Saturday, January 20
We cruised very slowly that evening from West Falkland to Volunteer Point on the eastern coast of East Falkland. It was a gloomy morning and the wind was blowing 10 miles per hour or more when we boarded the Zodiac at 7:00 A.M.
A dolphin immediately joined the Zodiac as we turned toward the shore. It breached the surface several times, first on one side of the bow and then on the other for a good fraction of the way in to the beach.
There was a bit of a chop, and we bounced across the wave tops. Small waves about 1 foot tall were breaking gently on the beach. The Zodiac driver slowed the boat as we neared the shore. A small breaker rolled over the stern of the Zodiac and splashed around the interior. The driver spun the Zodiac around to keep the bow pointed at the waves, so we exited over the stern and waded through the surf to the shore.
There were numerous Magellanic Penguins waddling on the beach. Some were headed out to go fishing, while others were returning with a belly full of fish. As one group of penguins started to climb up the dunes, they dropped down and started running forward on all-fours, using their wings in a windmilling motion as well as pushing with their feet to keep their bodies a few inches off the sand.
A few Gentoo Penguins were scattered around the beach. They could be distinguished from the Magellanic Penguins by their bright orange feet and white head spots. They were far outnumbered on the beach by the Magellanic Penguins.
A small group of King Penguins was wandering along the beach with no apparent destination in mind. They were the largest species of penguin that we saw on our expedition. They are much more colorful than the other species. They have an orange spot on each side of their head and an orange bib. The back feathers of the adult King Penguins are silvery gray, not as dark black as other penguins.
We hiked over the beach dunes through a Magellanic Penguin rookery. The dunes were riddled with penguin burrows. The fields beyond the dunes were covered in moss and short grass. Penguins languished on their bellies in the grass near the entrances to their burrows, which were scattered across the field. Other penguins were standing on the grass, preening their feathers. Clusters of penguins waddled to and from the dunes. It looked like the golf course of a penguin country club.
We arrived at a King Penguin rookery. It was composed of several large colonies of a few thousand penguins standing on patches of bare earth. While we were observing the penguins, the sun broke through the morning clouds and highlighted the brilliant orange head spots of the King Penguins. The ground was nearly coated with white penguin feathers.
Once the sun came out, it was reasonably warm. I had to unzip my parka and the jacket I was wearing under it to cool myself off.
There were a few juvenile King Penguins. Their backs were blacker, not as silver as the adults' backs. Their head spots were a pale yellow, rather than the intense orange of the adult's. They were nearly as tall as the adults and actually a bit more rotund, with better fat reserves. Some of the youngest penguins were still molting, losing their downy coat in clumps.
Many of the adult penguins were brooding eggs. Each held its large brown-spotted egg on its feet, covered by a large flap of belly skin and feathers. Occasionally a brooding adult would rise slightly, revealing the egg under its belly. There were a few abandoned eggs lying on the bare earth. Once a penguin drops its egg, it usually cannot get it back up on its feet.
Penguins that had not yet found a mate were hanging around the edges of the colony, standing in small groups. They made frequent mating displays, pointing their beak straight up, flapping their outstretched wings, and belting out their penguin song. Other unattached males would frequently join in the raucous display, leading to a chorus of loud calling by groups of a half-dozen or more. The chorus of mating calls was nearly continuous.
The buildings of a sheep ranch were visible about a mile away, and sheep were grazing just a few yards from the penguin rookeries. A Turkey Buzzard soared low along the foot of a small rise, catching the wind rising over the low topography.
We returned to the beach and watched the penguins heading out into the surf. They waddling along in uncertain appearing groups, frequently stopping and milling about, as if to check each other's opinion of the wisdom of proceeding into the water. Once they reached the edge of the water, they flopped down on their bellies and pedaled forward into the approaching waves. When a wave washed over them, they suddenly rocketed forward into the deeper water. They could be seen flying through the water in the waves farther out.
We donned our life jackets and climbed into a departing Zodiac. A series of three small waves broke over our bow as the driver tried to get out of the surf zone. I was riding at the front of the boat and caught a lot of very cold spray off the tops of the waves as we bounced along. The metal bottom of the Zodiac was creaking, making a sound like an aluminum can makes as it is crushed.
I changed into dry clothes for the cruise to Port Stanley, a few miles to the south of Volunteer Point. The morning was sunny and the wind was increasing. It was blowing about thirty miles per hour and kicking up white caps.
We passed the lighthouse on the point leading into Port Stanley. The entrance to the harbor is very narrow. As the Hanseatic turned toward the dock inside the harbor, the wind picked up even more. It was blowing more than 45 miles per hour, and gusting more than that. Most of the expedition passengers on the observation deck took shelter behind the electronics shack in the middle of the deck.
Two of the ship's tenders were used for the landing at Port Stanley. They doubled as lifeboats. The ship was equipped with four tenders. They were completely enclosed for arctic operations. We watched as boxes of fresh vegetables were unloaded from one of the tenders and then charcoal from the ship was placed in the tender to be taken on shore in trade.
Debbie and I rode in the tender to the dock at Port Stanley. We planned to find a restaurant to have lunch. First we walked down Ross Road, the street that fronted the harbor. We passed the police station and found the post office. There was a hand written sign on the door of the Post Office to the effect that it would be open for an hour in the afternoon for ship's passengers to buy stamps.
There is little wood available for construction in the Falkland Islands. The roofs of the houses were made mostly of sheet metal. The metal roofs were painted in bright colors, lots of red and green and some yellow and blue. Glassed in sun rooms are a popular addition to many of the homes.
There is a large stone church across the street from the harbor. In the garden in front of the church there is a large archway made from the jawbones of a Blue Whale. The arch stands nearly 20 feet tall.
A large monument to the 1982 battle for the Falklands Islands stands a short distance past the church. Another monument commemorates a British victory over the German fleet near the Falklands in 1914. The wreck of the Jhemmal sits grounded in the harbor. It has been there since the 1870s. A tin roof has been installed on the wreck to slow its deterioration. It is considered one of the most important wooden shipwrecks in the harbor.
We hiked up the hill and crossed back through the residential part of town. Many of the homes had carefully tended gardens. One of them featured the most ornate collection of ceramic garden gnomes I have ever seen in a single yard. The yard was tiered. The lowest tier of the garden was occupied by dozens of garden gnomes. There was a ceramic Mexican burro and a pair of plastic, pink flamingoes behind them. Farther up, there were a couple of species of ceramic geese. A large shrub in the highest tier was surrounded by a collection of ceramic King Penguins and topped by a ceramic hawk.
We stopped in the Globe Tavern to see about getting something to eat. The air was thick with tobacco smoke. A group of sailors with a case of Heineken occupied the central table. We decided to get something to drink and then to go somewhere else to eat. I ordered a Guinness Stout and Debbie had a Heineken.
After we finished our drinks we went to find some food. Everywhere we looked, the restaurants were closed, had just stopped serving food, or did not appeal to Debbie. Eventually, she went to visit the town cemetery, and I headed back to the Globe. The Globe had a menu written in chalk on a black board. I ordered a steak and kidney pie and another Guinness.
I sat at a table with my Guinness stout to wait for my pie. A member of the Caltech contingent, who had been a student there about ten years before me, ordered some lunch and sat at my table. A short while later a waitress with lots of metal bits piercing the thinner parts of her anatomy brought his order of chicken curry to the table. I mentioned that a steak and kidney pie should also be on the way. She replied that there wasn't one. She went to the counter and spoke to the bartender. She came back and told me that they had run out of the steak and kidney pie. I'm not sure if they ever would have mentioned that my pie wasn't coming. I changed my order to the chicken curry. It was a fairly ordinary curry with just meat, no vegetables or any of the extra condiments I usually use to augment my own curry.
I found Debbie on the dock waiting for the tender. She had found many interesting old graves in the cemetery, lots of shipwreck victims and some families that had lost several children over the space of a few weeks, as if there had been some epidemic.
Dad and Elaine invited Harrison Schmitt and his wife Theresa to join us for dinner that night. The next morning we would be at sea, crossing the Drake Passage, so we did not have to get up early to prepare for a landing.