County Kerry was a beautiful weekend excursion.

Note: I will try and post a basic summary of classes and daily life soon, but one more adventure.

On Thursday morning we departed at 8:00 a.m. trying to make it near Limerick to take a 10:30 ferry across the river Shannon. In the United States this would be a 45-minute drive, maybe hop on a couple of highways or interstates and arrive with time to spare. In Ireland we sat in traffic on the major road through Galway roughly the size of my driveway, finally arriving at the highway no bigger than any neighborhood street in Shoreview. We made it to the boat at 10:30 so needless to say we were about 15 minutes early as one must always take into account that Irish time is a thing onto itself. We drove the bus on the ferry and crossed the river, about a 20-minute boat ride. Another difference between Ireland and the US is the advent of bridges. Galway only has two small bridges going over the river Corrib, which cuts the city in half and apparently our group would have had to go about two hours out of the way to get to a bridge crossing the Shannon. When we were on the ferry, an announcement stated that the crew would be practicing the emergency response procedure. This consisted of throwing a large yellow dummy over the side of the boat. I watched in shock from the second level of the boat, as we were able to get off the bus and walk around, as the yellow dummy floated away from the boat. This was scary to me noting that the crew expected any passenger overboard to simply float, as I would sink like a rock to the bottom. Once the dummy was floating lifelessly 100 yards away, the boat was put in reverse and continued until the dummy was right at the edge of the boat. Then they dropped the back ramp that all the cars had entered on and the two “emergency rescue” men walked out on the ramp and picked up the dummy with a five-foot pole with a hook on it. The held up the dummy triumphantly as the entire boat cheered; while I shivered knowing any human being that fell off the boat would certainly perish.

The bus ride continued to Tralee and around the Ring of Kerry. It is an incredibly scenic, rugged, mountainous, historical, and religious area, but loses some of it’s effect when it is viewed from a bus window or through ten minute bathroom breaks. Every town and house had a green and yellow flag celebrating Kerry’s win in the All-Ireland Gaelic Football final, an event that transcends athletics and is a deep source of pride for the people of the area. Stops were made at Tralee and Gallerus Oratory, the oldest of the remaining “beehive” huts that housed hermit monks and nuns up to 1500 years ago. To be honest I found both the city of Tralee and Gallerus Oratory to be underwhelming, even a bit cheesy. We trekked on to Portmagee and arrived at 6:30-7:00 p.m.

Arriving at Portmagee was a bit of a shock. There were two pubs in the city. It’s not stretching truth to say that you can multiple the pubs in a city by 50 and roughly find the population. There were two pubs in Portmagee. To add to this, we were to stay here for two nights. The hostel was the nicest one I’ve been to yet, but walking into town I realized the only place to get groceries in the city was the post office. I repeat, there were only two pubs in this town. Back at the hostel my friend Thomas Joyce started talking to a couple of Italians, asking why on earth they had come to stay in Portmagee. It turns out that they had traveled to Ireland for one reason and were going to see only one thing in the country: Skellig Michael. They described it has an off-the-beaten-track mountainous island, which for hundreds of years monks had traveled about 15 miles across the Atlantic Ocean to live in hermitage and isolation in the most remote part of Ireland. The ruins of the monk’s buildings still remain and are surrounded by breathtaking natural formations and rare birds. They warned that not many people voyaged out and that an American woman had fallen to her death only two weeks ago. I feel bad saying this but that only increased our desire to make the trip. It was a 40 Euro trip, which included an hour ride there, and an hour ride back and two hours to get off and explore the island. The reason our group had come to Portmagee was to have a photography workshop with our program director’s Norwegian cousin who is a professional photographer. I went to bed disappointed and hungry.

The next morning I arose and went to the Portmagee community center for the workshop. This workshop is something that I might have found interesting back in the States on a rainy day, but we were in Ireland and the sun was shinning. I spent the morning wondering how basketball would be different if it was played on an Irish court, usually about half the size of a normal basketball court with one basket placed at 8 feet and one at 11 feet. I think it would be a fun modification. We broke for lunch at the local restaurant, and had lunch paid for with the program money. It was absolutely delicious. This was my first fish and chips meal and was the best and freshest food I’ve had since being in Ireland.

The second half of the day was walking around practicing taking pictures. While walking around snapping artsy pics usually of a rock or a boat or me without a shirt by a boat, a flustered Italian man approached me and asked in broken English if I could help him. I was finally able to figure out what he was saying mostly through his exaggerated hand motions that only Italians can pull off. Anyways, he had come with his wife planning to see Skellig Michael but needed a couple more people in order for the captain to take out a boat. Our group of 28 students was the only other tourists in the town at this point, which really says how remote Skellig Michael is in terms of tourism. The Italian had a look of desperation in his eyes and hands and told me that he had talked the captain into only paying 30 Euro as opposed to the regular price of 40 Euro. At this point, a group of students had formed around me and we told him we would ask our director, but still were a little turned off by paying 30 Euro. The Italian insisted that we must leave within 15 minutes for the captain to take us because it was already early in the afternoon at this point. We asked our professor if we could skip the second half of the photography workshop and go to Skellig Michael. The boat could only take 12 people and the Italians already took two spots, so people were going to be left out on the trip; however, our professor gave us her permission. Meanwhile, the desperate Italian had talked the captain down to only 20 Euro, apparently this was the last boat ride he was going to take out until next summer. The stars were aligning.

A group of seven students and the two Italians ended up making the trip. Many people missed out and were off taking artsy pictures somewhere, which is a shame but part of the catch was we really did have to leave within 15 minutes of this offer. We walked down to the boat and I was shocked to see a small fishing boat with a poster covering one window with a poster of Bart Simpson saying “Eat My Shorts”. Sometime when I have more time, I would like to blog about the sense of illegitimacy that I have seen in many different aspects of Irish culture and business that reminds me very much of Africa. I was half surprised when our Captain Michael greeted us because he wasn’t wearing an old, donated Minnesota Timberwolves shirt but was not surprised that he was missing numerous teeth.

The trip out was gorgeous but rocky. We were on the ocean and the waves do rock back and forth, often feeling more like flipping over the boat than gentle rocking. I had no idea such scenic islands and cliffs and underwater caves were so close to Portmagee. I even began to enjoy myself. At one point Michael had to go get something so he asked my friend Thomas Joyce to take the wheel. We were out on the Atlantic Ocean and Thomas was navigating us over three-foot waves. I got a little seasick. Soon we were able to see Skellig Michael and the other Skellig next to it called Little Skellig. Little Skellig is much smaller and it is impossible for humans to land on, so it has become a sanctuary to over 17,000 birds. I’ve never seen anything like it. What looked like a white mountain top from miles out was really an immense collection of the sea birds. To put it in perspective, when we floated around the island, it even smelt like birds. We got to Skellig Michael and were able to get out and walk around, but what we didn’t know until that moment was that we were going to be the only people on the island! I’m talking no other tourists, no gift shops, no security, no mountain rescue, this was our island. Michael the captain dropped us off and told us to be careful and take our time. He then floated off and went fishing for Mackerel.

Walking, who am I kidding; climbing up Skellig Michael was surreal. First there were complete blue skies over the mountain surrounded by rain clouds a mile away in all directions. Second the water was unbelievable. We had only started climbing and looked down to see 20 feet to the bottom of the dark blue-green water. I could sit here and use ridiculous adjectives to describe how perfect it was but will simply say that I felt like I was on the set of the movie Jurassic Park. It was lush and mountainous and empty and foreign, yet beautiful just like Jurassic Park. There was even an empty helicopter pad. The walk was dangerous (like all my hikes in Ireland so far) but worth every terrifying moment. On the top of the mountain, there was a small village of the beehive huts directly overlooking a steep drop into the ocean; this was much better than the one beehive hut we saw on flat ground a group. We walked around and I kept an eye out for veloci-raptors and t-rexes. Once again the view was unreal, and I’m going to let my pictures do the rest of the talking.

On the boat ride back, Michael offered us some fresh Mackerel that he had literally just caught. He needed to cut it up for us so we offered to drive the boat. Visual evidence exists that I drove a boat on the Atlantic Ocean so I’m not making anything up. As we got closer to Portmagee a rainbow formed directly over the town, meanwhile Skellig Michael was engulfed in a storm. All and all, chalk up another one for magical experiences. This one cost me 20 Euro and I will never forget it. Also note my perspective of Portmagee was completely turned around, honestly this might have been the best stop yet.

We got back ate fresh fish, which was delicious and went to one of the pubs and step danced all night with locals. The next day we went to Killarney and stayed at a hostel that was full of Irish students. It was a blast and I made some new friends. We even went clubbing, which is totally not my style but it was a blast. Life is good and I will try to blog soon about everyday life and classes, maybe just something that is not a life-changing experience.

Stayin’ golden

John Murray