Ruralite Cafe: Published 02/22/01

By Lynn Hotaling Associate Editor

Personalizing power production

Deregulation of utility companies is being blamed for the rolling blackouts, causing Tar Heel legislators to put the idea on the shelf for awhile.

While I don't know for sure if deregulation is solely to blame for California's dilemma, I'm glad it's not looming over North Carolina's horizon. That's because electricity, as Californians are finding out the hard way, is not just another commodity. It's almost as essential to modern life as food, water and shelter.

The thing about electricity that sets it apart from other necessities you buy is that it has to be used as it's generated, despite the fact that demand for it fluctuates during any given 24-hour period. And when there's not enough power for everyone that wants it, the lights start flickering.

Now that wasn't really a problem back in the days of the Dillsboro and Sylva Electric Co., which first lit downtown streets in 1911. According to a contract the power company signed with D.G. Bryson of Beta in 1918, D&S Electric was charging him for power based on six light bulbs per house and did not supply power during daylight hours on Sundays. The company's generating facility was in Dillsboro at the dam and powerhouse currently operated by Duke Power's Nantahala Division.

Light bulbs are about the only electric-powered devices in modern homes that are not damaged by low voltage. Because utilities in California have been unable to supply current to everyone without a voltage drop, they have initiated the rolling blackouts that cut off power to blocks of customers at a time. In this way the power companies have prevented the "brown-outs" that damage appliances with motors, like pumps and refrigerators.

I know about making those kinds of electric choices, because we have a micro hydroelectric system at our home in Cullowhee.

In order to supply electricity for our home, we first had to find affordable land with a creek that had both a strong flow and a significant amount of fall as it passed through the property.

Once we accomplished that, we dug a 1,400-foot-long, 3-foot-deep ditch and buried 6-inch PVC pipe. We secured the proper permit from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission and constructed a diversion dam.

My husband Richard was the brains behind this operation. He ordered a 6-inch pelton wheel from a manufacturer in Washington state, designed and built a turbine housing and found a transmission to work with an Army surplus generator.

It was a proud day when we opened the valves that sent water pouring down the mountain to turn the turbine that powered the generator. Seeing the light bulb come on as a result or our hard work was a special moment.

And yet, after all that hard work, when we rely solely on our homemade electricity, it means that if I have clothes in the dryer, I can't turn on the stove. Or the electric heat. To do so is to cause the lights to dim and hear the generator lug down.

Our system produces a maximum of 7.5 kilowatts. While that's more than enough to supply our house's average load of about 4 kw, it's only about 40 percent of what we need during peak times. And we can only make about half of that during drought years like we've had recently.

We're fortunate in that we usually don't have to rely only on the power we make. Our house is located close to Western Carolina University Utility Co.'s distribution lines. Also, as a result of the energy crisis during the 1970s, the same times that prompted CP&L's attempt to dam Caney Fork (see history article), North Carolina law requires utility companies to buy power from small producers like us.

Our hydro system now serves as backup in times of power outages and a way to save money on our electric bills. And the hum of the generator is a constant reminder, for me, never to take electricity for granted.

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