KEEPING THE SEA AT BAY
THE MURROUGH IS UNDER SERIOUS THREAT. REPORTER DAVID MEDCALF TOOK A STROLL WITH THE FRIENDS OF THE MURROUGH TO LEARN ABOUT THE VALUE OF THIS BEAUTIFUL COASTLINE – AND FIND OUT WHAT CAN BE DONE TO SAVE IT
THE PEOPLE of Wicklow Town are blessed in many respects, living at the mouth of the River Vartry. On one side, they savour ever- changing views out over the Irish Sea, the water sometimes sparkling in the sunshine but occasionally roused in storms to magnificent surges of powerful anger. To the west, the land rises in a series of pleasant hills towards the grandeur of the distant mountains.
Though the town has expanded threefold to accommodate the overspill from Dublin, building has taken place at less than the breakneck speed experienced in Bray or Arklow. Newcomers and commuters can generally be absorbed into the established community here a little easier than elsewhere.
The place also benefits from being a few kilometres off the main road, so that the relentless flow of traffic along the M11 passes harmlessly by at arm’s length. Residents also benefit from several natural assets that no developer will surely ever be allowed to lay concrete on.
The coastline here may not have the gentrified appeal of Greystones or the silken sands of Brittas Bay, but the town has plenty of wild seashore close at hand all open to be savoured freely by residents and visitors.
Though formal parks are not on the agenda, the open country around and beyond the golf course is a gateway to the grandeur of nature, complete with seals bobbing in the tide.
And to the north of the town, the wonder of the Murrough offers an ever open invitation for a walk, whether a quick stroll to the Monkey Pole or a hike on and on all the way to Kilcoole.
This thin strip of land between the railway line and stony strand is backed, not by dunes, but by lowland which provides sanctuary to much birdlife.
A stone’s throw inland, as it flows down from the hills, the Vartry stalls for a while to form a tidal lagoon.
On a sunny afternoon, this magical estuary shimmers with all the loveliness of a lough in the West of Ireland, a secret place enjoyed by generations after generations of Wicklow folk.
Their continued enjoyment of the coast and the lagoon, however, is not something which everyone takes for granted and there are those who are actively determined to safeguard their heritage. The Friends of the Murrough monitor the corrosive effects of the waves on the shore and organise litter pick-ups.
The Friends are chaired by Malcolm Spencer and epitomised by Fintan Clarke, who is now in his eighties but still patrolling the pathways with his trusty bone-handled walking stick.
He points out that the Murrough is not short of formal designations to underline that officialdom in Dublin and Brussels recognise the uniqueness.
The roll call of ‘Special Protection Area’, ‘Special Area of Conservation’, ‘Proposed National Heritage Area’ and ‘Floral Protection Order’ bristles with important capital letters.
The grand titles on legal documents are all very well, but it is Fintan and his pals who provide the eyes and ears of a living stewardship.
Those eyes have seen natural erosion by wind and wave cut away relentlessly along the sea edge, devouring several metres over the past couple of years alone.
The winter of 2017/2018 has exacted a particularly heavy toll, as the octogenarian has noted with concern as he goes for one of his customary strolls.
He recalls that he left school in 1951, at which time there were playing fields for hurling and football at the Murrough.
He was never much one for playing team games but he did trick around with a ball here where now various businesses ply their trade.
He tends to look with jaundiced eye at the way that commercial development has been allowed to move in.
Standing on the new bridge, the foreground is dominated a pile of scrap metal and the large area where timber imports are stored.
He wonders aloud whether such enterprises would ever been permitted in Glendalough in a manner which suggest he considers the Murrough every bit as beautiful.
FINTAN grudgingly concedes that the tendency to put economic convenience before good looks is not confined to the 21st century in these parts. For instance, one patch of ground in the estuary which was once an island is now solidly connected to the mainland thanks to decades of use as the town dump.
Besides, he must concede that the workshops, factories and warehouses have created vital jobs, even if the employment could have been provided somewhere less scenic.
A more pressing cause of worry is the state of the narrow strip of land between beach and railway line – the ‘ linear parkland’ as he calls it in formal moments.
His fears must be echoed in the offices of CIE as the waves appear to be nibbling their way ever closer to the train track. The importance of the rail line has already been reflected by investment in the installation of a section of precast coastal armour which presents a glaringly concrete barrier, like giant grey honeycomb, along a strip more than 200 metres long.
It is an expensive exercise and it offers no absolute guarantee that the locomotives will still be able to ply their trade from here to Dublin or Wexford in five, 10, 15 years’ time.
The storms of February have left their mark, with chunks of peaty earth tossed around as the sea has clearly edged another notch close to the track, near to where it turns inland. Seas which are capable of lifting rocks the size of wheelbarrows make short work of soft soil.
The Friends look at the ravaged ground and estimate that maybe four or five metres have been eaten away in spots, never to be replaced.
They point to a public bench which was six metres from the beach at the start of the winter, now just four metres away.
They remember how it was that it was once standard practice in Wicklow for learner drivers to come to the Murrough for informal motoring sessions. The driving lessons stopped around 30 years ago in the light of warnings about erosion, prophecies which have proven all too correct leaving the width of land
ON A SUMMER’S EVENING, SITTING HERE, YOU WOULD THINK YOU HAD COME TO HEAVEN
available too narrow anyway.
The legendary Monkey Pole was originally erected to allow ship workers join their vessels using a system of ropes and pulleys. The pole – now little more than a curiously named landmark – has been re-positioned inland at least three times in response to the encroachment of the sea.
The Friends of the Murrough support research to halt erosion but also to encourage the use of this unique area by the nature-loving public.
In the past they have seen off plans to mine gravel from the sea off the coast, a move which they believe would have raised the level of threat to the coastline
They have also promoted recreational use of the Broadlough, the tidal inland lagoon which feeds into Wicklow’s harbour.
It is a stunningly beautiful stretch of water, though the peculiar run of the tides means that rubbish of every kind fetches up on the bank.
Fintan Clarke cuts in from the seashore to explore Broad Lough, one of his favourite places in the world: ‘On a summer’s evening, sitting here, you would think you had come to heaven.’
In such idyllic moments, he may likely be seated on the remains of a stone wall erected to divide up the land among Cromwell’s soldiers of the 17th century as they turned from fighting to farming.
Though he has never spotted one here himself, he insists that it has been known for rare ospreys visit these waters. Certainly, Broadlough has provided a home over the decades for a dwindling flock of swans as well as many more common species.
Salmon and trout may pass through on their way towards Roundwood, while mullet are common – though not nearly as appetising.
To keep the place looking well, the Friends organise occasional clean-ups which routinely fill 50 sack loads with rubbish of all kinds.
AT PRESENT, to walk from Wicklow to Kilcoole, all that is required is the energy to do so, but those who love the Murrough are not convinced that the route is secure for the future.
To protect this amazing place in the face of rising sea levels and an increasingly unsettled climate will demand investment, probably running to millions of euro.
Fintan Clarke acknowledges that it will require economic clout, perhaps from CIE and maybe too from business people who see tourism potential in promoting the Murrough as a ‘Green Way’ for ramblers and cyclists. The Murrough is certainly special and, if it is lost, then Wicklow will be considerably the poorer.