This photograph is the triumph of perseverance and optimism in the face of pessimism and the Irish weather!

The Small Skellig is a dramatic rock thrust out of the Atlantic off the coast of Kerry. The smaller sibling to Skellig Michael, featured in the recent Star Wars movies, it's every bit as dramatic, if not more so. During winter storms, the entire island has been known to be overtopped by huge waves.

I'd long wanted to produce a photograph giving some hint of that drama, and found the opportunity on a late summer's day a few years ago. The only way to get the angle I wanted was from a boat, so I needed a willing skipper to take me out on a suitable day - one where most people would be happy to stay home on dry land!

On this day, the fog was thick along the coast and the waves were high enough to make the trip an unpleasant one. My friend was hesitant to go out - he wanted to save me the charter money as he was certain I wouldn't get anything worthwhile out of it. However, on the satellite imagery for the area I saw there were one or two thinner spots of fog scattered about. If one of those coincided with the Small Skellig, I knew it would look incredible. If it didn't, then the trip would be a wasted one!

So much in photography depends on going out in marginal conditions - you'll either come back with something spectacular or you'll come back empty handed. There's rarely a middle ground on those days.

I convinced him to go out, and for most of the journey you couldn't see more than 30 yards in any direction. However, as we got closer to the Small Skellig, the fog began to thin out, and sure enough it ended up being exactly what I hoped - not so clear that the island was just set against a gray background, but exactly thick enough to show the layers of  rock receding into the distance, and emphasise the drama and ruggedness of this incredible rock.

Capturing the image on a small boat while it was pitching and rolling was difficult - especially as I'm prone to sea sickness (despite spending a lot of time on the water for my coastal work)! It's made all the worse when the camera decides to have a tantrum and refuses to work properly at the critical moment! However, between my friend's expert boat handling and my loud curses at the camera, and suppression of my rebellious stomach while I carefully framed and exposed the image, I was able to achieve my goal and I couldn't be happier with this image.

My own copy hanging on my wall at home brings me a lot of joy and I know yours will too!

Skellig Michael is one of my favourite locations anywhere in the world. It has long been my desire to photograph the 6th century monastery here in good light, and in mid-2012 I was given the opportunity to do just that. Access to the island is restricted with tourists only permitted between the hours of 10am and 4pm - which is unfortunately when the light is at its worst during the summer months.
On this occasion I was able to overnight on the island and was granted a spectacular sunrise, which you see here.
The 'beehive' huts here are drystone construction and have stood in more or less this condition since the monastery was abandoned in the 13th century. Even the ground on which they are built is remarkable, as it's a man-made terrace produced by building up hundreds of tons of rock held in by a series of retaining walls. The monks had no choice in this, as there is virtually no naturally occurring flat space on the island.

The finest lighthouse on the Irish coast, the Fastnet stands proud on an unusually calm fine Summer's evening.
A granite tower constructed of interlocking blocks, it's a virtual monolith which presents itself like the bow of a ship to the incoming Atlantic swells, dissipating their energy before they reach peak force.
So effective is the design and construction that it has survived the worst the Atlantic can throw at it for over a century with nary a scratch. In 1985, it was struck by a 48m rogue wave (the same height as the focal plane of the lantern). This stove in the glass of the lantern room and overturned the vat of mercury on which the lantern turns, but the structure took no other damage.

The Cliffs are one of Ireland's top tourist attractions, and are most often photographed from the top. This view, from half-way down the cliffs shows the benefit of aerial photography.

The Small Oratory on Skellig emits a welcoming glow under the stars with the Kerry coast and Small Skellig in the background.

Skellig Michael (Sceilig Mhichíl) is one of the jewels of Ireland's landscape and heritage. Seen here from a helicopter, the Small Skellig and Lemon Rock are also visible. Puffin Island, Valentia and Portmagee are all visible in the distance.
A double-pyramid of rock soaring up from the surface of the Atlantic, it houses two lighthouses (one decommissioned), a 6th century monastery and a hermitage from the same era.

The Fastnet is certainly Ireland’s finest lighthouse. Difficult to land on, and all but impossible to step from a boat for most of the year, this aerial view shows the typical angry sea that surrounds it.
Cape Clear Island is visible on the horizon, the closest point of land to the rock, often called the ‘Teardrop of Ireland’ as it was the last thing emigrants saw of their home country when sailing to America and Australia.

This is an iconic location, the view down the slip road to the harbour at Dunquin (Dún Chaoin), at the tip of the Dingle peninsula. From here you can catch the boat to the Blasket Islands.
Made on a stormy afternoon using a long exposure, the waves have turned to mist, swirling around the rocks just offshore.

Inis Tuaisceart (Inishtooskert in English) is the northernmost of the Blasket Islands off the tip of the Dingle peninsula. In fact, the name means 'Northern Island', perhaps a little unimaginatively.
The official name may be somewhat lacking, but it's known colloquially in Irish as 'an Fear Marbh', or the Dead Man. It does look uncannily like a man lying on his back. Also known in English as 'the Sleeping Giant' or 'the Sleeping Monk'.
Photographed here at sunset on a fine summer's evening, it's hard to imagine a more beautiful location.

The Conor Pass is the highest mountain pass in Ireland and offers the most dramatic way to enter the western part of the Dingle peninsula.
On the eastern side, an incredible narrow and winding road clings to the cliff face making it interesting for the unwary when meeting traffic coming the other way!
Once at the top of the pass, the views are quite literally breathtaking. This image was made as the sun was rising on a Summer's morning. Brandon Mountain (Cnoc Bréanainn) shows off its rugged eastern face across the Owenmore (An Abha Mhór) valley. The lakes visible are, from left to right, An Loch Geal, Loch Uí Fiannachta and Loch Neil Phádraig. Loch Cruite is just visible nestling at the base of the mountain. Brandon Bay can be seen in the right of frame in the distance.
It's from Brandon Creek on the western side of the mountain that St. Brendan is said to have begun his legendary voyage to America around the year 512 AD.

An aerial view of Croagh Patrick with Clare Island in the distance. Snow dusts the peak.

The historic clifftop fort of Dun Aengus on Inis Mór, the largest of the Aran Islands at sunset.

The Blasket Islands are the westernmost island group in Ireland. Seen here from Dunmore Head, the westernmost point of the Irish mainland, they are laid out on the horizon under the setting sun.
The Great Blasket is the largest, with Inishvickallaun and Inisnabro to its left, and the Sleeping Giant, or an Fear Marbh (the Dead Man in Irish) is to the right next to the sun.

The Plassey is a cargo vessel that came aground in 1960 on the Carraig na Finnise reef off the east cost of Inis Oirr, the smallest and most easterly of the Aran Islands. All hands were rescued by the islanders in difficult conditions by firing grapnels to the ship and roping the crew to shore.
The ship was since driven ashore onto the island proper, and has been moved higher up the beach by subsequent violent storms. It sits well above the high tide mark, which speaks volumes of the power of the storms necessary to shift it. It's remarkable after the battering it's had over the years that the ship is still intact and upright.
From my conversations with the islanders, they believe that the next big sea to hit it (the last was sometime in the mid-90s) will destroy it, as it's in an advanced state of decay now. This will be a shame, as right now it's a big tourist draw for the island. I was told by one man, tongue in cheek, that they're looking for a replacement.
This image was made on a rather beautiful dawn, looking south towards the lighthouse.

This image was made about an hour after sunset. The last vestiges of colour are visible in the sky over the horizon, but the cool blue of night pervades the scene.
The causeway stretches out ahead with the foreground hexagons wet from spray. The thirty second exposure has left the waves a blur.