In order to put a plan together for James to be moved off the boat back to Stanley, the first step was to make contact with folks in Stanley who operate the plane service that goes around the various settlements. While there are some scheduled pick ups, generally it works like a taxi service – call it the Uber of Islands. The nearest place for us to go to be able to communicate effectively with Stanley, was the settlement on West Point, the Island we were sitting just off. All of the islands are linked through a microwave satellite system giving access to both voice and data. Once everyone was up and at it, we sailed the boat the short sail into the beautiful bay directly in front of the settlement and then Alec headed off to use the farmer’s phone. His mission identified that the earliest available flight would be the following day from Carcass Island – a short sail from West Point, back up Byron Sound. This meant we now had no major deadlines for the day. James was in no imminent danger and he was feeling well enough to stay with us another day. Had this been an emergency, there is a helicopter rescues service that could have made the trip, but this wasn’t an emergency, his condition was under control.

The new plan left us with enough time to explore West Point, see the Albatross nesting grounds, meet the farmer and still sail over to Carcass Island in plenty of time that afternoon. So that’s what we did. The walk to the nesting grounds took us about 40 minutes, up and over a hill, and on an outcrop just above the crashing waves of the Atlantic. What we saw was an incredible collection of nesting pods, some occupied by young Albatross who had yet to make their first flight. These nesting pods stand anything from a foot tall, to well over two feet – made from mud and compacted materials, they are perfectly round and on top there is an indentation, like a bowl, where the female and male albatross will incubate their eggs. Good lord, I was having a David Attenborough moment, but strangely loving it! There was unlikely to be another opportunity in my lifetime, to be this close to an Albatross in the wild. While in London, I frequently cycle past regent’s Park Zoo – but that doesn’t count does it?  We were able to walk through the thick, high, tussock grass and get within 2 feet of one occupied nest. Sitting off at a discrete, but still threatening distance, sat about 8 Turkey Vultures waiting for something bad to happen – so they could then swoop in and clean up.

As we walked back to the landing area, we passed the farm building, and our Colombian friends Ernesto and Juan spotted a couple of old, wasted LR Defenders parked up behind a hut. They were wrecks, the Land Rovers, not Juan and Ernesto. However, upon closer inspection, guess what they found? Yes, the part they had been in search of! In fact, between the two vehicles there were several of them and they were working, even if nothing else was. As we celebrated this discovery with them, Alan the farmer pulled up on his quad bike. After introductions all round and sharing the parts story, he told Ernesto and Juan they were welcome to take what they needed and he even offered to get some tools to make it easier. Alan’s wife, Jackie pulled up on her dirt bike and the plan expanded to include coffee in their kitchen. And so, we ended up drinking hot coffee and eating homemade cakes and biscuits, and hearing all about life on the Islands, in the comfort of Alan and Jackie’s cosy, hundred year old kitchen. While the way these folks live may seem quite basic to us, they proudly showed us the recently added luxuries – a fridge/freezer and a microwave – that we would call basics back home. What they described from a lifestyle point of view, was a comfortable life that they thoroughly enjoyed. They valued their surroundings more than their possessions. They loved the work they did – the land and the sheep. They clearly had alternative paths they could have taken in life but this was their choice one. This was not a hardship or an imposition, it was a choice and they were very, very happy with the life they lived.

Something struck me and here it is. While this was a remote island, set within a remote set of islands, miles from anywhere, where people visiting is more an exception than a rule, here for the second time we were talking to really “normal people.” They consider living here to be normal. Somehow, I had expected that we would be greeted by people who were more likely to be recluses – who might shy away from the company of outsiders, having decided to live out on these remote settlements. These folks very much consider themselves Falkland Islanders and they are fierce when it comes to their independence and allegiances. They are closely related to the mothership, the UK, but not part of it. They never want to be part of Argentina. This is a serious subject to them and it should never be taken lightly. They send their children back to the UK to be educated from aged 16 or so (if they want to go) and both the farming families we met, have close family connections back in the UK. So when I said “these people seem normal,” I think that was the conclusion we all agreed upon. Of course, normal is a relative term – and I’m not sure I have the right to judge anyone as being normal, it seems condescending, but I think you’d say the same if you met them. I’m not sure sailing the South Atlantic would qualify me as being normal!

After re-boarding the boat, we headed off back into Byron Sound on the short sail to Carcass Island. The name Carcass – led to us having a conversation with our Colombian friends, who felt compelled to ask about the difference between a cadaver, a skeleton and a carcass. I don’t think we were terribly convincing or clear in our definitions of each. But here’s the thing – apparently, and we didn’t find this out until later that day, Carcass Island is named after a naval ship and not because of anything gruesome. The naval ship was, in turn, named after the small pouch a musketeer would used to carry his gunpowder. I’d like to verify this, but where’s Google when you most need it? We arrived at Carcass in beautiful sunshine and completely calm seas. I stayed on board to make a call to settle some business that I needed to attend to (again, the wonders of Satellite meant I was able to do my duty!) and some of the others headed-in to explore the settlement a little. Once back on board, Alec announced the weather was right for a BBQ and so with pork ribs roasting off the back of the boat, we enjoyed mussels cooked in white wine for the appetizer. Boy, this was hard to take in – having a soirée on the back of a boat in the Falkland Islands in stunning (but cold) weather! James was well enough to join us, but it was clear he still very much needed to go and get sorted if he was to stand any chance of making the Ocean passage. We finished another night down in the saloon chatting and drinking wine. We didn’t have to deposit James on the Island until 9.30am the next morning and only then after the plane was confirmed to have taken off and heading our way. Some of the party, not me though, may have pushed on a little later into the night on the basis that we were going to have a later start the next morning and some showed distinct evidence of their late evening when they showed up on deck the next morning!

So, the next morning dawned hazy, blustery and cold, with a low cloud base, and we wondered whether this might put James’ departure in jeopardy. But no, these guys aren’t put off by a little low cloud and so word came over the VHF to confirm we needed to deposit James on the Island as planned so they could transport him over to the landing strip, which was just a strip of land wide enough, long enough and reasonably straight enough to take the twin prop plane that serviced these Islands. There was a landing strip on West Point, over the hill from the farm and within spitting distance of the sea and there were times when planes could land – depending on the wind. Alan, the Farmer over there, had explained that he and his wife couldn’t both fly off the island at the same time, because there needed to be someone on the ground who could operate the emergency equipment and fire truck! In the relatively recent past, a plane had crashed on the island while trying to take off and one of the passengers had broken a leg. I’ll never again complain about Southwest.  Once the mission of depositing James was achieved, we upped anchor and made our way out into Byron Water once again, and back up to West Point, bound for our anchorage for the night off a small island (Hummock Island) in Whalers Bay off to the south west. The day continued to be grey and cold as we sailed back into Hope Harbour and then a quick turn to starboard out into the Atlantic, sailing past a stark headland called Death Head – a creative and reassuring name for a huge lump of sheer rock facing out over the Atlantic.

The Island we were heading to was only about 20 miles from Carcass and an easy sail. It was now owned by a conservation trust and a couple who Alec and Giselle knew who were there building a small house that would be used in the summer by scientists and the like who would both study and work on conservation issues. The couple, Ken and Sally, had only recently finished circumnavigating the Southern High Latitudes on their old 32 ft steel hulled boat. They had headed around Cape Horn, up the coast of Chile, then over the Pacific to New Zealand via French Polynesia – on to Tasmania and Western Australis, up to South Africa and back across the South Atlantic to the Falklands. Ken had also sailed his boat up the Atlantic to the UK and back. This boat was well under half the size of Pelagic and many, many years older, but she was sturdy and they trusted both the boat and their sailing and navigating skills completely. It was almost a little shameful, for us to have even the slightest doubt about our trip over to South Africa given the resources and the boat at our command. Maybe any doubts we may have – and I’m not saying I have any – but if I was to have any, maybe it would be personal doubt and not about the boat. Both Thomas (our first mate) and Dave (who will skipper the boat across) have sailed this passage numerous times and they most likely have a very well honed sense of self preservation, so no doubt we can have great confidence in their ability, even if we might doubt our own – very reassuring – case closed!

Once the anchor was down off Hummock Island, we launched the dingy and took it over to the to meet the couple, take a look at the house they were building and to understand more about the conservation work they were undertaking. As with everyone else we met, they were very interesting people. We took a walk up and over one of the hills to look at the work they had undertaken to help save the vegetation on the Island. We learned all about the erosion of the top soil and vegetation,  a cycle caused by over population of sheep in the past and now encouraged by climate change (the place only gets 12 inches of rain). The conservation trust, of which Sally was a trustee, is now planting tussock grass and Boxwood to try and head off the erosion which, if left to its own devices, will in time make the Island barren (apparently). I have to confess, it seemed to me to be a bit of a long shot – but what do I know about such matters. It was a large enough island to need a huge amount of planting to just counteract the current level of damage and already, the planting they had done only worked spasmodically. Below the very shallow top soil, the Island is just a huge peat bog, and the top layer of peat that is exposed once the top soil is blown away, was like dark black coal dust. It meant everything was brown or black, including Ken and Sally. This was dirty work. In any event, they showed us the work they’d completed so far on the house, which was like a scene from the HGTV program called something like – Remote Cabin Builders of the Falklands (don’t laugh – there are a number of programs on TV back in the U.S. about building in remote parts – aren’t there, Alice?) Even in this remote setting, they are able to get all the supplies they need (tax free) delivered to the Island – dumped on the beach and needing to be carried to the build site. The house was already looking quite cozy and another winter and it should be done. The folks who originally came and colonized these Islands had to bring everything they needed with them, or face an uncomfortable wait for months or even years for additional supplies to be sent. If only they’d had Amazon Prime and access to a fleet of drones! From a building material’s point of view, there isn’t any lumber and the stone is too difficult to extract, so houses were and are, by and large made with imported wood with metal roofs. Most of the older houses have corrugated metal for the roof, the newer ones have raised metal seam instead. There is a frontier look to these houses, but really quaint.

While they build the house, Ken and Sally live on their boat which is anchored in a little sheltered bay, right of the house. I asked about showering facilities on the boat and they laughed – yes the boat had a sort of shower, but it wasn’t great and the water wasn’t always warm! Remember, I mentioned that everything was black or brown from the peat, including them. Alec and Giselle invited Ken and Sally to come aboard Pelagic and have a hot shower, a cocktail and dinner, which they did and an educational conversation ensued. Ken was very humble about his achievements and Sally emphasized how they loved their long passages at sea away from the world, especially when they hit doldrums – no wind. Ken told us that after a day or so, they would likely get a few knots of wind – may be 3 or 4 and he could get the boat moving again at 5 knots. Well, to get Pelagic to go at 5 knots we probably need about 15 knots of wind in the first instance so we would be sat a long time in the doldrums. This baby needs a lot to get it going and then a lot to stop if once she is going, (that’s why she has a bloody big engine and she carries a lot of fuel – just in case!)

I decided to hit the hay quite early and I left the others talking, although by that time, we’d all learned way more about grass conservation and it’s fundamental importance than any of us envisaged necessary and there were certainly a few poorly disguised yawns. Only the day before I’d had a David Attenborough moment and now I was too close to being in an episode of Country File (a BBC program about the countryside and what’s new and interesting). I needed to get a grip of myself, and take stock before another environmental episode was presented the following day. It didn’t help that we had just eaten Thomas’ Lasagna, which was absolutely excellent, but this wasn’t light food and I needed to lie down! I went to my bunk via the deck where I did my nightly download from the satellite and also put a call into Bernadette who was in NYC with Karen and Josh (closest of friends from the U.K., Mother and son, friend and Godson). She was having a blast and about to have dinner. I was heading to bed. It was 7.30pm in NYC and 8.30pm here on the Falklands and 12.30am in the U.K., so only the U.K. offered me the option of a more normal bed time. Clearly my new status as an Eco-Warrior was taking its toll!

Pip pip