TD 1
“I was living and working in Muscat, Oman, in an
engineering college and they had all the machinery so you could get the ugliest looking piece of timber and put it through the machinery and it would come out great. So there’s a currach out there in Oman that I left there, and gave to an Englishman. God forgive me.’’ We reach the shade of the Four Courts. Under the trees, which back on dry land burst out through the footpath, the water takes a green hue. Each rower’s appreciation of the Liffey is stout. Brendan Kielty offers a defense against the Bagatelle libel. “I think the Liffey has a very bad rap and it goes back to ‘dear old dirty Dublin’, which might have been true at one stage but it’s an alliteration which persists. The Liffey is the dark colour because it is bracken coming down from the mountains. From the bogs. It will never be crystal clear water, it’s not Mediterranean water, it’s bog water. People don’t know or haven’t been helped to appreciate that the Liffey is in, what the fishermen call, rude health. It’s a fantastic resource, salmon go up the river, followed by seals and a seal in the river is a sure sign that the river is healthy because they wouldn’t be there if their food source was absent. We’ve seen otters, there are herons, swans by the bucket load along with mullet and mackerel, ducks and brent geese. It’s a very rich, environmentally strong resource.” Hugh agrees, “It’s an artery which brings wildlife into the City; seals go up the river, otters have been seen, sea birds, shags, all types of wildlife are associated with the river so it’s really a positive contribution to the City.’’ In the shadow of the Four Courts, Dave conducts a straw poll on whether or not people want to press on for the weir at Islandbridge, where the sea water of the city Liffey meets the mountain water of its inland stretch, or make a turn and begin the row back to Ringsend. Without a hint of mutiny the consensus is to make for Ringsend and the promise of tea that awaits. “The Liffey is the dark colour because it is bracken coming down from the mountains. From the bogs. ” (Wo)Man of Liffey The closing scene of Robert J. Flaherty’s 1934 epic Man of Aran sees the islanders take their currachs into a raging Atlantic storm. Today’s Liffey is still with a beating sun overhead. Flaherty would have called the photoshoot off hours ago. But the row is still taxing. According to Brendan, to row a currach, “You have to be both very intelligent and good looking. It’s very difficult initially because a lot of it is counter-intuitive but your knuckles teach you very quickly how to get into the rhythm of rowing the boat and after that it literally becomes second nature. As soon as you sit in and the moment the first oar goes in the water you’re catapulted into a different state of mind; peaceful. You leave the whole world behind you when you’re on the river.” Jude references her knuckles too, ‘’It’s hard. It was really hard at the start too as I started in the cold weather and got blisters and couldn’t get the knack of rowing and kept banging my knuckles and then having to row backwards as well! But I’ve got 20