We don’t usually take crew along on our cruises, but Steve Spring is an old friend and he expressed a desire to visit the Falkland Islands. He thought it unlikely that he would ever get there in his own boat and so the arrangements were made. Steve lives in Ohio and, after trying several travel agents who thought it impossible even to get there, eventually one found him a route via Miami, Santiago and Punta Arenas.
We were at Stanley International Airport to meet Steve on the Friday before Christmas. The plane was crowded and the waiting room was lull with a similar number of people waiting to fly to Chile when the Twin Otter returned in a couple of hours. Carl Freeman had kindly offered to ferry us all back to Badger in his Land Rover to where she was anchored at the west end of the harbour, two miles out of town. This anchorage seemed to give the most shelter from the persistent strong westerly winds and made it possible to get ashore in the dinghy most of the time.
The next day, we all walked into Stanley to show Steve the sights and saw that Dodo’s Delight had just arrived. We made our number with Bob Shepton and his crew of ‘lads’ and heard about their trip down from Rio We had been invited to a party that night and found Bob and his crew tucking in to the barbecue; he had wasted no time making friends in town.
We sailed from Stanley on the Tuesday morning, with a southerly force 3 and an overcast sky. Such a light wind is a rare treat in the summer months and Steve was going to be broken in gently. The sail down the harbour was interesting, with the various wrecks along the shore and the brightly painted, ‘wriggly tin’ roofs of the town rising up the hillside. We were soon through the narrows and reaching along Port William to Cape Pembroke. Here we turned south-west and beat down the coast of East Falkland.
Our plan was to sail out west, going south-about, and then circumnavi gate by coming back north-about. We would day sail as far as possible and if the usual strong westerlies proved too hard, we could always cut through Falkland Sound. Allowing a little leeway to get back to Stanley for the flight to Chile, we had just over three weeks.
We had timed our departure to take advantage of the fair ebb tide off Cape Pembroke, but several hours later the flood filled in against us and the wind eased off. Progress was slow, but we made it into Port Fitzroy and anchored off the lagoon just north of Bold Point by tea-time.
The planned trip ashore to see the gentoo penguin colony was called off as the surf on the beach made a dry landing look unlikely. The surf was caused by an easterly swell, which made the anchorage too uncomfortable to contemplate spending the night there, so we sailed round to East Cove a couple of miles away and anchored off the kelp to the west of East Island. The wind had virtually gone and what litte there was came from the east.
We slipped away from East Cove by 0630 next morning. The wind was north-east force 3 and it was a pleasant run down to Choiseul Sound. We anchored in Pyramid Cove, opposite Lively Island, by lunchtime and were soon ashore and walking over to Pyramid Creek, where there is good mullet fishing. The tide was right (a couple of hours before high water) and we were soon hauling them in while the mutton steaks cooked over a diddle-dee fire.
After lunch we went back aboard and Annie pickled the fish before she and Steve rowed over to Pyramid Island in the entrance to the cove. A few weeks before, Annie and I had visited nearby Modey Island and had mentioned the variety of animals that we’d seen to Sally Poncet. She had become very interested, as the island was for sale, but it was assumed to be overrun by rats and hence had litde wildlife of interest. Based on what we’d seen, Sally thought that Falklands Conservation should take an interest and had asked Annie to visit some of the islands in the area and do a more comprehensive survey, armed with a couple of Field Guides that Sally had given us.
The following day dawned sunny, with a light north-east wind. We sailed around Pyramid Point, in Lively Sound, and thought we would anchor off Seal Island so that Annie could have a look round. The only kelp-free patch was off the north shore, with a shingle beach to land on. The wind had picked up a bit, and as it was a lee shore with about a mile of fetch I decided to stay on anchor watch, while Steve and Annie rowed ashore.
Two hours later, we sailed off and ran down towards Motiey Island. There is quite a reasonable anchorage on the east side, but it’s exposed to the east and subject to swell from the south. The wind was now north-east force 4, but it looked like a sea breeze that would ease off later and the kelp bank at the north of the bay should give shelter from the north-east.
The following day dawned sunny, with a light north-east wind. We sailed around Pyramid Point, in Lively Sound, and thought we would anchor off Seal Island so that Annie could have a look round. The only kelp-free patch was off the north shore, with a shingle beach to land on. The wind had picked up a bit, and as it was a lee shore with about a mile of fetch I decided to stay on anchor watch, while Steve and Annie rowed ashore.
We sailed in between the kelp and anchored off the beach in seven me tres. After lunch, I rowed Annie ashore to do her survey. There was too much swell to land on the beach, but we managed to find a safe landing by struggling through a large kelp patch at the south of the bay. Annie had an interesting time ashore, as she relates:
‘Pete rowed me ashore and I arranged to be back on the beach at 1800. Modey was very rewarding, but tiring pushing through tussac and over hummocky bog. I also had my fair share of adventure. I nearly stood on a Casson’s falcon’s nest and the parents attacked me with ear-piercing screams that put the fear of God in me until I discovered what it was. I was still quite frightened as they aimed at my face, forcing me to grovel away through the tussac to escape them. I was also a bit worried about falling over sealions; I could hear them growling and the tussac is extremely thick and high at the end of the island.
I decided to short-cut across to another point opposite The Mot, but couldn’t take my chosen path for being dive-bombed by skuas. Just before I got to the pond there was another shriek just behind me — this time a brown owl reckoned I was too close to its nest.
My nerves were jangling by this time and I was happy to sit down for a few minutes, have a cup of tea and watch the ducks (including a Chiloe widgeon) on the pond. It was a hell of a trek back, because I wanted to check out the shingle beach, having seen no Cobbs wren — I saw one there and then had to do a forced march across the bog to get back for 1800’.
The light easterlies continued on Christmas Eve and the sun shone from a clear sky. Although the Falkland Islands are the same latitude south as England is north, the sun is much fiercer owing to the clean air. It is easy to get sunburnt, especially as it rarely gets warm enough to feel any danger. Annie and I protect ourselves with sun block cream, but Steve, being American, covered his face in zinc oxide tape and on occasion wore his sou’wester back to front as a sun bonnet. Such attire would have caused a collision in the Solent, but fortunately there was no one about to point the finger of scorn.
We ran along the coast of Bleaker Island, the low Sealion Islands just visible to the south. The wind fell away by lunchtime, which scuppered our optimistic plans to be anchored in the Bay of Harbours early in the afternoon. Later on, the wind filled in from the west and the weather quickly deteriorated. Soon we had two reefs in each sail and were beating into force 5-6, with rain. Our new hope was to find a sheltered anchorage before dark — the prospect of a night at sea hove-to didn’t bear thinking about.
By early evening we were wondering if we would make Fanny Cove Creek before dark, when a fortunate shift to the south-west enabled us to lay our course. I had been banking on this and Steve seemed suitably impressed with my assessment of the local meteorological conditions. We tacked up the inlet and anchored at 2000 in the spot recommended by Ewen Southby-Tailyour in Falkland Islands Shores. There didn’t seem to be too much shelter, as the wind blew right up the inlet, but we were safe enough with two anchors down and plenty of scope. We had a well-deserved dram or two and Annie turned-to in the galley for our Christmas Eve feast. If anything, the weather was worse on Christmas Day, with strong south westerlies and rain. It was too rough to row ashore for a walk, but we made the best of things, with plenty to eat and drink. Steve was feeling a little queasy most of the day, but the wind eased after tea so that we had a comfortable Christmas blow-out in the evening. The menu was: Popcorn and rum punch; curried mackerel fillet; roast gigot of mutton; roast potatoes and (home-bottled) asparagus; Christmas pudding and rum sauce. All washed down with Rioja.
On Boxing Day we went ashore to see the ‘two million gentoo penguins’ described in Falkland Islands Shores. We walked several miles, but saw not one. Obviously two million is a slight exaggeration, as it’s unlikely there are that many in the world.
Having stretched our legs we decided to press on westward. The west wind gave us a reach down to Bull Point, but there it deserted us and we drifted about on the tide. The breeze filled in again later in the afternoon from the south-south-west and it was decided to press on with this fair wind, as far west as we could get. Steve was a bit under the weather in the lumpy seas and retired to his bunk, but we sailed on overnight.
The full moon and fresh wind made for splendid sailing and by dawn we had Cape Meredith, at the south end of West Falkland, abeam. The wind increased and we tore up the coast and arrived off the bluffs of Staats Island in time to save our tide through the Governor Channel. We were too late to get through Stick-in-the-mud and so anchored off the shanty on Staats Island.
Staats has a thriving herd of guanaco (a close relative of the llama) that was introduced to the island in 1937. A small group was grazing in the valley by the shanty, but they are shy creatures and bounded off as we anchored. A short row ashore and we could walk to the top of a nearby hill, from where the view around the surrounding islands was magnificent.
There was a small colony of Magellanic penguins near the beach and they would scuttle in and out of their burrows in the tussac as we went past. After lunch, we sailed through Stick-in-the mud, a narrow passage between Weddell Island and Governor Island, with very strong currents. I had timed it right and we arrived just as the stream was turning in our favour. Once through, it was a short passage to Fish Creek on Beaver Island, where we picked up a buoy off the settlement.
Beaver Island is a small sheep farm, owned by Sally and Jerome Poncet. Jerome and Sally are probably the most experienced Antarctic sailors alive and they combine running a farm and raising three children with chartering their yacht, Damien II, to film crews and scientific expeditions. Their unique knowledge of South Georgia and the Antarctic Peninsula is much in demand.
We stayed a few days at Beaver, visiting the gentoo penguin colony and collecting a bag full of wild mushrooms. One day Steve went off for a walk on his own and ended up marooned ashore because it was too rough to row off to pick him up. However, Sally treated him as a guest, fed him and made a bed up for the night.
Our last day there was New Year’s Eve, with a party to see in the New Year. Also visiting the island were George and Michelle on an aluminium centreboard sloop, Metapassion. This French couple had fitted out the hull in France and were sailing her back to Tasmania, their adopted home. The menu that night was quite exotic, with guanaco and upland goose stew. Our bottle of Uruguayan ‘champagne’ was upstaged by the real thing from France and suffered poorly by the comparison!
Sally had kindly given us half a mutton carcass and asked us to deliver the other half to Ian Strange, who lives on New Island, next door. We sailed on New Year’s Day with a fresh wind blowing from a clear, sunny sky. We passed the ‘Colliers’ rocks and across the entrance to the Grey Channel between Beaver and New Island, to anchor in South setdement (NB Ian Strange is the author of A Field Guide to the Wildlife of the Falkland Islands and South Georgia’, published 1992 by Harper Collins ). Next day we set off to see as much of the island as possible. The head of the bay is a beautiful sand beach, with the wreck of the Protector high and dry. Just above the high water mark is an old stone building built by Captain Barnard (an American sealer) who, together with three other men, was marooned on New Island between October 1813 and November 1814. The remarkable story of his adventures is well told in his book Marooned, published by Syracuse University Press (USA).
We walked to the north end of the island and, avoiding the skua attacks, came to the fur seal colony. From a vantage point at the top of some low rock cliffs we had an excellent view of the seals without disturbing them. We stayed an hour, but could have happily spent all day there. After a picnic lunch we walked south to see the remains of the whaling station, which only operated for a few years before being relocated to South Georgia.
We sailed at 0600 next morning with a light south-westerly. By mid morning this had died completely. In order to save our tide, we put the Seagull on and slowly motored over the oily swell. Peale’s dolphins accompanied us for much of the time, giving quite an acrobatic performance. At tea time, just as we were approaching the Woolly Gut by Westpoint Island, the wind filled in and we tacked through the passage with a fair tide, to anchor off the island settlement. Roddy and Lilly Napier made us very welcome and gave us some fresh cream, which Annie used to good effect that evening in a ‘filet de mouton au poivre vert’.
Next day we took a picnic ashore and climbed the hill to see the black browed albatross nests. In the afternoon thick fog rolled in, but we managed to find our way back to the boat. The fog continued overnight and delayed our departure until it had thinned to about half a mile visibility. We groped our way across the channel to Carcass Island and anchored inshore of a large Canadian yacht, Niatross.
Carcass Island is owned by Rob and Lorraine McGill, who gave us a warm welcome. We were keen to see the sea elephants at the north end of the island and Rob generously offered to drive us there in the Rover. We saw nineteen sea elephants in total, but there was not a lot of action, as they just lay on the beach like gigantic slugs. It was a long, but very pleasant walk back, as the mist had cleared, except for patches around the Jason Islands. We were invited in for tea on our return, and then pressed to stay for dinner, which was a magnificent spread.
It was now 6 January and Steve was due to fly home in just over a week. We sailed for Saunders Island at 1000 but soon ran out of wind. As we were drifting by Low Island and it was nearly lunchtime, we motored over, anchored off and went ashore for a barbecue. By the time we had wiped the last of the grease from our chins, a light breeze had filled in, so we cleared up and rowed back to Badger.
We thought of anchoring off Burnt Island just before the Reef Channel, but the wind held and the last of the tide was in our favour, so we carried on and took a short cut between Calf Island and Channel Point, with patches of kelp marking the rocks to avoid. We were accompanied by Commerson’s dolphins, known locally as ‘puffing pigs’, who seemed to take a delight in frustrating Steve’s attempts to photograph them. We fetched up off the settlement at Sealers’ Cove on Saunders Island at 2100.
We didn’t get ashore the next day because it blew a gale from the west, but we were well-sheltered and spent the day reading and checking our transits ashore.
By Saturday morning the wind had eased to south-south-west force 3 and we set off at 0540 to catch the tide through the Dirty Ditch and Golding Channel. The latest Admiralty chart shows a 0.2 metre patch right in the entrance to the channel and Willy Ker had asked us to check this as he could find no evidence of it. We sailed right over the area, experiencing nothing less than six metres, confirming what Willy had said.
The pilotage is fascinating in this area and several days could be spent exploring Rock Harbour and River Harbour, with their multitude of islands, channels and shoals. The fair tide and breeze meant that we made good time and we were at anchor in Tamar Harbour, at the east end of Pebble Island, by 1000.
The last leg of the cruise was now before us and we sailed at seven the next morning. The wind was north-north-west force 4-5 and it was overcast. We timed our departure to get through the Tamar Pass at slack water, but were a few minutes late and had the start of the ebb. The good news was that the ebb was in our favour; the bad news, that it was wind against tide.
Annie and I looked at each other when we saw the steep seas, but decided to give it a try. We would only need to put in two tacks, but it would have been more than embarrassing had Badger missed stays. She didn’t and we were soon clear, although Steve looked a little worried — that’s the trouble with crew who know what they are doing!
Once clear of the pass the wind picked up to force 6, and with a couple of reefs in each sail we had a close reach to Cape Dolphin. The prudent course of action in this wind would have been to go north of the Eddystone Rock and outside the race that runs between the Rock and the Cape. We couldn’t lay to windward of the Rock and so I hoped to avoid the race by passing close to the Cape, which Falkland Islands Shores suggests.
Steve was feeling a little seasick and felt best when steering, so he and I sat on deck and as there wasn’t room for three in these conditions, Annie went below to tend a smokey fire. It was a rough sail and there was an enormous, confused sea off Cape Dolphin. It was too late to turn back so we pressed on.
Badger coped remarkably well, but we did get swept by one wave, which I found alarming. Steve obviously thought so too, as I noticed that he had wrapped the foresail sheet around his left hand while holding the tiller in a vice-like grip in his right. Annie popped her head up in the bubble to count the crew and asked if ‘we were having fun yet?’
We were sailing at top speed and soon passed through the worst of it, easing the sheets as we cleared the Cape. The original plan was to anchor off Big Shag Island at the entrance to Salvador Water, but it looked unlikely that we’d get much shelter in the present conditions, so we pressed on for Stanley.
We made it to Port William, with high hopes of anchoring before night fall, but the wind eased off as we tacked up the bay and we anchored in the dark off Watt Cove at 2220, after a day’s sail of 89 miles. We took particular care, as the penalty for dragging here is to end up on an uncleared minefield. Steve’s gentle introduction to Falklands’ sailing had ended with more representative weather with which to conclude our circumnavigation.
Steve only just got ashore on the morning of his flight. I stayed aboard because it was too windy to leave Badger, so Annie walked with Steve into town. Half an hour later, a squall came through which flipped the dinghy, tied astern. Steve’s flight was diverted to Mount Pleasant Airport and the air speed indicator on the ’plane read a steady 42 knots as they waited to take off. Annie was marooned ashore that night but was taken in by friends.
Badger is a 34ft, junk-rigged dory. She was built by Pete and Annie Hill in 1983 to a design by Jay Benford. The double-ended hull is cold-moulded plywood covered with glass cloth and epoxy resin. Her two masts are arranged in a schooner configuration and her two junk sails are easy to handle in heavy weather. Badger now has no auxiliary engine apart from a Seagull outboard.