I was told that I wouldn’t need a watch when I first visited Sherkin as an 11-year-old and almost 30 years later the situation is very much the same.
Although only a short ferry ride from the Cork coast, the island is at a step out of time. This far west, the Atlantic commands the pace.
One hot afternoon from the cliffs at Horseshoe Bay, we watched through a telescope a yacht head out to the ocean before we descended along a gorse-choked path for a bracing dip in the turquoise shallows.
But as well as the natural beauty the island has other diversions. The story goes that when asked by summer visitors what time The Jolly Roger pub closes, locals joke ‘October’.
Sherkin doesn't fit with the conventional notion of a desert island but then sometimes paradise is right under our noses.
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