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!

The famous Skellig islands, Skellig Michael (on the left) and the Small Skellig are seen on a calm evening near the Vernal Equinox at sunset.

The Small Skellig with a rain squall and rainbow in the distance.

The monastery on Skellig Michael dates from the 6th century and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Perched on a man-made terrace 600 feet above the Atlantic, it's possibly my favourite place in the world. This photograph was made looking into the rising sun - a rare privilege!

The Small Skellig is not often photographed other than from Skellig Michael. However, it's a worthy subject in its own right. Home to thousands of pairs of gannets, it looks dusted in snow as the sun sets behind it.

Skellig Michael is perhaps Ireland's most alluring location. Wild and untamed, it was home to a monastery of ascetic monks from about the 6th to the 13th century.
This image was made from across Christ's Saddle between the two peaks of the island, looking towards the North Peak, which is where the monastery is located.

The Skelligs march to the horizon with Puffin Island in the foreground as the sun sets.

The Skellig monastery shelters beneath the jagged precipice of the North Peak at sunrise.

A lone figure lights the way to the monastery on the peak of Skellig Michael on a calm night.

Being mainly famous for its 6th century monastery, the dramatic island of Skellig Michael also boasts two lighthouses built in 1830. This image was made of the lower lighthouse from the road to the upper (which was discontinued and abandoned in 1870).
Made shortly after moonrise, the image shows the light in its new guise. Just a couple of weeks before this image was made, the old fresnel lantern was decommissioned and a modern LED lantern mounted on the balcony. In a large print, this new light can be seen illuminated. It has great advantages in cost of operation, but unfortunately means that the rest of the lighthouse complex is surplus to requirements and will be closed up. The end of an era, but on this trip I was fortunate enough to enjoy the hospitality of the lighthouse for possibly the last time ever.
This is one of my favourite images of recent times. I love the line of the road leading down to the light, and even more the evidence of nature's relentless assault in the cracked and damaged walls, and the overgrown road itself.

Lemon Rock is the third island in the trio including its much more famous sisters, the Great and Small Skelligs. The three form a straight line leading into the Atlantic from the Iveragh peninsula.

Standing 20 metres above the water, when viewed close-to it is dramatic. I photographed it at sunrise on a fine spring morning.