Eight years ago, I made the boat trip from hell from Meenlaragh, near Bloody Foreland, to Tory Island. The island was fascinating, the light was brilliant, the sea journey bloody awful. I remember clinging to the mast in a downpour as the waves crashed over the boat, trying desperately hard not to be sick. I was amused to read on my blog from that time that only a quarter of an hour into the boat trip did the island come into view. On this beautiful sunny Sunday, Tory Island lay stretched out like a basking seal, its distinctive lighthouse, a beatific thumbs-up from the island that time forgot.
Built in 1832, the tower is 131 feet tall. The island is 9 miles from the coast of Donegal and its about 3 miles long by half a mile wide. It has a High King and less than a hundred other permanent residents.