MAGAN'S WORLD:Tales of a travel addict: FUNNY HOW WE are so inordinately proud of the Shannon's great length, and yet remain largely unmoved by the real sleeping giant in our midst, Lough Neagh.
To spare its blushes I won’t mention quite how low the Shannon ranks on the list of Europe’s great rivers, but Lough Neagh ranks a comparatively steller 31st place on the largest lake charts, up there with those vast Siberian and Scandinavian monsters. It creates waves up to two metres high, for goodness sake.
My admiration for it arose this summer during a trip north to the daisy-chain towns of Portadown, Lurgan and Craigavon to see how they are transforming themselves from “murder triangle” of sectarianism to eco-tourism hotspot. Such metamorphosis deserves our attention – an extended standing ovation even if they can pull it off. From a brief tour of wildflower meadows, rambler trails and frogspawn reserves, I have to say it looks promising. Over two days I experienced a whirlwind of sailing, cycling, canoeing and was even whisked away to an Arcadian clod of wilderness on Lough Neagh. It’s clear this is more than just bureaucratic rebranding, or the chimerical illusion of a slick PR agency.
The Arcadian clod was Coney Island, overrun with wild flowers, wildfowl and densely-knotted mossy woodland. It’s the sort of place that etches itself into the recesses of your mind to be accessed in times of stress. Next time someone in a guided meditation or yoga class asks me to imagine my special place I’ll be there, amongst the herons, cormorants and pheasants, with the waters lapping at my feet and the 16th-century tower used by the great Shane O’Neill as a stronghold for his gold rising behind me.
The fact that it’s the last inhabited island on Lough Neagh lends a touch of romance. Peter McClelland, the quixotic-eyed warden, lives alone amidst the scattered remains of human habitation that dates back to Mesolithic times, in a Victorian pleasure cottage built by Lord Charlemont for his various dalliances, and later used by Prince Royal, Edward VII and Lillie Langtry for theirs.
It deserves a visit, in fact the whole region does. Oxford Island Nature Reserve has a panoramic cafe overlooking Lough Neagh, and a discovery centre with birdwatching hides and lakeside trails through woodlands, wildflower meadows and reedbeds. The 32km-long Portadown to Newry Canal Way is also worth a stroll or cycle, even just as far as Moneypenny’s Lock, where a tiny museum gives a visceral sense of the heroism and vision of the diggers and designers of the canal, which was built to link Lough Neagh to the sea. I’m still reeling from the fact that oak saplings were planted at each lock to be used as replacements 80 or 100 years later when the first locks rotted.
The Craigavon Watersports Centre makes use of the Craigavon Lakes which were dug in the 1960s during the establishment of what was to be a bravely futuristic, pedestrian-focused city named after NI’s first prime minister James Craig. They offer sailing, canoeing and, God forbid, banana boating – the alcopops of watersports.
Brownlow House in Lurgan gives a visceral sense of the immense wealth that linen brought to the area – it’s an ostentatious Elizabethan manor in the style of Edinburgh’s most flamboyant buildings, but with a decent cafe in the dining hall with all the usual quirky Ulster traybakes – raspberry ruffles, snowballs and “Fifteens”. In the spirit of cross-Border co-operation you need to try a “Fifteen” – a barely digestible, Ulster Protestant delicacy made of marshmallows, biscuits and cherries, mashed together with condensed milk and rolled into a sausage.
Think of it as a gesture towards honouring the legitimate but different culinary traditions on this island, of acknowledging parity of esteem. Then, leg it to McConville’s Bar, in Portadown, for a pint to wash away the taste in surroundings as opulent as Belfast’s Crown Bar.
- discovercraigavon.com
- manchan@ireland.com