The Golden Bridge, also recorded as the Gyldon Bridge, appears in a document from 1541 and then, for practical purposes, vanishes. No masonry has been convincingly identified, no street alignment pinned down with confidence, no surviving structure pointed to as its successor. It is, in the language of archaeological cataloguing, not precisely located, which is a quiet and rather striking admission about a named crossing in what was already a functioning urban landscape.

The River Camac is itself easily overlooked today, a modest watercourse that rises in the Dublin Mountains and passes through Inchicore and Kilmainham before joining the Liffey near Heuston Station. In the sixteenth century, however, it ran through a landscape of mills, religious houses, and the western approaches to the medieval city. The name Golden Bridge, or Gyldon Bridge, may reflect the colour of stone used in its construction, or it may derive from a personal name or property owner now untraceable. Clarke's 2002 study, which records the reference, places the crossing in 1541 without resolving its precise coordinates. Whether the bridge was a modest ford crossing or something more substantial, whether it served foot traffic or carried carts from the outlying settlements toward the city gates, remains open.

There is no site to visit in any conventional sense. The Camac still flows, and stretches of it can be followed on foot through Kilmainham and along the older street patterns of the south-west city, where the medieval grain of the landscape occasionally surfaces in an unexpected lane or a building line that refuses to follow the later grid. Anyone curious about the Gyldon Bridge is really engaged in a kind of negative archaeology, looking at a riverbank and understanding that something was once here, used by people going about ordinary sixteenth-century business, and that the record kept just enough of it to confirm its existence without preserving enough to find it again.