The shop on view in this photograph, dating from the 1890s, became the Bay Café in more recent times. It sold everything from ice cream to petrol and served as a hub for the people of the village. This was where passengers gathered before boarding the bus to Waterford, and it also functioned as a popular meeting spot for the local youth.

I seem to remember their fresh orange juice machine, with oranges floating inside, though I can’t remember ever getting any of it to drink. It’s possible that I preferred Squash Orange at the time. It was also where I used to pick up my weekly comic and the RTÉ Guide. Sometimes, if I hadn’t collected the comic for a few weeks, a small stack would be waiting for me, as it was kept on order.

The café also had a few small tables where people could enjoy a cup of tea and maybe a bun. Their ice cream even rivalled Gertie’s—a high compliment in those days! I can’t recall a single thing I disliked about the place; it was a memorable part of my childhood.

Today, the building has been converted into a private house, but the memories of its commercial past live on.

Even with all the new changes that Dunmore has seen in recent years, the view from the spot where the man is standing has changed very little in the last 140 years, apart from an extra house here and there. Many a person has stood in that spot, taking in the view and the sea air, since the photo was taken in the 1890's.

Beneath the wall of The Strand Hotel—or Galgey’s, as it was called when the photo was taken—you can see stakes stuck in the sand. I’m not sure what they were for, but I remember some of them still there in the 1960s.

The shortcut to the top of the Terrace, going up beside the Strand, has a wall in the photo. By the time I used it as a child (on my way to Councillor’s Strand), most of the wall was gone, apart from the base. There was always a chance you could fall onto the rocks below, but that just made it more exciting.

On the corner of the Terrace, you can see the gateway to what is now the Dispensary, along with a couple of trees I don’t remember. They were likely removed when the Dispensary was built.

Back then, the village seemed to end at the Anchor Bar. There was no Marian Terrace, Seaview Park, or Woodview Estate—none of the hundreds of houses that now line the Killea Road.

The village water pump is visible halfway between Hope Cottage and the corner of the Lower Road. I suppose the council hadn’t yet installed the state-of-the-art water supply Dunmore has today.

When I was in Dunmore recently, I noticed a man looking over the wall in the exact same spot as the man in the photo. Chances are, in another hundred years, people will still be standing there, admiring the view.

"You may need to zoom in on the picture to see some of the described features."

Judging by the number of fish boxes stacked on the right-hand side of the pier, Dunmore East was clearly a busy port in the 19th century. Boats were coming in, others were heading out, and some were undergoing repairs—it was all go, by the looks of it.

Two of the men observing the boat being repaired appear to be in uniform, possibly constables ensuring nothing underhanded was going on.

If all the boats visible in the harbour were moored there, you could almost walk from the pier to the Island—much like in the 1960s and ’70s.

In 1897, there was talk of running a light railway to Dunmore. Given the sheer volume of boats present, it’s easy to see why the idea was floated. A newspaper report from the time stated:

Reliable sources confirm that efforts are underway to establish a company for the construction and operation of a light railway from Waterford to Dunmore East, with stops at Cheekpoint, Passage East, and Credan. It is reported that influential and wealthy backers are leading this initiative, and they are fully committed to ensuring the project’s completion, regardless of cost or other obstacles.

The railway is intended to operate as a private venture, with no request for public guarantees. The promoters are confident that the project will prove financially successful, supported by holiday traffic, the substantial trade in fish transportation, and improved connectivity between South Wexford and Waterford via rapid steam ferries from Duncannon and other locations. The public views this initiative with goodwill, and there is widespread hope that Dunmore’s scenic beaches and pier amenities will soon be easily accessible not only to the people of Waterford but to visitors from across the south of Ireland.

Perhaps this initiative should be revisited—it would be wonderful to travel to Dunmore by steam engine!

This striking photograph, taken from above Councillor’s Strand in the late 19th century, captures Dunmore East at a moment of picturesque perfection. The scene unfolds like a carefully composed painting—with the woods, the park, a sheltered harbour, and the still sea. The thatched cottages, clustered together in harmony, seem to grow naturally from the landscape.

This is how you would design the perfect village if starting from scratch. Every element is in its right place: the balance between land and sea, the harmony of human settlement and nature. Someone should have shouted, Stop—it’s finished now! at that point in time.

Yet Dunmore East was never frozen in time—it lived, breathed, and evolved. Still, this photograph preserves a moment when the village appeared as if it had reached its perfect form: a seaside idyll where nothing more needed to be added or taken away. It’s a reminder that beauty lies not in grand designs, but in the quiet, unassuming balance of a place that simply feels and looks right.

This photograph is another scene of perfection—one of a place that looks utterly different today though. Where boats once bobbed in sheltered water, now there’s just a quiet road down to the quay, carrying little traffic. Even the island that gave the road its name has vanished, swallowed by time and tide.

Thankfully, the lens of Robert French preserved this moment, allowing us to glimpse at what has been lost. The small punts tied up close to the shore would have been easily accessible from the island back then. The Bay Hotel—later the Convent—stands proudly in the frame, looking much more welcoming here than in its austere days under the nuns’ stewardship.

I don’t see any evidence of the presence of kittiwakes in this photo. They must not have found their nesting place at this stage, leaving the scene quieter and cleaner. Or maybe they were waiting for a fast food outlet to be established, where they could pick up a burger and chip.

It’s strange to think how much things can change in a hundred years—how a picturesque bustling waterside can fade into an underused stretch of road, how an island can disappear. This photo freezes a world that no longer exists, a whisper of Dunmore East’s layered history.

Some losses are inevitable, but thanks to images like this, they don’t have to be forgotten.

Between 1818 and 1824, Scottish engineer Alexander Nimmo designed and oversaw the construction of Dunmore East’s lighthouse—a beacon that has been flashing away ever since, steadfast through two centuries of storms and changing tides.

But Nimmo’s impact on Dunmore East extends far beyond this solitary flasher. His harbour, a masterpiece of early 19th-century engineering, is more than just a workplace for fishermen or a scenic backdrop for visitors. It stands as a monument to vision of a man whose brilliance shaped not just this harbour, but in at least thirty other harbours in coastal communities across Ireland.

Solid, functional, and still admired for its elegant design, the harbour is a perpetual reminder of Nimmo’s genius. A Scotsman by birth, but an adopted son of Ireland in legacy, he combined practicality with artistry, creating infrastructure that endured where lesser works might have crumbled.

Today, as boats come and go against the same stone quays Nimmo once mapped out, his influence remains unmistakable. The lighthouse still casts its light, the harbour still shelters those at sea, and Dunmore East still thrives—a living tribute to an engineer who built for the ages.

Some men leave their mark in history books. Alexander Nimmo left his in stone, water, and flashing light.

An article on the life of Alexander Nimmo can be read here: Alexander Nimmo – The Engineer Who Shaped Dunmore East 

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 '𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥' 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 the 1890's,
𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧.

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧. The photo would need to be downloaded and zoomed upon to see this man in action.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐈’𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡. 𝐌𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐨-𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟖𝟎𝟎'𝐬, 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡.

𝐈𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨,
𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟎 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟏𝟖𝟗𝟎. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥.

𝐀 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬’ 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟎’𝐬.

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲,
𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐰.