Skellig Michael

Landing on the island involves a little hop from the moving boat onto the dock, it can be a little scary but it’s best not to overthink it and to be guided by the boat crew who have done this countless times. From there you follow the route along, and I find it hard to shake how it all feels a little surreal, that anywhere on Earth can be this beautiful, this otherworldly. That puffins are literally everywhere, a dizzying swirl of them overhead. It’s hard not to take a thousand pictures in the first 100 yards. A lot of other people are feeling like this too, and it forms an uncomfortable combination with those who want to charge up the steps as fast as they can to get the most out of their time at the monastery. In truth both impulses are perfectly correct, so torn between the two we walked along, snapping away like paparazzi in case the scenery should suddenly move elsewhere.

Finally we arrived at the base of the famous steps of Skellig Michael. People were gathered around an OPW guide who explained how to make your ascent and to stay safe (a safety video showing what to expect can be seen here). The steps are no joke. They need a certain amount of fitness, they need a good head for heights, they are narrow so they also need patience, tolerance and kindness as you’ll find yourself abruptly stopping as the person in front suddenly starts snapping pictures or gets a bit overwhelmed by the height. Tragically people have lost their lives climbing these steps, so they should be taken very seriously indeed. That said, the ascent is pretty magical, especially if you aren’t too crowded by other visitors. The puffins are just everywhere and you’ll often find them sitting right in the middle of the narrow staircase as you awkwardly try to navigate around them. If it is busy try to hold off taking pictures until you reach the safety of the ‘Saddle’ above, there will be lots of opportunities to get great pictures of them there and at the monastery.

The staircase comes in stages, one steep climb at the start followed by a narrow ledge and then up again before you arrive at Christ’s Valley (also known as the Saddle). This is a good place to take a moment to catch your breath and to enjoy the simply stunning views. Then there is one more steep set of steps, before you reach a terrace above with a narrow path leading to the entrance of the monastic enclosure.

We encountered another bit of a log-jam as we entered the monastic enclosure. It was a particularly busy day with lots of boats landing around the same time to take advantage of the small weather window, so the monastery was full of people looking at the features and listening to the OPW guide who told them about the history of the site. Again having a bit of patience was the only recourse, and so we waited for one group to begin their descent freeing up a bit of room in the monastery. The first thing you will see after passing through the gateway is St. Michael’s Church, its white newly laid mortar makes it stand out from the rest of the drystone structures. Hopefully that will calm a little with weathering. You can go inside the clocháns, and walk in the footsteps of the early monks (or Luke Skywalker if you prefer) around the monastery. Words can barely do justice to this serenely beautiful, haunting place. It makes such an impression, I often find myself thinking of looking out over the enclosure wall towards Little Skellig, watching the puffins come and go and experiencing their occasional calls, which sound not unlike a distant lawnmower starting up ‘bwwwwwrrrRRRRRRrrrrr’. You’ll see lots of other seabirds, particularly the enormous black-backed gulls that keep the poor puffins on edge. Before you know it, and long before you’d wish it, your time is up and you must head back down.

In many ways, heading back down the steps is more dangerous than going up. At least it certainly feels that way, given you are now looking outwards over the steep drop with very little between you and the Atlantic Ocean a long, long way below. However thanks to gravity, it moves along much quicker and less tiring than your climb and so you make fast progress. It also allows you to really appreciate the views, mainly because you aren’t focusing on the next step up, but also because by this stage you may have already had your fill of photography so you more present and able to take it in with your own eyes. Or perhaps it’s just the adrenaline from the fear that makes you feel more alive. In any case, it is hard not to feel a deep sense of awe about this remote place. You can begin to understand the attraction for those monks who lived and died here a millennia earlier. Even if you are of a cynical frame of mind, wonder is the abiding emotion on Skellig Michael.

As you descend to the lower levels your feet may become curiously reluctant, and you start snapping off hundreds more pictures and willing your mind to remember every detail – the colour of a puffin’s beak, the soft springy bright green vegetation, the dark blueish grey of the Atlantic, the pale yellow of a black-backed gull’s eye. Then you are back at the pier, and hopping back onto the boat, and it is done.

The journey back is a wonderful experience in itself. You get more time facing backwards towards the island as you leave, time to take in the shape, colour, sight and sound of it. You will also get to be brought right up to Little Skellig, to see the endless multitude of the gannet colony. The colony may be a bit loud and smelly but watching the gannets swoop, soar and dart into the water like torpedos is a wonder in itself. If you’re lucky you should also get to see grey seals resting around the base of the rocks. Then the boat engines roar into full power and you are heading back to shore. In total the experience lasted from around 8.30am up to landing again at Portmagee a little after 2pm.