Down to Stone with our dog Hugo.  Met up with Derek and Sue to be shown the ropes of Oasis Too.

Aston Marina late December

The way out to the cut

Top hatch cover art

The boat

Polished brass

All ship-shape

We have bought a share in a narrow boat, called Oasis Too.

She is based for the moment in Stone. Great location and a delicatessen to die for.

She is 58’ long traditional design and oozes charm. First trip late December, so photos to follow.

Can you guess that we are excited

Canal dreams reprise

Off on a narrow boat named the  Golden Goose

Just out of the Monty and now to Llangollen against the flow. These canals have a constant inflow from rivers and are not stagnant at all. They are brown from churned silt as the max depth is only 3-4ft 

Go west young man ¹

My colleague extolled the virtues of West Falkland. Much sunnier, greener and altogether nicer than the east.  There is something magical about the place.

Port Howard … our next stop as we said goodbye to Cat and Brad our hosts on Pebble Island.

The airstrip was a few miles along the dirt road from the settlement.  Wayne met us and soon we were bowling along the tree lined highway. The trees were only 1 metre high but you plant trees not for yourself, but for your grandchildren.

A warm welcome, and then to repair to the typical Falklands institution of the honesty bar.

We wanted to visit the grave of Capt John Hamilton MC who was killed in action in the 1982 war. He is buried in the settlement cemetery.  The graves are surrounded by a white picket fence and is on a peaceful site on the bend of the river. His exploits are detailed in the settlement museum located in a Nissen hut in the grounds of the lodge.

Puerto Yapeyu is the name given by the Argentinians during their 74 day occupation of Port Howard.  The colossal cheek — not only did they invade and imprison the population, but they tried to destroy the Falklanders’ heritage. No wonder Argentina is viewed with such dislike by the farmers here.  Memories are long, life is often difficult here and those that thrive here have developed a fierce attachment to their land. Their ancestors are buried here together with a hero from a distant homeland and their prosperity has been ground out from the sweat of their brows.

Such a peaceful and beautiful place. Safe for kids who enjoy playing sheep and sheepdogs!

Model railway

After a longish gestation period, Giles phoned to let me know that my baseboards had arrived and were being set up
They were then packed and sent up first thing in the am.
I have put the pictures on another part of this website.
The packaging was impressive and the baseboards were well protected.

I used the usual bodge to get them assembled ¹
I then relented and have splashed out on a socket driver and one socket (with adapter) to fit M8 bolts.

Next, the plans …

Baseboards assembled

Or the dog star.

A beautiful day here in Stanley; a clock calm.

In the morning sky to the east, a bright shining star — Venus.

This night, cold, clear and calm. High in the SE sky, an orange star. It must be Mars. Sky guide concurred with me. The more I looked, the more stars appeared. Sirius, the dog star was to the south. Another bright star twinkled — Canopus¹ — how appropriate

All things must pass

All things fade. Only the living repairs and renews itself. Some signs need to be updated and renewed¹. Others can be safely left to fall apart.

Should they be removed or allowed to moulder?

Hidden Gems

We blithely pass on our way, eyes sweeping over familiar objects. Turning the corner, a feature on a lamp post¹ jarred a memory. There was an almost obscured crest on the post. The details have been painted over again and again until little evidence remains. Under all this clogging of paint, the old Seal Crest of the Falkands peers through.

Time to find out what else I have missed in my hurry around the town

The only traffic lights in Stanley

Quite possibly, the only ones in the Falklands ¹

You know what they say about new roads attracting the traffic — well, it's true. The blacktop beckoned; 300 metres of smooth unblemished tarmac. Unfortunately, I was condemned to wait on the whim of the baleful red eye that glared from the works traffic lights. Nothing was coming at me, so the road was clear ahead. In fact, there was no traffic at all along Ross Road West, past the golf course. But I am thoroughly disciplined and only on the yellow did I release the brake. The Pajero surged forward, fishtailing on the loose chippings and then I was at last on the open highway. Heavy treaded tyres, thrumming on the hardtop, I cruised along. All too soon, I was back onto gravel just past the last of the new houses. I had to repeat that drive! A quick 3 point turn pointed my bonnet east, back into town.

I bumped up the ramp onto the new road and then there was that red light again …