Refugees and Migrants

I was going to write about the boats the refugees come across the water in, and I will, but today I should describe my first contact with refugees. 

On the nights when we don't patrol we are still on call to help the other NGO (Proactiva) with whom we share patrol duties. This morning at about 0430 we got a call on the alarm phone saying that they were with a refugee boat along with Frontex and the coastguard. We immediately went out. As we were en route we heard that they were bringing in a medical case fast while the others were being brought in more leisurely by Frontex. Since I am a nearly registered paramedic I offered my assistance. 

Proactiva is a boat crewed by lifeguards which has been in the area since October so they are much more organised than us. Once I went aboard it was soon clear that they have a very well stocked medical kit and a nurse on board. The woman was (I think) Iraqi who was having an anxiety attack which she could not control. This can lead to unconsciousness which is why they brought her in fast. She was met by a UNHCR (UN refugee agency) on call doctor and I made my way back on board Mo Chara 

We continued on and escorted the heavily laden Frontex boat back to Skala. I found it slightly surreal. Today and tomorrow are the peak days for the Perseid meteor shower. So above us was a very clear Milky way with occasional shooting stars blasting across the heavens and as our hull slapped the wavelets little bursts of phosphorescence exploded in our wash. It felt like we were driving through a sea of light, escorting people who were probably wishing on every single one of those shooting stars for a better life. 

Once Frontex came alongside the refugees were brought onto the dock and made to sit down. The NGO Lighthouse Relief were there to meet them. They gave them food and water and dry clothes. As one man got off the boat he fell to his knees and prayed. It was very affecting to see. There were a couple of children and women among the men. All 44 people were brought safely ashore from their boat. They were from Iraq, Eritrea, Senegal, Cameroon, Congo, and Bangladesh. There was a mixture of Arabic and French in the air. 

They were well and respectfully treated but I was a little surprised to see a journalist shine his torch in people's faces and ask them questions without much in the way of gaining consent. Seeing the curiosity of a boy who must have been about 10 who came to have a look at us and our boat made me feel both extremely sad and hopeful that his journey hasn't broken his spirit. 

Back out on patrol again tonight. We shall see if any more come across. I hope to catch sight of a few more meteors as well.

The crew and first day

After outlining the situation here, I thought I should present the crew. First is Mo Chara (my friend in Gaelic), she is an ex RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institution) Atlantic 75. She is     a 7.5m  inshore lifeboat with a maximum speed of 33 knots, normally a crew of three and the capability of carrying 20 casualties at a push. She is a bit of an old lady now, requiring a bit of TLC but serviceable and sturdy. 

Mo Chara

 The current crew, in its entirety, is made up of ex Atlantic College students. Atlantic College, which I attended,  is an international college for 16 to 18 year olds, based in South Wales, created by Kurt Hahn, amongst others. The ethos of the college is service and international understanding. The student body is made up from over 100 different countries. It was created just after the Cuban Missile Crisis to ensure that young people lived, learned and did community service together, thereby seeing that people are people, no matter where they're from. One of the community services up till 2012 was the lifeboat station crewed by students. I was asked to be a helm (skipper) at the age of 18 because I came back every year, for six years, in the summer to work at a summer camp for disadvantaged and disabled groups. All the crew here were once crew on that lifeboat. I graduated the longest ago and the youngest graduated last year.  The current coordinator is Max. He quit his job to do this one. He put out a call through the AC social media channels for volunteers and has had a steady stream ever since. Adam was the year below Max. He started up a magazine in Bristol and has left that for 3 weeks to be crew. Bill, a Texan, graduated in 2012, studied at Yale and has come to us from working in the refugee camps in Athens. Mary (who left this morning) has just gone to volunteer with a group called Cadus, running boats off a large mother ship somewhere in Italian waters, doing the same job. As you can see, we are a diverse bunch, all of whom in their own ways have answered Hahn’s “call to serve".

Cooking dinner before our pre-patrol sleep

Yesterday (Tuesday 9th), as I said in the last blog, we had to take the boat down 19Nm to the port of Thermis to get the boat taken out of the  water for the depth sounder to be refitted, the antenna to be changed etc. The run down took about an hour. The Atlantic 75 is the boat on which I learnt how to be a lifeboat crew and helm so getting back into the seat was like going home. 

This morning we woke up at 0330 and were on the boat ready to go at 0345. We started the patrol by doing a slow sweep down the coast to the lighthouse. While on this sweep we kept an eye on the shore to make sure that no boats had landed earlier. We got to the point on which the lighthouse stands and said hello to the MSF (Medecins Sans Frontieres) spotters over the radio. From there we made our way out to sea to about 0.5 Nm from the Turkish border. There we killed our engines and floated, bobbing, listening and looking for refugee boats. We watched and listened, on the radio, to the coastguard, Frontex, NATO boats patrolling the same area. 

Every flash, shape or sound that was slightly unusual we homed in on with the night vision binoculars or went to have a look at. There was no activity in our area but 20Nm south a small boat was picked up. At about 0530 the sky started to lighten towards the East and the air became a little cooler. As the sea became steel coloured and the sky pinker, our eyes started to pick out larger waves thinking those might be boats. At 0800 we stood down and headed for home. By the time we were alongside and had washed her down and debriefed it was too warm for the windproof I was wearing. 

In the next blog I'll describe some of the vessels that the refugees come across in and describe some of the things that I have been learning about this situation.

The lay of the land

I arrived at Skala Sikamineas, a port an hour's drive from the capital, Mytilini, last night. It is now the only port in the north of the island that will allow refugees to land. On the drive I could clearly see Turkey across the water a very short way away. It is very easy to see why this was such an easy spot for the refugees to come to. 

At the height of the crisis last year/ early this year 2000-3000 people arrived here each day. Now, due to the political situation with Turkey, only a few boats arrive a week, sometimes none a week. Currently, the busier route is to Italy, direct from Libya. The crossing is much longer and much more dangerous but they apparently feel they have no choice since they feel that going to Turkey is no longer the easiest way. However since the attempted coup there has been a slight increase in boats attempting the crossing here. 

The political situation here is very delicate. On the water are numerous agencies all there to help and/or apprehend the refugees. Frontex is the EU border force. The current ships in these waters are Portuguese who are apparently friendly and have the most to do with us and a few other nationalities. NATO vessels also patrol the waters, possibly to try and ensure no arms are smuggled. The Greek coastguard is obviously a huge presence here and we are here on their good will. Nothing must endanger our relationship with them. Relations with the Greek Coastguard are tense, sadly. Also patrolling the waters here is another NGO called Proactiva. We share patrols with them. Medecins Sans Frontières (MSF) have spotters above a lighthouse which attracts refugee boats and has a nasty reef under it. Lighthouse Rescue, the last NGO in the area meet the refugees when they're brought to shore, feed them, ensure they are medically ok and then they go to other camps on the island to be registered and to wait for removal back to Turkey under the new deal. 

We patrol every other morning from 0400 to 0800 checking for refugee boats and either guiding them into safe landing points or waiting with them, watching to ensure their safety, till Frontex or the coastguard take the refugees on board, leaving us to tow the usually devastatingly inadequate boats to the shore for disposal. 

Today we took the Mo Chara south for an hour to a port where we could take her out to go and have a new depth sounder and antenna fitted and a couple of other bits and bobs. We got back to Skala late afternoon and had a much needed swim with the setting sun. 

Tonight is my first patrol. Max (the coordinator) will act as skipper to show me the ropes. Wish me luck. 

Final Blog

As we came into Stanley Harbour I stood on the deck and saw houses for the first time in 14 months. Not a base, hut or whaling station but houses, and not just houses but a collection of houses, a town. I will admit to standing on that deck and experiencing a slight feeling of nerves. It was a feeling that I was not really prepared for. I had thought that I would get nervous before landing in the UK but I was not ready for the butterflies in my tummy as we came into Stanley Harbour.

1st town in 14 months

We arrived in port and had our papers checked and then that was it, we were on the dock waiting for transport and our sojourn on the ship was over. After a short journey (every journey in Stanely is short) we arrived at that salubrious establishment: Shorty's, which was to be our accommodation for our time in the Falklands. Shorty's is a diner and B&B with which BAS have an arrangement allowing us to eat there for free. The menu is, well, mostly fried, but if you delve deep enough you can find baked potatoes etc.. Not too bad for a couple of days. 

 We had two and a half days in Stanley until the flight on Friday 13th. There are only two flights a week, on Tuesday and Friday, and they are known as 'the flight' and when you say that everyone knows what you mean. There is a flight to Chile on Lan Chile (their national carrier) but that is not the most common route to and from the Islands. We were on the MOD flight to Brize Norton (the RAF base near Oxford) via Ascension Island. First we had two days to fill in Stanley.

The Narrows (the entrance to Stanley Harbour) from near Shorty's.

Micky (one of the builders) very kindly had offered me the use of his 'vehicle' while I was there and while I was slightly (read 'really rather') nervous about driving a car after 14 months I took him up on his offer. Not only had I not driven anything other than a JCB or a boat for the past 14 months, but when at home, because of a knee problem, I generally drive an automatic car and this was definitely not an automatic. Very luckily it was a diesel and was therefore incredibly forgiving, which meant that the many stalls I would have put the car through with a petrol engine were averted.

In order to get the car I had the opportunity of meeting Lynsy, Micky's sister who lives in Stanley with her partner, Trevor, in a house that they built together. I had a lovely hour or so with them, their two cats and two kittens. Now I am not really a cat person but these kittens were really very sweet and I warned Lynsy that when she met Hazel (who was arriving in Stanley on the JCR a few days after we left annoyingly) she might have to check Hazel's pockets to make sure that she hadn't 'borrowed' one of the kittens for the rest of her time on the JCR.

1/2 mast in respect for Nelson Mandela

With the car we were able to get out and about a bit more than we would have on foot and the day after we arrived I drove to Surf Bay with Erny, Jerry, Catrin (a field assistant who has come out of Rothera and is going into Powell Island (opposite Signy) to help study penguins and who I was sharing a room with in Shorty's). From there we then walked to Cape Pembroke Lighthouse. Just before, I had gone to the museum in Stanley to borrow the key to the lighthouse so we could go up it. The terrain is very varied, bog and scrub and rock all in a couple of hundred meters but it was flat and a lovely walk, very different to South Georgia but lovely none the less. The view from the top of the lighthouse was very impressive but the wind picked up dramatically which made standing on one side of the balcony a slightly nervous experience. The walk back, into the wind, was like walking uphill it was so strong.

Cape Pembroke Lighthouse

From the top of Cape Pembroke Lighthouse

That night we had a dinner at the Malvina restaurant, the best restaurant in Stanley. It was a bit of a farewell and thank you dinner with many old friends from Government house present; Martin Collins and Frin (the fisheries officer) were there, as was Sally Poncet, who has surveyed the wildlife of South Georgia for years. It was a lovely evening and we all had a very good time.

The next morning broke to lashing rain and the high winds the Falklands is so used to, so I made my way back to the museum to return the key and to go around the museum itself which is an eclectic mixture of  maritime and military history, as chequered and varied as the history of the Islands themselves. In the afternoon I drove to Yorke Bay which had been recommended by Hazel. I had to drive beyond Stanley airport and to the dunes where the locals take their sand for building. Once there I walked along the dunes towards the beach. My path was blocked by barbed wire and signs alerting me to the presence of mines on the beach. It is a sobering thought that the beaches all around Stanley are still mined from the time of the conflict and that they haven't yet managed to remove them all, effectively barring people from enjoying some of the most stunning beaches I have ever seen. I walked along the dunes until I came across the Gentoo penguin colony that I had come to see. There I sat in the dunes separated from the birds by the mine field (the penguins are too light to set the mines off) and drank in the view. The water was so clear that I could see the penguins quite a way out cutting their way through the water to land on the beach. I have only seen beaches this pink/white and beautiful in the Bahamas and it was a little surreal. The whole experience in Stanley was a little surreal actually: Cars and more people than I have seen for a while on streets with horses grazing in front gardens and turkey vultures wheeling overhead.

Danger Mines!

Just like the Bahamas except for the penguins

Turkey Vulture

To say 'thank you' to Erny for all the help he gave me with those blasted engines and for being such a great co-winterer I invited Erny to the Malvina restaurant for dinner. It was a very pleasant evening chatting about everything from seals to what we were going to do when we got home. A lovely end to our time in Stanley. The next morning we were picked up at 0600 and taken to the MOD base about an hour outside of Stanley. In Stanley the speed limit is 25mph and outside Stanley it is only 40mph, which is probably a good thing since only a very short distance from Stanley the roads turn from tarmac to gravel, but this is why it takes so long to get anywhere.

The next 24 hours was a blend of uncomfortable seats, airplane food and very, very little sleep as we flew the length of the Atlantic. We had to stop to refuel at Ascension Island where I had time to send a postcard and stretch my legs. After that it was back into the plane and back on our way. We arrived into Brize Norton and I stepped out to find Mum waiting for me. We both nearly burst into tears and then headed home through London which is WAY too big and smelly for my liking.We rapidly returned to Kent, which for me is home for Christmas. It has such a different beauty but a beauty none the less.

A very different view!

 So ends my incredible 14 months on South Georgia. I am still processing everything I experienced and am trying to get used to trees and radio and telephones that don't have a ridiculous delay. I miss the island, the seals, the penguins and the friends I made but am so thankful for it and know that somehow I will be back.

Thank you for reading this blog. I hope it was entertaining and as enjoyable for you to read as it was for me to write. Maybe the next installment will be coming soon. You never know.

For now:

Goodbye and good adventuring 

Ella

Goodbye and the Long Journey home

This will be a blog in two parts, I will write the first bit while on the Pharos making way to the Falklands and the second part will be just before I leave with details of my time in Stanley.

 

I am writing this, sitting in my cabin on the 4^th day of our journey home. Well, when I say sitting, I more mean trying to balance on a rickety chair that every so often slides across the carpeted floor due to a larger wave than normal while trying to stop my laptop following me onto the floor. It is a force 8 (on the Beaufort scale) which is a gale. The movement of the Pharos is notoriously bad (she is too small for stabilisers to be worthwhile) but this trip we have been lucky and while we are ploughing into a gale it is on the nose so the roll is minimal (only 15-20° rather than the more normal 20-25° that she can roll), well it was but then last night I woke up a couple of times wondering if she was just going to continue to roll or whether she would right herself. We haven’t had to heave to and we are making good progress. However the force 8 does every so often make itself felt. As you walk along the corridors you have to first walk on one side leaning into the roll and then calculate when your next step has to change sides of the corridor and you have to lean over the other way. Every so often a shudder rolls through the ship as she shoulders her way through the sea rather than riding over it. Every cup of tea has to be only half full to ensure no spillages and even then you have to hold onto it. I am really rather enjoying it. I am wearing an anti seasickness patch which seems to be working, it makes my mouth feel like the inside of a boot but that is a normal side effect and so far I haven’t experienced the hallucinations or vision problems that can also come with the dry mouth. 

A force 8

Last week was one of limbo. I handed over to the new chaps on the Friday before (29^th November) and so I was taking a step back to let them find their own way. I still had the annual report and training certificates to do but that was it workwise. The majority of my time last week was spent packing, writing BOLs (Bills of Lading), securing my P box with acres of duck tape and generally wandering around collecting my stuff and trying to absorb the feel of the base.

It was a glorious, dingle day on Monday so I decided that I was not going to spend my last sunny day on South Georgia in an office. That decided, Jerry (the penguin chap from Bird Island who is coming out for a mandatory 6 weeks before his second winter at BI), Kris from the museum and I packed our daysacks, I pulled on my old friends (my boots) and headed up to Deadmans. We climbed Boulder Pass (tricky since I had only ever come down it and the route is not easy to pick out) and walked across the Hodges Lakes area. It really was a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky and a small breeze to cool us off. After a bit of a false start finding the other side of Boulder Pass we slithered down the scree slope trying not to dislodge too many rocks on the person below and made our way to the lake above Papua beach where Hazel and I had snoozed away a couple of hours a couple of months ago. There we had lunch and decided instead of going down to the beach and returning via Boulder Pass again we would climb and traverse our way round to No Name Col above Carr Valley. As we climbed to the top of the ridge we were circled by a Snow Petrel, a brilliant white flash against the deep blue of the sky. Whenever I have been in the passes on the Thatcher I have nearly always seen a Snow Petrel and so to see such a beautiful one on my last trip over a pass was very special.

Busen seen from No Name Col

We traversed to where I thought No Name Col was but I got disorientated due to the lack of snow and I brought us across a nasty scree slope to the top of a cliff. It would have been a long way back over nasty terrain so we decided to give downclimbing this slope a go. I went first since I was more used to the conditions than the other two and also I was the one that cocked up so I would be the one to have to climb further back up if we couldn’t get down here.

After a section of slippery, crumbly cliff when both Kris and I realised that Jerry was in wellies rather than walking boots we resolved to try a snow slope rather than rock. To reach the snow slope we had to cross a short piece of snow that had an angle of about 70°. I kicked steps into it and stabbed my fingers into the snow to act as anchors. Mainly I was yelling at myself in my head not to look down because it would have been a distinctly nasty fall and I really don’t like heights! It was only after Kris (who is a climber and a summer mountain leader) followed me and said “well you have bigger balls than me going first on this” that I thought about how unpleasant it could have been. After a well earned fruit gum or two at the bottom, giving everyone’s legs time to stop shaking we headed home. Kris left us at Deadmans to meet the rest of the museum guys at Maiviken and spend the night in the hut there with Josie. It was a truly wonderful day and a wonderful way to end my walking career on South Georgia. The only thing that could have made it any better was if Hazel was there but she had to make do with some photos. Apparently I need to learn to straighten my horizons, I always think I have but apparently not.

We may have down climbed that

As I said, the rest of the week was spent packing and attempting to sort my life out. On Wednesday afternoon I went to say goodbye to Shackleton in the cemetery and to wander among the seals for a last time. There was a weaner learning to swim with the grace of a bulldog doing ballet, with his head stuck in the water like a kid learning to swim. I watched as a furry streaked towards this weaner like quicksilver. So agile and graceful. The furry bumped the weaner, ‘kissed’ him on the nose and shot off again with the weaner, now completely in love and bemused, looking after him with longing. It was incredibly sweet.

Why on earth did climbing onto that wall seem like a good idea?

We heard that the JCR was in Stromness Bay calibrating scientific equipment and that they would be coming in on Thursday to drop Hugh off. Actually very annoying that they couldn’t have decided to pick Hazel up this week rather than taking her the week before but at least this way she didn’t have to sort food and she managed to see Wandering Albatrosses and an Adelie colony at Signy.

Thursday had been forecast to be raining or snowing but it became another beautiful day, if rather windy. I therefore headed up to Deadmans for a last look at what must be one of my favourite views on the island, if not ever. I sat up there watching a Sooty Albatross try to land in the cliffs of Boulder Pass, calling to its mate, and just soaking up the view. I will admit to a small cry but mostly I came away with a strong resolve to try and find my way back here one day.

Last view of Maiviken

When we realised that the JCR was coming in Hazel sent a list of things that would be good if she could have: sterile instruments, dressing packs, deep heat etc. I therefore spent a part of the afternoon wandering around collecting all the bits and bobs. She (JCR) went to DP (dynamic positioning) at Hope Point and I was about to cox the jetboat out there when Pat called them up and asked if he could come aboard. Since they said yes I jumped at the chance to accompany him. It was a really lovely and unexpected surprise to be able to go on board to see Hazel. We even had enough time for a scalding cup of tea and a chat. It was only 10/15 minutes but it was lovely. I even got to see my friend Anna Belcher who is aboard doing science for her PHD. It was a great last trip out on the jet boats and very satisfactory to be able to hand deliver a Christmas present to Hazel.

JCR and Shackleton's Cross at Hope Point

Once the JCR had gone off to the other side of the bay to do science I walked up to Hope Point with Julie. Unusually we walked along the beach and to my delight we found a blondie widge (a blonde 1 year old fur seal). From the markings it had I am pretty sure that it is the one that was so friendly last year. I really do hope it was. I spent my last night on base listening to the Fur seals barking and ‘ouffff chuuuuffffing’ right outside my window and a huge (for KEP) swell break on the beach. How can listening to the sounds of a city ever compare to that?  I am looking forward to hearing owls though. And trees. I am really looking forward to seeing trees. 

Blondie's back!

Base from Hope Point

We boarded the ship after a few tearful goodbyes, a solid handshake or two and my telling my new guys to email me whenever they had a question and ‘Good Luck’. She slipped her lines at 0700, the remaining winterers did the traditional Mexican Wave and that was it. I stayed on deck for a good while saying silent goodbyes to the different peninsulas and landmarks that I have grown to know and love during my 13 months.

Duse, a landmark I have lived under for 14 months

The wintering team giving the traditional Mexican wave goodbye

Last view of Base

Now we are just in limbo. I think this is the hardest part of leaving South Georgia. The four/five days on the ship and then the 2.5 days in Stanley I am urging time to spin faster, now that I have left KEP I just want to be home and every moment I am in neither place is tricky. As a passenger all my day consists of really is sorting photos (boy do I have a lot, not as many as Rod though who has a ridiculous number, in the 1000’s), writing bits and bobs, eating (a lot of eating, unsurprising for me really), reading, watching films and standing on the bridge watching the waves. On Saturday I ventured to the gym. The rowing machine oscillates between ridiculously easy to massively difficult. And as for pull ups, half the time you feel as if you are made of lead and the other half you are flying.

Standing on the bridge one can see the myriads of birds swirling around the ship. I really want to know why they follow ships. I have my heart in my mouth some of the time as they skim the sea’s surface with a wingtip and then have to swerve rapidly when a wave nearly swamps them. They always recover though. We have also been incredibly lucky to see dozens of whales, well, more their blows. However yesterday two Humpbacks came straight for the ship. We very nearly had to take evasive action but they both dived 10/20 yards from the ship. It was a truly magical sight. So even though I would prefer to be at home (only 5 sleeps till I am in my own little bed) I have seen many wonderful things on this trip to the Falklands.And I am looking forward to seeing more amazing things in the Falklands waiting for the flight home.

Goodbye South Georgia

 

My last full week. Not a good feeling.

Today is December 1^st;  on the 5^th or 6^th I will get on a ship and leave South Georgia!

 I am not sure I can describe how that feels. It will be exactly 13 months since I first set foot on this magical isle. 13 months in which I have experienced soaring highs and plummeting lows (far far less lows than highs); where I have been able to experience some of the most amazing scenery and surroundings; live in a BBC wildlife series every day; work with dedicated people, make incredible friends and discover a resilience (mainly for dealing with engines) within myself that I was pretty sure was there but I now have had confirmed repeatedly.

When I woke last Monday with the realisation that this was my last full week here, I decided to make the most of it. Nearly every evening I have been going out for walks and when I was in the office I was mainly just looking out of the window.

I spent most of the week completing the handover for my new guys. This involved more training, showing them how to do maintenance and mostly a lot of talking. I don’t know how they feel but I was tired of the sound of my own voice by about Smoko on Monday. The poor guys had to endure my explanations of things but so far, all credit to them, they haven’t asked me to shut up or go away. The funniest bit of the handover was the dry run of slipping a jetboat. We couldn’t do it properly since 1. There was a ship tied up and we can’t slip a boat when there is a ship in the way and 2. The tide wasn’t right. When I said “we’ll do a dry run” I could see them rolling their eyes and asking themselves why on earth we were bothering. When we had hitched the JCB up to the trailer and then spent 15 mins trying to manoeuvre it around a pile of wood and a seal they began to see the point. In the end we had to move the wood because we couldn’t get the trailer to do what a normal trailer should. After half an hour more of my careful explanations and demonstrations (well, more me saying something then adding “Oh I forgot to say...”) they looked both frazzled and worried and we decided that I would leave them my number so if ever they got the boat stuck half way on the trailer they could call me and ask for advice. Perhaps not the best way to leave things but without actually slipping the boat it was the best I could do. It took about 2 hours to go through the whole thing and I think they had more respect for the system and the boats after that. I just hope that the first time they do it, it goes smoothly. 

I was very good on Thursday and didn’t get out of bed and allowed them to deal with taking people out to a ship early in the morning by themselves. It was tough though. Those boats have been my babies for 13 months and for 13 months I have nearly always been the one on the water so to leave them to it took a certain amount of self control. I was very proud of myself. Later on that day we tried to get round to West Cumberland Bay to do the last bit of local knowledge stuff but the wind and swell combined to outwit us at Sappho Point and we had to turn round. It was a good experience because they got to see what conditions we would go home in and I was able to introduce them to the most glamorous of the boaties’ duties: food scraps. Lovely, at least it feeds the birds.

On Tuesday Julie and I walked round to Susa Point along the beach. We found the first fur seal pups over this side of the bay and spent a fair amount of time cooing at them (well Julie did, I acted like a big bad, experienced winterer and remained cool on the outside while inside all I was doing was saying: “so cute, so cute, I want one”). We walked past one very pregnant female and then when we turned back almost immediately she had a new pup. It was literally 3.5 mins old and was lovely. Well no, it was slimy and squeaking but lovely none the less. We also came across a pup that was about 3 days old and so full of attitude it bounced towards us on its flips trying to scare us off. However, what it didn’t know was that pup growls are very endearing so it didn’t have quite the desired effect. 

Brand spanking new pup

Lunch time

Pint sized attitude

On Friday we finally had a break in the wind and we went round to West Cumberland Bay while we could. Rod asked us to take some wood to Sealers cave for a possible ex winterers last night away. This meant we took Dotty, the 2.5m tender (and pride of the fleet) with us. We dropped the wood at Sealers cave at Maiviken and then proceeded up West Cumberland Bay. I got Matthew to drive close to the shore when we got near Carr Valley so I could see if I could find the entrance to Curlew Cave. It was small wonder that we couldn’t see it before when we weren’t sure where it was. It is perfectly hidden. As we drove on the sun came out and twinkled on the glaciers at the end of the bay. It also highlighted the Sooties soaring around the boat and cliffs. It was at that point that I started to really think about the fact that I may never come back here again or if I do it won’t be for a long time. I had to leave the cabin and go outside so the chaps wouldn’t see the tears start to course down my cheeks. When we got back to the jetty I was greatly cheered by the snottiest seal I have ever seen. He really was very special. 

Dotty, rather full of new boatmen

 

Launch from Sealers Cave

Entrance to Curlew Cave from the sea

Snotty

The weekend dawned snowy and nasty. It was really rather unpleasant. Julie, Tim and I had said we would help Daniel count Penguin nests so we duly trudged over to Maiviken in the snow. I was wearing my waterproofs which I never normally wear so that was an odd feeling. My boots are no longer waterproof at all. I am not surprised. I have battered them and tramped them through most of our travel area for 13 months, over some of the least forgiving terrain there is: scree and acidic bog. I have come to love those boots and have never had a bad time in them.

The penguins were very unimpressed with the snow, as were we. I nearly had to put on my snow goggles just to be able to see to count them. Once we had finished we went down to have a look at Tortula and then Daniel continued on his rounds while we retreated to the hut for tea and lunch. Tim and Julie said they could see why Daniel eats quite so much if he has to do that every other day and were incredibly impressed with Hazel’s record of the Maiviken run of 47mins – an amazing achievement.

Unimpressed by the weather

Ugly chick .......

......but look who grew up all beautiful

On Sunday it was no longer snowing... it was raining, even worse. Deciding that I need to make the most of this place no matter what, I determined to go out anyway but not to Papua beach which I had been planning on, rather to Penguin River for a short walk and then back. Valiantly Micky and Julie decided to accompany me. Fortified by several cups of coffee and pancakes (we were mainly waiting for the rain to stop which it didn’t) we headed round. We decided to go via the beach. Although it means having to deal with more Furries than going along Brown Flats, it allowed us to see more pups. It was a most enjoyable walk, the only thing that caused a small flutter was when a ‘psycho seal’ came charging towards us.  Micky put out his aluminium walking pole in prescribed seal fending off fashion at which point this large male bit the walking pole in two, shook it and took it off with him into the tussock. I am not sure about Micky but my heart rate definitely rose slightly. It is so easy to become blasé about the seals but it takes an episode like that to just remind one that they can be vicious. All’s well that ends well though and we continued and finished a very nice walk, avoiding that part of the beach on the return.

I am now about to go and eat dinner with the builders for the last time and then spend another evening contemplating packing and mainly drinking tea.

I will write another blog when I leave but I will not be able to post it till I arrive back in Stanley. So for now, from South Georgia, I will sign off.

Out

Planet in the night sky

A last rainbow