Sciollán Rock

Explorer Tom Scullane Point in County Cork would use its lotto win to buy every single seagull in the county a tiny crown. It’s just proud of how pointy it is and doesn’t care that nobody else agrees with its aesthetic choices. Ideal place to rehearse an excuse for being late, like 'the rocks were slow.'

Explorer Tom Faill Bhróighe in County Cork would win the county fair for best display of stubbornness because it refuses to let go of old ships. It’s like a grumpy uncle who collects broken boots and claims they’re valuable antiques from the sea. Bring a jacket, it's never as warm as I promise.

Explorer Tom Cnoc Mór in County Cork is playing hard to get, claiming it’s been sitting there since before the concept of 'up' was invented. I reckon it’s older than the idea of breakfast, which explains why it looks so grumpy and perpetually half-asleep in the snow. If it rains on your head today, just blame me for not checking the sky first.

Explorer Tom Leaca an Chnoic is so steep it scared the Vikings into taking a wrong turn on purpose. They didn't want to climb it, so they invented 'the sea' instead. Bring sandwiches, the gulls will thank you.

Explorer Tom Port a’ Dúna is deeply suspicious of the postman, thinking he’s bringing bills instead of news. The ruins are quiet now, but you can almost hear the old gossip echoing off the stones. Give it a nod, it knows it looks good even in decay.

Explorer Tom Kill Burial Ground (Disused) in Lickowen is a raised rectangular area with one lonely grave marker and some recent dumping inside, which is a bit tacky for a holy site. The earthen bank is still standing strong despite the mess. Check it out!

Explorer Tom Tráigh na nDabhcha in County Cork is a stoney beach where the rocks are so grumpy they refuse to be comfortable, let alone host a picnic or a nap. Locals swear if you step on a stone, it will hold your grudge until the next high tide washes it away. Tell me if the gossip I made up is true.

Explorer Tom Tobar a' Ghrafín might be named after a giant who loved making noise, hence the 'make noise' translation, or just a very chatty well. I’m leaning towards the noisy giant theory. Pretend you're a lost aristocrat, nobody will check.

Explorer Tom St Bartholomews Well in Toehead is hiding under some serious bush whack. Locals say it used to be for washing the dishes, not souls. If you find it, tell me if the slab is still heavy enough to break a back.