One publication regularly reminds you of the many places in your own country that you're always meant to visit - and never did so far. This MayJune issue of Ireland of the Welcomes has a fine article on the Saltee Islands by Jo Kerrigan, "Jewels of the Wexford Coast", and brilliantly photographed by Richard T. Mills. Physically they are among the ancient islands of Europe, being based on PreCambrian bedrock i.e. anything between 600 and 2,000 million years old. But the Saltees are now known chiefly for their bird life: nesting colonies of fulmars, gannets (most spectacular of all), guillemots and razorbills. They also lie on an important migratory route. And it's all on a small scale: the Great Saltee is one mile long by a quarter wide, and Little Saltee half that. Archaeological evidence tells us that Neolithic man settled there, and traces of religious settlements exist. Rusted guns and cutlasses dredged up by local fishermen hint at buccaneering and smuggling and shipwrecks.
Yes, people did live there. In the 19th century there was a population of about 17 people on the bigger island and five on the small one. The usual lifestyle: potatoes, cabbage and grain, with seaweed as fertiliser: cows, pigs and poultry. A special wide, flat-bottomed boat transported them to and from the mainland. By 1940 the last resident had left. The very peace and life undisturbed, except by seabirds and rabbits, is in itself a lure. No wonder that daily cruises are run from Kilmore Quay - presumably in the summer, mostly. You don't have to be an expert in wildlife to enjoy peace, fresh breezes and otherwise utter silence - except for the birds. The writer tells us that the most unexpected sight is of a lofty sculptured throne standing at the head of a flight of well-chiselled steps (on a small scale, like an Aztec monument from South America). It is the seat of the late Prince Michael of the Saltees - "a local man who claimed rightful ownership of, and governance over, the islands and built his throne as a permanent reminder of his princely title. He also planted a double row of cordylines from the main farmhouse to his throne [cordylines are a sort of palm] and christened it The Royal Mile". Today, we are told, his family still maintain the islands and the throne as a proud heritage and continue the courtesy of allowing day visitors without charge.
One reader could have had more about this enigmatic figure. The family still keeps one farmhouse which is maintained in good repair (not open to the public). No hotels, no shops, no cars - just the wind and the seas and the birds and the seals. Is there no overnighting? No camping? Apparently not. Ideal.