The Canal
In 1772 the Grand
Canal Company was founded to build a waterway which would link Dublin
with the Shannon and capture midland trade. When completed the main
line of the Grand Canal linking Robertstown, Edenderry, Dangan and
Tullamore passed north of Portarlington. A branch line was
constructed south-west through Rathangan, Monasterevin and Athy to
the Barrrow.
On August 14th 1800
the Queens County Canal company was formed to link Monasterevin,
Portarlington and Mountmellick to the branch canal. Up to then the
branch canal and Barrow river met at Monasterevin and a river ferry
system was in operation. The cost of carrying the canal over the
river by bridge and of raising the canal to its present level was to
paid for by the Queens County development bringing the estimated cost
for the twenty foot wide by thirteen deep excavation to £90, 000.
The wages for the construction crew was two shillings a week with a
ganger in charge of fifty men to get half a Crown. Construction costs
were a shilling a yard through sand or gravel and three shillings
through rock.
My memories of the
canal are of a time when it was used by Odlum's Mills to transport
grain and flour between their Mills at Dublin, Sallins and
Portarlington. The large black canal boats were power driven although
I have some memories of seeing horses pulling canal boats, where the
horse and a man walked along the tow path.
During the
Emergency, when petrol was scarce, the canal was used to ferry turf
from the bogs near the town to Dublin and to ferry the provisions for
the town back down.
The canals also
helped to build up the distribution and popularity of Guinness which
from the turn of the century was transported from St. ,James's Gate
Brewery by canal because in those days the porter was not a good
traveller over roads .Rural areas would have a better pint if the
brew could be transported under gentle conditions. Canals were ideal,
because the brew was cushioned against bumps or knocks or rolling
about. The porter was carried in wooden barrels which were filled
through a hole at the top which was then bunged with a wooden plug.
The tap for drawing off the drink was inserted into the barrel in
place of the wooden plug which was knocked into the barrel.
These wooden barrels
were returned to the brewery for cleaning which involved scouring out
the inside of the barrel by flaying the wood with chains. Over a
period of time this scouring increased the carrying capacity of the
barrel. A new barrel would hold eighteen dozen half pint bottles, but
a well washed barrel would hold twenty four dozen half pints. The
boatmen knew this and would use selected barrels to draw off their
"Tilly ". The result of this was that many farmers along
the canal side exchanged vegetables or potatoes for porter with the
"Tully Men ". The publican who received the barrel with the
regulation amount of Porter in it could have no real complaint with
the brewery.
We used to go and
watch the sunburned red faced men move the boats through the lock, or
moor and unload at the Canal side storage depot. The locks were to me
an ingenious device for lifting the boats up from the lower canal
level to the higher level. The boats entered the lock through the big
wooden gates and when the gates were closed water was let in through
trap-doors in the gates which the keeper opened to flood the chamber
and lift the boat.
The sight of the
boat and men raising silently and without effort past the granite
kerb stones that formed the top of the chamber was like some magic
trick in the circus When boats were travelling down through the lock
coming in at high tide and moving away at the low level the magic
never appeared as awesome or amazing.
We fished for perch,
eels, roach and tench with bread, dough or worms on bamboo rods,
nylon line and eel hooks. The canal at evening would be dotted by
kids almost hidden in the bank-side vegetation holding rods over lily
pools and watching intently for the sinking white dough ball to
disappear. Then we knew the fish had the bait in his mouth and it was
time for the strike. Over enthusiastic upward strikes, or
over-estimation of the size of the fish, sometime led to flying fish
as the quarry flew high in the air before landing on the bank or in
the bushes.
Eels were a harder
prey: they hid in holes in the underwater walls of the storage depot.
We would open the waterside doors and drop the nylon line and the
baited eel hooks down gently past the holes. A flash deep down in the
water and a sustained tug-of war was the signal to slide a forked
stick down the line to form a fulcrum to pull the eel out of its
lair. After the capture we admired the eel and told stories of how
previous eels, dead for hours or days, had wriggled on the pan when
being fried.
Once in the late
fifties the canal banks burst and because of the low water level and
lack of food the usually elusive fish were easy to catch on rods or
in corrals of rocks, into which we herded the fish before throwing
them out onto the low banks. After a week or so of this type of
fishing not even the cats in the town could face their fish supper.
In the warm Summer
days we swam in the still waters, jumped from the bridges into the
lower lock waters and once even boated-up the long stretch between
Lanagan's Lock and the Mill in a rowing boat. We were like Venician
Gondoliers, until one smart-alec overturned the boat and tossed us
all into the water, just as an admiring crowd of young ladies had
gathered on their way home from a football match in the canal side
football field.
In late Summer ,
sun-browned we walked towards Lee Castle, to where the grove of hazel
trees grew to collect shiny sun-browned nuts. These nuts were either
cracked immediately between our back teeth, or opened by pairing and
splitting by penknife, or taken home to store in drawers for
Halloween.
Our stretch of the
canal was bridged by two roads, the Monasterevin Road: a high humped
back bridge, and the Station road: a wooden swing bridge. The swing
bridge was at road level and was arranged to swing back over the
canal bank to allow the boats pass. It was just above where the boats
unloaded and the Mill wall formed the town side of the canal bank.
The run up to this
bridge was a long straight stretch of road, but just before the
bridge the road curved slightly to cross the canal, while a lane-way
for watering cattle or drawing water ran straight and down beside the
road to the water's edge.
One gentleman Dan
rode a bicycle home from the town on Saturday nights. Frequently in
his sups he failed to make the turn and rode down the lane and ended
up in the water. It became almost part of the night-watchman job at
the Mill to pull Dan from the water and dry him out beside the
boilers which dried the wheat. When we walked along the canal to the
football match on Sunday we always came home, the long way by the
wooden bridge, just to check if Dan's bicycle was lying deep down in
the clear water.
If Summer was a time
of fun along the canal, a frosty winter was a delight. If the canal
froze over we threw large rocks onto the ice to test its strength
before skating or sliding along it. One year a flock of swans
attempted to land in the canal while it was frozen and they too
skidded all over the place just, we imagined, like swan lake. For a
while afterwards the swans became land locked having no stretch of
water to build up speed on before taking off and flying away.
In the sixties the
canal became unused, fell into disrepair and was filled in to form a
long straight narrow road from Lanagan's Lock, under the iron Railway
Bridge to meet the Ballymorris road at the haunted house along the
outskirts of the town.
