Skip to main content

Sugar Crash at Rush and Lusk

The sugar-high from Donabate spurred me on to my next stop: Rush and Lusk. Sounding like an overpriced bar of soap, the railway station serves the villages of Rush to the east and Lusk to the west. Perhaps they should merchandise some station-scented bars?

The station opened on the original Dublin and Drogheda Railway line in 1844, though I am hesitant in saying that the station and its buildings were constructed at this time. There are features of pre- and post-GNR architecture, so I am more inclined to view Rush and Lusk as a composite of eras and companies.

Rush and Lusk Station, January 1982 by Colm O'Brien
Stepping onto the platform my first whiff of GNR architecture manifests in the signal cabin. Now subsumed by the platform, it once stood on its own, the gobbled-up lower-storey demonstrating the familiar semi-arch brick entry base and slatted-wooden top. Again painted a forlorn-grey (it is out of service) archive photographs show a once handsomely functional cabin: EireTrains has an image by Barry Carse of the remaining levers inside.


'Irish Rail 121 class locomotive hauls a rake of Mk3 push-pull stock into Rush & Lusk station' by The Carlisle Kid
Turning to walk northwards on the western platform, my eyes are unfortunately offended by the installation of the modern, already rusticated, footbridge. This replaces the former elegant lattice-girder semi-elliptical variety which spanned the tracks up until at least 2009 as Google Street View affirms and which Cooney informs us is actually a Great Southern & Western design and installed in 1981.
Left: Original Footbridge by Mapio.net Right: Google Maps footbridge 2009.
My eyes are cheered by the unusual and possibly unique feature of walled platform canopies. Recessed arches arcade at shoulder height, making me wonder if these were once open and have since been bricked up? Their lack of opening to foot-level shows they were never fully-open, if at all. To the platform side they are painted a rather gooey vanilla, making my Scrumdiddly’s ice-cream from Donabate half an hour previous start to churn somewhat.

The platform canopy would appear to be pre-GNR as the veranda trim is moulded in an ornate ogee cut-out with interesting solid inner-spandrels and wooden roof supports. GNR station verandas use iron and glass with simple vertical-pointed wooden trims.

The external facings are left to their original exposed-brick, although repointing has taken place. The red brick is clearly pre-GNR as it isn’t uniform in colour, which indicates an earlier method of firing and therefore an earlier manufacturing date. Could they have been supplied from the Portmarnock brick-company just three-stations south?

A rather unfortunate shade of grey adorns the station building. Or perhaps we should state, former station building, for the doors were locked and access barred upon my visit. A peek through the windows shows an open waiting-cum-ticket barrier area, with modern seating fixed obstructively across the platform doors.

The silhouette of the wooden glazed platform-entrance affirms the GNR’s presence, as it is these curved-edge windows which can be seen at waiting shelters, signal cabins and station entrances across the network.

From the road approach, the station is a cottagesque single-storey five-bay design with a central pitched gable-entrance. Square-headed windows suggest an early construction date for the DDR, but the three yellow-brick chimneys poking skyward are typically GNR: Aston Hall Premier Buff Brick. It is possible the GNR renovated the original station, and the side wings would support this: that to the north housed the Gentlemen’s urinals, with its minaret-style ventilator and Rendle’s Patent Glazing to the roof.

The western car park was the former goods yard with siding, with the remaining red-brick warehouse external to the western platform seemingly just a storehouse. This is evidenced by the 6 Inch Cassini Map, which also marks a station house and railway cottages. It would appear that unfortunately these are gone and are now the car park constructed in 2010.


However, in a photo taken in 2000 Buildings of Ireland does list the station house and includes a photo showing a GNR-style single-storey railway cottage with semi-architrave hoods and projecting porch. Have my eyes deceived me? Does this house still exist?
Rush and Lusk Station Master's House taken by Buildings of Ireland in 2000
The after-effects of too much sugar have well and truly sapped my energy, and so I return to the comfort of my desk. Research provides me with shocking images of a train crash at Rush and Lusk station on 4 January 1963. Newspaper reports described how “The carriages took a severe battering. One pointed drunkenly skywards after the crash as terrified passengers struggled to get out to safety.” Thankfully everyone on board walked away with only minor injuries.

From the following images the original station, its signal cabin, footbridge and stone elliptical road-over bridge can be seen.

I think it’s time for another ice-cream.

“The careering express left a trail of damage in its wake. Railway sleepers were smashed to pieces and stones and shingle were hurled across the platform.” Irish Press Monday, January 07, 1963, Page: 7




Sources
Buildings of Ireland
Ciaran Cooney, Eire Trains
Colm O’Brian
Geohive
Google Maps
National Library of Ireland
National Newspaper Archive

Popular posts from this blog

Spinning at Balbriggan

Recovered from my rather cranky experience at Skerries , my eyes are rewarded and my heart gladdened on the approach to Balbriggan. Arriving from the south and entering the station over John Macneill’s viaduct, a neat, contained lump of a station reassures me as I alight. Designed by George Papworth for the Dublin and Drogheda Railway (DDR) and built in 1853, Balbriggan railway station is a single-storey H-plan brown brick affair, with flanking Romanesque arches. The current stairway from hell take me across the tracks and provide a sweeping view of the beach and harbour, as well as a stairway to heaven: the former piers for the original footbridge. The beats to Talking Head’s Road to Nowhere start bubbling in the back of my mind. Beside the station building and its adjoining flightless steps stands the hammered stone and red brick base of the former, seemingly unadaptable, water tower. A more sympathetic contemporary alteration in the form of glass sliding doors announce

Sweet Dreams at Navan

Upon my first visit to Navan in 2018 in search of the railway station I was astounded that such a large town could have had its train service removed, when much smaller villages along the Sligo and Maynooth routes were still connected to the capital. Little did I know that two years later I would marry a Navan-native, settle in the area and pass the station every day, miffed and mournful at its wasted potential. The line opened with ambition 172 years ago in 1850, built by the Dublin and Drogheda Railway as a branch line from Drogheda to Oldcastle. Boyne Valley Railtour at Navan, 1977, Railway Preservation Society of Ireland My station safari was rewarded by passing over the extant railway tracks at the station’s level crossing – the line is still in operation for Tara Mines – and the heralding of the former station master’s house. A typical two-storey GNR example, its red brick man has been pebbled-dashed, disguising the polychromatic contrast intended for the, still exposed, yellow b

Paradise Lost: Howth Junction and Donaghmede

Alighting onto a post-apocalyptic concrete and steel abyss I surveyed the mesh of stairs, like an Escher lithograph, leading everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. “Where am I?” asked a bemused elderly lady I had stepped onto the platform with: “Howth Junction”. “Oh dear”. Relativity, M. C. Escher, Lithograph, 1953. Oh dear indeed. Where is the front of this ‘station’? I refuse to call it one: it is merely a set of stairs and a lift. Following signs to the exit I’m greeted with a dystopian Alice in Wonderland prospect of turning left into a car park and right along an overgrown, dirty footpath. I choose the latter; at least it might lead somewhere. The path to former station master's house, Howth Junction Dodging filth like the mad hatter, the elegant brick gables, stone lintels and terracotta chimney stacks of the former station master’s house can be spied amongst a wilderness of ivy, grass and razored-fencing. Forlornly neglected, the graceful merging of Classical ped