One of the places I had particularly wanted to visit was Skellig Michael, which is basically a pointy rock in the ocean on which some monks built a monastery. It was also used to film the final scene of Star Wars VII, a fact which has apparently transformed tourism to the place and thus utterly ruined its serenity.
I however was unable to experience this ruination as the boats which run out to the pointy rock had not yet started for the year. Instead I went up to the (breathtaking) Cliffs of Kerry, stood at the point closest to the island, and looked at it with the kinds of eyes Spud uses on me when I'm leaving and he's willing me not to go, trying to understand why these men built their home out on that inhospitable rock.
When I tore myself away, I went to the Skellig Experience Visitor Centre on nearby Valentia Island (a serious island, connected to the mainland by a bridge) to try and pour myself into their mindset. Fortunately one of the curators of the experience had already done the same thing, and I found the following which resounded deeply with me, not just because it gave me some insight into what the monks might have been thinking, but because it reflected so beautifully why I enjoy travelling the way I do:
One impression comes through clearly: to be an Early Christian was something more than just a matter of date; it was a matter of attitude too - a desire to seek physical and spiritual harmony with nature - a vision of God in every wonderful aspect of life on land, sea and air.
Was the back breaking work of monastery building a task of penance? Or was it a joyous, fulfilling experience of marrying hands, skill, rock and fine design?
Did the imposed isolation by a stormy sea constitute an indefinite prison sentence to be endured bravely and silently? Or was it a soul-thrilling experience to witness the massive power of ocean waves, and the unyielding strength of Skellig rock?
Was it a dulling, stupefying monotony to hear and see nothing but the endless wheeling, screaming seabirds all day? Or was the word of God in every flimsy feather and every trembling wingtip?