Today, I will go on a little ramble through a part of the townland of Laraghcon. Laraghcon runs from the North bank of the Liffey to Westmanstown and, in the east, from Tinker’s Hill, west to the old, quiet road that leads down from the top of the hill. Today, I will start my ramble at the bridge across the weir. Half way across, I leave South County Dublin and enter Fingal County.
Laraghcon is another place that I didn’t know so well back in the beforetime, when I was spending all of my time commuting and not working in my neighbourhood each day. My first encounter with Laraghcon was at the ballot box. When I was 18 years old, there was a local referendum to decide whether or not the lands at Laraghcon should be redeveloped. The referendum went overwhelmingly against redevelopment, but some redevelopment happened anyway.
As I cross the bridge, I look to my left at the magnificent Wierview Terrace. Before the Wierview houses were built, the area was a quarry. From what I understand, this quarry is likely to be the quarry that caused quite a lot of local distress back in the 1760s and 1770s. At that time, Lucan was undergoing a wave of industrialisation. The owners of the Iron Mills near here had raised some of the weirs in order to better accommodate their waterwheels and, as a result, they caused a lot of road flooding during heavy rains. The quarry, which appears to have been owned by the mill owners, regularly filled with rubbish and a war of letters erupted in the national newspapers between concerned citizens and those responsible for the area. The mill owners at one stage erected a railing, but this did not solve the problem as, apparently, the railing was too short: “There is not above seven or eight Feet of it covered.” The mill owners were threatened with the same weapon used today by the Revenue Commissioners: name publication! The public give a “friendly Caution, with Affarance, that if the Rubbish is not immediately removed, the Public shall not only be informed of it, but the Names of the Persons concerned made known to them.”
I turn right at the end of the bridge and begin my walk along the Lower Road. On the left hand side, I see the first modern building of Millbank Business Park. Older maps of Lucan note that this was the site of a castle at one stage. Although I have tried to learn more about the castle, I have yet to even discover its name.
My destination today will be the lands that surround Clanaboy House. I walk towards Chadwicks Builders Providers, located in the vast concrete expanse that used to be CPI. At the entrance to the site, I hug left and follow a little laneway that moves up the hill. I pass a very-old looking set of traffic lights that I assume have been left over from decades past, when concrete-laden lorries needed a system to avoid careering into each other on this corner.
As the hill rises, my sense of the landscape changes unexpectedly. What I had always known simply as an industrial landscape becomes something else now. The concrete expanse is the bottom of a bowl that is surrounded on all sides by high, tree-covered bluffs. The leaves on the trees are changing colour. In a way, it resembles a blanket that nature has pulled back from the industrial ground and the trees sit, poised to recover the expanse of at their first opportunity.
The tree canopy begins to blot out the sky as I near the top of the laneway. Then, suddenly, emerging as if in a horror movie, comes the domineering facade of Clanaboy House. Clanaboy House was built in around 1880 by the Hill family, owners of the mills at that time. From what I can tell, they lived in the house until about 1970. The building is now an office and, as a result, it has not fallen into ruin. It is still intact and still commands its location. It is one of the last vestiges that we have of the industrial age in Lucan.
The laneway continues uphill, towards some of the other businesses that are located up here. Suddenly, the tree line ends and I am standing in a field that is green from the early tendrils of wheat grasses pushing through the soil. Laraghcon has always been an agricultural location. I think briefly on the idea that farming has taken place in Lucan for probably as long as people have lived in Lucan. The wheat grasses receive the seal of approval from my pet greyhound who unexpectedly begins to chow down on them like they are ham. I remove her from the field and try to entice her instead with wild verge grass. She is uninterested.
Two skeletons were found in this field in the 1970s. They were disturbed by a digger on site. By the time they were noticed and archaeologists arrived onsite to take over, there was very little bone left in situ. I do not know if they have been dated, but I got the impression that it was anticipated that these skeletons, most likely two females, were of some considerable age. I also noted that there were no grave goods found with them, however,
It is extraordinarily peaceful here today. It is a Sunday, and the factories and workshops adjacent to the field are closed. There is very little wind and the nearby trees are calm. It is a little oasis of stillness on the verge of a bustling town.
And then it rains. Hard. Quite soon, I am wet and running back to the laneway to seek the cover of the tree canopy. By the time I reach it, drenched as I am, the rain stops. I think I can hear a cloud snicker. Five minutes later, I am dodging traffic again as I re-enter the bustle that is Lucan.