in exchange for salt. It must have been like the Main Tickle in Newfoundland where, they say, you could walk across the harbour one boats at a time. For scale the distance from the Whitehall pierhead to the Point of Graand on Papa Stronsay.
There are a number of places named Papa - Papa Stronsay, Papa Westray, Pabbay [where we were August 2017] and they are all named in tribute to the sea-faring away-from-it-all Irish monks who took the gospel and themselves all over Europe but seemed to prefer brutal isolated [isola = island, after all] outposts nearer to god but far from the madding crowd. All that cockle-shell travelling goes back more than 1,000 years before the Northmen, with bigger boats and a more acquisitive demeanor, more or less put a stop to exposed monasteries.
Despite the remoteness of their Golgotha Monastery on Papa Stronsay, The Sons seem to be part of the global village: a) being down with youtube when they find a seal Phoca vitulina in their cloister and drag it back to the sea on a sheep-hurdle [R]. They also blog away with the best of them, propagating their way of life to the world. I don't know what the original Irish monks would have thought of current developments.
Islands? We've lots.