[…] The locals we’ve met have been just as robust, resilient, and resourceful as the flora — always looking forwards, even as they face the huge challenges of just existing. Particularly as gardeners and island caretakers, instead of putting tennis courts in, they’re protective and nurturing the precious land they’re wardens of: holding in balance the roles of farmers and conservationists.

“Just how much wind is a lot of wind? Is this a normal amount of wind?” Very few Competent Crew courses have learned how to sail in a Force 8. Winds touched 40kt our first day on the water, with a 90 nautical mile overnight passage from Stanley to the West Falklands, making the most of a short weather window. “Well, technically this is a gale.”

Skiing downhill with a pulk is an acquired art. On a gentle glacier, with a firm frozen surface, it can be a joyful trundle. On a steep crevassed slope, trying to turn on breakable crust, avoiding lethal slots, it degenerates quickly into farce. […]

[…] Climate change, as everyone knows, has hit the Antarctic Peninsula harder than almost anywhere else on Earth, and right now, with our current northwesterly airstream, it feels as though the mountains are falling to pieces. […]

[…] It is essential to be captivated by the tempest and, equally, by the subtle nuances that emerge from one day to the next. Without this gift, a sailor might see only a heavy, monotonous blue horizon—a reality that would soon lead to alienation and perhaps madness. […]

[…] The sunlight danced and sparkled on the “million year” ice and we were all struck by its beauty and scale.  Were we really seeing this with our own eyes?  It was too good, too perfect to be true, but the drone witnessed what we saw. […]

[…] The dust cloud surrounding us was immense; it was the very earth mingling with the seascape. Everything was infused with the scent of sand, rather than the scent of the sea. Two theoretically contradictory elements merged—the ocean and the desert. […]

[…] The world felt both infinitely large and strangely small at the same time. The horizon stretched endlessly in every direction. There was no land in sight, no other boats for miles—just the vast expanse of the ocean. It made everything else feel distant and insignificant […]

[…] All around us there was a dark threatening sky but for just a few moments the sun peaked out and lit the scene in strong sunlight. […]

[…] But just to walk that short distance in the footsteps of those great men felt a real privilege. To stand on the mountain where Shackleton stood looking down into Stromness knowing that at last they were safe and could set about rescuing the men left behind on Elephant Island. […]

[…] The pictures are as I imagined, wide shots showing the enormity of the colony and long telephoto pictures of individuals or clusters coming ashore.  It’s the detail in the water and the beautiful colours of the King Penguin that intrigued me.

We have another two weeks here before we have to start thinking of the upwind return journey so we will park those thoughts for now and enjoy the moment being in one of the best and remotest wildlife areas in the world.

[…] Each time we are lucky enough to have a fully immersive experience of Falkland waters – be it cold , still, sunny, murky -rough or mesmerising- we get the chance to dive a little bit deeper into ourselves and our connection to this landscape.

[…] A chance to dive at the Jasons is a rare and wondrous opportunity. Think brilliant blue waters, sunlight dappled kelp forests, maniac fur seals zipping every which way around you and penguin torpedos zooming past in the dinner time rush.

[...] But Shackleton suddenly remembered that there was no glacier in Stromness Bay.  So, this must be Fortuna Bay, not Stromness.  And, anyway, getting down the great icefall tumbling from where they stood looked impossible.  So, weary and disappointed, they turned back to look for a better route. [...]

[...] We were all geared up, breakfast in our bellies and about to launch the Zodiac when a violent katabatic wind came rocketing down the Heaney Glacier turning the bay into a maelstrom immediately scrubbing our landing plans. [...]

[...] South Georgia is famous for these katabatic ‘williwaws’ but these were the worst I had experienced here in thirty-five years. Our tent seemed to take the worst hammering, bending and contorting with each blast until poles snapped and spindrift started to pour through holes in the ripped fabric. [...]

[...] Even the huge icebergs littering the bay had arranged themselves to leave a clear passage of clear water – perfect for a quick Zodiac ride to the beach.  It took three ferries to get everything ashore. [...]

[...] Although the island is only 170km long, the good thing is we have no-where near exhausted its potential for these adventures.  South Georgia, this denizen of the Southern Ocean can be very difficult, unpredictable at best, most often humbling.

Our yard period in Cape Town comes to an end and it is time to sail Vinson of Antarctica back to the Falklands for the start of an exciting season.

[…] This afternoon we spotted the volcanic mountain of Tristian da Cuhna. It turns out, Celestial Navigation really works!