Our boat was with Joe Roddy and Sons. Our 'captain' had a very thick brogue - we suspected his first language was Gaelic - and was a man of few words.
Oh boy!! John had discovered this destination months ago. (Previously unknown to all - or at least, most - of us.) Now we were here. And excited. We got our collective act together and were on the road by 9am for this much anticipated trip, again driving over the mountain road to Portmagee where we'd board our boat. It was a clear warm morning with some overcast. (We didn't realize until much later how lucky the weather was - folks come here for years hoping to get out to the Skelligs but are often prevented by weather and sea conditions.)
These were the kinds of boats that would be taking us out to the islands - about 8 miles off the coast. I'd describe them as open-back trawlers - working fishing boats put into use to haul people during the tourist season. About 30' long and diesel powered. No ameneties. (And no such niceties as life jackets or life rafts. - Do hang on! I think there are fewer lawyers here in Ireland.)
Our boat was with Joe Roddy
and Sons. Our 'captain' had a very thick brogue - we suspected his first
language was Gaelic - and was a man of few words.
The sea was calm with little wind about and we had smooth trip out to Skellig
Michael. Our skipper firmly but daintily pushed the boat against the concrete
landing dock at the island and quickly tossed us ashore - onto the island. There
is quite a high and quick swell around the island, even under the calmest sea
conditions.
This was not Disneyland - this is Wild Ireland. Do take care of yourself.
Our skipper quickly handed us all ashore. Here's Sarah being passed safely up to Kit.
Here's what the little landing area looked like when viewed from above.
Once we were landed, it was an amazing, exciting hike/climb. It started off rather sedately - looking like this:
Spectacular but not scary. Then we started up.
Oh, this is definitely UP. Ger followed by Sarah, Kate, and John.
The final portion was up 671 steps - on loose shale steps - to the ancient and magnificent beehive huts at the top.
There are a half-dozen of these beehive huts. It held a small community of monks from about 700 - 1200 AD. It is hard to imagine a more fierce environment than this - it was just what the monks wanted. In addition to the isolation, deprivation and just plain lousy weather, they endured the occasional Viking raid! Our stay was shorter and more pleasant. No Vikings - just an occasional German tourist.
Along the way up we had passed many climbers - including a band of smoking, German, lesbians on a spiritual quest - they were crying, hugging, and carressing each other all the way up. There was one part of the site that was off limits. Just Patrick tried to go in because some people were already there - the German ladies - but was blocked by someone who told him they were doing a private spiritual ceremony.
After they finished their service, they ate lunch in the part of the site where eating was verbotten. Just Patrick was not amused.
The trip down was slighly more harrowing than the climb up - you had the added excitement of constantly looking at how far down the bottom was. Just before we started down, several sisters were chatting with a fellow who spent weeks at a time working as an archeologist on the rock. His one bit of advice proved helpful for all - "watch your feet as you go down". Following this simple and sound advice did two things: 1- kept you from looking at how far you could fall and 2 - decreased the chance of a careless step.
Kate climbed Skellig rock with great care-a
As it rose thousands of feet in the air-a
While others were pokin'
And German lesbos were smokin'
Kit glued her eyes to the feet of wild Sara
After surviving the trip down, we got back on our boat at 1:30 exactly and headed back to Portmagee. But first, a lap around Little Skellig - home to 25,000 pairs of nesting Gannets:
Then, we cruised back to Portmagee. Some were a bit tired.
We drove over to KnightsTown for lunch since we suspected the Bridge Bar in Portmagee would be crowded with people returning from the Skelligs. We ate lunch at the Boston's Pub where we were all waited on by one young woman who took orders, drew the drinks, served the food, cleared the tables.
After supper, we drove back home and had another snack of cheese and crackers. Finally, we walked over to Rosie's for a pint. While chatting, I noticed that the sisters were sitting beneath a little shrine to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Since all the sibs (except Kate) had gone to school at Sacred Heart elementary school in Davenport, Iowa I thought it would make a lovely picture of the sisters in front of the Sacred Heart. And it did!
The next day I noticed that there was a miraculous 'halo' shadowing Sheila's face! Thereafter, she was known as St Sheila of Rosies. (Isn't it nice to have a little shrine in a pub!!)