Hidden in plain sight, the Ballycorus Chimney stands as a monument to a bygone era. It’s a silent sentinel, overlooking the rolling hills of Dublin, whispering tales of sweat, toil, and unfortunately, tragedy. The Ballycorus Chimney, you see, wasn’t built for grandeur. This 80-foot giant, perched atop Carrickgollogan Hill, was born out of necessity. In the early 1800s, the Ballycorus Leadmines thrived, supplying Dublin’s booming construction industry. But the smelting process, the transformation of ore into usable lead, released toxic fumes, a deadly threat to the workers and nearby communities. Their solution? A chimney, but not just any chimney. This one was connected to a mile-long, stone-arched flue that snaked down the hillside, carrying the poisonous emissions away from the valley below. Imagine that, a mile-long exhaust pipe! Tragically, the solution wasn’t perfect. Workers tasked with scraping lead deposits from the flue’s inspection hatches faced a silent killer: lead poisoning. The area earned a grim nickname, “Death Valley,” a chilling reminder of the hidden costs of industry. Today, the smelting works are silent, the mines abandoned. Yet, the Ballycorus Chimney still stands. It’s a stark reminder of the price of progress, the resilience of the human spirit, and a testament to the enduring power of a good story.
Saint John the Evangelist
Whispers of history echo from these stones. This is the site of Saint John the Evangelist. Once a vibrant church