the hopper, and dry, is the store of bags. The hopper has to be topped up, which requires some physical strength, not easy for ageing bones or aching muscles.
After sleepless nights and inklings that we had perhaps made the wrong choice, we very slowly began to accept that Ruairí meant no harm. Even better, Gerkros Ltd was improving its training procedures.
Since then, however, the recession has hit the industry. As it descended, the long list of suppliers evaporated. At the end of 2008, Gerkros, with burners from Sweden and flues from France, went into liquidation after 40 years of manufacture. Workers were laid off. Local plumbers and electricians went to ground. Messages from desperate customers multiplied across cyberspace. The world caved in around Ruairí.
With relief, like sunshine piercing the gloom, we learned that two former Gerkros employees had set up a servicing firm. One, an Estonian with a colourful vocabulary, appeared to be the first person to understand the machine. He came to us two or three times but, perhaps to escape the angry phone calls not to mention the travelling, he finally returned to Estonia.
In transition, Gerkros, or Woodpecker Energy or whatever, has now re-emerged, with a factory outside Ireland and overseas order books full, but leaving behind Ruairí and thousands like him. We feel bereft.
Yet last Sunday, the miracle happened. After a couple of false starts, Ruairí burst into life. We are talking again. Our relationship continues. The tinkle of pellets that are drawn out of the hopper and fall into the chamber is music to my ears. Let us hope that he now survives the winter, without further beseeching.
PS. I have been betrayed: the chamber now overheats . . . We are not amused.
