"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield", on South Georgia

[An intermittent insight into island life. The Falkland Islands are remote and windswept, and home to about 3,000 people, including me and my wife. About 800 miles south-east is South Georgia Island - covered in glaciers, temporary home to a few British Antarctic Survey scientists, and millions of penguins. However, there is no shortage of people who want to go there......]

In the last couple of  weeks, I have been lucky enough to meet two parties of explorers whose lifetime ambitions included walking or skiing across South Georgia. Their exploits deserve telling....

Starbuck Peak, (4705 feet, 1435m) (Photo courtesy of Simon Richardson).

The Climbers........

Crossing South Georgia would be an amazing feat at the best of times, but some climbers also wanted to climb some unclimbed peaks along the way! Now, there are good reasons why some of those peaks are unclimbed! They are too difficult!  However, there was a spell of remarkably good weather which allowed a small British group to climb the stunning Starbuck Peak for the first time! When they first saw its vertical slopes, their thoughts were that it was "probably impossible".

Pelagic Australis, sister yacht to Pelagic

About a month ago, 3 British mountaineers sailed to South Georgia on the Pelagic Australis with two guides - Stephen Venables and Crag Jones - and owner of Pelagic Expeditions, Skip Novak. Both Skip and Stephen have explored South Georgia many times in the past.

Yours truly on South Georgia

 This photo shows South Georgia at the end of summer. At this time of year, October - early Spring, it is covered in snow and ice, despite being the same distance from the Equator as the Isle of Man - 54 degrees south! The reason for this is the very cold ocean waters surrounding it. The climbing party spent 5 days in their tents on arrival, waiting for a blizzard to blow itself out.

But the blizzard had the beneficial effect of giving a good base of snow for their ski-touring and climbing. They then had sunshine for 12 days, and climbed 5 peaks, including the highest unclimbed peak on the island, Mt Baume (6,272 feet, 1,910m). Some of the mountains are so rarely visited that they have yet to be named!

Skip and co. in Stanley.

I met the party - Skip Novak, Henry Chaplin, Simon Richardson and David Lund, (Stephen Venables, Crag Jones were still in South Georgia with the Crean Team. See below) - when they arrived back in Stanley. Another party I met this month had very different fortunes.....

Whaling harpoon, Stanley

Team Tom Crean Centenary Traverse.........

100 years ago, one of the most miraculous journeys in history was completed by Ernest Shackleton, Frank Worsley and Tom Crean, when they walked into the whaling station of Stromness on South Georgia. Having been shipwrecked for 18 months on Antarctic ice floes, they then managed to sail a small boat 1200 miles to South Georgia. Sadly, they landed at the uninhabited south coast of South Georgia. With barely any equipment or food, they set off to cross the unmapped interior of South Georgia to find help. They walked for 36 hours solid.....

Shackleton's grave, South Georgia

When they reached the whaling station, they asked to see the manager, who had wined and dined them before they had headed south 18 months previously.
Shackleton - "Don't you know me?"
Manager - "I know your voice".
Shackleton - "My name is Shackleton".
Manager - "Come in, come in".

Looking down to Stromness, South Georgia.

And so, 100 years on, the grand-daughter of Tom Crean, Aileen Crean O'Brien, decided to retrace Tom's route across the island, to commemorate the centenary of the epic crossing.

The group was guided by the two guides who were already on the island, Stephen Venables and Crag Jones, and comprised Aileen's partner Bill Sheppard and her two sons, Cian and Morgan D'Arcy. I met them as they passed through Stanley, where they joined the yacht, Pelagic, skippered by Alex and Giselle.

Aileen and Bill, with Shackleton South Georgia tea towel, on the Pelagic

 I knew they had virtually no time in Stanley, so I presented them with a tea towel with a map of "Shackleton's" route across South Georgia, which they were about to retrace. (Maybe it would come in handy if they got separated from their guides?).

Team Tom Crean on the Pelagic, Stanley

The next morning, Pelagic  sailed out of Stanley harbour through the Narrows. It was almost flat calm, and, through binoculars,  I could see the skipper rolling a cigarette. It was probably his last relaxed moment of the trip.

Pelagic sailing out of Stanley Harbour

 After five days at sea, they reached South Georgia, and prepared for their trek. They had been in training in Kerry, Ireland for more than a year, dragging car tyres round the back roads near their home in Kenmare.

Pelagic, through the Narrows.

I would strongly urge you to read the story of Shackleton, Crean and Worsley. Aileen's version got off to a good start, climbing up onto glaciers in the first day of four.  Near the end of day two, and they were abseiling, one at a time, down onto the Crean glacier. There was still a slope to negotiate and Aileen followed those ahead of her. Unfortunately, things went awry and she ended up with a bloody face and a smashed leg.  Her grandfather had done something similar at the same spot and walked away with nothing worse than ripped trousers.

Crean Lake, where Tom Crean fell through the ice!

For the next two days, Aileen was dragged on a modified sled by Stephen and Crag. Very gingerly, they descended down to Fortuna Bay, where the Pelagic  was waiting. Aileen somehow got into the zodiac, and was then winched aboard, and lowered through a hatch to a bunk.  The next day, the yacht arrived at Grytviken, an abandoned whaling station, and now home to a couple of dozen British scientists. Luckily, a doctor put her leg in a splint. But she still faced an extremely uncomfortable week, sailing across the South Atlantic to Stanley...

HMS Clyde

However, HMS Clyde, the Royal Navy's patrol vessel in the South Atlantic, fortuitously appeared over the horizon at just the right moment, and offered to return Aileen to the Falklands at full speed. So, she exchanged a cramped bunk for a small cabin, and parted from her partner and sons. They still had 5 miles of hiking to complete the South Georgia traverse, and so set off for Stromness.

Near Shackleton's Falls, Stromness whaling station on the coast.

After 18 months of isolation, Shackleton, Crean and Worsley arrived at this spot. It was dark, but realising it was a few minutes to 7am, the men paused and listened. Sure enough, at 7am, they heard the sound of the factory whistle summoning the whalers to work. Apart from their own, it was the first man-made sound the explorers had heard in 18 months. Team Tom Crean finished their traverse without further incident.

Pelagic Australis, with Hans Hansson in the background.

However, they now had to follow Aileen back to Falklands through stormy waters....... Once back in the Falklands, Aileen had been ferried to the hospital in Stanley by helicopter. There, her leg was set in plaster to immobilise it. But repairing the knee needed specialist attention. It was decided to evacuate her to Santiago in Chile.

HMS Clyde in Stanley Harbour

While Aileen was awaiting her flight to Chile, I mentioned to our local librarian, Coleen, whom I knew to have a special interest in South Georgia, having spent some of her childhood there,  that Aileen was in the hospital. "Oh, my grandmother told me that Tom Crean was the hungriest man she'd ever met!"  It turned out that Coleen had heard of Tom Crean from her grandparents who ran the First and Last Hotel in Stanley.  When the Endurance explorers had arrived back in the Falklands, Sir Ernest Shackleton had been put up at Government House as the guest of the Governor, but the men had made do in an hotel.  And they made up for 18 months of deprivation, while they waited for help to rescue their colleagues on Elephant Island!

It would take four attempts to eventually save them. A Chilean Pilot, Pardo, is still celebrated in his home port of Punta Arenas for achieving what the Royal or Merchant Navy could not do - pluck 28 men from Elephant Island.
..............................................................
Just before she flew off, Aileen's cast was split open for the flight, as bodies sometimes expand with the changing air pressure.... She didn't much like the cast anyway, as she is a proud Kerry woman, and the doctor had written "Up Wexford" on it!

Aileen with the "Up Wexford" cast, cut open for the flight.

I've been delaying posting this until I had heard where the rest of Team Tom Crean were. Today, as I drove to work, I saw the Pelagic moored at the public jetty.  Having seen some movement onboard, I guessed I could re-introduce myself. Everyone was OK, although most were slightly shaky on their legs after 9 very rough days at sea. They had the look of men who had been through the wringer, and then put back through again.

It wasn't a time for chatting or reflection. I passed on news of Aileen, and gave then souvenir copies of Penguin News which had articles about them. Then I wished them well on their homeward leg. In the afternoon, I bumped into Bill looking for the library and Coleen, but I was giving a driving lesson, so couldn't stop!

According to historians, the Heroic Age of Antarctica was about 100 years ago. However, I feel that some of the recent exploits are nothing short of heroic.

I once worked with a remarkable man, and one of his favourite works was "Ulysses", by Tennyson.

"One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." 

It just came to mind. 

To Team Tom Crean - it was a pleasure to meet you. I think Tom would have been proud of you. Go well. Stay well. 

Peter

Not Little Britain - more the United Nations

[This is an occasional glimpse into the lives of a couple of British expats living in Stanley in the Falkland Islands, South Atlantic.  This week, to celebrate the fact that there are dozens of different cultures and nationalities living here, people came to together to enjoy the differences.....and food!]

To reflect the growing diversity of the Falkland Islands, a weekend of events was organised by volunteers. Of course, what do many people miss when they move to somewhere new, apart from friends? Yes, food.

Meat deliveries, pre-supermarket 

So, although there were national dances, costumes and customs, food seemed to be the dominant theme. These old photos of Falklands' life (shown at the Historic Dockyard Museum) show how people coped before fridges, freezers and regular food supplies from abroad.

Collecting penguin eggs to survive the winter

A big event was held on Saturday, with about 12 different nationalities offering some tasty treats from their homelands. Being Scottish, I would loved to have cooked a haggis, but the supermarket had run out!

His Excellency the Governor and his wife sampling Peruvian food.

The Falklands stand had quite a variety of home-cooked food - goose pate; mutton chops, delicious smoked trout, and so on.

Falklands Fayre - Upland goose pate, smoked trout, mutton chops,potted meat.......

But the more exotic stands were attracting the crowds. Firstly, I needed to get some filling and delicious Irish Stew inside me!

The minimalist Irish stand - Hurley sticks, Guinness, soda bread and Irish Stew.  What more do you need?

The Australian and New Zealand stand had some interesting additions to my culinary education. The baked bean sandwiches seemed popular with our student population, and such a simple recipe....

ANZAC biccies

There was a Phillipines stall, reflecting the large number of Filipino people that have made the Falklands their home.

The cheerful Zimbabwean ladies.

The Zimbabwean food was appreciated by most, although the smoked caterpillar was an acquired taste.  I had three, and didn't acquire the taste at all. Many Zimbabweans are in the Falklands to clear the thousands of mines left behind by Argentine troops after the war of 1982.  Their efforts are greatly appreciated by Islanders, and their presence adds much to local life.  

Man vs Caterpillar

There was also food from Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Nepal.  Feeling a bit bloated, I was happy to hear that the national dancing would be starting soon.  First up was Chile - I forgot to mention the excellent empanadas etc on the Chile stall!

Caramba!

Those Chilenos could dance! They were followed by Gurkhas, Filipinos, Falkland Islanders and more. But my camera batteries had run out........   :-(

An old Filipino recipe....

The next day, at the Racecourse, camera batteries fully charged, we ventured out to try more cultural experiences.....and food!!

Chilean asado. 

The choice of food may not have impressed a vegetarian, but for carnivores, the slow-roasting lamb and pig were a delight.  Especially as the Chilean and Filipino community had added their special preparations for these meals.

The Dog trials get underway... "Guilty!"

While waiting for the meat to cook (gas mark 2 for 6 hours.....), we were entertained by more "culture" - in the shape of sheep dog trials, sheep shearing, and numerous races and competitions.... It was just a very relaxing and chilled way to meet up with friends and enjoy the sights and smells wafting across the racecourse.

Another happy sheep shorn.....

Probably the best chicken I've tasted......over an hour on the grill and still succulent.

Not fast food.......but worth the wait.

By about 2pm, queues were beginning to form near the BBQs. The smells were making most people salivate.

To keep them occupied, the organisers (all volunteers), laid on a tug-of-war between the boys and girls. The contest was very close until someone said "Heave", and the girls went backwards at a rate of knots.

Girls vs Boys tug-of-war. Girls won.....

The boys asked for a rematch, and were even more quickly routed. Next up was a batch of sheep who were only too happy to get rid of their winter fleeces.

Sheep looking happy to lose the woolly layer.......

The skill involved was breathtaking, and watching the shearer was hypnotic. I stood beside one lovely lady, who said, "I can't believe I'm still fascinated by this - I must have seen 30,000 sheep being sheared!"

Start of the mile race.

All too soon, we had to say our farewells. The energetic were still racing each other to the end of the racecourse and back, but we had a literally fruitless journey to the fruit and veg shop, to find out that Chilean Customs had once again stopped our fresh produce arriving in the islands.

The mile race heads out to the turn.

However, considering that I had tasted smoked caterpillar, and lots of other tastier foods this weekend, it didn't seem like we were going to starve any time soon.

A great weekend: lots of exotic cultures, mixed in with lots of traditional activities. And all within walking distance of our house!

More soon

Peter

West is Best.....

[The blog of expat Brits living in the South Atlantic, on the Falkland Islands - a little of Britain, but with an identity all of its own.  This week, travelling with a lovely friend and her rugged Land Rover, we managed a road trip on West Falkland: a big, sparsely-populated island given over to sheep farming and trout fishing.....]

To break the journey to the West, we stopped overnight at the very comfortable Darwin House, about 60 miles south-west of Stanley, the capital of the Falklands.  "Smoko" can be afternoon tea or morning coffee - a time to enjoy the scenery and some home baking......

Smoko at Darwin House

We had taken the long route to Darwin, on the road that keeps to the north of the spine of mountains that traverse East Falklands. And we had a long journey on West Falkland, so it made sense to pause and then get the ferry in the morning.

Looking north from Darwin

Darwin House, with Mount Usborne in the distance. 

Detail of the stone corral, Darwin

Cloud cover on Mt Usborne through the emergency exit, Darwin House

 The ferry terminal is about 20 miles from Darwin, so we had a leisurely breakfast and drove to the end of the road, where a small colony of Gentoo penguins greeted us.

Gentoo Penguins waiting at the ferry terminal, Newhaven

 After a short wait, the ferry came into sight, and disgorged some of the revellers who had been celebrating 150 years of the Port Howard Farm over the weekend. Today was Peat Cutting Monday - a public holiday, so no-one was rushing....

Concordia Bay approaches Newhaven

Reversing onto ferry with several skilled drivers of mechanical diggers watching was fairly stressful, but I managed not to hit anything or any of the crew!

A crowded deck

 The crossing of Falkland Sound took about 90 minutes and was uneventful. The main change was the approaching fog.....

The ship's clinometer shows the tilt!

Port Howard Lodge

War remnants are easy to find

 After passing through Port Howard, we headed for Hill Cove on the north coast.

I'm convinced miles are longer on the West.....

 The fog we were to see for the next two days was gradually spreading over the landscape.

The duvet clouds separate the mountains

The old road...

 But the remote roads were a joy to drive, once we got used to the surface and the lack of traffic.

Roads are direct....

What a difference a day makes...

 

Islands in the sun

Roy Cove

Big House, Roy Cove

National Forest, Hill Cove

Coming in under the fog

Over 100 miniature horses on one farm

Hardy miniature horses

One of the many variations of a Variable Hawk

Shallow Bay

View to Keppel Island 

Stone buildings are unusual on the Falklands

Clean and simple

Eventually, the fog lifted

Keppel Island, former Missionary station

Overlooking Keppel Island

Hill Cove

Shallow Bay, with Pebble Island in the distance.

 We visited a couple of outlying farms and settlements, where,if we did bump into people, we were told that it was a shame we couldn't see the wonderful views. But on day three, the fog lifted and we realised why people had recommended the West ("West is Best")!

One of the three cars we saw in 4 days.....

Straight stretch

Chartres River

Chartres settlement

Soon, we headed south to Fox Bay, via a picnic stop in Chartres.....Sun all the way.

Post Office Museum, Fox Bay East

Postal Museum, Fox Bay East. Opened by Princess Anne this year.

Small horses, Fox Bay West

Fox Bay West

Black Shanty House, Fox Bay West

Fox Bay West, dawn

Upland Geese doing 40mph. No speed limit on the West

Heading for the ferry on fast open roads.

Sailing home

 After an all-too-brief stay in Fox Bay, we headed north again for the ferry back to the East.

Missing the West already

A wonderful trip, despite the fog.  And an opportunity to briefly meet some friendly farmers for whom the West is home, and who shared their home with us. Lastly, thanks to fellow-travellers for photos, transport and great week.

More soon

Peter