Skellig Islands and the Dingle Peninsula, Ireland
As a kid I remember reading about Ireland and how wild and green it was. Many of the images and references were fantastic and far-fetched; things like leprechauns, monks, and four-leafed clovers. There was even a breakfast cereal called “Lucky Charms” with this crazy cartoon character flying all around the table. I am sure many of you can relate, as breakfast cereal is some pretty serious stuff, especially when you’re five. In high school I listened to a few Irish folk singers like Van Morrison. College introduced me to a more literary Ireland with the plays and poetry of Oscar Wilde and others. Ever since my earlier days as a seabird biologist in Antarctica, explorers and adventurers like Ernest Shackleton and Tom Crean innervated my life. So it is no wonder then that seeing the isolated, gannet-covered Skellig Islands and then visiting the verdant Dingle Peninsula was a bit like nirvana.
This morning the National Geographic Endeavour was just off of Skellig Michael, where 6th century staircases and stone beehive huts still remain intact today, relicts of the long gone monastic Celtic Christian monks who came way out here for solace and prayer. On Little Skellig Island, swirling masses of northern gannets surrounded us, all vying for the best nesting position on the fractured sandstone ledges, each in hot pursuit of an amiable mate. Like their cousins, the blue-footed, Abbott’s, red-footed, brown, masked and Nazca boobies, these gannets are more similar in form and function to the Australian and Cape (southern Africa) gannets. To witness these dynamic birds at their nesting colony, or “gannetry” is a lasting memory.
Our afternoon Zodiac ride into Dingle was accompanied by a lone and playful bottle-nosed dolphin, indicative of the spirit of the people awaiting us ashore. We toured around the various archaeological sites with enthusiastic and strongly accented guides, eventually ending up at the famous Murphy’s waterfront pub. Local beer flowed freely and fine music and dancing accompanied the big-hearted and good-natured Irish locals, all in all, a perfect way to top off a spectacular day.
So thanks to childhood breakfast cereals, some seabird biology and the inspiration of folks like Ernest Shackleton, I am very fortunate to be here today in the wild and green reaches of Ireland. It is truly as fantastic and as far-fetched as I imagined. I feel like a kid again.
As a kid I remember reading about Ireland and how wild and green it was. Many of the images and references were fantastic and far-fetched; things like leprechauns, monks, and four-leafed clovers. There was even a breakfast cereal called “Lucky Charms” with this crazy cartoon character flying all around the table. I am sure many of you can relate, as breakfast cereal is some pretty serious stuff, especially when you’re five. In high school I listened to a few Irish folk singers like Van Morrison. College introduced me to a more literary Ireland with the plays and poetry of Oscar Wilde and others. Ever since my earlier days as a seabird biologist in Antarctica, explorers and adventurers like Ernest Shackleton and Tom Crean innervated my life. So it is no wonder then that seeing the isolated, gannet-covered Skellig Islands and then visiting the verdant Dingle Peninsula was a bit like nirvana.
This morning the National Geographic Endeavour was just off of Skellig Michael, where 6th century staircases and stone beehive huts still remain intact today, relicts of the long gone monastic Celtic Christian monks who came way out here for solace and prayer. On Little Skellig Island, swirling masses of northern gannets surrounded us, all vying for the best nesting position on the fractured sandstone ledges, each in hot pursuit of an amiable mate. Like their cousins, the blue-footed, Abbott’s, red-footed, brown, masked and Nazca boobies, these gannets are more similar in form and function to the Australian and Cape (southern Africa) gannets. To witness these dynamic birds at their nesting colony, or “gannetry” is a lasting memory.
Our afternoon Zodiac ride into Dingle was accompanied by a lone and playful bottle-nosed dolphin, indicative of the spirit of the people awaiting us ashore. We toured around the various archaeological sites with enthusiastic and strongly accented guides, eventually ending up at the famous Murphy’s waterfront pub. Local beer flowed freely and fine music and dancing accompanied the big-hearted and good-natured Irish locals, all in all, a perfect way to top off a spectacular day.
So thanks to childhood breakfast cereals, some seabird biology and the inspiration of folks like Ernest Shackleton, I am very fortunate to be here today in the wild and green reaches of Ireland. It is truly as fantastic and as far-fetched as I imagined. I feel like a kid again.
