In the verdant heart of County Galway, where literature, nature, and history intertwine, one man has quietly brought a once-lost treasure back to life. This weekend, the newly restored mill wheel at Thoor Ballylee will turn once more—its rhythmic motion a tribute not only to centuries past, but also to the present dedication of Eugene Murphy, the driving force behind a years-long restoration effort that has captured the spirit of local resilience and community.
Nestled beside the iconic tower that once belonged to W.B. Yeats, Thoor Ballylee is more than just a building—it is a symbol of Ireland’s poetic soul. But even a place so sacred to Irish letters had begun to suffer the creeping wear of time. The mill wheel, long silent, lay in ruin: rotten, clogged, and forgotten by the water that once spun it.
It was during one of his many family visits to Thoor Ballylee that Eugene Murphy, originally from Rhode and now living in Peterswell with his wife Patricia and family, found himself moved to act. The wheel was a ghost of itself—overgrown, rusted, and sagging into the still waters below. But to Eugene, it was more than just a dilapidated mechanism; it was a link to a living history, a breathing presence in a place that had shaped the minds of Yeats and Synge, Gregory and O’Casey.
“I just got sick looking at the wheel that way,” Eugene told me this week. “Someone had to do something about it.”
A vision takes root
With a background in engineering, Eugene initially imagined a modest cleanup—clear the debris, replace a few paddles, maybe get it turning again. But as the muck was cleared and the wheel revealed, the reality was stark.
“The lower portion had been completely washed away by the current. The rest was sun-split and crumbling. It wasn’t repairable. It would have to be rebuilt—from scratch.”
What followed was not just a technical project, but a grassroots movement. Volunteers—friends, family, and kindred spirits—rallied around Eugene’s vision. Week after week, they gathered on Saturday mornings, rain or shine. Patricia brought breakfast rolls, and the group—jokingly dubbed “The Mill Wheel Masters” — got to work.
Some brought skill, like now-Senator PJ Murphy, a master carpenter who opened up his workshop and lent tools, materials, and even his father and a teleporter to the cause. Others brought muscle, like Marco and Danny, who spent countless Saturdays lifting, sawing, and fitting the enormous oak beams into place. Some brought machinery, like Adrian Quinn of Labane, who loaned a van to ferry timber. Others donated fallen oak trees—precious rare green Irish oak, shaped and milled by Cahill’s sawmills into usable timber.
Eugene’s son Jordan brought digital savvy, recreating the wheel’s design using AutoCAD and SolidWorks, translating heritage into high-spec engineering blueprints. And when specialist components were needed, his brother James Murphy of James Murphy Engineering stepped in, custom-fabricating everything from stainless steel sluice gates to filter grates and axle brackets.
Trials and triumphs
Progress was steady, but never simple. COVID-19 brought the project to a grinding halt in 2020 just as permissions were secured and momentum was building. When the team could finally resume, they were met with fresh challenges: swollen rivers, unsafe work conditions, and timber that had dried out too quickly, splitting or warping beyond use. But each time, Eugene and his crew adapted, adjusted, and carried on.
It was, as Eugene says, “a much bigger project than we ever imagined. But quitting was never an option.”
Piece by piece, the new wheel took shape. Five tons of green Irish oak were hewn, measured, and joined. Old iron was replaced by stainless steel. Broken sluice gates were rebuilt with modern precision. A filter grate, designed by Eugene and built by his brother, now protects the wheel from the floating debris that once choked it. And at last, after years of painstaking effort, the wheel was ready.
The axle was lowered into place. Gears meshed. Paddle boards—each one sponsored by a local business or family—were bolted in with care. Slowly, almost reverently, the river met the wheel, and the wheel turned.
Restoring more than a wheel
The revival of the mill wheel has had effects far beyond its own movement.
“With the water once more flowing freely through the mill race and around the tower, the entire aquatic ecosystem has been transformed,” said Eugene. “Oxygen levels in the water have risen, creating healthier conditions for fish and other wildlife. What was once a stagnant pool has become a living, breathing corridor of life.”
Flooding, too, has abated, he says with pride and memories of the terrible floods that engulfed the place in the past decade.
Debris that once blocked the flow is gone. Stormwater that might have overwhelmed the site now slips smoothly past, thanks to thoughtful engineering and regular maintenance. The restoration has blended the traditional with the modern—not just in materials, but in ethos.
Honouring legacy, building community
This weekend, as the restored wheel turns again in full public view, it will be formally dedicated to the memory of Ronnie O’Gorman the founder and chairman of the Galway Advertiser, a longtime advocate for the arts and for Thoor Ballylee itself. Ronnie was a pillar of the Coole Park Autumn Gathering, a tireless promoter of Galway’s cultural heritage, and a staunch supporter of this very restoration.
For Eugene Murphy, that dedication is deeply meaningful.
“He was always there with encouragement,” Eugene said. “It’s fitting that his name should be remembered here, in a place he loved so well. It’s sad that he won’t be here to see it, but he’ll be there in spirit.”
And it is equally fitting that Eugene’s own name, and those of his family and friends, will be etched into the fabric of Thoor Ballylee for generations to come. A smaller quarter-scale model of the wheel, built as part of the project, will be installed inside the tower. Each paddle will bear the name of a sponsor, a permanent tribute to community spirit and collaboration.
What Eugene and his team have done is more than a restoration. They’ve turned back the hands of time—not to relive the past, but to renew its meaning. They have shown that heritage is not static, but something we carry forward with care, dedication, and love.
It is rare to see such a seamless blend of craftsmanship and conservation, engineering and emotion. Rarer still is the quiet kind of leadership that inspires others to join in—not for money or glory, but for the satisfaction of doing something that matters.
Eugene’s story, and the story of the Thoor Ballylee mill wheel, is a story of Ireland at its best: humble, hands-on, fiercely committed, and deeply rooted in place and purpose.
Now, as the wheel turns once more beside Yeats’s tower, it carries with it the legacy of not just one great poet, but of a living tradition—kept alive by a man from Rhode, his family, and a small army of kind-hearted volunteers who believed that even a broken wheel can be made whole again.
Eugene is hopeful too, that with special permissions, the Mill Wheel can be used to generate electricity to power Thoor Ballylee, to bring light to a corner of the county that influenced words that reverberated around the world.
