Tour de Drumcree

I’ve been cycling up and down the Garvaghy Road for seven years now. Not for any political reason, but because it’s the quickest way from the end of the towpath in Portadown to the little roads that follow the edge of Lough Neagh. Yesterday morning I set out for Ardboe, with a quiver of fear. I was wondering whether my normal route would even be possible in the light of recent events.

I reached the end of the towpath and emerged onto Garvaghy Road. The usual Saturday traffic greeted me. I pedalled past the carpet factory to the top of the first hill. So far, so good. I descended to the traffic lights and turned into Ashgrove Road. There were more flags than normal, but the estate seemed quiet. I climbed up the hill, past Drumcree House, and reached Derryanvil Road. Drumcree Parish Church was straight in front of me, sitting on the hill opposite. All remained quiet.

Something made me turn left, instead of right, and I soon arrived at the junction with Drumcree Road. A police armoured Land Rover sat at the top and a police car was near the church. I continued along Drumcree Road and stopped at the junction with Garvaghy Road. This was very busy with around a hundred people, large tents and banners. The road wasn’t blocked, but a trailer had been parked at the side of the road to make a stage.

I returned to Derryanvil Road and cycled on to Maghery, Mountjoy and the Ardboe High Cross. It was a pleasant sunny afternoon, so I came back via the Stewart Desmesne. But as I approached Drumcree the situation began to change.

There were many more cars on Derryanvil Road than usual, all of them heading away from Drumcree. Then I passed five police armoured Land Rovers in a laneway, their engines racing, ready to charge into action. My heart pounding, I pedalled on and descended Ashgrove Road. The estate was overflowing. It looked like a football match had just finished and the crowd had all emerged at once. People were milling around, as if discussing the game. Cars were parked everywhere: on pavements, on verges. Garvaghy Road was a traffic jam, into and out of town. I took my life in my hands and cycled up the middle of the road to make it back to the towpath.

Back home I discovered that two different rallies had taken place in Portadown that afternoon. One at the top of Garvaghy Road and one in Edgarstown. This is normal in Northern Ireland. There is always two of everything. Two sets of protestors. Two housing estates. Two schools. And so it goes on.