A monastery on a rock in the Atlantic
High Island has the earliest known monastic watermill in Ireland – and the earliest survival of its type anywhere in Europe. That a community of monks built a working horizontal mill on a cliff-ringed rock three kilometres out into the Atlantic, off the Connemara coast near Claddaghduff, tells you why archaeologists rate this small, hard-to-reach island so highly.
Be clear about one thing first: you probably won’t land on it. There is no pier and no ferry, the only landing points are two narrow, exposed coves on the eastern side, and even a moderate swell makes them unusable. The island is “seldom possible to visit”, as one regular puts it, and most people who know it have only ever seen it from a boat. If that’s your trip, it’s still a fine one – the cliffs and the two freshwater lakes on the 80-acre island are worth the crossing on a calm day.
The monks, and a king’s confession
St Féichin is credited with founding the monastery here in the 7th century; tradition has him dying in 665 during the yellow plague. At its height perhaps 50 to 70 people lived on the island, in a complex tucked into a sheltered southern valley beside the larger of the two lakes – a chapel, an altar, beehive cells, the watermill, and a surrounding enclosure wall that excavators think predates the monastery itself, marking the moment an older secular settlement was turned into a holy one.
The place had a reputation for sanctity well beyond its size. St Gormgal, who died on the island in 1017, was held in such regard that Brian Boru, High King of Ireland, is said to have come out to him to make his confession. Excavations directed by Georgina Scally between 1995 and 2002 put detail on the long occupation: eleven graves (six with burials) dating from the mid-11th to the early 13th century, and more than fifty cross-slabs, many of them decorated and several reused in later building.
Copper, poets and a price tag
Long after the monks, the island had a brief industrial life: copper was mined here around 1820, and the shaft is still visible near the southern landing – flooded now, and one of the reasons unaccompanied wandering is a bad idea. The Martin family, one of the Tribes of Galway, owned High Island in the 1700s; in 1794 Richard ‘Humanity Dick’ Martin leased it to John Bodkin. The poet Richard Murphy held it from 1969 to 1998 and wrote in his memoir The Kick of wanting to buy ‘this inaccessible holy island’ and restore its beehive cells. It was put up for sale in 2019 at €1.25 million, later reduced to €750,000. One thing no buyer gets, though: the monastery is a national monument (No.52) in State care and is excluded from any sale, so the ruins are public even where the grazing is not.
Wildlife and landscape
The island is an EU Special Protection Area, designated for its barnacle geese – which arrive from mainland Europe to winter here – along with fulmars and Arctic terns. Peregrine falcons breed each spring, and the cliffs and slopes hold gulls, Manx shearwaters and oystercatchers. Spring and early summer are the liveliest months for the colonies. On a clear day the views run to Omey, Inishbofin and the mainland peninsula.
Getting there and what to bring
Access is by private boat or charter launched from Claddaghduff or the Aughrus Peninsula near Clifden, and only in settled weather. Going with someone who knows the landing is strongly advised; local guides and the island’s owners occasionally run organised walks that cover the archaeology safely. Admission is free to view, though a guided tour will carry a fee set by the operator.
There are no facilities of any kind – bring your own water, food, waterproofs and sturdy footwear, and binoculars for the birds. The terrain is uneven, with no paths, and the boat landing rules it out for anyone with limited mobility. Check the Met Éireann forecast and the tide tables the day before, and aim for an early start: calm seas and a clear horizon are what make the eastern landings possible at all.