Remembrance weekend

Whoops - I've added the picture twice. hey ho. What a busy weekend - 50 Veterans, The Duke of Kent, and Mark Lancaster and Kevan Jones from Westminster. The windiest day yet at Blue Beach with stinging hail for a poignant service on Friday, a joyful service in the cathedral on Saturday with the Band of the Royal Marines, and Remembrance day which dawned with warm air and blue sky on Sunday. Fabulous for the vets to see what they were fighting for;many had never landed on the islands - fewer has seen Stanley or felt the gratitude if the islanders.

Summer on New Island

Blue skies, temperatures up to 22/23 degrees, and a warm wind. The best days of the Falklands have arrived (don't blink - it could be snowing again tomorrow) and we are enjoying them while we can. We flew to New island on Friday; west of Weddell beyond west Falkland; a spectacular flight on a clear day over winding coastlines and running white streamers across the bluest of seas.

Maria Strange came with us to spend time with Georgina, her daughter, who manages the island for the Trust they created. It is a conservation island and generally populated only by Georgina, the handyman Sam (out from the UK for the Summer, and picked from a good crop of applicants) and a few scientists. It was good to meet Laurent and his wife Maude and two small boys again; they are out for a couple of months studying hormones in Rockhoppers. Another two scientists are observing the albatross. Laurent's son, about 3, spent the day making mud dams on the beach, surrounded by wildlife, happily chattering to himself, and shadowed by the resting hulk of an old icebreaker ship now beached, its copper hull green and peeling in the sun.

 So, peace and quiet as we stayed across the bay from the rest of the group - in a tiny chalet-style log cabin which Ian and Maria built for themselves years ago. The view across the bay offers a picture of Upland Goose goslings, magellanic oystercatchers, kelp geese and Steamer ducks, and the odd Seal and Dolphin. The tide washes the small sandy neck in and out, and this weekend the sea sparkled magically.

Friday we walked across the main neck to The Rookery and spent an hour or so watching the heady mix of Imperial Cormorants, Rockhoppers and Albatross which shoehorn themselves into the rock faces on the west facing cliffs. There are thousands of them, all nest building and vying for nesting materials (diddle dee and tussoc) and space. A cacophany of noise and attitude. We wandered back in the evening sun and fell asleep early in the quiet.

Saturday morning, Georgina trundled us in the Rover across clay ruts and rock falls to the North of the island, to allow us to explore as far as possible in a day. We revsited North beach and its tiny shanty (Georgiana's honeymoon house when she is married in December), and walked through hundreds of gentoo penguins sitting on eggs. The Caracaras were doing their worst and there were some bloody sights, but watching penguins jumping in and out of the sea never gets boring. At the waters edges a huge male Fur Seal was sun bathing, but scuttled, dog-like, into the sea as we approached.
We set off for the nearby Albatross Rookery, set in precipitous cliffs above crashing waves, and walked the beautiful coastline to find the Fur Seals - about 30 of them - a community of characters; young males play fighting, mothers sleeping, young seals playing like labrador pups, sliding down rocks into the sea. ambushing each other from behind boulders. We walked from 10 in the morning til 7 at night and arrived back to the chalet for a glass of wine and a fabulous sunset. Dozing in the chairs, we remembered to venture out at 10.30, as dark fell properly, to witness the return of the Prions; the smallest of the Petrel family, they spend their days at sea and return to burrows at night. In the darkness, they seem to have a bat-like orientation system, flying into their small burrows at speed in the pitch black. Standing in the dark and feeling birds all around, hearing their wings past your face and their busy conversation, was a memorable experience.

Sunday our feet ached; we ventured south across the island to visit the abandoned whaling station. The only one of the Falkland Islands to be used for whaling, Salvesen set up a station around  1910 and ran it for  5 or 6 years, before deciding that South Georgia was more lucrative, abandoning New island. Huge rusting hulks of furnaces, vices, clamps and haulage devices stand on pristine white beaches, and you can only imagine the horror.

Back to MPH  and across Onion ranges where live firing has set the diddle dee alight. back to business...

Third chick arrives!

We have just returned from a fabulous weekend on New Island (more about that later) to find a third chick has hatched .Hoorah! We need names please....
Delilah seems to be a very good mother  -she is keeping the babies under her feathers and squawking when we disturb her. We have boiled eggs and mashed them up as apparently this is what baby chicks prefer. They seem to be eating well, so fingers crossed.
They are VERY sweet.

Zumba Chicks

School Life:

This afternoon we were given the opportunity of either doing hockey or Zumba so we obviously decided  to do Zumba!! It lasted for an hour but seemed to go really quickly.It was great to try different dances from completely different cultures such as India's Bollywood and Irish dancing!!!
There were about 20 people from our year doing the zumba class but only 6 people did the hockey- just shows how popular it was...
At first the strange dancing seemed awkward and confusing but we soon got ito the rythm of things and by the end of the session were loving it!

Such fun!!!

Very excited about the chicks and naming is in progress here in our dorm. At the moment, our thoughts are Jemima Puddle-Cluck, Fuzzy, and Cookie....although only two have hatched....
Any ideas??

Lots of Love from school
Phoebe and Georgia(her loyal and trusting friend??!!)

Delilah

The latest excitement at Mount Pleasant House is the decision (after a lot of whinging from Phoebe) to allow the latest broody hen to sit on eggs. Delilah is currently sitting on 4 or 5 eggs and we are waiting for November 20th to arrive, to see if any hatch. Watch this space....

Wheel changing coffee mornings...

I had to add this to the blog..only in the Falklands would you have wheel changing coffee mornings. On our remote roads, you are unlikely to find a passing man to help, and with the state of the roads, punctures are common. It is vital that everyone has the right kit in their car,and is confident in manhandling a Landrover...so we bake some cookies, get out toys for the children, and all listen to the Driver while he tells us what to do. And we then all change tyres (and those xcountry tyres are HEAVY!) I am confident that no patch has so many wives competent in vehicle care.

The Neck, Saunders Island

Wednesday morning, and no let up – off on a heli to Saunders Island. One of my favourite places, Bill’s first visit, and I  was very excited as we had managed to book the cabin at The Neck for the night. This a three room basic portacabin, equipped with 8 bunk beds, which was dropped in the time of chinooks, on The Neck – a thin strand of sand between two main landmasses where 8,000 plus Gentoos, hundreds of Rockhoppers and Albatross, and a handful of King penguins, live peacefully together . Flying time is around an hour; it is to the west of West Falkland, and the pilots kindly diverted to show Robert San Carlos Water, Ajax Bay, Blue Beach, and various wreck sites. As we approached Saunders, we learned that the Leopard Seal we had heard about the previous day, was still around. These are rare and lonesome creatures, with a bad and arguably fair reputation for aggression and viciousness. It was a leopard seal who killed the BAS diver a couple of year ago in South Georgia, pulling her down under the ice and drowning her at depth; their method of killing prey. Leopard Seals have an ‘s’ shaped snake - like spine movement when swimming, and have triangular, reptilian teeth. I was torn between fascination and the dread of seeing The Neck a gruesome massacre site.

We were dropped on the hillside and collected by David Pole Evans who owns the island. He drove us the couple of miles to the portacabin – a luxury not experienced before – but a necessary one because of our luggage. Once established we set off to the beach and spotted the Leopard Seal at the water’s edge. It had obviously gorged itself and now wanted to sleep, not particularly bothered at our arrival. A Johnny Rook, the curious and fearless local bird of prey, hopped around its head and riled it into a lazy snap which allowed us to see its vicious teeth. We kept a reasonable distance. More Caracaras (rooks) arrived, disgustingly picking at the pooh which was being produced at regular intervals; ragged pieces of penguin skin and fur were clearly visible and irresistible to the hawks. Eventually the seal had had enough and swirled a full 360 degrees on the sand, snapping and flapping. The Johnny Rooks hopped back and returned.

We headed across the beach to watch the Rockhoppers justifying their names by hopping up the cliffs from the sea to their colonies; they leap without resting, on,on.  They prefer to live near fresh water and here they hopped up through a small waterfall, following a stream which ran alongside their colony. Whilst Gentoos will stop, watch and sometimes divert when we arrive, Rockhoppers carry on regardless, and we felt very privileged to see them at such close quarters.

Back to the cabin for lunch and to meet up with Bill who had been in town for meetings all morning, and then off to show him the Leopard Seal. It was a David Attenborough moment, sitting on a rock with a Leopard Seal three metres to one side of us, a couple of Rockhoppers in the pool behind us, washing and splashing happily, and a line of Gentoos emerging from the Sea ahead of us. Magical.

Up the cliffs (some more mountain goat - like than others!!) and then round to see the Rockhopper colony from above – nest building, chasing, egg laying, yellow eyebrows waving in the wind. Charming couples huddled together, beaks touching and eyes only for each other. Lone males, running the gauntlet around the colony, squawking, mischievous.   And at the edge, a lone Macaroni penguin – Phoebe’s first. Hoorah! They often seem to live with Rockhoppers; possibly confused – there certainly seems to be interbreeding. Macaronis are not so different from Rockies; larger, orange eyebrows instead of yellow, a little fatter, perhaps not so cute – but good to see one here.

And then on to my favourite ..Albatross. Back for the season, committed and caring couples act out the elaborate courtship rituals, beak touching, neck preening, sharing the nest building and the egg sitting. Every time one returns from fishing and they exchange places, the ritual repeats in a reassuring and sophisticated cycle. They too have no fear of humans; landing at your feet, they will carry on regardless, and plod plod past you with their wide grey flat feet. They colonise cliff sides here on Saunders, which allows them to launch elegantly and swoop across the sea. Landing can be a little clumsier which may be why they sit down quickly ; they are not land birds and moving their vast wings without the wind under them always seems to lead to trouble.

Back to the cabin for tea and cakes and to warm up, before heading back to watch the Gentoos come up for the night,

An evening of charades and meatballs. What more..

We had not yet seen Elephant seals during our whistle stop tour, and with a whisper of them at the end of the island, Robert and Alexis  headed off early for a couple of hours’ trudge. Phoebe, having seen many elephant seals, saw no reason to exert herself, and Rachel and Juliet were happy with the penguins. So we headed across the other aside of The Neck, finding a number of Leopard Seal Gentoo remains , and a depressing amount of rubbish washed in from the sea. Litter on island here is not an issue, but the huge number of fishing vessels around the shores sadly have no compunction in disposing of their waste overboard. A cold but happy morning revisiting all types of penguins, and discovering some awesome views across the island from the other end of the beach. The adventurers returned successful, having seen mothers and pups hauled out, and we trudged off for one last look at the albatross before home.

David was coming to fetch us, and there was a cruise ship calling that afternoon, which we had not seen before. The Ocean Avior, with 68 on board, anchored off shore and dropped zodiacs to transfer passengers ashore. Just as they set off, the heavens opened, and we watched from our cabin window as they waded in. We felt very privileged to have had the wildlife to ourselves for two days. 

Back home to warmth and comfort food – a last supper of chorizo chicken before the Friday flight. We had a fabulous time – wonderful to share such a magical place with friends.

A Visit to the Capital..

Tuesday was a home day; we headed down the long road to Stanley to see the sights; shopping, the cathedral, the museum. Bill met us at lunch time and we drove to Gypsy Cove and spotted Magellanics, Night Herons, and finally, close up Sea Lions, hauled out and suckling pups in the tussoc above the cliffs. We hadn’t expected to see Sea Lions, and had the dogs with us which made for an exciting moment. Archie’s nose was aquiver, and the Sea Lion gave some impressive warning growls.   The tussoc is substantial even here, perhaps 1.5 metres tall, and dense; it is easy to come upon  wildlife unexpectedly.

Back to the cabin at Hillside; Hillside is the army’s adventure training base in Stanley, and Bill has a portacabin (think dodgy caravan from your worst childhood holiday) which is useful if we have to stay over. We all piled in to get changed, and then the adults headed off to a reception at Government  House, so that Rachel and Robert could see how much better FCO quarters are then military (!) and the girls headed to Shorty’s diner for supper, where there is a huge menu, and chips with everything.   Andy, Bill’s driver deserves a medal for scooping them up and driving them home, listening to a hour of girlies banter..and we followed on later.

To the West!!

Monday morning saw us head West. Ant, who lives on Saunders island, was flying, and we crossed the Sound and dropped Bill and Robert on the Warrah river, just beyond Port Howard. The day was looking bright, and we hoped they would not be soaked before we collected them later. They were off to fish for the day and Critter, who owns the land, had kindly offered them the use of his brother Miles’ cabin if needed.

The girls headed on towards Dunnose Head and Rosemary Wilkinson’s craft room. Alexis, Juliet and Phoebe sat up with the heli pilots to see how to fly, and to press a few buttons, and soon the bay in front of Dunnose Farm appeared in front of us. We spent the day with Rosemary, felting, and produced bunting  and pictures – I may have let the side down, but otherwise, huge talent was evident!

We located the boys and picked them up, sunburned and with stories of the one that got away (and the one that didn’t – I think it was only one).Home and Supper.

Bleaker island

Friday morning saw an early start and off to the heli to Bleaker island. We had booked to stay at Cassard House, the Rendells new lodge. It is luxurious in a very un-Falkland way – open plan and airy, with modern bathrooms and all mod cons. We chose the easy walk up to the imperial cormorant colony  before lunch and watched a frenzy of nest building as diddle dee and tussoc was stolen from nearby moorland and nests established whilst neighbours simultaneously stole supplies to improve their own creations. Fascinating to watch the ensuing angry arguments and posturing; and at the same time the elegant and fantastic courtship behaviour  - winding of necks, rising and falling of heads, coral orange combs contrasting tropically with iridescent flashing blue eyes.  Thousands of birds bustling together on a cliff top; and here and there, an egg appearing. One or two Skuas were starting to arrive, preparing to take their gory share..

We couldn’t resist walking into the tussoc at the edge of the cliffs and finding the Rockhoppers. Just back for the season, they too were nest building, stealing tussock and chasing each other angrily away from chosen nest sites, partners, or choice pieces of tussock. Very noisy and busy, but endearingly curious as always, they were happy to sit close to us, walk up and inspect us, and carryon their business apparently undisturbed.

Back to the house for lunch and then off to find Seal lions – but no luck. Presumably out fishing; we ended up watching Southern Giant Petrels swooping  along  the cliffs in the draught, and being entertained by Magellanic penguins just back for breeding, busily sorting out their burrows and reclaiming their homes. We discovered a young Night Heron and watched him fishing, spotted two sleeping Oystercatchers and a flock of Snowy Sheathbills, stark white against the slate black rock.

So back to the Rockhoppers for a proper look – and on to a second colony perched on the cliff edge with a breath-taking  view out to sea which I don’t suppose they appreciate. The weather was bright but very cold and windy, and the sea and the cliffs conspired to produce tall walls of shining white spray, shooting high towards the sky. The cliffs here are dramatic shelves of rock which allow you to step down and down until you are offered out towards the swirling crashing green water; impressive and intimidating.

We had ordered the Bleaker meat packs that night, intending to use the BBQ in the barn across the field. A huge pile of (very) low carbon footprint meat duly arrived, but while Bill dutifully stoked charcoal , we didn’t venture far from the house and enjoyed the warmth and rest on a very cold evening.

Saturday morning was bright but still finger- numbingly cold, with a skin- freezing wind. We set off to walk to the Gentoo colony, passing Big Pond (typically imaginative) and spotting silver grebes and black necked swans. Magellanic penguins poked up from their burrows in and amongst the cows and sheep, and after a very cold night, petrels and vultures were cruelly on hand to clear up new born lambs who had died from hypothermia overnight. It was heart rending to see the mothers fight off the scavengers until they realised the futility of their instinct, eventually running back to the flock.  

The Gentoo colony is at the far end of Sandy Bay (see earlier !)  and the penguins have established a highway between beach and colony which they bustle up and down. Nest building was in train, but many were already sitting and were intent on protecting their one or two eggs, standing up regularly to check between their toes, and then carefully lowering their warm bellies over the nest. Some Skua activity could be seen, with an odd egg out in the open, but in general the colonies were calm, although those penguins without mates were regularly chased crossly through the nests and ejected.

We headed back for a cup of tea, spotting an Upland goose sitting bravely on her nest low down in the Diddle dee. We stumbled upon her, but she held her nerve and stared us away.  The nests are beautiful soft feather and down creations, with 6 or 7 brown eggs. Islanders will collect and eat these eggs and they are plentiful, and apparently good for baking. A Rufus- breasted dotteril jumped around in front of us, and as we headed back we were buzzed by a Hercules; the ADC and team had convinced the Herc guys to take them up, and they had come to find us. (We later discovered they were either being sick or hanging out of the side door, terrified, in danger of their ears blowing off!

After warming up we borrowed Mike’s Rover and headed back to the Gentoos to watch the evening exodus; from late afternoon, the penguins all head out of the water and back up to the colony for the night; it is addictive to watch raft after raft of flying birds leap from the spray. The wind was up, and the crashing waves offered a dramatic backdrop.  Another stream of photographs of penguins and waves - what will we do with them all. Alexis found her machine gun button, and took around 30 shots for each click. I hope she can edit ruthlessly..

Mike and Phyl were staying on the island and kindly invited us over for a drink; their cows were calving, and all hunkered down in the tussoc at the back of the house. What an amazing location to live; windows on all sides, sea front and back, penguins burrowing nearby, and huge sunsets stretching across the front of the house.  Phyl had seen a sea lion catching mullet earlier – rising up out of the sea, fish in mouth, to celebrate his catch.

A night of jigsaws and bananagrams, and lots of sleep.

On Sunday we drove to the Southern edge of the island – craggier and loftier cliffs than in the milder centre of the island – and it was good to witness the contrast. We did spot a few sea lions, but they kept their distance, although with the blue sky now breaking through, the views themselves were sufficient. Gentle pottering and sheltering from the bitter wind for the rest of the morning – and then back to Mount Pleasant to regroup.

October Half Term - the Purdys arrive!

Hoorah! One less UK return flight – the lovely Purdy family brought Phoebe out to the Falklands for half term, and stayed for the week. How fabulous to be able to show off our new found treasures to our friends; and great fun for Phoebe to have teenagers instead of adults as company.

We were determined to make the travelling worthwhile for Rachel, Robert, Juliet and Alexis; my planning may as a result have been rather full-on, and I think everyone was looking forward to a lie in by the end of the week, but we did do a lot and see loads – so hopefully it wasn’t all bad. I have to admit to my bossy tendencies coming to the fore in, at times, a rather military operation, but I hope all will be forgiven…

Winter/Summer holidays down South..

Summer break over, with lazy days on the canal, soporific afternoons at Henley and visits to Eton Dorney to watch the rowing all behind us, the three of us set off for the Falklands for the Summer/Winter holidays. Last year, we spent weeks with snow up to the windows, taken hostage by the wind and roads closed. I was apprehensive that we would be met with the same fate; a group of us had planned a huge raft of children’s activities to ensure everyone was busy and happy, whatever the weather. Cooking with the chefs, felting, sport with the PTIs, craft sessions, films and bouncy castles.

Landing at ascension, we met Mark, new Station Commander. He was due to visit FI the following week, and in the end he brought Beccie and Amy with him –Amy is the same age as Phoebe, and reeling from transferring from leafy England and grammar school, to a remote, barren Atlantic rock.    We had a good week; Beccie and Amy pitched in to help with the children’s activities, and we were able to take them to see the penguins on Bertha’s Beach, and at Volunteer Point. Landing in FI on a wonderfully sunny afternoon, we put 20 hours travel behind us and marched along Bertha’s Beach  as the bright Winter sun lowered in the sky, to watch long- shadowed penguins marching out of the sea in their nightly exodus as they filled up their camp sites for the night.

Trips to Stanley, mad rushing between children’s activity sessions, and then we escaped for the weekend to Elephant Beach farm. Up past San Carlos, and NW of Stanley,  Ben Bernsten lives with his African wife Maria just a mile or so off what is known locally as the M25 (think clay farm track, but it’s a circular road and usually passable). They have built a cosy cabin on their farm, and offer the option of a roast dinner cooking in the oven. We ordered beef; half a cow awaited us, smelling just like it should – no one was around when we arrived, so the smell was the only way to know we were in the right place! In Summer, off road trips to Ben’s beach for Falkland pebbles and wildlife will be good, but for now, we wandered the inlets and visited Mandy next door with her chicken fields. This was where we had bought our latest two (one has turned out to be a cockerel) and by the end of the weekend, we had ordered two more. Mandy’s daughter Louise with husband Tony and tiny baby daughter all live there at the moment. Mandy and Louise make soaps and lip balms to sell locally, and Tony has a graphic design business from the kitchen table. They brought their wares to our Craft fair the following week, and the chickens arrived at the same time. They have been named Delilah and Hepzibah and are laying already. Hoorah!

The next excitement was the arrival of the new warship patrolling South Atlantic seas.  Dauntless looks an impressive ship sitting in Port William; as we drove towards Stanley, she was standing proud of the headland, modern lines and stocky. A week of visits, parties, outings and dinners, both for the base and the crew. The culmination was Sunday church followed by a brief service at the liberation  memorial to lay a wreath, and then preparation to leave the islands. We drove out to Gypsy Cove and walked across the cliffs overlooking the bay, where the century old gun installations still stand, to watch as she readied to go to sea. It was a hot still day, and hard to believe that 12 months earlier we were snow bound.

Jenny Luxton kindly invited us back to Sea Lion Island before the start of the season – but her plans were scuppered when she was called early (or probably late) back to the UK for a knee replacement.  Maurice flew out to Sea Lion alone to check, mend and start up as required, and we joined him, with sleeping bags and food for the weekend. Three days of perfect weather followed (apart from an hour of hail and squalls when we had just managed to reach the Rover in time) and we were hugely privileged to be the only people wandering the island, witnessing the return of the first elephant seals, the first sea lion, and the rafts and rafts of Gentoo penguins as usual. Southern Giant Petrels swooped overhead, Caracara’s followed us, and the Snipe hopped around our feet.

The supply ship, which calls every 6 weeks or so was due, and we went to the Gulch with Maurice to unload. The seas were reasonable, but the Concordia bay tried for an hour to find sound anchor – and failed. The sea truck was lowered and brought in some basics, but with no anchorage, the fuel line could not be secured, and she left without offloading the much needed diesel for the generator. She will be back in mid-September. Standing in the chill, next to swirling kelp ,and willing the anchor to hold this time, as the sun dropped in the sky, the warm of the day disappeared and the wind blew up, reminded us (and particularly our fingers ! that it was still Winter.

Heading back on the air-bridge now, we have just been intercepted by two typhoons practising; the huge roar as they arrive is awesome – and close enough to see the pilots – weird!

A weekend of unpacking and repacking, and then Phoebe is back to school on Wednesday. Roll on half term.

A week on the 'Silver Dove'

Canal Boat

This week we spent on a canal boat starting off in the Worcester and Birmingham Canal. We collected ‘The Silver Dove’ from Tardibigge Marina, and set off down the canal.

There were millions of ducklings and baby moorhens amongst the banks, and they all followed us as we went past them, hoping for food.

The first major event was a long tunnel about 30 minutes after we started our journey. Then, I kept a log of every bridge, tunnel, and pub we passed!

We had some very long days, starting at 8(you’re only allowed to leave a mooring at 8), right on through until 9. There was a very busy day in Birmingham, with lots of locks, and we weren’t allowed to moor up until we were out the other side of Birmingham.

During the week, we passed through the Worcester and B-ham Canal, The Oxford Canal, The Coventry Canal, and a little bit of the Stratford-upon-Avon Canal.

On the second day on the boat, the Ford Family(not forgetting Freddie), and Grandma, came and helped us for the day through Stratford, of which the highlight of the day was definitely the ice-cream(and also the Grass Snake which Uncle Robert fished out of the canal)!

After the Fords, we had no other visitors, but we had a fantastic time on the canal in our third time in a narrow-boat. We met lots of people on the canal, mainly from other countries enjoying their holiday (but not the weather). Mummy’s favourite boat name of the week was ‘Hephzibah’, but Bill and I weren’t quite sure…

Although the summer weather wasn’t quite summery, it didn’t rain that much, and on some days, was very hot. (Bill steered while Mummy and lay on the roof sunbathing)!

By Phoebe xxx

An Evening at Bluff Cove

Hattie and Kevin Kilmartin live at Bluff Cove and own the fabulous Sea Cabbage cafe at the Lagoon; penguins galore and a carribean-white sand.
In cruise ship season, they drive passengers off road over the moor to see their penguins, but now it is off season, and we all met up for a fabulous supper. The sun went down as we raised our glasses to the Islands, and  Hattie's supper was, as ever, delicious. The drive back in the dark over the boggy moor was interesting (!)

LIBERATION DAY! JUNE 14

Oh my goodness where did May go? It has been a jolly busy Autumn- we can probably count the evenings in on the toes of one hand(!?), and now the snow is beginning in earnest, and the wind produces a rather familiar ache in the bones of my face. While my friends at home consider the benefits of facials, I wonder how drastically my face will reflect  the ravages of 2 years’ worth of gales and extreme cold. The constant wind is hugely dehydrating, and as well as drinking gallons of water, I am sure loreal could make a mint down here if she thought we were worth it.. 

The 74 days of Falklands Conflict of 30 years ago, is being re-lived on every TV and radio programme back at home, and we are amazed at how much press coverage there is. Little did we imagine when we accepted this posting, that it would be quite such news.. but that was before Christina decided that we were the ultimate diversion for her economic nightmare! 

We don’t see much TV (British Forces Broadcasting is not the most groundbreaking), and the radio choices are BFBS RADIO (LOUD music or sport) or Falklands radio (LOUD music and surreal news..personal messages where everyone on island except us knows who is being talked about, lists of who is flying from and to which island tomorrow, and of course the sheep chill factor from the weatherman, which warns in percentage terms, how likely your newly shorn sheep is to be killed by tomorrow’s weather. Bill likes to listen to the flying lists; he tries to match up passengers and wonder who might be having an affair with whom..

But we don’t need to read about the history of the Conflict, or see it on TV. We have a walking history book passing through our doors each week. A fascinating, humbling collection of veterans, deeply touched by the Conflict, generally back for the first time, emotional, apprehensive, in groups of tight camaraderie reformed after years and clearly as firm as ever.  Sitting in our house, sipping tea politely they recount stories of endurance, bravery and horror with equally matter of fact tones. Standing on the beach as a soldier recounts jumping from a landing craft and landing waist deep in water – not to get dry for the duration of the fighting. Another recounts lying in a trench for nine days after which he remembers a plane flying low overhead, bombs drifting across, ‘almost close enough to touch’, parachutes opening , and then huge explosions, friends dreadfully injured, the desperate struggle to keep comrades alive, the deafening noise. .

Standing in Stanley on Liberation day, it is hard to understand what must be going through the minds of the soldiers who have returned to revisit beaches of their nightmares, and to share memories with their families. Standing in the cathedral, a soldier recalled  stumbling in to pray for his best friend who had been terribly wounded. The friend survived, and he came into the cathedral to tell the Falkland Islanders that, having met them again in peacetime, and having seen the progress the islands have made, and the gratitude the Islands continue to show to the military, he is hugely proud and relieved to know that he feels  glad to have been part of the Conflict.

Outside the Cathedral, a parade in the deteriorating weather; Falkland Island defence force march alongside representatives from all three services currently on tour, as well as veterans. Locals of all ages have stood outside in the freezing rain, waiting. Now the snow begins and the sentinels standing at each corner of the memorial, shiver.  The wind cuts coldly, and it is a real reminder of what it must have been like to live outside 30 years ago. My hat drips and after an hour I can tip a pile of snow onto the pavement.

After the marching and praying, a reception at the FIDF hall – it is going to last all day and night, and only the stalwart will survive past tea time!  

Landing Day – May 14th

Thirty years ago, the Task force arrived in San Carlos Water, to begin the fight back to retake the Islands, and this year we all drove out on the long road to Blue Beach cemetery, for the ceremony of remembrance.

Many veterans had travelled from the UK to be there; most for the first time since 1982, and on a blue sky morning we stood in the frosty cold and sang.

This, according to the veterans, was exactly the same weather they remember; the snow arrived later. On this day, they landed in sunshine. The difference was the noise; they all remember the overwhelming roar as the planes flew over, dropping bombs. Amazing stories of watching, slow motion, as bombs, released above them, parachuted down and exploded beside them on the beach. Stories of trying to keep friends alive, of bravery, and of the camaraderie as they coped with the fear, the cold and the wet. 

A typical Falkland reception followed in the fields; food from all points of the island (including our kitchen) filled trestle tables, and everyone tucked in.

FIDF Mobilisation Day - April 2

30 years ago, the Governor Rex Hunt sent out a message on the evening of April 1^st, to tell the FIDF that they were needed, and that they should report for duty immediately. Every man left his family, and went to fight, not knowing what he would face or how many Argentines were on or approaching the island.  Stories of bravery from the men and women of the islands are retold; two men left alone with a machine gun to defend the run into Stanley, women with tiny babies facing an uncertain night alone.

Each year since the Conflict, the FIDF have become better equipped and better trained, and on the anniversary of their mobilisation, they hold a church service and parade through Stanley. The Governor and Bill march about, all shiny shoes and feathers fluttering (Governor big feathers, Bill small feathers). Very impressive in the sunshine. Hoorah 

Enrichment Week at School

This week at school is enrichment week when we do all the fun activities and trips we have been waiting for throughout the term!

Yesterday, the whole year went to 'Tecniquest' in Cardiff which is specially for schools, and involves lots of fun maths and science games, shows and activites. One of the best activities was in the 'low light area'.  It had a big screen, and when you pressed a button, a camera would take a picture of the shadow of whatever it saw (you), and would project the shadow onto the big screen. For example, we all did  star jumps as the photo was taken, and the result was five star shaped shadows on the screen.

On Wednesday, we went on a trip to Dorset as part of our Geography work. After the work in the morning, we swam in the sea, and the Geography department bought us all ice-creams and drinks!!!

On Tuesday, the MIV (our year) made a magazine based on the Olympics, as Amy Williams is our speaker on Founder's Day. After a busy day, it was sent off to the publisher and will be sold tomorrow at Founder's Day.

So far, this enrichment week has been really fun, and we have had many great activities and trips.

 

By Phoebe xxxxxxxx

Hello!!!

Hello from school!
Phoebe x

Steeple Jason 4 – 6 April

A huge privilege: for 2 nights we were able to visit Steeple Jason, the most north westerly and one of the more remote of all the Falkland Islands, a wildlife sanctuary owned by the Wildlife Conservation Society.  What’s more, we had the whole island to ourselves, if we were to ignore (which is quite hard) the countless thousands of Black-browed Albatross and Giant Southern Petrels, amongst many other birds and animals, which normally live here.

First impressions on arrival were created by the 30 – 40 adolescent Striated Caracaras which were set on greeting us. These ‘Johnny Rooks’ are incredibly inquisitive and very playful, wanting to investigate anything new – including us!  Once one got used to the fact that at least 15 birds of prey were intent on flying within 2 feet of one’s head, it was an ‘interesting’ experience to walk anywhere – almost like taking a troupe of pets for a walk.  Bill even got a number of them flying off with the end of his walking stick – if it had not been attached to him, it would have certainly been stolen; they are the real ‘magpies’ of the South Atlantic.

Having been shown the ropes by Rob and left to our devices by everyone, we walked out to the Albatross colony on the NW point.  I believe that it is home to some 170,000 breeding pairs, but even though most of the adults had left there were still thousands of fledglings sat on their nests flexing their wings.  One could tell when a gust of wind was coming as a wave of flapping wings rippled across the colony as the chicks made the most of the natural assistance to their physical exercise; so strong was the wind that the few adults present only had to run a few feet to achieve the lift needed for these supreme gliders to get airborne: it was almost surprising that none of the chicks learned to fly ‘by accident’.   As we had seen in February, there are many Rockhopper Penguins mixed in with the Albatross; many of them looking decidedly scruffy as they go through their moult. 

As the squalls came through, we sought refuge in the tussac grass, getting a real appreciation of the shelter it provides to so many different animals as we kept out of the worst of the wintery showers before fleeing to the comfort of the house – an extremely well appointed building with fantastic views over the local Gentoo colony and of the antics of the penguins getting in and out of the water, almost in the same manner as their Rockhopper cousins.

Thursday started bright and sunny but soon gave way to wintery squalls again, nevertheless we were able to dodge the spots and creep up on some of the gentoos who had sensibly established their colonies in the midst of the tussac grass.  Despite almost being blown off the rocks by the wind we also espied a family of fur seals fishing in the kelp.  A trip to the island’s neck took us to even more Gentoos – with one of the colonies being sensibly being half-way up the steep slopes to get the most shelter out of the wind and weather but yet more hundreds of them progressing in & out of the sea.  Even more thrillingly we were also able to see a mother and young fur seal at very close quarters as they basked in the sun (it was shining at this point!).  Further on we thought we had come across another penguin colony but closer inspection revealed it to be 1,000s of Giant Southern Petrels (I guess the fact that there were so many birds in the air should have given the game away sooner!)  Seeing some of their fluffy and moulting chicks at fairly close quarters was a true treat as these are usually easily disturbed, as was sitting in the middle of the colony’s runway as the Petrels flew around our heads - not that the birds needed much effort to achieve lift to glide supremely easily around the area, given the rising South Westerly wind.  The wind, however, was the harbinger of a storm coming out of the south (which, of course, here means a pretty chilly place) hastening us back to the house just as the elements let loose.  Sixteen hours or more of very rough weather followed with the house seemingly wanting to take off as gusts of over 70 mph buffeted us all night - and this is probably significantly underestimating what was the worst weather for some considerable time according in to the locals!  What an occasion to choose to abandon oneself on a remote lump of rock!!  The scale of the storm was evident as we flew home on Friday, seeing the size of the waves attacking the exposed shores and, tellingly, a number of the offshore international fishing boats sheltering in the lee of Grand Jason. 

In all, a hugely thrilling and very privileged opportunity to stay privately in one of this region’s wildlife and scenic jewels. 

Escape to the West again. March 26- 30. Port Stephens, Roy Cove, Port Howard

Our holiday started a day late as we had been stranded on New island and had consequently arrived home too late to catch the Sunday ferry…so it was 6.30 Monday morning when new set off for the ferry to the West.
Usually, we manage the journey from MPC to the coast in an hour, but we had borrowed a truck from camp, and all hire cars have a 40 mile per hour limiter fitted for safety (bad roads, and too many fatalities in the past), so we very nearly missed our time slot – but the ferry waited and we were on our way.
First stop Port Stephens – the most southerly settlement – a beautiful spot, with a strange rock formation called Indian village. We walked around the peninsular to the gentoo colony, and arrived late in the afternoon. This is the time when penguins return to land after a day’s fishing, and rafts and rafts of birds were bouncing from the waves; leaping, tumbling, flippers a flap. The colony was on the neck of the peninsular, and the wind was howling through; the waves were crashing, spray flying, and the power of the water even seemed to challenge the penguins. Many were flattened, swept back out to sea, fell backwards; none seemed to bother – on the contrary, they seemed happy to go back for more.
We sat with Peter and Ann Robertson, whose cosy cottage we were renting, and heard stories of when the settlement had 10 times its current half dozen inhabitants. And of life before the roads were built; ferries would call every 6 weeks up until 5 years ago, and life was easier; now everyone is expected to use the road, and with a 7 hour drive to Stanley, with a 1-2 hour ferry trip on top, deliveries are not easy. Most people have left, and the Robertsons, father and son, continue to run the sheep farm. Shields from many naval ships line their walls – the old days of the 80s and 90s when there were more military out and about, and many islanders were generous in their hospitality. The generosity and warm welcome continues; in our cottage was left fresh milk (oh luxury – a break from the dreaded UHT!), new potatoes fresh from the ground, eggs form the run and tomatoes -the end of the season. Treasures indeed !
We headed off next morning, after a walk up to Great Hawksnest, where perhaps unsurprisingly, we climbed up to, and sat in the hawk’s nest. Huge great pile of sticks high up in the rock face -fortunately the hawks have fledged – otherwise we could have been in trouble!

We set off for our next location, but stopped at South Harbour to have a cup of tea (and chocolate cake yum) with Brian and Ceri Jamieson who have chosen to live here on a small holding with their pack of lurchers. Brian is a computer whizz and can work anywhere. Ceri is chickenmeister, and sent us on our way with 2 dozen eggs (for the promise of a black pudding in exchange when we next meet). Hoorah. We had a fabulous walk with them around their beaches with all our dogs galloping free. A red letter day for Archie and Finn who rarely have such an opportunity on a conservation island. They slept well that night.
Leaving late, we arrived at Roy cove, three hours’ drive away, at twilight, to find that Danny and Joy had been out looking for us along the road.. Islanders look after each other and are generous with time and thought – no AA here, and no local garage if you have broken down (and no mobile signal if there was one!).
Roy Cove is a stunning place – at Crooked Inlet in the north west of the West. The settlement is another which has shrunk form a thriving farm 30 years ago, to just the Donnellys now. They are surrounded by empty houses. But their farm appears to thrive – cattle and sheep, and a self catering cottage to rival many. Cosy and well appointed, the view from the living room heads straight down the inlet, where dolphins curve, and whales can be seen at this time of year.
Joy had left us potatoes and carrotts, and lettuce and spring onions from the greenhouse. A feast ! A wonderfully peaceful night, and in the morning, Danny took us to his fishing spot ; a fabulous, shelterd and pretty spot, with pools and curves which produced a fish for Phoebe instantly. We were not so lucky after that – but we had a fun few hours, and ate well that evening; a supper of delicious fresh trout.
A second peaceful night, and the next day Bill had to head back to work, so the heli picked him up from the cottage, and Phoebe and I and the dogs set off on the drive to Port Howard across the island. We spent a happy couple of hours travelling across the beautiful green rolling countryside of the West, stopping for a picnic lunch beside a winding stream, and arriving mid afternoon at Port Howard. We were staying at Critta’s self catering cottage , and only had to wander in the settlement for two minutes before we were spotted and looked after. Critta arrived soon after, surrounded by his working dogs. I think Phoebe counted 9. Just a little bit better trained than Archie and Finn..
Bill flew back to join us for the evening, and the next morning we had an hour or so spare for fishing before the ferry. We caught a couple (well Phoebe is actually the success story of this holiday) and trailed onto the ferry last again, to enjoy the most perfect crossing; no wind, blue skies, mirror-like water, dolphins alongside, whales spouting around us. A picnic on deck; a magical end to a few days’ escape.

New Island Friday 23rd March-Sunday 25th March

After arriving into the Falklands for Easter holidays in the rain at four in the morning on the plane, we set off at lunchtime on a helicopter to New Island on West Falkland. When we landed, we were followed to the house we were staying at by a group of Caracaras, a very inquisitive bird of prey. The house we were staying in overlooked a beautiful bay where you could see the dolphins playing in the evening, and for this reason, and because we don’t know the name of the bay, we have named the bay ‘Dolphin Inlet’.
When we had unpacked we walked to the Rookery where we saw lots of Rockhopper penguins in a sea of Black Browed Albatross. The adult Albatross had already left, but the young were still there and were testing their wings by sitting in their nests and flapping flapping flapping! After this we went for a walk around the island and found millions (!) of rabbits, and a small bay at the back of the settlement which harboured a wrecked ship which used to be an old minesweeper. At the back of the bay there was a stone house, which was called the ‘Barnard Building Museum’, named after a sea captain who was stranded on the island over 150 years ago.
The next day, Georgina and Jason (who live on the island) drove us up to the north end of the island. We stopped where the road got too muddy and we walked the rest of the way. We found a Gentoo colony on a beautiful beach surrounded by ‘Snowy Sheathbills’ (a white seabird- which is usually seen standing on one leg!). We then walked up the ridge above the beach and looked down on the sea. We watched the penguins jumping in the waves for a while, and then noticed some seals/sea lions (one looked like a sea lion, but the others looked like seals) in the water as well. We decided that they must have been fishing as the penguins were swimming very close to them, and neither seemed at all bothered. Then we walked back to the other side of the island, and had our picnic in the shelter of a small shed(or rather shared it with the Caracaras). The helicopter was meant to be fetching us soon, so we phoned Heliops to ask when they were coming. To our surprise, they told us that the weather in MPC was too bad to fly anywhere, so they would pick us up the following day. We were very confused because the weather where we were was sunny and bright! It also meant that we had an extra day on the island to explore!
That night, because we had to stay unexpectedly, Georgina and Jason asked us for tea at their house. We had mussels off the beach, and quiche which Georgina had made. She also had made some 'no-knead bread' which, as its name suggests, didn't need kneading (!) and had a bit of treacle in to make it a bit sweet. It was delicious. That evening, we also met their two kittens (Gingernut and Diesel) who were very sweet!
The next day, we wandered about the island, played games, and Mummy and I drew pictures of the wildlife.
In the afternoon, the helicopter came to collect us, and we flew back to MPC.
Overall, New Island is teeming with wildlife and when we were there, had amazingly good weather. We will be back!
By Phoebe x

Camp Sports

So this, we realise, is how the islanders found partners in years gone by; the annual knees up. Every year, a week long event - one on East Falkland (Goose Green this year), one on the West (Hill Cove), after sheep shearing has pretty much finished; an opportunity to meet, drink, chat, drink, compete at various skills/games..and drink. Hoorah!
Firstly we attended day one (keep safe) on the East. This is horse racing at Goose Green. Plenty of horses, and they looked good to me . My ability to tell one horse from another is based on its height, tack, and how pretty it is. Alarming then, that we were asked to judge 'best turned out horse'. We tried.
A good day of racing, but the betting was not as serious as Boxing Day at Stanley, and we did not replicate our Christmas wins. Frank was unimpressed.
Secondly, over to the West (Frank and I drove, Bill flew in (busy apparently....mm). We joined day one  - sheep shearing, and as HMS Clyde was moored off Hill Cove, the boys and girls came ashore and joined in. A fair amount of gore it has to be said, but Joe was a natural, and won the novices - pride for Clyde!
Day two was more quirky; peat cutting, followed by bike agility, truck pulling, and darts. All key Falkland skills.
Did you know that peat cutting is to a depth of around 1.5m? Hard work and very competitive. Even the ship's chaplain joined in today. Very muddy and slippy. Frank had a good go at bike agility (borrowed bike, up against men who have ridden over these moors all their lives. He did us proud). Truck pulling was fabulous; the girls team sseemed to involve men pushing the truck from behind, the stronger men's teams involved a lot of secret pulling... Two teams from Clyde, but there was one team of farmers who were clearly not going to be beaten. We went off to Clyde for dinner  (wearing candid camera immersion suits in the zodiac boats - thank you; not a fashion statement I wish to repeat) and found the crew practising hard for the evening's darts. They won 2nd and 3rd.
We stayed over on Clyde and escaped the next day, leaving the crew to do their best at the dog trials...
   

Ascension island - half term

Back to the UK and then collect Phoebe to come straight back to meet Bill at Ascension. Our idea was to watch turtles laying eggs and to maybe see baby turtles heading for the sea. Green turtles are HUGE - about 1m across. This is the time of year when the green turtles swim the 3000 miles from Brazil, which takes three weeks – and then haul up on the beaches, dig a huge burrow, and lay hundreds of shiny white ping pong size eggs. They then carry out an amazing camouflage operation, to try to head off the frigate birds which dig for food. 30 days later the turtles all hatch at once and dig their way out of the burrow in unison; they are not able to escape alone, and are all incredibly triggered by dropping temperatures at the end of the 30^th day, emerging at night, to take advantage of darkness to cover their run to the sea.
In fact, we did far more than watch turtles; we swam, snorkelled, went sea fishing (caught a tuna, a dorado and two amberjacks), did some mosaicing, walked up green mountain (planted by Kew in the 1920s to produce a dewpond to produce water for the dry island), and we sat in the sun. Ascension is around 28’ all year round, and the sun is strong. BBQ is the thing, fish is the food, and outisde is the place to live. A complete change and a wonderful break, although Bill ended up working most of the time, and we had a bizarre breakfast party at 5am when some generals arrived on the airbridge…
　

Feb 5th. Steeple Jason - Oh wow !

After the exercise on the base, Rob McGill had agreed to escort  a group of us - around 25 in total - to Steeple Jason for the day. This is a huge privilege - it is a two hour heli flight, and the helis stay with us for the day - it is too far to travel back. We were pleased that the pilots would actually get to visit their port of call, and it was good to have the opportunity to chat.
Steeple Jason is the furthest west of the westerly islands - fabulous rocks pointing in ridges skywards, and massive tussoc around its fringes. The american conservation association built a lodge a few years ago, primarily for scientists to use, and we flew over colonies of gentoos, and through swirls of giant peterls, soaring and fishing, and landed beside the lodge.The island is uninhabited; we were the only visitors.

From there, magellanics and gentoos could be seen; gentoos were climbing gingerly across the rocks, sliding and jumping into the sea, trying to time their leap with the rise of the waves. Usually seen walking slowly from beach to sea, leaping into the water looked at the very least unusual!!

Rob led us through the biggest tussoc we have yet encountered; the children disappeared completely, and we all found ourselves in underground grass tunnels at some point. When we reached the sea, the colony of albatross opened up in front of us; miles (about 3 miles long) of albatross, a nest every metre, one grey fluffy chick sitting atop each mud castle, parents parading around, fetching food, protecting. Albatross are the purest white, the softest feathered birds, serene and unafraid. Magical birds. Elegant and majestic when they soar above you; never seeming to take a wingbeat.
Their wings are however vast, and the process of taking off is perhaps not their finest hour. A bit Charlie Chaplin actually. Where we have seen albatross  before, they have chosen to nest on hillsides and cliffs; places which afford a little lift (I am no physics master, but once you have seen that wingspan, you appreciate the need for a little help). On Steeple Jason, the largest colony in the world (estimated at 170,000 breeding pairs), they have inexplicably chosen to live on a flat plain. To counter this, they have established 'runways' (a few gently sloping sites at the edges of the colony). For take off, they plod (slap slap slap go the big grey feet) up the hill, turn, and run like h**l. It is not elegant, majestic or serene, and as they don't have a queueing system, it often ends in emergency braking. It is fabulous and funny to watch. The babies sit happily, grey fluff with big black beaks, which knock in a drum beat at you if you walk too close. They are just starting to moult; they fledge by April - I wonder if we will see them before they go.

We could have spent days watching - we sat under the runway and took photos for quite a while. Further into the colony, rockhoppers were sharing the nesting site, and cormorants mixed in quite amicably.

How priviliged we feel. This is one of the special places in the world, and we had it to ourselves for the day.

Back to the lodge for lunch, penguin watching (the rockpools were bright pink - the colour of penguin pooh) and then home - a fabulous heli flight across beautiful lakes and mountains, moorland and coastline.We won't forget today.

Mummy's visit - Jan 15th - 31st

So the consultant gave Mummy the green card, and she was allowed to fly, despite the broken elbow and various other medical nightmares…
I dropped Phoebe at school, and Mummy and I set off for Brize Norton and a stressful few hours while we waited to see if she would be accepted as an indulgence passenger (lower priced seats available to the military provided there is space left on the flight..). I was escorting a number of visitors, so it was a busy evening – but by 11pm we were all ensconced on the plane, and the flight was smooth and straightforward.
We arrived at MPA with our visitors from the Military Families Federations, and by evening we were sitting in a supper party at our house. Mummy may have flown for around 20 hours, but did we allow her to go to bed early? No – we expected her to be jolly good company – and she was.
We had a pottering day, and then set off to explore Stanley with our visitors in tow. We did the normal tourist sites; cathedral, supermarket (ish), gift store, and then off to Gypsy cove; a stunning white beach, with turquoise water and massive tussock-topped sand dunes. This beach is 5 minutes from Stanley, but here is a chance to see magellanic penguins, with small fluffy babies lying in the sun outside their burrows. The night herons were still around their nests, although many had fledged, and on the beach (still a minefield)a lone king penguin stood; it had come up on the wrong beach but then started to moult, so had to stay for 2 weeks. The king penguins tend to hide a little when moulting – I think they are embarrassed.
After our day in Stanley, our next visit was to Volunteer Point. The last time I went to see the penguins, the king penguin chicks were huge and fluffy and brown, all huddled together at one end of the beach in a creche. Now there were penguins everywhere; magellanics, gentoos and kings. The babies had nearly all moulted and were preparing to swim. Even while the 13 month old king penguins babies were preparing to leave, new eggs had been laid and were visible under the feet of new mothers. We had a wonderful day; curious and confident penguins striding along the beach beside us, white sand, crashing waves, and colonies of gentoo penguins standing at the back of the beach, babies chasing their parents for food.
A wonderful day, and a good chat with Mickey the ranger, who had featured the previous week in the Sunday telegraph. Small world. We walked over to the helipad (well a corner of a field), and as the heli landed, it swung round and the down draft caught Mummy and flattened her. Oh heavens above. But she survived and we arrived home safely.
Another pottering day and then back to heliops to fly to Sea Lion island. Fabulous weather, and it was good to be back on such a beautiful island, to see Jenny again, and to stay at the Lodge, with its resident penguin colony just 100m from the door. We walked through the gentoo colony and all their chicks, and down to the beach. The Southern Giant Petrels were on nests, and soaring above our heads, watching and warning us by swooping and diving. We walked through the massive dunes and around huge tussock, and were able to see groups of petrels. Across to the opposite beach, and we saw elephant seals, young males, play-fighting, and groups of dolphin gulls with their young, pink legs and beaks against grey feathers. Later Bill and I set out across the island to find the Sea Lions and to visit the Rockhoppers . Jenny kindly drove Mummy to meet us, and we saw huge sea lions sitting with tiny new born cubs, bleating like lambs. Up to the Sheffield Memorial, and hundreds of curious, quirky rockhoppers, jumping, babies chasing parents, chicks moulting, yellow eyebrows waving in the wind.
An enjoyable evening with other guests, and early to bed – although I decided to set out for the elephant seal beach at around 9pm, and found myself wading through magellanic penguins who had all come out of their burrows to chat in the twilight. They were pretty indignant, and set about a huge braying (they are known as jackass penguins because they honk like donkeys, and they are LOUD!). I sat on the beach for far to long enjoying the calm and watching the seals, and had to stumble back in the dark.
The next day we wandered around and spent most of our time watching seals and shore birds; steamer ducks, kelp geese, two banded plovers, snowy sheathbills – and moorland birds; ground tyrants, cobbs wrens, grass wrens, and the ever – present caracara, upland goose, - and pond lovers; teals and pintails. We sat beside the huge gentoo colony and simply enjoyed their mad society; the eager anticipation of those waiting for the fishers to return, the joyful hoots when chick and parent are reunited, the angry pecking when the parent has had enough and wants to be left alone; the hysterical hide and seek and chasing which ensue.
One lone gentoo had a newly hatched chick; tiny against the rest of the colony. I hope it makes it through.
Back home, and a week of visits; off to Darwin for lunch and a look at their amazing vegetables and friendly sheep. Across to Goose Green to the fabled Galley café (sausage rolls and empanadas to keep the shearers going !). A stop at the Darwin cemetary; graveyards here are typically a mile or so away from the settlement, isolated and surrounded by white picket fences; they stand out against the moorland, bleak and yet usually neat and pretty. Darwin was the original settlement – Goose Green came later when they discovered that the water supply did not always survive the summer. This year, it has not rained in any quantity since October, and Ken from Darwin has been forced to collect water from Goose Green. We have been taking jerry cans when we go over for a day’s spinning or felting.
We dragged Mummy to various functions, including a couple at Government house in Stanley – for the Brazilian ambassador, and one for the administration of South Georgia. We made sure she worked for her supper! The Governor, Nigel Haywood, lives in Stanley, in the house that many of you will have seen in the newspapers during the Falklands war; Rex Hunt leaving in his London taxi was an iconic picture. It is a lovely house, and we are all very jealous of the orangery where flowers and real grapes grow. If only the MOD realised we need such comforts!!
The next weekend was back on a heli and off to Carcass island for Mummy and I while Bill was embroiled in an exercise. Carcass is an island to the west of West Falkland – an hour and a half flight, and landing in the moorland beside the house, which sits in a sheltered bay, below a ridge, allowing a micro climate not found anywhere else around; in the garden, palm trees grow, cedar trees and flowers. Rob McGill and his wife Lorraine have lived here for 30 years; they are the only inhabitants, and run a small lodge which can cater for 13. Perfect hosts, they rise at 4.30, cook, clean, chauffeur around the island, fetch and return to the heli site and the FIGAS airstrip (think flattish grass field) a couple of miles away, manage sheep and cattle, milk the cows (real milk!!), make butter and cream, butcher where needed…..we felt tired watching them, and yet they have time to sit, chat, listen, and tell good stories. In recent years, they have taken on some staff to help them – goodness knows how they did it all before..
Tony and Kim Chater were in the lodge. They are both amazingly creative, clever people, who have lived on a nearby island for years, and are now back in Stanley, ahead of a move to the US. Tony has produced beautiful books of photographs of the islands, and his paintings of the wildlife adorn nearly every house. It was a pleasure to have the opportunity to chat. Tony was shortly off to the UK for a hip operation (all major medical procedures require travel to UK; many have to live in the UK for months or years for treatment). Kim’s artwork and amazing felting are fabulous; beautiful felted/silk scarves in jewelled colours. They were accompanying two italian tourists to Steeple Jason, and the next day they set off for a 4 hour boat trip , with Mike Clarke from West Point as skipper. Steeple Jason is the most westerly of the islands, uninhabited, and home to the world'’ largest colony of black browed albatross. The island is owned by an american conservation association, and Rob is their agent. Landing on the island is only with special permission; we wondered whether this was something we might be able to do in future..
Lorraine kindly drove Mummy and I around the bay in the Landrover (there are no roads – it is slow progress over moorland, up and down hills to navigate streams, avoid rocks..) and dropped us off at Leopard beach which is across the water from the house. A promontory with beaches running down both sides – white sparkling sand and perfect blue skies. We sat and watched the magellanics and shore birds, and walked through the gentoo colony busy with babies. We meandered back through the tussoc grass, spotted some elephant seals and more penguins, and then took the couple of gentle miles back around the bay; warm winds, white horses on the sea – hot enough to sit and watch the sea every now and then on our way.
A huge supper around the refectory table with all the other guests, and a chance to chat. Tony, Kim and their two children, the italian couple, and the shearer and his son, a friend of the family, who has been over to shear the last few sheep. The next morning, Rob took us down to the FIGAS site and we set off for the day with a picnic. We found the skeleton of a huge whale which had washed up a few years earlier; 56feet long, white bleached vertebrae against the sky. We walked through a huge colony of kelp gulls – all sitting with nests of chicks, along the edge of the beach. The noise as they raised the alarm, and spiralled up in to the sky above us, was fantastic. Once we left the gulls behind, we started to see elephant seals; piles and piles of young bull elephant seals, sleeping in the dunes, and practising fighting in the sea; two arched crescents growling and crashing about -great performances while we ate our lunch. We walked miles, and turned back finally to meet up again with Rob, and then back to the house and to the heli.
A few more days of visits – Darwin again, Stanley, Bertha’s beach – and then time for Mummy to go – back on the long flight, hopefully with lots of happy memories.

New Year in a shepherd's hut

So we arranged to catch a ferry and drive to the west...a 2-3 hour drive to Newhaven to the harbour. A glorious morning, and made more delightful because we had time to chat with the resident gentoo colony at the ferry port.
The ferry was full (6 cars); many had travelled to Stanley for the races on Boxing Day, and were returning home, horses in tow. The Pecks from Shallow Bay  -a beautiful and remote farm 3 hours drive into the West - were off home, with the horses and the pet lambs, which had come along for the ride (last year they brought the new born kittens too - couldn't leave them by themselves for a week..)
The crossing is around 1 1/2 hours, and as we entered the last 2 miles up into Port Howard, the dolphins joined us - maybe 20 or so of them - and leaped and dodged around us, offering flashes of black and white, and tempting us to click again and again - thank goodness for digital cameras!
Port Howard is a picturesque harbour; protected and sitting creased into the hillside, green and white walls and roofs all around. We headed straight out and stopped after 30 minutes to picnic beside an idyllic stream. Archie enjoyed paddling, and we watched the fish jump. On for an hour until we reached Top Dip Shanty - a shpeherd's hut with no running water and no electricity, managed by Lesley and Jim Woodward, who live a couple of miles up river. We drove to meet Lesley on her immaculate farm. She hails from the UK and was managing alone - Jim had been med-evac-ed back to UK with heart problems. Thankfully he was declared OK, and Lesley was looking forward to having him home - not a quick journey; wait for the next airbridge, stay in Stanley, drive back (Lesley goes to meet him - a 3 hour drive to the ferry, and 3 more hours on the other side), and wait for the next ferry crossing (they are certainly not every day, and sometimes not every week).
Top Dip was fabulous; a one room  cabin set in the middle of nowhere on the banks of the river. A peat stove, a big container of water, a supply of home made cake, a double bed , bunk beds, a sofa and a big family table. The most amazing sunset though the window across the river, and an evening giggling and trying to do a jigsaw (thank you Sara) in candle light. In the morning Bill and I washed outside in the stream - (bracing), and Phoebe was given the pot of warm water from the stove (D of E soon - it will change..) . We spen the day wandering and fishing - lovely lovely. Picnics on the riverbank, and fresh air.
New Year's Eve , and we saw no fireworks, no lights, just peace and stunning scenery. Phoebe and I galloped about, and Bill went to sleep !
New Year's Day, and we drove over to Hill Cove - through a valley called Hell's kitchen, which is, I imagine, pretty treacherous in Winter, but was a stunning cleft through the rocks in Summer -and which opens up in spectacular fashion onto a coastal vista with the settlement of Hill Cove, greenfields and the famous 'forest' - a small copse planted 60+ years ago by an incomer, and now a tourist site for islanders, and popular for wedding photos.
Beyond Hill Cove and past Shallow Bay Farm, on and out into pretty countryside where we picnicked, and then towards Main Point Farm, where the road ends. We met Ian Hansen,  new MLA, and owner of Main Point, on the road. He will have to spend weeks in Stanley regularly now, to tend to MLA business, and he will have to juggle his farm work. MLAs receive no pay for their work - expenses only - whether this state of affairs can continue will have to be seen. Matthew, Ian's son, is 12 and boards in Stanley, so at least they have more opportunity to meet up.
After travelling around the west, we headed back to Port Howard and stayed at the lodge with Sue and Wayne. The lodge was full - tourists from off island, and the whole McKee family - parents over from Scotland too. Richard works in Stanley, running the South Georgia administration, and Miranda is from an old Falklands family. They had had some good fishing, and we were enthused and headed out to try our hand. A few small ones, but we had fun before we caught the ferry back.
The West is a different place - more remote, more mountainous, quite spectacular; we will be back.   

The Ram and Fleece Show - expert judges....

Shearing starts in October and carries through to February, sweeping across the island, with teams of shearers, rousers (sort the fleeces) and pressers (operate the machine which squishes the wool into bales), working from farm to farm, careering across the country in landrovers. The main team is 6 shearers, and they shear around 200 sheep each every day; piece work forces a focussed day, and the uniform of moccasins is as it has always been. The only change these days is the use by many of harnesses which support the shearers' backs and allow their working life to last a little longer...
The wool in the Falklands is fine - between 18 and 25 micron for the best quality; this is wool which can be worn next to the skin, and commands a premium price. (British military uniforms are 10% falkland wool.. )British wool tends to run beteween 30-50 micron; a substantial difference.The wool is shipped back on the FIRS vessel to Bradford for processing (!). It is critical that it is dry when baled - travelling through the heat of Ascension on the ship, damp wool can self combust and is classified as dangerous cargo.
All this may sound as if we are fleece experts....sadly not... we arived at the Ram and Fleece show, to be face with a line of hefty and handsome rams (ranging from 40 to 100kg), and tables of fleeces waiting to be judged. We were all invite to contribute out vote. Alongside the lifelong falkland farmers, we felt a little unworthy, but we at least gathered we were looking at the degree of crimp and fineness, the colour/luminescence of the wool, and the length of the fleece. We were amazed at the generosity of the Falkland farmers , both in sharing their knowledge, and in tolerating our utter ignorance. A fascinating day, a fabulous bbq, and the chance to drop into Ben Cockwell's studio - he lives in Fox Bay - and see some of his stunning pastels. 
We flew home across the water by heli, ansd determined to drive back to west Falkland, to experience it properly.

Sea Lion island (again)

The Governor was being visited by his family with him for Christmas, so we all decided to escape to Sea Lion island. An early heli, and a beautiful day- we headed off up island to see the sea lions, passing the gentoos on the way briefly, and popping down to the beach next to the lodge to see the young bull elephant seals who are lazing around doing nothing and growling grumpily at each other. They are practising fighting ahead of when they have to establsih their female groups in the coming years. The growling comes from somewhere deep within, and sounds like a low hubble bubble pipe-quite surreal, and fairly intimidating. Quite a hike to the Sea Lions - huge bulls with massive thick maned necks, and tiny new born pups, the size of lambs, and with a similar bleating call. Through the tussock as tall as us, catching sight of families of steamer ducks and kelp geese with lines of babies, and then across the moorland and up to the cliff tops where the Sheffield Memorial stands with a stunning back drop of crashing waves and dramatic rocks. The Memorial is a mixture of formal stone and metal, and personal and private; photos, letters and boxes left by family and friends. Behind it a busy community of rockhoppers hop and scurry, babies learning to hop, up and down up and down. Back to the lodge for a sandwich lunch and then time to sit beside the gentoos and watch the fluffy babies chase their parents to distraction. How cross do those parents become.... they refuse to feed after a while and simply run away, to the desperation of the chicks - fabulously comical to watch.
Sea Lion island is a magical place - at every turn, another group of animals going about their business, utterly oblivious of our interest. We are so clearly not needed, wanted or noticed - exactly as it should be.

Christmas Day

No snow, and rather an odd day. Bill disappeared to see soldiers in the morning, and we rendez-vous-ed in the chapel, after which Phoebe and I went to the street champagne drinking party, and Bill went to serve lunch to hundreds of soldiers. We finally sat down to lunch oursleves sometime in the afternoon, and then headed for the beach - fresh air and falkland wind to wake us up....

Race Point Farm - Dec 22nd

Well we stayed at home for a couple of minutes and then set off again to show Phoebe another part of the island - Race Point Farm up past San Carlos Water ( - names from the conflict - San Carlos Water was where many of the ships came in, and Ajax Bay was the big field hospital), along from Wreck Point, and around 2-3 hours drive from home. It is dry - actually we have had no rain for weeks - so the clay roads are driveable, and the scenery spectacular. Up high over the hills above San Carlos Water, with fabulous views of sea and coastline.  A picnic almost out of the car on top of Sussex mountain (is that right Bill?) in STRONG wind. Phoebe refusing to get out, and the dogs sheltering in the boot.

We arrived at John and Michelle's in the afternoon in time to take a walk in the sunshine down to the beach, and to explore the piles of ammunition boxes left from the conflict. We have our eye on them - me for growing beans in, and Phoebe for the coolest tuck box..

Recycling has not yet hit the islands. there is some discussion at present about whether waste should be returned on the Supply vessel for recycling in the UK, but there is no movement yet. In the meantime, every farm has a bay which is full of the remnants of the 'abbattoir' - sheep bones and teeth aplenty mixed in with the pebbles; and a bay or a hole which is generally full of old fencing and bits of tractor. Not much is wasted here, and little food arrives on the farm in packaging, so rubish is minimal, but as the problem grows, so the solution will have to come..

I felt lousy later, so went to sleep, while Phoebe and Bill went fishing for the evening. Success! Phoebe's fish was duly eaten for tea, and we snuggled up to watch the next session of Lord of the rings which has been the film of this Christmas..

Phoebe and Talia, 6 year old daughter at the farm, headed off on the quadbike to see Pepper the new black pig - I saw Phoebe disappear over the distant hill, hair streaming behind her.

Back to MPH and preparations for Christmas...