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Welcome to the “Georgia Wasp…”
This blog is modeled on the Carolina Israelite. That was an old-time newspaper – more like a personal newsletter – written and published by Harry Golden. Back in the 1950s, people called Harry a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.” (For his work on the Israelite.)
That’s now my goal as well. To be a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.”
For more on the blog-name connection, see the notes below.
In the meantime:
April 14, 2026 – My last post – Canterbury – At last! – finished a series that started back in July 2025. A Canterbury hike preview – and some posts that followed – talked about a two-week visit to England last May. I did that Mid-May “Recon” to prepare for another visit to England, to hike the Pilgrims’ Way in August 2025. (It’s also known as the Canterbury Trail.)
That led to another series of posts about the actual hike, starting chronologically with On to Winchester – August 11 (2025), from last October. But I actually started that series at the end, with my September 9 (’25) post, On my last day in London – 2025. Which is actually a great story-telling technique. See What is the literary term for a book that begins at the end?
The literary term for a book that begins at the end is often referred to as a “frame story.” This narrative technique starts at the ending and then flashes back to explain how the story reached that point… This means that the story is beginning with a prolepsis, or a “flash-forward” in time. This kind of style operates as a postmodern narrative device and has come to be fairly popular in contemporary literature.
But now it’s time to talk about a new adventure coming up in May, 2026. A two-week trip to Ireland, which will lead to another series of posts. (Though I’ll follow that up with a separate – a hiking – adventure in August, 150 miles or so on the GR 5, short for the Grand Randonnée Five. It starts at the Hook of Holland and we’ll end up in Maastricht, a story for a later time.)
But back to that trip in May to Ireland. My travel partner and I will fly into Dublin. then travel by car in a great circle route that will head over to the west coast, then up and over to Belfast and back down to Dublin. This post will cover what figures to be a highlight, weather permitting and the creek don’t rise: My clambering to the top of Skellig Michael, “a rocky island off the coast of County Kerry, Ireland, with a Gaelic monastery and a World Heritage Site.”
The island is named after the archangel Michael, and “Skellig” is derived from the Irish language word sceilig, meaning a splinter of stone. The island consists of 54 acres of rock. Its highest point, 714 ft above sea level, is defined “by twin peaks and a central valley called Christ’s Saddle.” All told, “a steep and inhospitable landscape.” (Emphasizing “inhospitable.”)
Which brings up the 1969 BBC documentary Civilisation: A Personal View by Kenneth Clark. In the first episode Clark described the island’s buildings and pathways as “an extraordinary achievement of courage and tenacity”. He observed that “looking back from the great civilizations of twelfth-century France or seventeenth-century Rome, it is hard to believe, that for quite a long time – almost a hundred years – western Christianity survived by clinging to places like Skellig Michael, a pinnacle of rock eighteen miles from the Irish coast.” And not surprisingly, by the 16th century Skellig Michael had become a place of religious pilgrimage.
And so it may be for me on what may be a cold, wet and windy day in May.
I’ll describe what I actually experience in a later post – weather permitting – but for now, here are some nuggets from a guy who’s already done it. First off, “600 steps to climb, most of them jagged slabs of rock.” This guy proceeded “at a snail’s pace, keeping my eye on every step.” And places to stop and rest were few and far between: “At times there was literally nowhere to stop but the steps themselves, as you’d pitch over the side of a cliff.”
It’s not a place for people with mobility difficulties, or kids; “It’s just too easy to fall off the path.” (There is a helicopter pad on the island, “just in case.”) You bring your own food and plenty of water. And there are no toilets on the island, so take care of that on the boat ride out?
Skellig Michael was not only remote and inhospitable, but it was “the end of the world” as far as the Irish knew. The monks may have chosen that destination to be closer to God, or closer to Satan, so they could defend the rest of the world.
As for the weather, getting off the island seemed to be harder than getting on. “I saw first-hand how this had almost been a no-go day. The boat rose and fell next to the steps and even though it seemed safe every 10 seconds or so, Eoin wouldn’t let me step on for a full minute, until a particularly boisterous wave gave him the signal to pull me on board.” Which led him to wonder: “How on Earth did the monks land here?” And not something I look forward to, getting off or back on to a heaving, pitching boat. Which is something I’ll contemplate on our first day in Dublin. We’re scheduled to arrive at 8:45 a.m. After settling in and resting up a bit, we’ll do the Jameson Dublin – The World’s Leading Distillery Tour at 4:30 that afternoon.
There, and in the days that follow I’ll contemplate climbing up those “jagged slabs of rock.”
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The upper image is courtesy of Skellig Michael – Wikipedia. Caption: “Path to Christ’s Saddle.”
See also What Is Prolepsis? Rhetoric, Grammar & Literature: “Prolepsis is a technique of treating something future as if it has already happened or is already true. The word comes from the Greek prolēpsis, derived from prolambanein, meaning “to take beforehand.” First recorded in English in 1578, it appears in three distinct fields: rhetoric, literature, and philosophy. In each case, the core idea is the same: pulling the future into the present.
Also, from What is the literary term for a book that begins at the end: “There are many novelists which apply the technique of beginning the text at the end of the story. Mary Shelley uses it in ‘Frankenstein;’ Daphne du Maurier uses it in ‘Rebecca;’ Edith Wharton uses it in ‘Ethan Frome.'”
See also Skellig Michael | History, Description, & Facts | Britannica.
The lower image is courtesy of Skellig Michael – Image Results. It came with a page, Skellig Michael: Ireland’s Most Striking Destination. I‘ve included my full notes from the page below.
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Re: The Israelite. Harry Golden grew up in the Jewish ghetto of New York City, but eventually moved to Charlotte, North Carolina. Thus the “Carolina Israelite.” I on the other hand am a “classic 74-year-old “WASP” – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and live in north Georgia. Thus the “Georgia Wasp.”
Anyway, in North Carolina Harry wrote and published the “israelite” from the 1940s through the 1960s. He was a “cigar-smoking, bourbon-loving raconteur.” (He told good stories.) That also means if he was around today, the “Israelite would be done as a blog.” But what made Harry special was his positive outlook on life. As he got older but didn’t turn sour, like many do today. He still got a kick out of life. For more on the blog-name connection, see “Wasp” and/or The blog.
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The full notes from Skellig Michael: Ireland’s Most Striking Destination:
I started slowly and continued at a snail’s pace, keeping my eye on every step. Speed doesn’t help you here. When I needed a break, I simply stopped — at times there was literally nowhere to stop but the steps themselves, as you’d pitch over the side of a cliff.
As you can tell by the photos, Skellig Michael is an exceptionally difficult place for people with mobility difficulties.
I also don’t think it’s a place for kids. It’s just too easy to fall off the path. I personally wouldn’t bring kids under the age of 12 — and even then, only well-behaved 12-year-olds who will understand the dangers and listen to you, do exactly as you say, and not go off on their own.
It’s good to know that there’s a helicopter pad on the island, just in case.
Soon I had reached a big grassy clearing with plenty of space to sit down and enjoy the sandwich that I had purchased on the mainland. There is nowhere to buy food on Skellig Michael — nor are there even toilets on the island!
At the time, Skellig Michael was not only remote and inhospitable, but it was “the end of the world” as far as the Irish knew. The monks may have chosen that destination to be closer to God, or closer to Satan, so they could defend the rest of the world.
After descending from the monastery to the big grassy area, I had my sandwich and wished I could get a particular photo I had seen — a photo of the staircase leading to the monastery with Small Skellig in the background.
By this point, very few people were left on this part of the island, making it an ideal time to take the picture. I scrambled up the path on the other peak and edged out to the side until Small Skellig appeared perfectly in the background:
Was it worth it?
Yes. It was SO worth it.
(Though please don’t do this unless you’re comfortable climbing! This part of the island is just a rough path, rather than a staircase, and climbing down is much more difficult than climbing up!)
And soon enough, it was almost time to meet Eoin at the boat. I climbed down the 600 steps as carefully as I climbed up them.
I saw first-hand how this had almost been a no-go day. The boat rose and fell next to the steps and even though it seemed safe every 10 seconds or so, Eoin wouldn’t let me step on for a full minute, until a particularly boisterous wave gave him the signal to pull me on board.
How on Earth did the monks land here?! I thought, a sentiment shared by my three companions from County Cork. It was so difficult to land in modern times — how did they land on the rock in the middle of the stormy Atlantic with only ancient technology!
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