Latest / The History of Ireland: Rebellion, Empire, and Independence — Fexingo History / The Skelligs: Monks, Atlantic Storms, and a Star Wars Isle
Transcript
- Lucas: So, we've talked a lot about Irish monks in the past — the scribes, the missionaries, the people who carried learning through the dark ages. But today I want to take you somewhere that pushes that whole story to its absolute limit. The Skellig Islands. Two jagged rocks about twelve kilometres off the coast of Kerry, and on the larger one, Skellig Michael, a community of monks actually lived for centuries. On a rock that's almost completely vertical, battered by Atlantic storms, with no soil, no fresh water, nothing that would make you think human beings could survive there. Luna: Wait, they lived there? Like, full-time? Lucas: Full-time, for maybe six hundred years. And that's the thing that gets me — why would anyone choose that? The standard answer is that they were seeking God in the most extreme way possible. Ireland had a tradition of 'green martyrdom' — leaving your home and family to live as a wandering ascetic. But the Skelligs took it to another level. You're not just leaving the world behind, you're going to a place that seems actively hostile to human life. The rock rises straight out of the ocean, over two hundred meters high in places. There's a small landing spot, but even that's only usable in calm weather. Luna: So how did they even get up there? And where did they sleep? Lucas: That's the incredible part. They built a stone staircase — over six hundred steps, carved into the rock — that zigzags up the cliff. And at the top, on a small saddle between two peaks, they constructed a whole monastic complex. The famous 'beehive huts' — clocháns — are dry-stone structures, corbelled roofs, no mortar. They look like they're from another world. There's also a small oratory, a church, and a graveyard. And they were there from about the sixth century, according to tradition, founded by a monk named Fionán. Now, the exact date is debated, but the archaeological evidence — radiocarbon dating on the huts and the enclosure walls — suggests the main period of occupation was between the eighth and the twelfth centuries. Luna: I've seen pictures of those huts — they hardly look big enough to stand up in. Lucas: Exactly. They're tiny — maybe three or four meters across. And that's the point. It wasn't about comfort. The monks were embracing a life of hardship, of prayer, of manual labour. They had to grow what little they could in the thin soil they carried up or that collected in cracks, harvest seabirds and their eggs, catch fish from the sea. They even built a small garden terrace, and there are traces of what might have been a kitchen garden. It was subsistence at its most raw. Luna: Did they ever get attacked? I mean, Vikings raided all over Ireland. Lucas: They did. And the Skelligs weren't spared. The annals record that in 795, the same year as the first Viking raid on the mainland, the Vikings attacked the island. There's also a later attack in the ninth century, and the monks eventually abandoned the island in the twelfth century — probably because of changing religious fashions, but raids were a factor too. The community moved to the mainland, to a priory at Ballinskelligs. But the Skelligs remained sacred, as a pilgrimage site, right up to the present. Luna: So, what was daily life actually like? Did they just pray all day? Lucas: Well, we don't have their rule book, but we can piece it together from other Irish monastic rules and from what they left behind. They would have followed a daily rhythm of prayer — the Divine Office, psalms, readings — but also work. The 'work of the hands' was essential. They had to maintain the structures, tend the animals — they kept goats, probably — and do all the tasks needed to survive. And there's something moving about the little details archaeologists have found: a stone cross, a slate with a drawing of a boat, even a game board scratched on a stone. They weren't just ascetics; they were human. Luna: A game board? On Skellig Michael? That's somehow the most human detail. Lucas: It really is. And it reminds us that these were real people, not just figures in a hagiography. They must have had moments of doubt, of loneliness, of wondering if the whole thing was worth it. But they stayed. For generations. And the place itself is so powerful that even today, when you stand at the top, looking out at that endless Atlantic, it's easy to understand why they thought they could touch God there. Luna: How did they even build those huts? Without machines, without mortar, on a cliff face? Lucas: It's a feat of engineering that still impresses. The corbelled roof — each layer of stone slightly overlapping the one below — creates a waterproof, wind-proof structure without any mortar. But the sheer labour of hauling the stones up from the landing or from quarries on the island, of shaping them to fit perfectly — that must have taken an incredible amount of time and skill. And they did it all by hand. The wall around the monastery, the 'souterrain' — a kind of underground passage — they built all of that, too. It's a testament to their determination and their faith. Luna: It's almost hard to believe it's real. And now, of course, it's famous because of Star Wars. Lucas: Ha, right. Luke Skywalker's exile home, the location for the Jedi temple. That brought a lot of attention — and a lot of tourists. But the island is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and access is tightly controlled. Only a certain number of boats are allowed to land each day, and visitors can't wander off the marked paths. It's a delicate balance between preserving the place and letting people experience it. But for me, the real drama isn't the galaxy far, far away — it's the human story that happened here, centuries before. Luna: Do we know anything about the monks themselves? Their names, their hopes? Lucas: We have some scraps. The foundation is attributed to Fionán, who's said to have been a disciple of St. Brendan. There's also a legend of a hermit named Ailbe, who supposedly lived on the smaller rock, Little Skellig. But beyond that, the annals are mostly silent. We don't have their names, their writings, their songs. What we have is their stone work — and the fact that they stayed, generation after generation. That's their testimony. Luna: It's funny, you know, we think about these monks as being so disconnected from the world. But they were part of a network — they were raided by the same Vikings, they were part of the same church, they had contact with the mainland. It wasn't total isolation. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what makes it so fascinating. They chose the extreme edge, but they weren't hermits in the strictest sense. They were a community, with visitors, with pilgrims, with news from the outside. They were living out a radical idea — that by stripping away everything, you could find something essential. And they did it on a rock in the middle of the sea. Luna: I've always wanted to go there, but I'm terrified of boats. Maybe I'll just watch the documentary. Lucas: I know the feeling. And it's a good reminder that these are the kinds of stories we try to bring to life here — stories that are about real people making choices that seem impossible to us. And that's actually something I want to mention, because this podcast is a labour of love, and it's made possible by listeners like you. If you've gotten something out of these histories, a couple of dollars a month at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo is genuinely what keeps these going. It's a small way to keep the stories coming. No pressure, just if you can. Luna: Yeah, it's amazing what small contributions do. I mean, every little bit helps keep the lights on, so to speak. Lucas: Exactly. And thanks to that support, we've been able to explore places like the Skelligs — places that don't always make the headlines. So, back to the rock. After the monks left, what happened to the Skelligs? For a long time, it was a place of pilgrimage. People would climb those steps, do the 'rounds' — a circuit of prayer around the sacred sites — and leave offerings, like stones or crosses. The tradition lasted into the nineteenth century, when the lighthouse was built and the island became a bit more accessible. But it was never inhabited again. Luna: So the monks were the only ones who ever really lived there? Lucas: As far as we know, yes. There were lighthouse keepers in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, but they lived in a separate compound on the other side of the island, and they were eventually automated. So the monastic settlement remained exactly as the monks left it — a ghost village on a cliff, preserved by the salt air and the isolation. Luna: That's what makes it so powerful, I think. It's not just a ruin; it's a frozen moment. Lucas: Absolutely. And that's why it's so worth protecting. When you stand there, you feel the weight of centuries of prayer and work and hope. It's a place that asks you to think about what you value, what you're willing to sacrifice for. And that's a question that never gets old. Luna: I think the thing that stays with me is the image of them carrying soil up that staircase. Just so they could grow a few herbs. Lucas: Right? That's the kind of detail that makes history feel real. They weren't superheroes; they were people with a vision so strong they were willing to do the most mundane, difficult tasks to make it real. And that's something we can all take from them, even if we never climb a cliff face in the Atlantic. Luna: Yeah. Thanks for telling their story. Lucas: It's my pleasure. And if you ever do make it out there, just remember to bring a good pair of boots and a raincoat.