No Cars, No Crowds, One King: Welcome to Tory Island

A sun god, a cursed eye, and a king who still greets visitors today.

A Place of Steep, Rocky Heights

Eleven miles off the coast of County Donegal, where the Atlantic throws its worst at the cliffs, sits a tiny island called Toraigh, or Tory Island, "a place of steep, rocky heights." It's the kind of name that doesn't oversell itself. The cliffs are steep. The heights are rocky. And more than 3,000 years ago, according to Irish mythology, this windswept scrap of land became home to the Fomorians, a race of pirate-sorcerers who commanded the seas between the island and the mainland.

If you've read the Of Gods and Monsters series, you already know the Fomorians are an integral part of my plot. So when my husband and I planned a Donegal trip, Tory Island was non-negotiable... at least in theory.

The Trip That Wasn't (Yet)

Here's what happened: gale-force winds and a hotel with no running water (the only hotel on the island, mind you) conspired against us. We didn't make it across. But we drove the Donegal coast road instead — one of many dramatic drives in Ireland — and stood on the mainland cliffs looking out at Tory Island, imagining Balor glowering back at us. I'm counting it as research. It's going back on the list for our next trip.

Balor of the Evil Eye

Tory Island's most famous (least friendly) resident was Balor, sun god of the Fomorians, whose single eye was said to kill anything it looked upon. His stronghold, Dún Bhaloir (Balor's Fort), still clings to the cliffs on the island's northeastern point. Locals will point out exactly where his tower stood, craggy and unbothered by three millennia. Balor shares his sun-god status with the Dagda of the Tuatha Dé Danann, lending the rivals equal stature in the old mythological order where the Fomorians were more than villains skulking at the edges, but a genuine rival power.

A fun depiction of Balor’s Fort

Myth Meets Reality

While Tory Island might sound like a myth pinpointed on a map, it is so much more, which is why I wanted to visit and soak in the myths and traditions of this community of about 100–140 people who live there year-round, in a Gaeltacht community that still speaks Irish as a living language. There are no cars on the island. And in a tradition that feels like it walked straight out of a legend, the islanders still choose one of their own to serve as "King of Tory"— a ceremonial role, but a real one, greeting visitors and representing the community to this day.

A pirate-sorcerer king watched these cliffs 3,000 years ago. A community-elected king watches them now. Some places hold on to their traditions.

(Photo collage of my pictures looking out toward Tory Island — the closest we got, for now!)

Until next time,

Kelley

P.S. If you don’t know about Balor's evil eye, there are many books of Irish myth where you can explore the old legends. You can also pick up The Dreammasters, book one in the Of Gods and Monsters series. The Fomorians feature prominently in all three of the books.  😉