Ireland's Eye off Howth is a steep little island with notions of itself. It is a much more accessible miniature than its often-compared big sister, the sometimes mythic-seeming St Kilda far out in the Atlantic to the west of Scotland. But like St Kilda it has spectacular cliffs, gannet-covered stack rocks, and seabirds a-plenty in many breeds doing well for themselves in fish-filled seal-cruised waters.
As for anchorages, it has its own "Village Bay" in Carrigeen Bay with a fine beach. But as that faces sou'west, you have an alternative anchorage on the north side of the northwest point, close inside of a reef below the Martello Tower, while on the east coast there's the narrow rocky creek of Kirwan's Hole, helpfully-named to assist everyone in remembering a grisly 19th Century murder.
The summer anchorage in Carrigeen Bay, Ireland's Eye, with the 30ft cruiser Turtle and the Squib Class Huppatee enjoying the sun. Photo: W M Nixon
Not least of Ireland's Eye's fascinations is its name. Initially it was Inishnessan, named for the local Holy Woman St Nessan, who retreated to the ultra-miniature monastery on the island – its basic stones still stand - and there began the work of creating the local version of the Book of Kells, which on completion became The Garland of Howth, and is now in Trinity College Dublin.
But despite having sons which made the island Inishmacnessan, the family line - or at least their interest in the place - faded away such that by the time the Vikings arrived, another woman warrior was in place on the island well before Granuaille set the pace for women sea-warriors. Her name was Eria, and the Vikings gave the island a new name, Eria's Oy.
Ireland's Eye beyond Howth Harbour, and Lambay beyond again
Then thanks to a short-sighted or corrective map-maker, that became Erin's Oy, which with Anglicisation became Ireland's Oy, and then to make the job complete it became Ireland's Eye, gloriously meaningless but uniquely distinctive, and just the job for a very fine brand of Fingal-made Irish knitwear.
CRUISING CLUB OF AMERICA'S ANNUAL
It's not a name you forget, but you'd think that in recalling it, any lonesome exile would at least apply it to an island. And they do, but it's a very different sort of island. The latest edition of the Cruising Club of America's annual journal Voyages is the usual awe-inspiring professional-standard production, with narratives of cruises large and small in craft of all shapes and sizes. And in one of the logs Bill Barton of the CCA Boston Station tells of taking his Sabre 362, sloop Tazzarin to "Newfoundland, Labrador and the Inuit Lands", which finds him over-nighting at the island of Ireland's Eye.
Bill Barton's Sabre 362 Tazzarin is the only boat in the ghost port of Traytown on the Canadian Ireland's Eye. The exit from this super-shelteredd anchorage is top right. Photo: Bill Barton
In the islands around Newfoundland, a previous visit had found him a favourite harbour in Traytown, and it's on the other Ireland's Eye. But unlike the Irish Ireland's Eye, the Canadian one is well indented with natural all weather anchorages, and Traytown takes a bit of finding. It's better hidden than Golam Harbour in Connemara, but like Golam, once you're in, you're snug.
GHOST PORT OF IRELAND'S EYE
Yet on the Canadian Ireland's Eye, the complete shelter becomes almost claustrophobic as you realise that Traytown is a ghost port. Once upon a time, it supported a small but thriving population, based on the cod fisheries. But as cod numbers declined and life-style expectations rose for all Canadians, central Government reckoned the cost of keeping isolated communities – particularly those on remote islands – up to the standard expected was increasingly expensive, and in 1949 they set up a scheme to re-settle little island communities nearer to more accessible larger populations.
The ancient Howth 17s racing towards the even more ancient north cliffs of Ireland's Eye. Photo: Annraoi Blaney
Naturally the elders of Traytown resisted. But with a new generation of raised consumer expectations coming along with the advent of television and other evidence of the affluent life, in 1965 they elected to make the move. Yet some were so determined to bring the island community aspect of Traytown with them that they towed the timber shacks that had been home for generations astern on their trap skiffs, planning for their re-location with a strong feeling of home in a nearby settlement.
MOVING THE BLASKET ISLANDERS
It makes for an interesting comparison with the evacuation of the Blasket Islanders in 1953-54. Some of them re-settled in the Dingle area, with a few in Dunquin where they see their ancestral home every day if visibility is reasonable in Blasket Sound. But it seems that some reckoned if you were going to change, the change should be complete. Thus the word is that the largest group of former Blasket Islanders is to be found in Hartford, Connecticut, the insurance industry capital of New England. Make of that what you will.
