Windy the Falkland, very windy….A first storm will welcome us a few hours after our arrival, and a lot of them will follow, we will became used to it. Stanley is not much more protected, perhaps worse, but although the anchorages are very exposed the holding ground is very good. We could howewer enjoy Stanley, very, very british, have a look at the round of the skid fishing boats, coreans or others, watch the cruise ships and their hordes of tourists, see again our greek friend Aleko, on the way for Saint Helen, alone. We will store peat for the stove, good english beers…The marine life is still rich, Peale’s dolphins, sei whales who thrive of the abundant krill.

A weather getting a little bit better, followed by another storm, and we are at last at Peeble Island. Here we are in the land of penguins, Magellanic standing by their burrows, Gentoo in full moulting. Sheeps are everywhere, the geese too, all this small world living together peacefully. Peale’s dolphins, so beautiful in their white and black smoking, will escort us till The Neck, on Saunder’s Island, so close that I will be afraid to let go the anchor on them.

The arrival at The Neck is gorgeous : thousands and thousands of penguins by this wonderful beach, Gentoo, Magellanic, King with their chick just born, Rock hoppers in the cliffs. As it’s moulting time the ground is covered with down. We can go very close to them, especialy with the Rock hoppers, we will even have sometime to ask them to let us go. It’s like to be in another planet, we are in the penguin’s world.

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A little bit further, in Carcass Island, we will meet again the penguins, Magellanic and Gentoo, well sheltered in the tussoc, these big clumps which give refuge for nearly all the animals. The steaming ducks, oystercatchers, tussac birds, the long tailed meadowlark, everybody enjoy the beach, us too in collecting drift wood.

West Point Island, where Alan and his wife welcome us, was named Albatross Island in the past, and you can imagine why : here, in the tussoc we will get close to the young black browed albatross, still at nest. They have not acheived their moulting, the adults don’t feed them anymore so they could fly off, and they start to spread out their huge wings, under the indifferent look from the Rock hoppers, also busy in ending their moulting. They are so cute, they look like cuddly toys, and what is striking in all these animals which live together is the lack of aggressivity, the lack of fear of human beings.

Beaver Island, the den of Jérome Poncet and sons, where they share their time between trips to South Georgia and South Sandwiches and the breeding of sheep and reindeers. It’s the first place in the Falkland where we will find a sort of port. The boats of Jérome, “Damien II” and the “Golden Fleece” are beached alongside the jetty, Dion’s boat, the “Hans Hansen”, has his own mooring in the bay. And at night the blow of Commerson’s dolfins will cradle us in our bunk.

New Island will be our last call in Falkland. The welcome of Charlene and John will be memorable, they will welcome us as friends and we will thrive again of the Gentoo penguins, the albatrosses, Rock hoppers, sea lions…The imperial shags, the skuas have also their nests here, and the funny “Johnny Rooks”, the striated caracaras” will try to pick up our hats, it’s their game. No foxes as in Beaver, but beautiful coton tail rabbits, wild cats, peregrine falcons. Nexw Island is a natural reserve since 1972, the island begin to recover after 2 centuries of destruction: havoc of the breeding, which destroy the tussoc, and the slaughter of wild animals. Less than a hundred years ago, whales where chased, then the fur seals, then the sea lions, for ending with the rock hoppers… Thousands of them will die, to make oil, when they were not directly used as fuel….Their cousins from the Northern hemisphere, the great hawk, will not have the luck to survive, man, this superior being, will have swept from the planet.
It’s also in New Island that a flit spear point has been discovered, these so disputed islands have certainly been yaghan or kaweskar, long, long ago before the white man….And these islands have an indien name, Windy islands….

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Ushuaia, another meeting point for sailors : Tristan, Chief Mate of the “Le Lyrial”, Federico and Laura, met in Piriapolis 4 years ago, and many others….It’s difficult to imagine Ushuaia in Bridges’time in this turistic hot spot, the jail of Radoviztky now hosts a museum and artists and it’s only in the Estancia Harberton and the bahia Cambaceres that we will feel the atmosphere of “Uttermost part of the earth” from Lucas Bridges. Places of magic, the montains to the North, the plains, the woods full of wild horses, foxes, geese, caranchos, the pinguins of Isla Martillo to the South, a complete world where you expect to meet Onas indians in theirr huts or Lucas in his cabin.Thomas Bridges’ heirs still live in the estancia, and if the sheep and his wool are things of the past, remains the sheds, the workshops, Amalia, the whale boat built by Despar, the yaghan dictionary of Thomas Bridges, so often misappropriated, if not stolen, and a museum which we visit under the conduct of young and enthusiastic students.
The wind push us, a night in Buen Suceso, bleak anchorage facing the Strait of Le Maire, then Staten Islands, well guarded by violent currents. We will stay a week in Puerto Hopner, cut from the world in this wonderfull shelter, admiring the condors flights, watching for the clutch of steaming ducks, listening the song of cascades, before heading for other mythical islands, coveted, disputed, the Falkland.

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Caleta Mejillones, here were living the last yaghans before they were “transfered” en Ukika, near Puerto Williams. Remain the grave yard, some houses, free cattle, birds, Martin’s shed, the one who still knows how to do bark canoes, when they are not beautiful boats made of cypres. There is also a replica of a “chiajous”who hosted before the iniciation ceremonies. Here where taken the pictures of Rosa Yaghan, the last of the Wollaston. In Puerto Williams we will meet Cristina Calderon, the last yaghan who speaks the language and her nephew Ariel, the gran child of Martin. Even if they are not numerous, even if they are without roots, their culture is still living, the yaghan is teached at the kindergarten, the Martin Gusinde Museum is devoted to them. Whom, who where denied any culture, when their vocabulary is rich of more of 30 000 words, whom, who had no chiefs, nor gods or religion, whom for whom the private property was restricted to the tools, arms and canoe, whom who were nearly exterminated for the pretext of civilizied them, they are still here.
Puerto Williams it’s also the Micalvi, an old cargo ship now serving as yacht club, even if the Armada closed her famous bar, it’s the sailing school, the southermost of the world, where a hundred of kids learn how to sail, whatever the weather, for free. With the friends Mauro and Roberto as teachers they will soon be champions ! We will make the showing of the “Boton de nacar” , the Patricio Guzman movie, the time of an asado, great moments…Puerto Williams it’s also the “Chez Patty” restaurant, it’s John the fisherman, always ready for help, they are the reunions, Carmen and Bernard, met in Polynesia, with whom we will climb the Cerro Bandera which overlook the Beagle Canal, Juan Pedro, met 4 years ago in Quequen, he is going North. It’s also the colonies of kelp and Scoresby’s gulls, a few steps from the port, free horses grazing everywhere, austral parakeets, herons, geese and others…
On the way for the Cape Horn, Puerto Toro, the southernmost village of the world, then the acrobats dolphins of Bahia Nassau, the Horn, fortress who will let us pass quietly in a moment of calm. We will end the year in Puerto Maxwell, alone in this wonderfull anchorage, bathing in the kelp, fascinated by this pure nature.
When, in the early morning of our departure, we will find the presents let by Francis and Mauro during the night, we will promise to ourselves, if we can, to come back here one day, this part of the world bewitch us.

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Once passed the Golfo de Penas, at least we are in the channels : First Messier channel, wide, impressive and we are lucky to sail downwind. The anchorages in the caletas follow one another , always closer to the trees, moss and lichens, well sheltered when the wind is howling. We will pass too quickly in Puerto Eden, last refuge for the kawesqars, but the bad weather will not permit us to linger. There is only a few indian families here, the others are in Puerto Natales or Punta Arenas, they have not disappeared. Now the children celebrate Haloween…
For nearly 2 months we will live isolated in this nature which has not changed since 10 000 years. No roads, no houses, a few fishermen, wrecks, birds, dolphins, otters and sea lions. We think of those who came before us, we read again Slocum, we watch once more the movie “Feurland”, the german expedition of 1928, with Gunther Plüschow, Captain of his sailing boat and seaplane. They had met the last canoeros and you can see in their look that they know they are a condemned folk, living on borrowed time. We come too late, of course, but we keep the feeling to share the same environment, to drink at the same springs, to cut the same wood to keep us warm, to meet the same animals. We think of their nomade life, devoid of everything, in the cold, the wind and the rain when we come back to our warm stove.
We progrees slowly in the channels : Concepcion, Inocentes, Sarmiento, Magallanes, Cockburn, Brecknock….to end in the Beagle and its fantastics icefields. Here we will meet again the same scenery than in Alaska, the same alpine vegetation, but the condors have replaced the eagles. The Darwin Cordillera and the Romanche icefield fascinate us. In Caleta Beaulieu we will leave our track, perhaps one day will we come back ?

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