Falkland Islands

A leap into the unknown

Genevieve Leaper recounts an intriguing cruise through the Falkland Islands followed by a dramatic singlehanded return north made by her partner, Aleko Stephan

Sailing out of Port Stanley I was excited but also more than a little nervous. Setting out into unknown waters is one thing, but in an unfamiliar boat with a man I’d only met a few weeks earlier was taking it way beyond my comfort zone. Not to mention that we had no dinghy, only paddleboards, and Aleko and I do have communication problems -

English being his fourth language.

I had arrived on another boat.

It had been a wonderful six weeks sailing south through Patagonia with my friends Colin and Ana on their

Ovni Ithaka and I had thoroughly enjoyed the three day passage from

Isla de los Estados (Staten Island).

We had been cruising in company with Aleko and his Nicholson 32

Beduin since the Magellan Strait and

I had become quite attached to both the pretty little boat and the skipper, with his happy-go-lucky attitude.

I had only begun to appreciate the scale of the archipelago when it took us more than a day from sighting Sealion Island to arriving in Port Stanley. The Falklands are just a dot on the map beside the

South American continent, but at 4700 square miles (12000 km²) have a larger area than all the Scottish islands put together. Besides the two main islands, there are another 776 smaller isles, most of the interesting ones in the west or south – a long way from Stanley in East Falkland. I had only two weeks left - even after twice delaying my flight home - which I realised wasn’t nearly long enough.

Strangely familiar

It’s a very windy place, that was one of the few things I did know about the islands. The wind blows Force 5 and above for 40% of the time. So it was frustrating, but not surprising, for our departure from Stanley to be delayed by the weather. Stanley is both very British, in a rather old-fashioned way, and strangely foreign. The red phone boxes, Anglican cathedral and even an old London bus seemed incongruous among the colourful houses with corrugated metal roofs that could have been in Chile. The total population is only 3000 people, so even though most live in Stanley, the town has a small community feel and we found everyone friendly and helpful. The boats were berthed at FIPASS (Falklands Islands Interim Port & Storage System), a chain of rusty

Port Stanley

barges forming a pontoon for cruise ships and fishing boats. It was a mile to walk into town but we were glad of the facilities (showers, laundry and wifi) at the Seamen’s Centre.

It was still breezy when we left but with three tons of lead in her long keel, the Nicholson 32 could have been designed for the Falklands. She is at her best in a blow and always felt well balanced and light on the helm.

Luckily Aleko and I were in agreement - we wanted to see penguins! There are around one million penguins in the islands but some of the five species are easier to find than others. So our first stop was Cow Bay, 20 miles north of Stanley, one of the few places with king, as well as gentoo and Magellanic penguins. We could see the penguins on the long, white sand beach – behind a line of breaking surf. We waited all next day, Beduin rolling in the swell, but the wind never dropped enough to get ashore.

Aleko suggested we keep going overnight and sail directly to Carcass Island over a hundred miles away in the northwest. We enjoyed a fast reach up to MacBride Head in the lee of the land but it was followed by a long beat to get west against the prevailing wind. With a short, steep swell on the beam for much of the night and all the unfamiliar noises, I didn’t get much sleep. The morning dawned grey and misty but after a few hours Pebble Island appeared out of the murk, then Saunders Island, and we reached Carcass Island in the afternoon, anchoring off the settlement in Port Pattison. The peculiar name comes from HMS Carcass which surveyed the island in 1766 (a carcass was a type of incendiary bomb).

Strolling around the bay on a beautiful evening we finally got to meet penguins up close. The burrow-nesting Magellanic penguins are the most widespread, found all round the islands. They entertained us every day with dawn and dusk choruses of donkey-like braying. There were also pairs of kelp geese and caracaras. The striated caracara, known locally as Johnny Rook, is a long-legged bird of prey, very rare but certainly not shy and retiring. This opportunistic scavenger is well known for stealing things like hats and cameras. Charles Darwin, visiting in the Beagle commented: “These birds are very mischievous and inquisitive; they will pick up almost anything from the ground”. Back onboard we enjoyed a fabulous sunset; the islands’ wide open vistas and changeable weather are certainly great for dramatic skies.

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(left) Beduin anchored off the Neck, Saunders Island, with Gentoo penguins and chicks on the beach (right) Red phone boxes outside the post office in Stanley

ABOVE LEFT

Beduin on passage to the Falklands

ABOVE RIGHT

Gentoo colony at the Neck, Saunders Island

BELOW LEFT

Rough seas leaving the Tamar Pass, Pebble Island

BELOW RIGHT

Rare but not timid - Striated caracara on Carcass Island

Nature’s bounty

The star attractions here are the elephant seals. Next morning Rob, the owner, gave us a lift to the far end of the island. The elephant seals weren’t difficult to find; we heard them before we saw them and almost fell over the first one in the tussac grass as we walked down to the shore. We had missed the breeding season but now, in late January, they were back ashore to moult. There was a crowd on the beach, huge blubbery lumps, snoozing, snoring, and occasionally snarling at each other. These were the males,

several tonnes a piece. Most of the females had finished moulting and gone back to sea, the few that were left lying quietly away from the males. They were so much smaller I thought they were pups at first.

I could have stayed a week but it was time to start heading back east, first to Saunders Island. We anchored at The Neck, a low sandy isthmus which is home to 6000 pairs of gentoo penguins. Their nests were simple piles of stones and we watched one stealing stones from a neighbour’s nest. Walking along the beach we passed a family of steamer ducks, a flightless species endemic to the Falklands, and had just found the rockhoppers when a landrover appeared, so we went to speak to the owners. It is customary when visiting ‘camp’ (anywhere outside Stanley) to contact the landowners first. Although we always tried to call on the VHF before going ashore, as we’d been advised, no-one ever answered. Apparently we’d arrived at just the wrong time, there was a cruise ship coming and we were politely asked to leave. We couldn’t see what difference we would make to the cruise ship but were quite happy to come back next day. Tourism is now an important part of the Falklands economy.

Next day we had the penguins to ourselves and spent a long day ashore. We found the king penguins in a little huddle among the gentoos. They are almost as big and just as handsome as the emperors of Antarctica but didn’t do much, mostly standing around looking dignified, some appeared to be incubating. Higher up there was an enormous mixed seabird colony with Imperial cormorants, blackbrowed albatrosses and rockhoppers nesting side by side. The rockhopper chicks clustered in little groups, while each fluffy albatross chick occupied a substantial mud tower nest. With albatrosses soaring the cliffs and dolphins surfing the waves below, there was so much going on, we didn’t know where to look. We found our way down the slope to a rocky platform where we could watch Aleko’s favourites, the rockhoppers, coming ashore.

ABOVE

Gentoo penguins returning from fishing trip, Cow Bay

BELOW LEFT

Ashore to moult - male Southern elephant seal

BELOW RIGHT

Female elephant seals are much smaller than males These tough little characters lived up to their name. Leaping out of the breaking waves they seemed unbothered when they got the timing wrong and were washed back down the rocks. After stopping to preen on the flat rocks they hopped their way on up to the colony. I photographed one individual with particularly fine feather tufts in the colony and only realised later it was the fifth species, a Macaroni penguin - of which there are only a few pairs.

From The Neck we were heading for Pebble Island but when we heard Ithaka calling Saunders Island on the VHF we joined them at the anchorage off the Sealers Cove settlement. The first British settlement in the islands was established just north of here at Port Egmont in 1765. French navigator Louis de Bougainville had established a settlement on East Falkland the previous year, which was bought out by Spain a few years later. He named the islands Les îles Malouines, after the settlers home port of Saint Malo, hence the Spanish name Las Malvinas. After that the history is

complicated, the colonists apparently unaware of each other at first but disputes beginning between Britain and Spain (later Argentina) from 1770. All the settlements were evacuated in the early 19th century, leaving the islands to the sealers and whalers for a while. In 2013 the islanders voted by overwhelming majority to remain a self-governing British Overseas Territory.

Anchoring anguish

Much to our frustration it was too windy to go visiting and when Ithaka’s anchor dragged we could only watch as Ana battled with the kelp. Kelp shows the rocks and provides shelter from the waves but is formidable stuff to get tangled in. A good kelp cutter is essential and we’d had plenty of practice in Patagonia. Aleko used a machete while, with higher freeboard, Colin and Ana favoured a pruning saw with a long handle. Finally the wind eased a little in the evening and we paddled across – with a line in case we had to haul ourselves back.

It was still blowing a gale next morning but our route was downwind in the shelter of the islands. We set off at 4 knots under sprayhood while we had a discussion on the foredeck about which headsail to hoist. I was allowed my preference for the storm jib and with a helpful tide Beduin averaged nearly 6 knots. Tides around the islands are complicated; the tide runs strongly in opposite directions in the Northwest passage and Tamar Pass, the narrows at either end of Pebble Island, just 12 miles apart. Colin admitted he’d been caught out; having timed it right to enter the Tamar Pass, they found themselves going backwards while motoring hard in the Northwest passage.

Beduin was accompanied by Commerson’s dolphins most of the way. They look more like porpoises, with rounded fins and snub noses, but these smart little black and white dolphins are very playful and love boats. There are not many boats to play with in the Falklands - cruise ships are more numerous than yachts - so they were making the most of it, taking turns to bowride as more came to join in.

When we turned upwind into Ship Harbour at the east end of Pebble Island, the short chop was sending spray and solid lumps of water over the sprayhood, so I left the skipper at the helm and retreated below. The evening forecast was worse so we stayed a day. We were both quite glad of a rest and I even had a swim. But I was getting worried that we were still a long way from Stanley and the next day’s forecast of N to NW 5-7 wasn’t conditions I’d normally set out in.

It was rough leaving through the Tamar Pass with the tide going out against the wind but after rounding the Eddystone Rock off Cape Dolphin we bore away for a splendid sail back to Cow Bay on a fast broad reach, surrounded by albatrosses and sooty shearwaters skimming the waves.

The skipper was not feeling well and when he retired below it was my chance to play single-hander for a few hours. By this time I was feeling very comfortable with the boat. In fact, Beduin had felt strangely familiar from the start. I was reminded of my grandfather’s South Coast One Design (SCOD), but thought it was just the deep, narrow cockpit and teak decks. I hadn’t realised that the 26ft wooden SCOD was an earlier design by Charles Nicholson on which the very successful Nicholson 32 was based. Beduin, built in 1964, is the original Mk1 design. The low freeboard does make her rather wet but there are advantages to being closer to the water. And the narrow beam means you can reach both sheet winches

ABOVE LEFT

West coast of Beaver Island

ABOVE RIGHT

Beaver Island, with Beduin anchored off the settlement and Weddell island in the distance

BELOW

Commerson's dolphin playing alongside as Beduin runs east to Pebble Island under storm jib

while standing at the tiller. Mostly I loved the boat but I don’t know how Aleko managed a three year voyage without a gimballed cooker!

This time we did get ashore in Cow Bay. Too lazy to walk, we just sat on the beach to watch the gentoos. They gave us no more than a casual glance as they marched past, setting out or returning from fishing trips. Young penguins loitered on the beach waiting for the next meal, while a few went for swimming practice close to shore. Gentoos are the champion swimmers, reaching speeds of 20 knots underwater.

It was a dull, misty day and I spent most of the sail back to Stanley down below, packing my bags - though I did rush up on deck when Aleko spotted sei whales crossing Berkeley Sound. The wind died then came back, just too late, as we were motoring into the Narrows. Determined to returned to Stanley in style, we hoisted the sails again and Beduin sailed alongside the FIPASS. Next day I reluctantly boarded the weekly flight to Punta Arenas, not knowing if I would see Aleko and Beduin again and already wondering if I was making a mistake.

For Aleko, with thousands of miles still to sail home, the adventure was far from over. Although keen to see more of the Falklands his main priority was to get a new AIS transmitter. He’s not a big fan of electronic gadgets but AIS is an invaluable safety aid for the singlehander as the oceans get busier. A friend arranged for the AIS to be sent out from the UK but after two weeks Aleko was still waiting. At least he wasn’t alone, having met up with Ithaka again and a charter boat we’d met in Puerto Williams. They were all berthed now on a pontoon closer to town which was more convenient, but the yachts did have to move out and anchor occasionally when a cruise ship came in. A Frenchman who stopped to chat on the pontoon turned out to be the legendary Jérôme Poncet, pioneer of Antarctic sailing. He invited Aleko to visit his home on Beaver Island and have the AIS sent on there.

Like Carcass Island, Beaver is named after a ship, in this case the first American whaling vessel to round Cape Horn in 1791. Beaver Island lies in the southwest of the archipelago so Aleko set off to the south but after 10 miles, with Beduin making no progress beating into wind and waves, he turned round to sail non-stop 159 miles around the north and west before the next bad weather came in.

Aleko’s emails now made me very jealous. Most of the Falklands are quite low, in places reminding me of the Outer Hebrides or Shetland, but Beaver has dramatic vertical cliffs in the west, where he was surprised to see fur seals high up the steep rocky ledges. More unusually the island also has a herd of reindeer, which Jérôme brought from South Georgia. Best of all were the Commerson’s dolphins which hung around waiting to accompany the paddleboard every time Aleko went ashore. Aleko thoroughly enjoyed the hospitality of Jérôme and his son Leiv, especially the three course birthday dinner Jérôme cooked for him.

ABOVE

Commerson's dolphins accompanied the paddleboard every time Aleko went ashore on Beaver Island

BELOW

Aleko (left) tries his hand at sheep shearing on Beaver Island

Shear joy

It’s generally recommended that yachts should leave the Falklands by the end of February before the worst of the autumn gales. Aleko delayed his departure a week to help with the sheep shearing. Sheep were for a long time the mainstay of Falklands economy and there are still around half a million. There is a sheep on the islands’ coat of arms and the daily forecast includes the ‘sheep chill factor’ as wind chill is a real risk to newly-shorn sheep.

Before the professional shearer arrived the sheep had to be rounded up – by motorbike. Aleko is not unfamiliar with riding off road but couldn’t keep up over the rugged terrain, frequently falling into unseen ditches. Then there were two hard days work starting at 6a.m. Aleko did have a go at shearing - one lucky ewe didn’t lose as much of her wool as the rest - but his job was to clean the dirt out of the fleeces and put them in the press. After handling several tonnes of wool he wrote to me: “Two things I know definitely now; I don’t want to be a sheep and I don’t want to be a sheep farmer or shearer”.

After another gale, which

prevented Aleko even getting ashore, Beduin left Beaver Island on 10 March, with half a sheep and half a lamb, leaving presents from Jérôme, hanging from the solar panel frame at the stern.

With depressions coming through thick and fast, timing was everything in picking a weather window. The plan was to use the tail end of a small low to get far enough north to avoid the next big low coming in - but it didn’t work out quite like that.

After leaving in a calm, the wind started to increase before Beduin was clear of the Falklands, sailing through the first low with confused seas and steep waves as the wind backed from east through north and within minutes round to the west. The waves were hitting the boat from all sides and broke the connection between the wind vane and rudder of the self-steering gear. The mutton had to be sacrificed as it was bending the frame too much but Aleko managed to cut up the lamb and store it in the fridge.

Feeling the strain

The electronic autopilot worked for a few hours before also breaking due to excessive forces on the rudder from the awkward seas. After heavingto for the night, Aleko managed to get it working again with a spare bar, but this one failed when water got in the motor. It was too wet and cold to stay outside for long so he had to give up on sailing fast to escape the weather. There was no respite before the deep depression hit; Beduin was north of it but not far enough to avoid the strongest winds. By this stage it was too late to reduce sail so he hove-to with the double-reefed main and a small jib and lashed the tiller. Although the boat was very much over-canvassed, Aleko believes this was no bad thing. The boat was heeled over so much that she slid down the waves and he never felt there was a risk of being rolled. It also meant the waves hit the hull rather than the large saloon windows which could be a weakness. It was dark in the cabin though with the lee side underwater and waves foaming over the top. Aleko pulled the mattresses and duvet off the bunk and wedged himself on the floor amongst the chaos of clothes and books that had already tumbled down. And there he stayed for four or five days, checking outside once or twice a day but unable to do much. His memory of that time is blurred as he was in considerable pain from an old neck problem that flared up. But he remembers how the white horses were whipped off the waves, leaving the sea completely covered in foam. The wind, he said, made strange noises, over and above the shrieking in the rigging. He couldn’t describe the sound but it was well beyond anything he had experienced before.

Gradually the wind decreased and once the waves were no longer washing right over the boat and he could stay on deck for a while, it was possible to sail again. At least Beduin had been drifting in the right direction, making 70 miles in one 24 hour period while hove-to.

It was obvious that repairs to the wind pilot would have to wait for very calm conditions, so the only options were to steer by hand or lash the tiller. Luckily, with the sails well trimmed, Beduin is good at steering herself. Things improved, Aleko even managed to photograph a pod of pilot whales that came to surf alongside. But he was still suffering badly and running out of painkillers so abandoned the plan to go to St Helena and headed for Piriapolis in Uruguay (1300 miles from the Falklands) for rest and repairs.

That was the first I heard of the storm and even then he didn’t let on quite how bad it had been. Luckily the rest of the long voyage back north up the Atlantic was uneventful, though I didn’t envy him the weeks of sailing hard on the wind through the tropical heat.

After a brief stop in Cape Verde Beduin arrived in the Azores at the beginning of June. I flew out to meet Aleko and we sailed together back to his home in Greece.

ABOVE

Too windy to get ashore: white sand beach at Cow Bay

BELOW LEFT

Sunset from Port Pattison, Carcass Island

BELOW RIGHT

Aleko at the helm