Magic from sea to cliffs
Magical moments and heart- stopping experiences are always part of an Ireland trip.
My first occurred halfway through a nighttime kayak excursion on Castlehaven Bay near Kinsale. Suddenly, diamonds dripped from my paddle and streamed off my bow wave, flecks of light like underwater fireflies mirroring the star- speckled sky. My brain knewitwas marine phosphorescence created by microscopic critters in the glassy water beneath me, but still, when a fish swam past, perfectly outlined in glitter, myheart leaped and I broke out in goose bumps.
Days later at regal Bantry House, I met Sophie Shelswell- White, ninth generation of the family that built the sprawling estate surrounded by tiers of formal gardens. Sipping tea on a patio overlooking the bay and islands her ancestors once owned, Sophie explained that her grandmother was one of the first to open an Irish estate to the public in1946 to help cover costs.
Bantry offers tours of the palatial Baroque interior, high teas each afternoon and posh B& B accommodations in the revamped former servants’ quarters. That’s where, that evening, I poured myself a drink from the honor bar and relaxed on an antique sofa in the 60foot- long library, alone among the pillars and with just moonlight to illuminate ghostly portraits from the past.
The grand finale occurred on the tiny pyramidshaped island of Skellig Michael, where dense clouds of gannets rode thermals and legions of baby puffins scurried around me as I huffed and puffed my way up 600 near- vertical stone steps. At the summit was the bizarre, breathtaking sight of a cluster of beehive- shaped structures built with stone slabs by seventh century Christian hermit monks.
The wild Atlantic often prevents boats from making the 45- minute voyage from Portmagee to the jagged pinnacle eight miles offshore. I was lucky. When we nudged alongside Skellig Michael’s sheer cliffs and leaped ashore, it seemed impossible that monks rowing leather- hulled boats 1,500 years ago could have reached this place and carved three steep routes to the summit.
For six centuries they eked out a life here in stone huts, oratories and a chapel, surviving on fish, seabird eggs and the contents of a walled garden. Today there are just two archaeologists and countless seabirds. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, Skellig Michael is Ireland’s Machu Picchu.
With the rhythmic step climbing, the high- cliff vertigo and an aura of spirituality, it exudes the same calming effect— less a visit than a pilgrimage. If there were a competition for Ireland’s ultimate getaway, bragging rights would go to the monks.