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 30th 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…
Thursday, 15 March 2012
Sunday, 4 March 2012
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.
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.
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.
Friday, 10 February 2012
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 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.
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.
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....
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