DECAYING INFRASTRUCTURE ALONG QUEEN'S ROAD IN DUN LAOGHAIRE
Fury on the Coast: Photographing The Seafront Along Queen’s Road in a Christmas Storm
There is a particular kind of madness required to grab a camera gear bag and head towards the coast when the rest of the world is tucked up inside with mince pies and central heating. This Christmas, the weather forecast wasn’t just poor; it was hostile. Yet, the allure of the seafront along Queen’s Road, stretching from the East Pier to the Baths, was impossible to resist.
Into the Grey
My objective was to document the coastline, but the conditions made photography close to impossible. The wind was not merely blowing; it was physically pushing back, threatening to topple both tripod and photographer. Salt spray coated the lens the moment the cap was removed. It was, in no uncertain terms, unsafe. But it is often in these extremes that the coast reveals its true, brutal character.
Victorian Ghosts and Crumbling Stone
Walking south from the East Pier, the first thing that strikes you—other than the wind—is the state of the infrastructure. This area is a legacy of the Victorian era, a time when grand promenades were the height of fashion. Today, however, that legacy is crumbling.
The decay is undeniable. Sections of the wall and pathways have surrendered to the relentless pounding of the Irish Sea and decades of neglect. In the dim, storm-light of December, the hazards were amplified. Navigating the broken pavement while buffeted by gusts felt less like a walk and more like a tactical manoeuvre. It raises a serious question: how much longer can this historic stretch remain accessible to pedestrians before it is deemed entirely unsafe?
The New Baths: A Contentious Resurrection
Emerging from the gloom of the decaying promenade, you arrive at the Dun Laoghaire Baths. For decades, this site was a derelict eyesore, a sad reminder of past glories. Its recent redevelopment has transformed the landscape, offering a clean, architectural sharpness that contrasts with the rugged surroundings.
Standing tall against the grey sky is the imposing statue of Roger Casement. There is a deep symbolism in his stance; he stands with his back to the sea and to Britain, facing inland towards the country he sought to liberate. In the chaos of the storm, with the waves crashing behind him, his figure seemed even more resolute, turning away from the tumult of the water to focus on the land.
A Dry "Bath"
However, the redevelopment is not without its critics. While the area has been saved from ruin, the local sentiment is mixed. The project has been controversial, primarily because the new "Baths" do not actually provide an enclosed or protected swimming facility.
On a day like the one I experienced, with the sea churning violently and the waves overtopping the walls, the lack of a safe pool was glaringly obvious. For a community with a deep connection to the water, a beautifully designed concrete jetty that offers no shelter from the wild Irish Sea swells feels, to many, like a missed opportunity.
The Aftermath
Retreating from the seafront, soaked to the bone and shivering, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. The photos—snatched in seconds between gusts—capture a raw, unpolished beauty. They show a coastline that is broken in places, controversial in others, but undeniably powerful.
There is a particular kind of madness required to grab a camera gear bag and head towards the coast when the rest of the world is tucked up inside with mince pies and central heating. This Christmas, the weather forecast wasn’t just poor; it was hostile. Yet, the allure of the seafront along Queen’s Road, stretching from the East Pier to the Baths, was impossible to resist.
Into the Grey
My objective was to document the coastline, but the conditions made photography close to impossible. The wind was not merely blowing; it was physically pushing back, threatening to topple both tripod and photographer. Salt spray coated the lens the moment the cap was removed. It was, in no uncertain terms, unsafe. But it is often in these extremes that the coast reveals its true, brutal character.
Victorian Ghosts and Crumbling Stone
Walking south from the East Pier, the first thing that strikes you—other than the wind—is the state of the infrastructure. This area is a legacy of the Victorian era, a time when grand promenades were the height of fashion. Today, however, that legacy is crumbling.
The decay is undeniable. Sections of the wall and pathways have surrendered to the relentless pounding of the Irish Sea and decades of neglect. In the dim, storm-light of December, the hazards were amplified. Navigating the broken pavement while buffeted by gusts felt less like a walk and more like a tactical manoeuvre. It raises a serious question: how much longer can this historic stretch remain accessible to pedestrians before it is deemed entirely unsafe?
The New Baths: A Contentious Resurrection
Emerging from the gloom of the decaying promenade, you arrive at the Dun Laoghaire Baths. For decades, this site was a derelict eyesore, a sad reminder of past glories. Its recent redevelopment has transformed the landscape, offering a clean, architectural sharpness that contrasts with the rugged surroundings.
Standing tall against the grey sky is the imposing statue of Roger Casement. There is a deep symbolism in his stance; he stands with his back to the sea and to Britain, facing inland towards the country he sought to liberate. In the chaos of the storm, with the waves crashing behind him, his figure seemed even more resolute, turning away from the tumult of the water to focus on the land.
A Dry "Bath"
However, the redevelopment is not without its critics. While the area has been saved from ruin, the local sentiment is mixed. The project has been controversial, primarily because the new "Baths" do not actually provide an enclosed or protected swimming facility.
On a day like the one I experienced, with the sea churning violently and the waves overtopping the walls, the lack of a safe pool was glaringly obvious. For a community with a deep connection to the water, a beautifully designed concrete jetty that offers no shelter from the wild Irish Sea swells feels, to many, like a missed opportunity.
The Aftermath
Retreating from the seafront, soaked to the bone and shivering, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. The photos—snatched in seconds between gusts—capture a raw, unpolished beauty. They show a coastline that is broken in places, controversial in others, but undeniably powerful.
DECAYING WATERFRONT AREA