Third time lucky
Having sailed past this outpost of British culture twice before, unable to land for one reason or another, it came as a relief to see the calm weather and to hear the Captain speak about our call to the Falklands without any doubt whatsoever.
We were scheduled to arrived early morning so I lost no time in opening the curtains. Sure enough, there was the bleak, desolate landscape I had been expecting. Not a building in sight.
We were to anchor in a small bay on the north eastern side of West Falkland and would be taken to Port Stanley by tender.
We’d been advised that it would be quite a long tender journey; about thirty five minutes we think.
Arriving in Stanley, although the outlook was grey and damp, the welcome couldn’t have been sunnier or more good natured. We heard 100% English accents spoken here even though most of the people were born and bred Falklanders.
We met Ali, our bubbly guide and driver with a wicked sense of humour. As we began our tour, she told us of life here, of how people fly to the UK for education and healthcare if necessary and how, having completed their degree and gathered some experience, most graduates return. If there was a vacancy for Falklands Ambassador, Ali was the ideal candidate.
At first, we drove through the town - no, city - for Stanley had been awarded city status in the Queen’s Jubilee. It’s a favourite Trivia question when asked to list British cities - no-one ever thinks of Stanley!
The Victory pub was there on our right (of course, we were driving on the correct side of the road!) and one or two of our shipboard chums had made their way there later, finding a lively bunch of British military there and a few locals.
I was struck by how incredibly like home it felt - and yet, it was different. Homes were built of wood, frequently brought out from the UK in kit form and built on site. Ali explained that there are quite a number of contract workers here, from all parts of the world (the population is very diverse) and the companies employing them are eager to snap up properties for them. This makes it increasingly tough for the local youngsters, returning from study in the UK perhaps, to buy their own place, for of course, after several years away from home, they would be loathe to return chez Mum and Dad.
Though this is clearly (ha!) a really terrible photo, in many ways it sums up the outlook we had on our journey to Bluff Cove. Initially we drove along a tarmac road, across some moorland and the drizzly mist blurred the view.
But when we reached the Cove (having endured fifteen minutes or so on a gravel track (“Great for kidney stones” said Ali) the weather was clearing and no sooner had the minibus stopped, than we were amongst the penguins.
Oh my word!
There were so many of them! The largest group were Gentoos and stuck together in a large tribe but this little bunch of King Penguins were strutting their stuff.
We had been told to remain beyond the line of white flags, which we did, but those Kings were just going to walk…hop…where they liked!
The Gentoos remained pretty static, some with recently hatched chicks (the fluffy ones) and they were making quite a noise.
Perhaps that’s why these fellows were searching for some peace and quiet? Or maybe more attention?
The Gentoos appeared to have a large and fairly flat area without any of the grassy tussocks that were everywhere else. Oh, and wherever we walked, there was poo Sheep poo, penguin poo and who knows what else! We had walked through a bio-security foot wash on getting off the bus, so our shoes started off quite clean - they didn’t stay that way for long!!
Actually, I felt I needed to take care walking, for it would be so easy to trip and fall on these tussocks. I was reminded of news reports during the Falklands War, which frequently referred to soldiers “yomping” miles over this uneven land. That must have been incredibly difficult, even in purpose made boots.
Here and there, we spotted a loner. I thought this penguin looked like a jelly which had just been released from its mould!
And all the time, just off to the side, were small groups of predatory birds, just waiting for a victim on which to swoop. The local Ranger said that he thought that most of the chicks were big enough now to not be at risk, but clearly the birds remained hopeful.
The whole time we were there, a goose stood on one leg on a small hill overlooking the sea, Asleep? I have no idea!
A group of “teenagers” (according to the Ranger) were having a little scrap, pecking each other and doing a bit of wing slapping.
One was moulting but what amused me most of all was the way they stretched their necks up an extraordinary amount, sometimes to have a bit of a scratch, but maybe just to exert their authority?
Meanwhile, one lone Gentoo stood out there in the shallow water for a while. Were they planning to go off in search of food? Or just there for the fun of it!?
As we walked toward the cafe, where hot drinks and home made cakes awaited us, we went closer to the beach, where more groups of Magellanic and Gentoo Penguins seemed to be considering a dip. And just there, close by, were the birds…
I was hoping to see one of them launch themselves into the water, but this group of Magellanic penguins were not making much of a move yet and we were getting cold.
Bluff Cove is a beautiful, desolate place, reminiscent of some of the Scottish Isles and yet, completely different.
Eventually we found our way to the Sea Cabbage Cafe, named after the plant which grows in abundance here.
A local guide explained that, if the leaves are boiled and peeled, the end result is a bit like cabbage. She then pulled a face which suggested that she didn’t recommend it at all! But with fresh fruit and veg being the most expensive import here, I guess needs must on occasion.
Right here by the cafe was where we’d agreed to meet Ali too, for our return journey.
Stepping inside, we were right back in an English village hall! The Rayburn was chucking out heat and the ladies in the kitchen were ready for action!
They reminded me so much of my WI (Womens Institute) friends back home, for we put on our aprons and serve teas just like this quite frequently. As we sat enjoying our hot drinks and home made pastries (scones with cream and locally made diddledee jam came highly recommended) we were amused by all the British references here and there - the Union Jack Bunting, the TeaPigs teabags, the chalkboard with “Welcome Splendour Guests” (with the English spelling rather than the always irritating Splendor), Molton Brown handwash to name but a few.
The walls were adorned with textile art; large pieces of felt and free form crochet.
And though this piece would dertainly give me the creeps because of my bird “thing”, I could admire the creativity and skilful techniques.
There was a large felted piece hanging over the archway and in fact, virtually every wall had on it something curious, something I wanted to take a closer look at.
Hermetically sealed by some super strong glass doors, this was a comfy place to look at the birds of the beach, one of whom had a bright red chest. Would it turn to allow a photo of it? No.
From here, we had options, for there was a small gift store, beautifully stocked with many hand made pieces and local souvenirs and just next door, a small museum to browse around.
I was finding other curiosities such as these small rosettes growing in amongst the tussocks.
And of course, I was still hoping that bird would turn around.
Two hours here had been great. In the meantime Ali had been back to Stanley to bring the next group and now she was here to take us back, This is a really well run enterprise - great organisation, terrific experience and accessible too. For those who didn’t feel able to walk among the penguins, the Sea Cabbage was a fine place to sit and view from afar.
On the way home, Ali continued her stories and commentary, offering suggestions for places we might like to visit this afternoon.
As we passed by Jubilee Terrace, she explained that those houses had been brought out from England brick by brick and reassembled here to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Jubilee.
I was thankful to get the flag shot as well, cheating a little because this one was pinned to the wall.
Some other local residents had settled themselves on the jetty, maybe hoping for a ride? No chance! The seamen operating the tenders were well used to the tricks of such rascals!
