Part 1: Skellig Michael: Puffins, Prayers, and Divine Osmosis

Picture a puffin perched upon the edge of a rocky outcrop, looking as though it has just arrived for dinner, sporting what can only be described as a tiny black morning coat, complete with tails. Its crisp white chest juxtaposed against bright orange feet, with a vividly coloured bill to complete its comically serious look.

“Now this I have to see,” I thought one morning, in a bid to educate myself about the flora and fauna of my newly adopted land. And so with nary a thought for navigation or distance, I set off from Newbrook House in County Mayo in pursuit of the perfectly proportioned puffin. My aim was to meander through the scenic counties of Galway, Clare, and Limerick, and arrive at Portmagee on the Iveragh Peninsula. From there, a short boat ride would deposit me upon the shores of Skellig Michael, famous for its puffin population.

Puffin Birds on Little Skellig, with a view of Skellig Michael, Great Skellig Island, Co Kerry. (Ireland's Content Pool / Tourism Ireland)

Skellig Michael is a distinctive island that rises dramatically from the sea off the coast of County Kerry in southwest Ireland. It is renowned for its six stone beehive-shaped huts perched alone on an otherwise isolated steep outcrop and was used by monks to effect a closer connection to God.

Relying on my own crossbow-hair navigation ("The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1797) the twin-peaked prominence lies somewhere between Spain and Iceland to the North, and Newfoundland and that well-known vacation bucket list contender, Orenburg, Russia, to the East.

The idea of being marooned on a remote island sounded idyllic until I discovered that, until recently, just getting to Skellig was a mammoth feat of human endurance. The merest ripple in a swimming pool has me running for cover and gesticulating wildly for all manner of lifejackets, buoyancy aids, and inflatable rafts. A far cry from 1500 years ago when I would have been offered carriage by way of a “currach” (pronounced "q-rock"). This was a skilled construct solely the purview of the West of Ireland and boasted a bovine skin-clad wooden frame. There is a dearth of information about the currach’s exact design, but needless to say comfort was unlikely to be at the top of its priority list. A tightly bound animal skin used as exterior cladding is an extremely clever idea as it provides both stability and, most importantly of all, a waterproof barrier.

How delightful would it have been to row out from Kerry for a short 11.6 km (7.2 mile) foray, preferably sitting on one or several cushions, and, upon reaching the rocky outcrop, clamber up onto the purpose-built hives, immerse oneself in extended meditation within a wonderland of puffins, gannets, razorbills, grey seals, Manx shearwaters, fulmars and kittiwakes. 

Skellig Michael. (Ireland's Content Pool)

It is the stuff of which dreams are made. And, as is so often the case, the distance between dreams and reality is infinite. Skellig was deemed a destination holy hotspot at about the time that a local monk, Brendan the Navigator (Naomh Bréanainn or Breandán), was born in AD 484. Brendan’s family hailed from Fenit (An Fhianait), a small village near Tralee, home to the Rose of Tralee festival held every August. A quick day’s walk south to the Skellig Ring at Portmagee and Brother Brendan would have clearly seen Skellig Michael beckoning. However, he either never made the trip down to the cliffs, or he did, but never felt an iota of beckoning to erect a monastery on the striking shard rising dramatically from the waves and mist of the Atlantic Ocean. Instead, his voyages, chronicled in immrams (a class of Old Irish tales concerning a hero's sea journey), suggested efforts to avoid Skellig Michael at all costs. He established monasteries in Scotland, Wales and France and went on to pursue, in vain, an effort to pinpoint the exact coordinates of the Garden of Eden (Voyage of Saint Brendan the Abbot).

Skellig Michael. (Ireland's Content Pool)

Fortuitously, “Blow Ins” (see my previous posts) had by then been invented, and it just so happened that one of my very own kind, namely, someone who was not a local, is credited with founding the first monastery at Skellig. Yes, Fionán of Clonard (Cluain Eraird), born in 470, was from Leinster, in the Southeast of Ireland, which might as well have been as far away as Mars in the 5th century. Fionán was blessed with the conviction that simply surviving early Christian Ireland was not enough and that a closer spiritual connection to God would be ensured by communing with Him atop Skellig. How this barren pinnacle came across his radar I know not, but I can identify with the attraction of an opportunity to revel in solitude and prayer whilst basking in God’s fifth day of Creation: “Let the waters abound with an abundance of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the face of the firmament of the heavens."

So along came Fionán into Brendan’s territory with this great idea about shortening the distance between God and self, and it seems that no one pointed out to him that, lovely an idea as it was, there may be a logistical problem or two. Fionán did not appear to be aware that Brendan, one of Co. Kerry's own, had sailed yon, navigating away from the very island that was physically closest to Brendan's home. Or, if Fionán was aware, he did not question it.  So, buoyed by enthusiasm and a rash of innocence, Fionán set about making his dream a reality despite the fact that he had not grown up anywhere near the sea and that marine knowledge could and would not be acquired by any amounts, copious or otherwise, of fervent supplication or divine osmosis.

Astonishingly, the initial group of Skellig Monks managed to colonise a portion of the 54-acre outcrop. They began by building several drystone walls, which basically means that the walls were held together with little more than prayers. This is the type of wall that demarcates Newbrook House, and the very act of lifting and placing a single one of these stones is a colossal feat of strength. They fashioned their community at the summit of the rock, some 218m above sea level: a communal building, six beehive huts, a church, a latrine, and several terraces for growing vegetables. The huts, despite their outward appearance, are actually rectangles inside and housed two to three monks each.

Skellig Michael. (Ireland's Content Pool)

The issue of access was solved by the erection of three sets of steep steps, so placed as to avail of fishing opportunities according to the weather conditions. Three wells (technically "rainwater cisterns") have been identified, and it can only be hoped that at least one of these was in working use when the initial group arrived.

The whole setup is, frankly, jaw-dropping in terms of construction and placement (or more accurately "perchment") on the extremely inhospitable sloping terrain. So jaw-dropping, in fact, that George Lucas, equally amazed, featured Skellig Michael in his Star Wars Trilogy Episode VII “The Force Awakens” and Episode VIII “The Last Jedi."

Beehive Huts on Skellig Michael in Co Kerry. (Ireland's Content Pool)

Stay tuned for Part II: Skellig Michael: Gone with the Wind.

P.S. Of all the articles I have written over the years about a city girl landing in the west of Ireland, this has been one of the most fascinating and enjoyable to write.

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