TD 1
“Sometimes when I’m rowing up the river I can har
dly believe I’m rowing up there into the city. At this stage of my life, it’s a new lease of life. It’s very enjoyable.” Liffey Banks We pass under the Tom Clarke Bridge and the Liffey begins to narrow. The walls close in. Renamed in 2016 after the Easter Rising architect, the bridge is a reminder of the role the Liffey played in the rebellion, its long reach into the City proving to be a vital attack line for the British, as the HMY Helga shelled citizens and rebels alike. Today parts of the North Wall Quay yet to be claimed by towering office blocks lie in wide open ruin awaiting their role to be fulfilled. From the Central Bank, Lady Lavery’s eyes follow our oar strokes while the juxtaposition of a currach cutting through its watery reflection offers space for lazy analogies. But we row on. Buildings just like currachs follow a similar line of construction; the frame first and then the outer waterproofing skin second. Of the five currachs on the water today, three have been built by Eddie Tuthill. A Dubliner with no boating background he too had always been drawn to the mysticism of the currach. 18 “I was never in a currach until I built my first one roughly 20 years ago. I had no connection. If I was over in the West for a holiday I’d see them and I was always attracted to their shape and style and often said to my wife I’d love to build one of them and unfortunately I never did until my wife died. One Saturday myself and my brothers drove down to Spiddal and took photographs and measurements of currachs there and from those photos and measurements I built my first one. But I didn’t know what to do with it, so I put it away and was genuinely about to cut it up until my friend Ciaran Healy rang me and told me about Dave Kelly and how he’d met Dave and Dave had given him a go on a currach, and I’ve been here since. Sometimes when I’m rowing up the river I can hardly believe I’m rowing up there into the city. At this stage of my life, it’s a new lease of life. It’s very enjoyable.’’ Eddie lives inland. The five kilometre restrictions of lockdown once prevented his passage to Ringsend and freedom, so instead of rowing he built another. During the lockdown the woman next door to me one day asked ‘’what are you doing in there, all I can hear is tap, tap, tap’’. And that’s what I was doing, building this one. Eddie’s new three-seater currach; Faoilean, is a thing of intense beauty. He claims humbly that all you need to build one is to be good with your hands. Today the river is thick. A combination of heavy rain and a big moon means we float along at almost street level. From behind bridges iconic buildings reveal themselves while the perma-pigeon atop Daniel O’Connell’s head is the first sign that The Liberator is close at hand. The boardwalk teems and all of a sudden the Armada exiting from under the central arch becomes the city’s focal point. Hugh Mooney who is rowing alongside Gerry Doyle loves the buzz of rowing into the heart of the bustling City weekend, ‘’It’s a great thrill especially when you are rowing a currach you made.’’ The last currach Hugh made came during a stint working in Oman.