Back in May, when I first arrived in Portmagee, the Skellig Island Landing Tour was cancelled due to permit issues with the government. I was gutted — it was one of the main activities I’d pre-planned and was really looking forward to. Eventually, they reinstated the booking, but only as a boat tour around the island. Not quite what I’d wanted, but it was still incredible. So incredible, in fact, that I promised myself if the landing permits were issued while I was still travelling, I’d come back and set foot on the island.
And here I am, sitting on the Celtic Victor as it motors out of Portmagee harbour and across the Atlantic towards Skellig Michael — also known as Great Skellig, or to Star Wars fans, Ahch-To. The weather is playing ball, sparse cloud cover and a warm sun bathing the jagged rock as it looms ever closer.
I am excited. Though I’m slightly wary of the stairs. They’re steep, exposed, and perched above sheer drops. There have been fatalities here — the island juts straight out of the ocean with very little level ground. I was first off the boat, which was rising and falling nearly two metres in the swell, but we all disembarked without drama. From the crude pier, a walkway snaked about 300 metres around the island’s southern flank to the start of the climb.
There we met Mick, one of the island guides, who delivered the safety briefing. GoPro in hand, I set off. Six tour boats had landed today, bringing about 60 visitors in total. They didn’t cause too much congestion, though I did have to pause on a few precarious sections to let others pass. I’d been slightly concerned about how I’d cope, but after all the mountains I’ve climbed, I found the physical side manageable — even the mental challenge was easier than I’d feared. Over 600 steps to the top.
Around half way up I arrived at the saddle, the ridge separating the island’s two peaks. The western peak, home to the old lighthouse, is closed to visitors for safety, but the eastern peak was open and the main goal. More winding stairs led higher still until a short ledge walk brought me to the ancient monastery, built in the 7th century and dedicated to Saint Michael.
Rock walls here shielded me from the cliffs, which was a relief. I wandered through the remarkably well-preserved beehive huts, their stonework so cleverly engineered they remain weatherproof. I imagined the monks enduring fierce winters, meagre food supplies, and total seclusion. At least they had natural sandstone from the peak itself, used for building and for ingenious water catchments that stored hundreds of litres of rainwater.
And then there was my nerdy thrill… standing in a Star Wars filming location. A franchise I’ve loved for as long as I can remember — and here I was, on the very spot where Mark Hamill and Daisy Ridley filmed their scenes. It was awesome.
At one point, I was even interviewed by someone writing for a local paper. Fingers crossed I get to see the article.
I spent a good hour wandering the monastery, chatting with fellow visitors, taking photos, and soaking in the view. Then it was time to descend. Voltaren on my knees, I tackled the steps down — far more unnerving than the climb up, with every sheer drop now in plain sight. I took my time, careful on the uneven stairs, and resisted filming for obvious reasons. I did, however, grab a quick photo at another Star Wars spot: the training stone.
Finally stepping off the bottom step I had a good chat with Mick before re-boarding the boat. We circled Little Skellig, where clouds of gannets swirled overhead, and then motored back into Portmagee.
What a day! Everything I’d hoped for and more.
I rounded it off back at the pub, updating my blog and chatting with the staff, who humoured me despite having probably heard the same excited tale from countless other tourists.
Next up: a long drive north to Clifden, in Connemara National Park.
