It was sunny and beautiful without much (by Falkland standards) wind today: a perfect day for walking, photography, and drone flying. If there's one place in the world that you truly need transport, it's West Falkland. Yesterday I told Critta that I feel ready to go back to Chile. The combination of lack of internet and relative lack of people to talk to means things can get lonely when you're travelling in the Falklands, and finding out Irfan passed away last week without knowing the full story hasn't helped, either. In most other countries, even the smallest hamlet or village will at least have some sort of local cafe or bar, where you can talk to somebody or hang around for a lift but in West Falkland there's less than 200 people living on the entire island. Critta noted that November is the busy period for shearing and a lot of other work, and had I visited Port Howard in March or April, locals would more likely be keen for a drive or hanging out. Instead of a late-night chat on Messenger, I completed a 1,000-piece puzzle in only about 12 hours. In exhange for staying in the self-catering lodge, I washed all the sheets, duvet covers, and pillow cases, and Hoovered (vacuumed) the entire lodge. With my travel style, it's too bad I'm a city slicker; if I was raised on a farm I'd fit in beautifully but my mother wouldn't have allowed me to shear a sheep in a million years.
Critta agreed to drive me to Fox Bay today: a 90-minute drive along a gravel road. Sealed roads are as rare as unicorn eggs in camp.
Critta agreed to stop for photos and even for a quick sign-off on a geocache on a bridge over Chartres River.
You can stand in West Falkland with your thumb out all day and not see another vehicle. Critta even arranged a homestay with a couple named Andy and Shiralee. It's my first time staying in the home of a Falkland Islander. Port Howard is the most populated settlement in West Falkland with about 30 people, yet Fox Bay has more services and is home to a population of about 26. After a gorgeous drive, I was at the doorstep of Andy and Shiralee. Andy was born and bred in the Falklands, and Shiralee is from Wales but moved here with her family in '83 after her brother was killed during the war. Fox Bay is named after the now extinct Falkland Islands fox, which was last sighted in West Falkland around 1875.
Shiralee has three sons from a previous marriage; two of whom have disabilities. Andy has a daughter from a previous marriage. They have a very extensive collection of movies and DVD collections from classic TV shows. Though I don't particularly care for TV, a movie eases boredom a bit. In camp I've now experienced three different forms of accommodation: a shearing shed in Goose Green, a self-catering lodge in Port Howard, and now a homestay in Fox Bay.
This evening, Shiralee made some delicious toffee apples and then the entire settlement met for a bonfire.
5 November is known as Guy Fawkes Night, pertaining to a plot to assassinate King James I in 1605. The king survived and his council allowed the public to celebrate with bonfires. On this slightly chilly evening, it was a surefire way to keep warm.
After the bonfire excitement, it was a quiet evening with some good chats over a light dinner of sausages and veggies along with a glass of wine. My wish before coming to the Falklands was to stay in the home of a Falkland Islander, and I'm happy tonight as I finally got my wish.
