The Falkland Islands

Bright and early Friday morning our ship pulled into an inlet near the town of Stanley in the Falkland Islands. Since the harbor wasn't deep enough to accommodate our ship, we took tender boats for the one-mile ride to shore.

The Falkland Islands seemed like a mini England in so many ways.



Everything was very clean and organized. It seemed a world away from South America.



While we were strolling through the town, a group of British fighter jets came screaming by, flying in formation low over the harbor. I heard it was to intimidate the Argentineans who had come on our cruise ship.

They said this cathedral was the southern-most in the world. I'm not sure what fits the definition of cathedral, but there were some beautiful churches farther south on our cruise. This one was very beautiful, nonetheless. The arch near the front was constructed from the jawbones of a couple large whales.

Our tour started around 10:30, and we took Land Rovers across the peat fields to Penguin Cove. We got to see hundreds of Magellanic and King penguins, who were in molting season.

On the white sandy beach, the speed walkers were in action.

Tourism and sheep are some of the major industries in the Falkland Islands.

At the farm house, we were served up delicious British scones, tea, and other delights while the farmer's daughter played an accordion.

It was delicious, and I happily accepted seconds.

All too soon it was time to go back to our boat. Our guides picked our way over the rocky fields, avoiding the areas were Argentine landmines have been planted. Our vehicle got a punctured tire, and I hopped out to help change it.

Back in town, this man's yard is full of whale skeletons, and an old harpoon gun, which apparently killed 20 some thousand whales over the course of a hundred years. He was trying to highlight the inhumane killing of whales.

The clouds were settling lower as our boat took us back to the ship. Its starting to feel like "home" now.

I wondered what Falkland Islanders thought about the disputed ownership of their islands. Everyone I asked was very adamant that it was British, that they felt British, and would not want to be part of Argentina. They get angry when Argentinean tourists come and call it Islas Malvinas. That evening on the ship I looked at the navigation map in the library, and someone had used a ball-point pen to scribble out the name Falkland Islands and written Islas Malvinas beside it.