Friday 16 September 2011

Gleision Colliery.

It has been nearly 16 hours. 16 hours for 4 men in pitch darkness, cold darkness. Uncertain darkness.

At just before half past nine in the morning of the 15th of September 2011, in the small, cramped Gleision mine of Cilybebyll, a neighbouring village of my hometown of Pontardawe, seven miners were working this morning and, even though it is unknown what happened and how, a wall gave way. Behind this wall was a reservoir of sorts, seemingly forgotten over the years, when mining in this part of the mountain dates back decades. The water broke through, and in a matter of mere seconds, the tunnel was flooded to the ceiling. Three men managed to escape out of the tunnel, even though one of them suffered internal injuries. The other four, however... well, who knows? Since the tunnel became blocked, no contact has been established between the four men and the outside world.

You hear of these events happening the world over in recent years. Chile, for example. And even non-mining incidents like Japan and Haiti. Indeed, the incident I am talking about may be minute in numbers, but just as much of an impact being on the doorstep.

I first realised there was something up this morning, when I heard a load of sirens wailing by in front of the house, which is on the main road leading from Pontardawe to Rhos and Cilybebyll. Shortly afterwards, I heard that a mine had collapsed in Cilybebyll, a tiny, sparse village consisting of a historic church, a few houses and farms, an old manor of the Gilbertsons, a local family who owned many of the local businesses, factories and foundries. And, of course, a coal mine.

The roads to and around this village are narrow at best. I have been around there a few times, and it is not easy to maneouvre a car, let alone several police vehicles, fire engines, ambulances, mine and cave rescue vehicles, large emergency support vans and other random support vehicles. I even saw the air ambulance helicopter sitting on a road in a clearing. Impressive flying, I thought. The free space available on the lanes were taken up by the media. ITV, BBC and Sky were among the others, including local radio stations, reporting back to their viewers and listeners about this sudden event. The news spread nationwide, sidelining Cameron's and Sarkozy's historic visit to Libya in the shade.

So who are these 4 men? It took a while for them to be named, and they are experienced miners and come from the local area. It is believed that they would know how to react to such a situation. They know the mine like the back of their hands and know where to find refuge and decent supplies of air in the complex maze of the mine. But what is most worrying about this event, is that nobody knows the situation or conditions they may be in. Everyone wishes and hopes for the best, but at the same time fearing the worst. We cannot say about how the miners themselves are feeling or going through, but surely it would be as an anxious time for them as it is for the relatives and friends.

But how is the progress going? It is slow. It has taken over 16 hours, and the water level in the flooded tunnel is receding by the several pumps brought in for the task. It is unknown how much water has flooded the tunnel and nobody knows whether there may be obstructions or hazards in the way. This may be why it has taken until approximately half past one in the morning, when two divers finally took to the water. Currently (01:50), there is no news yet from the divers, but things are looking promising.

So what would become of Gleision after this is over? What would become of the other handful of mines in South Wales? Mining companies and authorities vow things like this shall never happen again, but they do. The only way that this type of thing would never happen again is to shut down every single mine going. And is that going to happen? Doubtful. And if this mine does close? What will become of the workers? Even though it is a small mine, it would become victim of an already struggling economic region, which is in a difficult enough situation with unemployment and the lack of available jobs and businesses.

I'll leave it for now, but before I go, I thought I'd show the church of the village of the centre of attention of national news. I'm sure there would be at least a mention of this in the service on Sunday, whether the miners are out or not...





3 comments:

  1. I am from a mining background and am only too well aware of the anxiety of the families. It only takes a realisation that your loved one is late coming home to give you a taste of that horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach. I am fortunate not to have gone through exactly what they are going through, so I can only imagine how many times that feeling would be magnified when you know full well that there has been an incident.

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  2. Indeed. I'm afraid I cannot say what the feeling is like, however, it is something that can only be imagined, and even the imagination may not come close to the real thing. But, I guess with those like yourself coming from a mining background, the everyday fear would always be there, especially when mining was a much larger industry and the health and safety rules primitive, or would be be different form that? And also, if this happened in a different country, that feeling of anxiety wouldn't be as great. But this is happening a mere two miles away... the feeling is different when this is the case.

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  3. Having had a father work underground for many years, I feel an affinity with all those with a similar background. I got that same sinking feeling last year when I heard about the blast in New Zealand. At least this time the Police and a large mining corporation aren't running the show and there is some real hope. I was fed up of the ignorant media comparing the situation to Chile. Most if not all the men died in the initial blast. If any had still been alive, the immediate aftermath was the right moment to mount a rescue attempt, as gas levels would have been most stable then. The constant stalling killed any survivors.

    I also happen to live a couple of hundred yards away from the scene of Lancashire's worst disaster when 344 men and boys were killed in an explosion at Pretoria Pit on the border between Atherton and Westhoughton near Bolton. It was the 100th anniversary of the disaster last Christmas.

    I hope this will have a positive outcome and that the community can have something to celebrate in the coming hours and days. Let's hope that the Golborne disaster (1978, near Leigh and Wigan) remains the last multiple casualty mining accident on British soil.

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