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