Seaside town lies still as it mourns brothers

After a weekend of joyous sunshine in the South-East, the turn in the weather has brought a gloomy dose of reality, with a sweeping, windy squall drowning out the delights of Tramore beach.

The tantalising taste of a bright summer has been replaced by a bleak and foreboding atmosphere. That change was tragic-ally illustrated last night by the drowning of three brothers from Passage East, Co Waterford — Paul, Kenny, and Shane Bolger.

On the beach, the waves crash against the sea wall. A group of thrill-seekers windsurf the waves, oblivious to the struggles out in the bay. Their shrill screams of delight are harsh to the ears of those who have heard the news.

Apart from this quintet, the seaside town lies curiously still. The amusement park sits dormant, the chippers empty. The town is already mourning for what has taken place in its vast bay.

At the Guillamene, a local spot for those who prefer to fish with their feet still on land, there isn’t a soul to be seen. Looking out to the ocean, the visibility is poor and the spray from the ocean is salty like a tear.

Atop neighbouring Newtown Cove, three pillars stand looking out toward sea.

They were built after the loss of 360 lives when the HMS Seahorse sank at Brownstown Head in bad weather in 1816.

The iron figure of the Metal Man stands at the peak of one of the pillars, pointing out to sea. Local legend tells that during times of bad weather the Metal Man chants, “Keep out, keep out, good ships from me, for I am the rock of misery.”

The brothers’ vessel, the Dean Leanne, was last seen about half a mile off Brownstown Head. It is normally used for lobster potting and it is understood that the boat was en route to fish off the headland.

In Passage East, where the men lived, the mood is sombre. Here, the water lies still and calm. Boats are docked silently at the piers and the stillness is piercing. If a village can be described as quietly lamenting, then this is the illustration. A house painted deep blue stands out from the rest, an emblem of the ocean.

The solidarity of family had this band of brothers working together. As the news broke, several of their friends were leaving a funeral in nearby Crook. Disasters come in twos and threes. Passage East has suffered more than its fair share of sadness.

Conditions at sea had been relatively calm, not choppy until yesterday. But in Tramore, these conditions are what experienced fishermen would regularly toil in.

These three men had been fishing all their lives; they were hard working, very experienced fishermen according to those who knew them well. But they had worked in these conditions before. It is hard to understand how this tragedy came about.

Their vessel was a punt, a small, open boat. They would have been fishing for lobster and crab. Passage East has other sons who fish for a living. They will be cherished even more dearly now. The difference is that most of them work bigger boats.

The brothers will be remembered in Passage East as great craic, and well liked by all. They drank in the local pubs and were seen as characters by those who socialised with them. They were loyal family men.

Brownstown Head is a famous landmark for those who fish these waters. In January, another fisherman lost his life here, and this landmark’s reputation will become increasingly treacherous.

There are few tougher ways to make a living than out at sea. One cannot disagree on evenings like this. Perhaps the sun’s final effort is a salute to those who have lost their lives.