At the arse end of the world

It is 20 years ago this month that I left the Falkland Islands to return to the UK. I had been working in Port Stanley for a year as a satcom tech for the company responsible for providing the islands international telecommunications services. Even though I didn't realise it at the time, the year I spent down south changed me in many ways, and shaped to a certain extent the person I am today.

Port Stanley was quite a rough place at times and had the feel of a frontier town about it. The British Forces were still based in the Stanley and the brawls that broke out in the pubs sometimes had to be witnessed to be believed. It was like the wild west. I quickly learnt to drink by the door incase a hasty exit was needed!

Drinking heavily in the Falklands was a way of life for many in those days. Some of the islanders seemed immune to the effects of rum. I have never seen so much hard liquor consumed by men and women. To combat the endless hangovers it was best to have other interests in life other than drinking. Fortunately I have always liked birdwatching and together with a new camera I had acquired when working in Hong Kong, I tried to devote a lot of my time, when the weather allowed, to photographing the birdlife on the islands. I still drank like a fish though!

During my year on the islands I made many trips to out lying settlements. At one of these I learnt how to slaughter sheep. Every Friday sheep were butchered to feed the people and sheepdogs for the following week. It was like a different world. But it taught me a bit about the cycle of life & death, and how little thought goes into where our food comes from. When I sat there in Port Stephens tucking into some mutton I knew exactly where it had come from, and it wasn't plastic wrapped from a supermarket.

But perhaps the most enduring impression of the Falklands that I will always carry with me is of the ruggedness and beauty of the place. I once at sat in a 10,000 strong colony of Rockhopper Penguins and watched the sun go down over the southern ocean. I was totally accepted by the penguins, the sunset was too beautiful for words, and I felt totally at one with the world. It's funny, but I knew at the time I would never feel like that again.

Over 3 years after leaving the Falklands, I was offered a chance to return to my old job in Port Stanley, but this time for a stint of 2 years. I declined. I very much enjoyed my one year there, but I was sure my liver would have never survive the abuse for a further 2 years :)