I turn off to the left of Main Street in Lucan and make my way across Lucan Bridge. This is the largest single-span masonry bridge in the country at 33 meters and dates from 1814. The bridge that was here beforehand was washed away by flooding (1802). As was the bridge here before that (1787). And the one before that too (1771)…
Before that, this was considered quite a strategic bridge as it was one of the few spans across the Liffey to the West of Dublin City. In the 1450s, King Henry VI watchtowers placed upon it to watch for the advance of armies against the city. The need for the current bridge came following local outcry in 1811 at the state of disrepair of the wooden bridge that, though crossable, had taking a battering from flooding in 1807. An 1811 accident whereby a horse and turf-laden cart crashed off the unstable bridge into the river below was the final straw.
As I walk across it, I think of the recent controversy surrounding plans to build a modern concrete cycle bridge abutting Lucan Bridge in order to create a cycle path to link the two canal paths together. Many think it will ruin the vista that one can see from the weir below and to the left of the bridge which, with the promenade on the south, the Weirview terraces on the North and Lucan Bridge to the East, forms what is essentially the closest thing Lucan has to a large town square. Watch this space!
It is raining today as I cross the bridge. Big, sweaty raindrops that thud against my too-thin hood. There is a good flow of water through the weir today. Indeed, there is not much chance of flooding these days since the dam at Poulaphouca was constructed in 1940, controlling the flow of the river. On some days, it appears to almost run dry. My mind runs back to pre-Covid days (if you can recall such a thing!) to the last Lucan Festival in 2019 when weir waters ran so low that I was able to walk out onto them and scramble up the algae-covered 300 year old masonry.
The weirs were used for many purposes over the centuries in Lucan. There are, apparently, references to the weir here being used as a fishery as early as the 14th century. As I approach the far side of the bridge, I see the semi-industrial building that is built on the edge of the weir below the bridge itself – a mid 19th century hint at Lucan’s past.
Lucan was a mill town and the mills were located mainly along this stretch of the Liffey. To the left, the always-beautiful facade of the Weirview terraces. I have been told that at the far end of these terraces was the site of the old Sunday Well holy well, but it is apparently no longer publicly accessible. Directly in front of me is the road to Larachon. This is where the old Lucan Tea Rooms stood until their demolition in the 1980s. With the recent attraction of a tourist grant into Lucan, one can only lament that these magnificent wooden structures are no longer here. I remember them from when I moved to Lucan from Gallanstown as a child not long before they were demolished.
I turn right and walk down past the industrial estate that now occupies the location of many mills and factories of old. Today, they are a delightful mishmash of shops, studios, churches, gyms and “insert business here”. It seems to quietly thrive. The only real hint of the past here is the tall red-brick industrial chimney from c. 1870 that dominates the immediate landscape.
I move on past the housing that was constructed for the factory workers here a long time ago and follow the footpath out towards the Anna Livia Mills. On my left is the builder’s provider’s yard. I believe that in years and centuries past, this was the site of a quarry and gravel pit. Until recently, I genuinely hadn’t really thought about where local buildings came from in the past. Most building materials had to be sourced locally and every town and village would have had quarries, most of which are now defunct since the coming of the truck.
From here, the footpath narrows and we leave the buildings behind. Immediately over the hedge to my right is the impressively close River Liffey. To my left, the tall, tree laden river bluffs that mark the Liffey Valley. If it wasn’t for the traffic whizzing dangerously close to me on the narrow footpath, it would almost seem serene.
After a short while of walking on paths that narrow to the point that I have to consider walking sideways, I reach the Shakleton’s lands. Here, the Shakleton family, the local industrial kingpins, lived for many generations. It was around here that Jane Shakelton, photography chronicler and world traveler, grew up and honed her craft in the early years of the 20th century. And it was here at the Anna Livia Mills (see photograph that I took from the bank a couple of weeks ago) that the Dublin Lockout began in earnest when the Shakleton Family gave their unionised workers a choice between union membership and unemployment. Indeed, in 1913, there were many heated scenes around here with many local processions in support of the strikers. The use of scab labour managed to get the mills back working, but sympathy strikes meant that the produce couldn’t be distributed. Ultimately, though, the workers were not able to win their struggle to be allowed to join a union here as the Shakletons, who were also the landlords of many of the workers, threatened to evict them in addition to making them unemployed.
This is as far as I will walk on today’s ramble through the old industrial heartlands of Lucan. But I am struck by the fact that, despite being separated from the inhabitants of Lucan of centuries past, many of the issues of our society remain the same; to earn a decent wage, to have security in our homes and to ask for a little respect for what we do. Our work as Lucanians is not yet finished.