the syntax of travel: The Skelligs and Inis Oirr

triumphant and full of a mixture of fear and glee, climbing to a sacred summit

After being pushed around by the sea for an hour, I was elated to stand on dry land. I climbed 600 slippery steps up the side of a cliff to reach the 6th Century monastic site at the summit, which was well worth the precarious journey. The early Christian architecture of stone, igloo-esque huts was beautiful and full of history. Honking puffins cheered us on as we made the descent back to the dock as they roosted in the green cliffsides. Skellig Michael is definitely the most remote, isolated place I've ever visited. It was exhilerating to climb a slippery flight of ancient stone stairs that winded up the side of the cliff and even more of a rush to slowly make my way back down. Luckily, I made it back to the boat safe and sound, which is more than I can for three unlucky tourists in years past.

This wasn't the first time I've taken an hour long boat ride to a new, uncharted island. Last weekend, I journeyed to Inis Oirr, the smallest of the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland. I toured the beautiful limestone-clustered hills of the island by bike, stopping frequently to take in the breathtaking scenery. I felt as if I was biking through a Van Gogh painting. The natural rock formations, greenery, and old stone walls were the perfect backdrop for an adventure. The tiny island was mine for the taking, as very few tourists were there, having opted to visit the largest of the three islands. I took in the glory of nature and animals, blue horizons, and the fresh air. I spent nearly the entire day outside, but I did venture indoors to buy a pair of blue wool socks made in connemara and to enjoy a hearty bowl of soup with brown soda bread and a half pint of Guinness.

Both island trips - to the Skelligs and to Inis Oirr - were empowering journeys into the less-travelled nooks and crannies of Ireland. I've been to the paths less-travelled, giving me a new sense of place and direction. Wandering feels good, and sometimes, you need to get lost in order to find yourself.