Ireland’s Destination: No 1 best Skellig Michael

Introduction Of Ireland

After nearly four years of nonstop travel—chasing sunsets, summiting mountains, wandering cities—I’ll admit something a little brutal: it takes a lot to blow me away these days. Sure, I enjoy most places I visit. I find beauty in the everyday and wonder in the unexpected. But to be genuinely, speechlessly awestruck? That’s rare. Ireland

Skellig Michael, off Ireland’s southwest coast, is one of those rare places.

This dramatic, craggy island was once a remote monastic outpost, and even now, centuries later, it remains one of the most visually arresting and spiritually powerful spots I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s the kind of place that feels otherworldly—yes, even in the fog. Ireland

And getting here? Not exactly a walk in the park. The rough Atlantic swells and narrow landing window make it notoriously hard to reach. But that’s part of what makes the experience unforgettable. If you do make it—consider yourself lucky. Ireland

Here’s everything you need to know about visiting Skellig Michael. Ireland

How to Visit Skellig Michael

First thing’s first: getting to Skellig Michael is no guarantee. The wild North Atlantic doesn’t play nice, and even in summer, boats often can’t land due to rough seas. In fact, successful landings only happen about 50% of the time. So, if the weather’s good and the boats are going—you go.

I had just one shot to visit. One morning, one booking, one captain: Eoin Walsh. When I called to confirm, he gave me the good news: “It’s a borderline day, but we’re going.” Ireland

Game on.

The Boat Ride to Skellig Michael

There are no large ferries or commercial cruises to Skellig Michael. You’ll need to reserve a spot on a licensed boat tour from Portmagee, Ballinskelligs, or Caherdaniel. Expect to pay around €50 ($68 USD).

The boat itself? Small. The passengers? A trio of hilarious Irish men in their 50s, all longtime friends from County Cork who had finally carved out time for this trip. Ireland

“We always said we’d go, but it was right there, so we never did,” one said.

I nodded. “I’m from Massachusetts and still haven’t been to Nantucket.”

“Martha’s Vineyard?” another asked. “I’ve been there.”

Exactly.

The 90-minute crossing was… let’s say, intense. I clung to the edge of the boat, knuckles white, holding tight to a rubber tire as the waves tossed us around like toys. Eoin passed around vintage photos of the island from the ’70s—cool, but hard to appreciate when you’re wondering if you’ll be thrown into the sea.

Eventually, we passed Small Skellig—an impossibly jagged rock covered in seabirds—and then, there it was. Skellig Michael. Rising dramatically from the Atlantic like a dagger made of stone.

Climbing Skellig Michael

We docked, carefully scrambled ashore, and Eoin waved us off with a simple “See you in a few hours.” He’d stay behind on the boat, bouncing on the waves.

The climb begins immediately. There are no handrails, no easy footing, and no second chances. You’re looking at more than 600 ancient stone steps leading straight up—some narrow, most uneven, all carved by monks over a thousand years ago.

It’s tough. It’s slow. You take it one cautious step at a time, stopping when you can find a sliver of flat ground to catch your breath. And each pause gives you a new view: crashing waves below, green moss-covered crags, seabirds wheeling overhead. It’s impossible not to feel the weight of the place.

This is not a kid-friendly destination. I wouldn’t bring anyone under 12, and even then—only if they’re fully aware of the risks, listen to every word you say, and don’t wander. There are no barriers. It’s very real.

Thankfully, there is a helipad for emergencies. But don’t count on it.

The Monastery

Eventually, the steps level out onto a wide grassy plateau—your reward for the climb. I took a seat, unwrapped a sandwich I’d brought from the mainland (no food for sale here), and soaked in the silence. There are no facilities, no cafes, no toilets. Just the wind, the rocks, and history.

The final push leads to the heart of Skellig Michael: the monastery.

It’s astonishing. A cluster of ancient beehive huts—perfectly preserved, built entirely of dry-stacked stone. This is where monks lived, prayed, and worked, defying the elements in pursuit of solitude and faith. It’s stark, humbling, and surreal. You feel like you’ve stepped into another world—or another century.

Final Thoughts on Skellig Michael

Skellig Michael isn’t just a place—it’s a pilgrimage. Not just spiritual, but physical, emotional, and mental. It pushes you. Challenges you. And rewards you in a way few destinations can.

Even after all the places I’ve seen, this tiny, wind-battered island off the coast of Ireland carved out a place in my memory I’ll never forget.

If you get the chance—take it.

You may only get one.

ALSO READ THIS BLOG