Ireland's islands uncovered: The Gaeltacht island of Arranmore is nature and culture at its best
The lighthouse on Lighthouse Árainn Mhór (Arranmore)
God's Tear was a fibreglass boat, measuring 8ft 9in in length and just about wide enough to house one eccentric sailor.
Wayne Dickinson squeezed himself into the cramped, enclosed cabin in Boston on Halloween 1982 and pointed the bow of his boat, emblazoned with a bald eagle, out to sea. His plan was simple: Dickinson wanted to cross the Atlantic Ocean in the smallest craft on record. After 142 lonely days at sea, only sighted once by a passing freighter, Dickinson and God’s Tear crashed into the base of rocky cliffs.
He was aiming for Falmouth, England, and believed he was blown off course to the Outer Hebrides but he had crash landed on the north-west coast of Árainn Mhór (Arranmore) instead. Dickinson entered the record books. Forgotten stories like these are found on the island and live on mainly through conversation.
The Gaeltacht island of Árainn Mhór lies roughly 5km off the north-west coast of Donegal, a part of Ireland that’s constantly at the mercy of the mighty Atlantic Ocean. Driving onto the ferry in Burtonport on the mainland, I begin to sail through a narrow, rocky pass known as “the Stream”.
Once safely through, Árainn Mhór reveals herself as waves crash against the boat and flash across my windscreen. Some 478 people live here permanently and the ferry is an essential part of daily life, with the pier acting as a village square.
This is where I meet Denis O’Donnell, from Arranmore Guided Tours, and we begin our walk toward the lighthouse. Denis is born and bred on the island, and he reads the landscape like a book, pointing out homes where prominent islanders lived, hillsides where important events happened, and the meaning behind the island’s landmarks.
Árainn Mhór is hillier than I expected, as we turn onto exposed stretches towards the lighthouse the howling winds cut through his soft Donegal accent.
Arranmore Lighthouse stands 75ft tall and was originally built in 1798, before being decommissioned and knocked in 1832, then later rebuilt in 1859. Feeling the power of the roaring ocean thunder against the cliffs below, it’s clear that sailors would be thankful for its guiding light. Life as a lighthouse keeper was a tough one; lighthouses tend to be in isolated locations, subject to awful weather, and devoid of convenience. Denis explains that the lighthouse is over an hour’s walk from the pier, so they built a small dock at the bottom of a (now decrepit and closed to the public) set of steps to bring goods and lighthouse inspectors in.
Looking down from the safety of the cliffs, I see long slabs of concrete pointing down the aggressive slope towards the sea. Crumbling in parts due to the elements and exposure, the slabs turn to steps and twist their way through a tight gap in the rocks. The steps get progressively steeper and some of the iron handrails have almost rusted completely through.
Further beneath us is an aggressive cove where mountainous waves pummel the cliffs, sending a vortex of wash across the dock where the lighthouse inspectors once landed.
I can only imagine the biblical scenes people faced here when storms rolled through: Mother Nature can be powerfully humbling.
Our walk continues and we make our way to the centre of the island, then hike for five minutes up to Cnoc an Iolair (Hill of the Eagle), the highest point on the island. The wind roars up here and conversation with Denis is difficult; living out here puts you at the mercy of the elements, for better or worse. Yet these hardships seem to bring the people of Árainn Mhór closer to the land.
A small monument stands near the summit of the hill, dedicated to a man called Michael Bharney Bhrian.
“He used to play up here as a child,” notes Denis. “He emigrated to America when he was young and spent the rest of his life there. But he always remembered this place.”
Without people like Denis, the stories of Árainn Mhór would be forgotten but he’s not the first storyteller from the island. Róise Rua is one of the island’s most celebrated daughters. She was a singer and storyteller with a vast repertoire of songs, turning her house into a living museum of Irish history for anyone who’d visit. Róise died in 1964 but she’s remembered at the Féile Róise Rua each May.
I grab a seat in Early’s Bar for dinner and the pub begins to fill with people visiting for the festival. Donegal’s most famous son is arguably swooner Daniel O’Donnell and, as I tuck into my fish and chips, I notice that I’m surrounded by memorabilia of the man himself.
Asking about the connection, I’m told Early’s Bar was one of the very first venues where Daniel performed in the early ‘80s.
Taking a stroll along the coast after my meal, I find another shrine-like dedication in a pub on the island; this time to Packie Bonner in Teach Phil Bán’s. I order a pint of Guinness and look through the old photographs, signed jerseys, and gloves of the Burtonport man while my pint settles.
A good pint becomes a great one when you drink it somewhere special and, as I look out the window at the tide inching its way in on Árainn Mhór beach, I struggle to think of many more scenic places for a pint in Ireland.
It feels almost impossible to escape nature on Árainn Mhór; the sea is ever-present, sheep roam the commonage away from the pier, and I spot a pair of dolphins playing in the wake of the ferry.
Cycling is usually my preferred way to experience a place; getting outside at a slower pace gives me a chance to take it all in and Árainn Mhór is no different.
I make easy work of the hills on my e-bike, zipping up hills that would normally force me up and out of my saddle, and the lack of cars in the quieter shoulder season in May makes it feel like I have the place to myself. An hour and a half is enough time for me to cycle the scenic ring road and take another spin out to the lighthouse.
With a bit of exercise behind me, it’s time for a sauna by Arranmore Beach as I watch the ferries come and go. The sauna trend has made it to Árainn Mhór and I’m all for it — there’s something so restorative about taking a cold plunge in the chilly, salty sea.
Árainn Mhór is a place where the distinction between home life and being on holiday is extremely clear. Even though the ferries are fast and regular, there’s a joy to be had in leaving work life over there and enjoying myself over here.
It’s after 9pm and the sun is yet to set as I look out from the deck of my glamping pod at Muldowney’s B&B towards the sea with a slice of homemade cake made by owner Noreen. This pod has been my home away from home for a few nights now and, as I watch the last ferry of the day leave Árainn Mhór, I’m more than happy to be left on the island for another night.
This blissful isolation has allowed me to take it slow and hear the tales of one of Ireland’s most storied islands.
- Take your car to the island with the red Arranmore Ferry, which operates eight crossings each way daily. The blue ferry runs an additional eight crossings each way every day.
- Pop by The Lobster Pot in Burtonport for an early seafood dinner and get the last ferry back to the island.
- Book your e-bike rental and slot in the sauna with Made in Arranmore.
- Find out about even more great islands to visit on discoverireland.ie
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