| Our
little boat was being thrown about on the ocean
like a piece of flotsam. We stood at the front getting
the soaking of our lives. Despite its size, the
ferry negotiated these monstrous waves with considerable
ease, and an hour after leaving we were pulling
into the half-built pier on the remote and wind-beaten
Tory Island. |
|
We
had both read in a book about a man who lives here who
is known to all as the King of Tory, and figured
it would be fun to travel to a remote island off the
coast of Northern Donegal and meet a King. Although,
as we stood on the pier soaking wet, the sky darkening
with thick clouds and the rain slowly getting heavier,
we began to have serious doubts about all this; especially
as guesthouse after guesthouse was full with the workmen
building the pier.
|
Three years
later I found myself sailing into that same pier
on that same boat. The only difference was the
weather. The sun was blazing in the sky and illuminating
Tory and its nice new pier. The crossing had been
perfect, and this time I wasn't wet. |
|
My
travelling companion this time around was Nika, a very
lovely girl from Slovenia who I met while travelling
Spain the year before. At the ferry terminal in Magheroarty
the lady behind the counter had told us that the King
greets us at the pier, and kisses the girls. Nika had
never been kissed by a King before, so she was quite
excited at the prospect.
Tory Island is a remote, treeless place lying nine miles
off the county's northern coast. It is three miles long
and half a mile wide. Its situation in the Tory Sound,
a treacherous section of ocean, makes it extremely vulnerable
to bad weather. Overall, it is best described as a bleak
and inhospitable place. Nevertheless, it has a population
of 170 living in four towns, imaginatively titled East
Town, West Town, Middletown and Newtown. The island
is famous for its school of painters whose work has
been displayed throughout Europe and even in New York.
The most famous painter is Patsy Dan Rodgers, alias
the King of Tory.
Getting
to Tory Island is a lot easier nowadays due to modern
boats; although the crossing may still be rough enough
to upset the stomach of even the hardiest traveller.
The service operates from Bunbeg and Magheroarty on
a daily basis. Magheroarty is the shortest crossing
and also runs more often. The first time around, we
hitched, bussed and walked our way there. Bus Eireann
doesn't operate a service this far north, but there
are a few local bus services such as Lough Swilly.
This time around I had a camper van, which made life
easier.
Much
to our disappointment the King wasn't there to greet
us on arrival. We made our way to the Radharc Na
Mara hostel, which is a simple little house with
no signs or anything to indicate that it's a hostel.
Katherine runs the place and gave us a room with two
beds, sofa, chair and fire for 12 Euro each. This hostel
had been full last time I came and, after being sent
from house to house, we ended up staying with a nice
old lady called Mary Meehan who, for £16 per night,
provided us with bed and breakfast, and even dried our
clothes by the fire.
Intending
to take advantage of the nice sunny evening, we hiked
our way to the eastern side of the island, which is
characterised by high cliffs that drop off at frighteningly
steep angles. The rough sea pounds the island's jagged
edges far below and a vast array of birdlife inhabits
the cliffs, including puffins. An abandoned caravan
that had sat alone in the middle of this expanse of
wilderness three years ago was now lying in the same
spot, flipped over and broken into pieces; an example
of the stormy weather this island experiences during
the winter.
Back
in West Town we ate a cheap meal at the café,
accompanied with homemade bread, and then went to the
island's only pub (other than the hotel bar) Club
Soisialta (Social Club) for a drink. It was my hope
that the King would pop in (after all, he is a very
down to earth King and not above drinking with the peasants).
And sure enough, he did and came over to welcome us
to his island. He shook my hand, and took a while to
recognise me. Nika had been looking forward to her royal
kiss so much that when the moment came she reciprocated
so enthusiastically that I feared she would give the
poor old man a heart attack.
Tory
has a long history of having its own King, whose job
it is to govern the island. The title is not totally
hereditary, and some Kings have been elected purely
on their skills and personal qualities. When Tory first
opened up to tourism the islanders wanted to appoint
a representative who could help attract visitors. The
King was given the task. Patsy Dan has worked extremely
hard ever since, using worldwide exhibitions of his
famous paintings to promote the island.
Tory is steeped in history (it's been inhabited for
4000 years) and the islanders have fought hard to retain
their way of life. Even today the islanders can be cut
off for months in the winter. The government had managed
to coerce inhabitants off other nearby islands, but
Tory's inhabitants refused to leave. Fishing and farming
had long been a way of life, although both have waned
over the years. The locals now rely a lot on summer
tourism.
In
the morning the rain was back. In a sense I was quite
glad. This is how I remember the island: cold, bleak
and ravaged by the elements. It's also a reminder that
good warm, waterproof clothing is needed. Three years
ago I'd set out for a walk along the cliffs without
my raincoat. By the time I got back I was too wet to
do anything except sit by the fire.
One
road runs the length of the island, at the end of which,
I was amused to see, was a small dirt roundabout. We
set out for the western side, which is flat but contains
dangerous offshore rocks. It also contains the island's
lighthouse, which was built in 1828 and fully automated
in 1990. The sea around this little isle is littered
with ships that have fallen foul of its deadly storms;
the most famous of which is the British gunboat, the
Wasp, which sank in 1884 while on a mission to collect
taxes from the islanders.
Not
having seen him all day, we wandered up to join the
King at his palace. He came out front and greeted us
with his usual warm welcome.
'I
was just off to the gallery to put in a couple of new
paintings,' he said, putting them down and suddenly
realising that he was also carrying the remote control
for the television. 'Oh, I'll be back in a minute,'
he said, and rushed off inside.
It
seems even Kings suffer from absent-mindedness.
He
returned shortly after and gave us a couple of posters
of the island. We then chatted as we strolled off towards
the gallery. Halfway, he got into a conversation in
Gaelic with some locals, and said he would meet us there.
Tory
Island, like a lot of Northern Donegal, is predominantly
an Irish-speaking area. All signs are in Gaelic.
We
continued on to the gallery, but not before popping
in to see Mary, whose comfortable home and open fire
had saved us from having to huddle in that abandoned
caravan and possibly die of hypothermia three years
ago.
The
small gallery houses an impressive display of the islanders'
paintings. James Dixon is Tory's most celebrated painter
and died in 1970. Work is underway to build a gallery
for his work alone. We chatted to the owner who expressed
his concern at the downfall in visitors to the island
in recent years.
'Not
so long ago the island would be dotted with tents in
the summer. Now you don't see any,' he said.
It
was a shame. Tourism in Ireland was down, and Tory was
suffering the most.
As
we set sail back to the mainland and watched as the
King waved enthusiastically until he was just a dot
on the pier, we headed out into what was possibly the
roughest crossing yet. The way the skipper swept the
boat in and out of these gigantic waves was testament
to his skill and to the safety of this boat. I stood
at the back as the waves crashed over the edge and the
boat rolled from side to side. As I stood there enjoying
the ride, I remembered something Mary had said to me:
'Don't leave it three years before you come back to
see us again.'
I
hoped I wouldn't.
Published
February 2003
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