For many reasons, and I will not recount them here, 2018 was not a particularly good year for either John or me. Although there were some bright moments like Rebecca and Kris’s wedding or my week at the Library of Congress this summer, for the most part it has been 12 months I would just as soon forget. So I am glad it ended on a happy note … or a “happy feet” note.
We arrived fairly early this morning in the Falkland Islands. I had booked an independent tour here to go to Volunteer Point, the best spot in the Falklands to see penguins. Our tour operator, a man named Patrick Watts, had been requested to see if we could get on the first or second tender boat. So, after working out in the gym and taking a shower, I had a quick breakfast and was in the lounge 15 minute before ticket distribution to make sure I received a place in the coveted first boat. I was a little aggressive about putting myself towards the head of the line, but I did walk away with two tickets for the first boat.
We were parked further away from shore than we had before, and the sea was a little rough getting us to the pier. Once there, we had no trouble finding Patrick Watts Tours. It was a bigger operation than I thought it was, and Mr. Watts had about 60 people going and 15 drivers to take them to Volunteer Point. While we waited for everybody to arrive, John and I had time to look a little bit around Stanley, the main settlement in the Falklands. It is unmistakably British. Other than the green iron roofs, these row houses could be just about anywhere in Old Blighty.
There were even things like red phone boxes that are nearly impossible to find in England anymore.
The way that tours work in the Falklands is that the three licensed tour operators hire local people to drive tourists in their own four-wheel drive cars. This spreads work out among islanders, and it gives tourists a better chance to interact with local people. I think it’s a terrific idea. Our driver was David and he showed his Falklands pride by putting the flag on his old Land Rover.
There were five of us crammed into that little vehicle, David, John and I, and a couple from Hanover, Germany. The Germans seemed like very nice people but spoke minimal English. We had driven to the town limits of Stanley in a couple minutes, and we were going on a two-lane paved road toward our destination. David warned us that the pavement would not last for long, and about ten minutes later we were bumping up and down on a dirt and gravel road. With a convoy of similar vehicles ahead of us, we could trace their progress in the clouds of dust. About another 30 minutes brought us to the entrance to a farm. Volunteer Point lies on the far edge of this ranch.
We stopped here for a bathroom break. There was an “honesty bank” where you could buy baked good and a can where you put in money of whatever denomination you chose as payment. The Falklands, by the way, have their own currency, the Falklands pound, but it is tied to the value of Sterling at one-to-one. In a few minutes, we were off again, this time crossing fields with no roads headed towards the point. Patrick makes a point of having the drivers travel in convoys because it is easy to get lost and so that the drivers can help one another if an axle breaks or a tire blows.
The Falkland Islands are pretty bleak. There is obviously not much rain here, and the very rocky soil does not hold the water when the rain does fall. It looks a lot like the sagebrush landscapes of the American West. There was not a tree in sight. We traveled, in a seemingly random direction, for about another ninety minutes before we caught sight of Volunteer Point. And when we saw the birds, the whole trip was completely worth it.
There are three different types of penguins here. The most prominent are the King penguins, close relatives of Antartica’s Emperor penguins. And they love to pose!
They are very social birds.
Watching these birds and photographing them is absolutely addictive. I was fascinated as a group of them went down to the sea. Volunteer Point is an absolutely gorgeous white sand beach, and it sort of looks like Bora Bora, only with 40 degree water. Even then penguins seemed to pause before diving in.
The reserve is admirably set up with a system of “wardens” who make sure that visitors do not get too close to penguin breeding areas. These trained local people are well-informed about the birds and happy to share their information. They told us a good bit about the juvenile penguins. The young birds are pretty easy to spot by their distinctive brown feathers.
After they molt for the first time, they will then have the distinctive white and black coloration.
John was as fascinated by these creatures as I was.
But the King Penguins, as fascinating as they are, were only one of three species at Volunteer Point. The Gentoo Penguins were another group. These are a little smaller and somewhat shyer than the Kings. They were very focused on raising their young. Both females and males share this duty.
The way the preserve was set up, the Gentoos had access to the sea by a separate cove and people were not allowed to enter that corridor. These penguins tolerated humans from a distance, but unlike the gregarious Kings, did not actually seem to seek out contact.
The final group here were the Magellanic Penguins. These were the penguins I had seen on my last visit to Chile. They are probably the most common species here in South America.
The distinctive feature of the Magellanic Penguins is the way they dig nests. Unlike the Kings and Gentoos who give birth and raise their young in crowded colonies, each pair of these birds finds digs a nest a few feet from the next nesting pair.
The Magellanic Penguins tolerate humans well unless people come too close to their nests. If that happens, the birds will abandon their nesting area and seek another safer spot. This is what apparently happened at Seno Otway, the cove near Punta Arenas where I had first seen the bird about ten years ago. For this reason, most of the Magellanic nesting area was fenced off at Volunteer Point and we could not go there. Fortunately, a few were close enough to the fence and the optical zoom on my camera was good enough.
After about ninety minutes on the beach, it was time to go back. I went in another car on our return. My driver, Shaun, was a little less gregarious than David and my fellow passengers, an IT guy from Austin and his daughter, were not much all that more chatty than the German couple had been. So I somehow managed to nap for some of the two hours back.
We had about a half hour to explore Stanley. We went into a local shop which seemed like a mashup of Tesco and Waitrose. I found these in the pharmacy aisle.
We also passed by one of Stanley’s most iconic buildings, Christ Church Cathedral.
During the nineteenth century, the Falklands was the center of Anglican missionary efforts in South America. Now, although it is called a cathedral, is really does not deserve the appellation as it has no resident bishop. The arch in front was created out of the jaws of two whales that beached themselves some years ago.
We were supposed to catch the last tender at 4:30 in the afternoon, but when we arrived they were obviously far behind schedule and the lines were long. John hates standing in lines and with his injured foot and low blood pressure, he probably should not stand in them anyhow. So we wandered about a bit while we waited for more people to be taken to the ship.
So today was New Year’s Eve, always one of my least favorite holidays of the year. John and I went to the evening show, and we asked somebody to snap a pictures of us as the sun set.
We had dinner at one of the specialty restaurants on board. These charge extra for your meal, but the food in generally significantly better. After that, John wanted to go to see the countdown. They handed out all kinds of silly hats and whistles and the like. John ended up with two after I declined to wear mine.
At the stroke of midnight — well, actually ten seconds too early according to my infallible Apple Watch — people screamed “Happy New Year” in several different languages and the balloons came tumbling down.
