Chapter Eight - There & Back Again - November 2007
It wasn't easy saying good bye this year but the day arrived & I headed for Heathrow to pick up the connection to Madrid, well I thought, at least it'll be an easier journey this year, yeah like fuck it was, things went OK as far as the Falkland Islands other than being knackard, the flight from Madrid to Santiago is about fourteen hours, by the time you get step out of the cabin, economy class, the air is definitely a bit stale & fragrant to say the least. Four or five hours later we got the connection to Punta Arenas via Puerto Montt, this flight only lasts about four hours but it seems like forever, nice mountain views however.
At Punta we thankfully got the chance to put our feet up for the night in the newest/biggest hotel down by the coast, I won't say beach as this really doesn't count, its mainly shingle decorated with rubbish, syringes & dog poo. After a hot shower & a decent meal there was just time for a quick wander around town before curling up in bed to watch the Simpon's on cable, unfortunately however I don't speak Spanish, but hey, the Simpson's ain't that deep.
Next morning, bright & early, we waved good bye to the Hotel Diego de Almagro & set off to pick up the Lan Chile connection to the Falklands, everything went pretty smoothly & despite some crap weather & a very bouncy landing at Mount Pleasant we arrived in Stanley & settled in at The Goose for the evening expecting to fly first thing the next morning - yeah, right.
Things didn't quite work out as expected next morning, we got to Stanley airfield, packed our kit on the Dash & settled in whilst Geoff went through the pre flight checks, thirty minutes later we were back in the van heading back to The Goose whilst Geoff phoned Rothera to tell them the Dash was broken, the good news was that the airmech could fix it, the bad news was the spare was at Rothera.
So
knowing we had the afternoon to kill a couple of us decided to walk over to
Gypsy Cove, a round trip of some nine miles, passing over the Gurkha built boxer
bridge which separates Stanley Harbour from the Canache. On route you pass over
the a number of wrecks the biggest & impressive of which Lady Elizabeth,
this barque was built in Sunderland in 1869 & arrived in the Falklands under
a Norwegian Flag 1913 carrying lumber out of Vancouver destined for Delagoa,
unfortunately she struck the Uranie rock near Berkeley Sound & limped into
Stanley however the damage so was so extensive she was condemned as an insurance
write-off after which she was moored in Stanley Harbour as a floating warehouse
until she broke her moorings in a storm in 1931 and drifted ashore to her present
striking location in Whale Bone Cove.
Following the tracks you pass by Yorke Bay & then eventually reach Gypsy
Cove where there a small colony of Magellanic or Jackass penguins, your restricted
to a track that's been laid over the bluff but as with the Magellanic colony
visited in Chile they burrow over a pretty wide area in the peaty soil beneath
the Tussac & Cinnamon grass so there's plenty of viewing available, unfortunately
we were to early to see any chicks as we'd arrived in the egg laying season.
Apart from the penguins there are plenty of Turkey Vultures, Oyster Catchers,
flightless Steamer & Crested ducks as well as Kelp, Upland & the threatened
Brent Goose & if you're lucky, I was, a Red backed Hawk.
The
beach, Yorke Bay, as well in Gypsy Cove itself is inaccessible other than a
cordoned off track, supposedly as there might be the odd washed up ordinance,
but this would equally go for pretty much any other beach or cove in the Falklands,
i.e. just like the next inlet along, Surf Bay, to which access is unrestricted,
personally I think its just to protect the penguin's burrows, pretty sensible
really so why they just don't say that baffles me. Turning back I was surprised
to see a large hare loping across the sands, like rabbits they're not native
to the Falklands but were introduced from Blighty, however I didn't think the
hare had been introduced but without doubt they have. Heading back the breeze
picked up considerably & it was a pretty crappy trek, particularly as we
stupidly refused a lift of a lad I knew who passed us in his Landie half way
back to the Goose for tea.
We spent most of the next day, bored, bored, bored, hanging around the Goose waiting for confirmation that the spare bit was on route from Rothera, finally news came, mad dash, grab bags, chuck in van & head for the airfield, airborne, hurrah, half way to Rothera, head winds, turn around, booooo, Stanley airfield shut, oops, head for Chile. So, several hours later we find ourselves marooned in a near deserted airport, Ibanez, waiting for customs to turn up as they'd all gone home to bed, finally, about 11.30pm local time, we found ourselves back in the Diego de Almagro then off into town in search of food & Pisco Sour, every country has its national tipple, Greece has Ouzo & Retsina, Brazil has Caipirinha, Chile has Pisco Sour, two ounces of Pisco, one ounce of lime juice, with a dash of angostura bitters. Pisco itself is a brandy distilled from the white Muscat grape, there's a long standing battle between Peru and Chile as to who invented the drink & whose national drink it is, Peru claim they had it first & gave it to Chile, Chile says bollocks or words to that effect, I personally don't care, just give me more please.
Next morning, after a hearty breakfast, we headed back to Ibanez Airport & then spent a totally infuriating day sat in the international departure lounge whilst some petty minded arsehole in Santiago debated whether if we stopped at Presidente Eduardo Frei Montalva, aka Marsh, on King George Island, it constituted a supposed prearranged flight, which is excluded from the bloody stupid agreement between our respective countries, or whether it was an emergency stop over for fuel as in the headwind over the water we wouldn't make the hop to Rothera in one go, by the time the plonkers had debated matters we'd sat their all bleeding day & it was to bloody late to fly, on the bright side, well, actually, there wasn't a bright side, apart from as customs had assumed we'd flown we were now illegal immigrants.
Next morning, sound familiar, we headed back over to Ibanez, boarded the D7 & . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .flew into the wild blue yonder.