O Muiri, from Muireadhach, meaning mariner. You'd think with a name like that I'd have sea water in my veins. You'd be wrong. Apart from the odd bit of island hopping in the west of Ireland and the Larne to Stranraer ferry, my feet have always been firmly planted on the ground. Yep, I'm the proverbial land lubber - ignorant of the sea and her ways.
Ignorant too of loughs - until recently that is. Finally, after having lived on the shores of Lough Neagh for five years, finally I took the plunge (metaphorically you understand) and managed to wangle a wee trip on a wee boat. Nothing too grand. Yes, there were sails on it but we didn't use them and let the engine steam us along Kinnego Bay to Coney Island on the southern shore of Lough Neagh. No sign either, I'm afraid, of champagne and canapes.
No sailor I. The sailing I left to the boat's captain who in turn left it to the auto pilot. Now that's life on the ocean wave for you - plot your course and let NASA guide you. Never worry about the North Star. And sailors call it hard work.
Clear skies
It was a good day to be an observer on any boat. The skies dropped a little rain on our heads (well I had to say I had been in a storm) but eventually they cleared and what a sight befell us. To the south, the imperious Mournes; to the northwest the noble Sperrins and to the north-east Saint Patrick's Slemish, alone and unbeholden to any mountain range.
The lough itself holds many a fascinating sight for the visitor. There is the ever-present whine of the jet ski and the question: "Are they filming a Bond movie?" For those interested in the bird life, the grey heron is easily spotted on the shore line, standing erect like a Masai warrior, its wings wrapped around its shoulders like a cowl. The cormorant too is there - part bird, part submarine, it seems comfortable moving through both environments.
It is not surprising that wildfowl are found in such quantity. The southern wetlands are designated as areas of international importance for wildfowl and as areas of special scientific interest and special protection. It is home to seasonal visitors and residents of great beauty such as the great crested grebe, Bewick and whooper swans and more ducks than you can shake a stick at.
Lough Neagh is just one big fish farm for wildfowl. Fish abound under the surface - trout, pollan, bream, roach and salmon. Of course, the lough is synonymous with the eel. Millions of eels return from the Sargasso Sea in the Caribbean to feed in the lough. It is at this time of year they begin to leave and make their long journey back to the Sargasso to spawn. The eel-fishing industry provides a valuable livelihood for local fishermen. Eels are caught, put into special tanks and flown live to the fish markets of Holland and Germany, such is the demand for them.
Eating habits
It is odd too how eating habits change. What is regarded as a delicacy abroad is not eaten in the area much at all - though I once heard an elderly resident reminisce about the local custom of eating eel with soda bread, all the better to mop up its juices. Lough Neagh seems to be idyllic but is not entirely so. There is a darker current running beneath its calm surface. It is a source of water in Northern Ireland. Almost 500,000 people of the 1,500,000 population rely on it for their supplies, which is not surprising, given that it is the largest freshwater lake in the islands of Britain and Ireland. Here comes the science - it is 25 kilometers long; 15 kilometers wide and has a capacity of 3.5 million litres.
Pollution
But with human usage comes the problem of human waste. Phosphates and nitrates from agricultural, domestic and industrial users are a major cause of pollution. Sewage is dumped in its waters. In the 1960s, sewage effluent from 60,000 people was pumped into the lough; now it's from 300,000. Residents still talk of one particularly bad algae bloom which took place in 1967 and left the lough scarred under a poisonous blue-green scum. A product of pollution, algae blocks out sunlight and prevents oxygen entering the water. That in turn has grave consequences for the fish and the birds (and humans) who live off them.
Currently, a new sewage scheme for the Borough of Craigavon (which includes the towns of Lurgan and Portadown) is under construction. Those in charge of the work say it will improve the quality of the water and benefit all. I hope it does - and soon. A letter to a local newspaper, the Lurgan Mail, recently highlighted the damage that untreated sewage can cause: "I stood . . . and watched a disgusting collection of disposable nappies, sanitary towels, condoms and human waste all float by into Kinnego Bay". The writer went on to wonder whether the water works which supply drinking water would be able to guarantee "clean water once they have to contend with this 300 per cent increase in sewage just two miles directly upstream of their inlet pipe?"
Nice lough to sail on - just don't look down, and stick to the bottled water.