On its discovery, it was so densely covered by high tussock grass, that the illustrator from the sea, thought that the bushes were trees and added palm trees to good effect. Pigs, cattle, goats and sheep have seen off the tussock and the island looks sadly bare today.

Johnny Rook deserves a special mention

The books say that they will allow you to approach quite close — their spook distance is small. That is incorrect. They like red things; and cameras; and sunnies; and Landies. They also are intensely curious and having hovered over your head, will land about 2 metres away and then walk to you with only 1 metre gap. They are not keen though on workfare.

Oh there will be high winds tomorrow and it will be bumpy in the plane — haha.

So I did not sleep well, though i slept through the high winds of darkness. By 10 am, 'twas normal Falkands weather ie windy. A minor indignity was standing on the scales to determine the trim of the a/c. The small twin prop plane with ear plugs nestling in the redundant ash trays took off from Stanley airport to Saunders Island.

Saunders Island 51o22'S 60o05'W population 5 pers plus visitors

A smooth flight and then the wide gravel strip of Saunders. We kissed the earth with the wheels and I felt like kissing the earth myself. Then a 10 mile landrover trek taking one hour to reach The Neck. In the Landy were Paul from Poland, our host, we two and an PhD student from the US studying the Striated Caracara of this island.

Superb location on the neck with all 4 local penguins

• Gentoo
• Rockhopper
• Magellanic
• King

In addition to

• Black Browed Albatross
• Striated Caracara (Johnny Rook)
• Giant Petrel
• Kelp Gull
• Upland Goose
• Rock Cormorant
• Kelp Goose

Hot and sunny here, so high factor sunblock slapped on and off to try out my 400mm Canon L lens for real.

Back for our evening meal with the Caracara tiptoeing across the corrugated roof of the hut — must have been extras for Alfred Hitchcock

A misty or even foggy day. Wind still howling around the hut and the Caracaras are nowhere to be seen. It seems that they do not like the bad weather. Generator now fired up for its morning hour of recharging our batteries and we have run out of staples of washing up liquid, and bleach.

300 photos taken and will be sorted on our return to the Macbook Air.

The fog lifts so we set out towards Elephant Point. Perhaps, the elephant seals will be there again. The Gentoos scatter as we thhread our way between the colonies. Tight knots of Magellanic penguins rush around in a boiling huddle as we pass. Individuals scatter to left and right, but not usually in the direction furthest away from us. They seem to have little sense. Striated Caracara spy us and run pell-mell to stop near our feet. Has their behaviour been changed by the use of food lures so that their ring numbers can be read and noted?

Onward, skirting between the beach and Mt Harston, we smell the Rock Cormorant colony before we espy them around the headland. No seals, just sheep and wet grass glistening with drops of moisture. No tussock grass either — it seems that the sheep have grazed it to extinction. It might come back if the sheep were to go. It seems that the restoration of this environment depends on the removal of that animal that is also implicated in floods caused by the rapid runoff of rainwater from the hills of Cumbria and other upland areas. Tussock does survive, but only in those small cracks in the cliffs, where the Black-browed Albatross nest and sheep cannot reach. The solution is obvious — the material cost is not.

Onwards, we trudge, regretting our choice of dry weather footwear. My toes squelch in tepid water, filtering through the permeable uppers. At last, one more headland and the fog comes down in earnest. The picnic is laid out, consumed and we retrace our steps.

Ghostly sheep loom out of the mist like a Conan Doyle novel, and they point our way to the beach. Sheep are not a species that I expect to see ambling along the beach. Nothing much for them to destroy here though and so back to the Gentoos returning from the sea. Krill seems to be a favourite food, judging by the red colour of their scat (is this the right term for penguin droppings?) As we hoover up the animal life in the oceans (I nearly wrote our oceans — but they are not just ours to use and despoil as we have the land) how much food will be left for the birds and mammals who live here?

Global warming is not a consequence of human activity, but of too many humans on this planet.

Wonderful birds. They do not belong around your neck, but riding the winds of the great southern ocean

The Queen's baton arrived in the Falklands today. It had come from Capetown by ship to St Helena and then onto Ascension Island.
It joined our flight on the 2nd leg of our journey. The baton was brought around the cabin by a very nice lady. It was off to the Carribean after the Falklands, but another team would take over for that next section.
When we arrived at Mount Pleasant, the cameras were out in force (though normally photography is forbidden). Primary schoolchildren lined our route into the terminal and flags had been issued. All were keen to be involved. Perhaps my case had been caught up in the excitement and wanted to stay for the event.

This journey's end was much like many of our recent flights. Staring at the conveyor belt in desperate hope, but despite willing the next bag that came through the plastic curtain strip to morph into my case, nothing happened. I sort of realised that the game was up, when the sniffer dog was taken away for his dinner, and then the shutters came down. My fears were realised.

A very nice air movements officer explained that he would do his best to locate the bag but as for compensation, the explanation to my wife was that the RAF was not that kind of airline.

Off we went on the dusty road to Stanley; me in a huff and Linda trying to sooth me.

We arrived at the Surgeon's house and the house was empty. The doors were open and like Goldilocks, we entered. Our host soon arrived — bringing good news that the case had been found at the airhead, and it was not on the way to Camp Bastion.

That was a relief — I had been puzzling out what were the contents of that case, and could I get them replaced in Stanley before we flew by FIGAS on Monday to Saunders Island.

The simple answer to this question was that replacement was either very unlikely, or impossible.

The bag was delivered on the regular medical stores delivery to the hospital and once retrieved, I found a stowaway — Algy.

(This bear has been kidnapped and held for ransom on many occasions). He seems to bear a charmed life.

This time, we go on the airbridge. Readers of the blog from old will realize that this topic is one of the top 3 conversation staples in the Falklands. It would not be a good topic to choose on 'Pointless'.

It's a long way. We start with a taxi ride to pick up the hire car from Hertz. Packing the car to the gunwales (I'm pretty sure that the car has them somewhere), and then we are off!
My TomTom sat nav on my iPhone has Monty Burns as the voice … it's a great choice.
The journey to Brize Norton should take 5 hours plus stops to stretch our legs. We book in at 8pm — 3 hours before our departure time.

Ascension

During your stopover, don't forget to get a stamp in your passport — well worth the donation to Help for Heroes — sadly despite looking for this, it seems that the stamps have passed into history — the security seems to be a privatised company.

Air Tanker
This is a change fron the previous HiFly — a Portugese company on hire to MOD. We flew down this time on a new A330 — military looking grey paint job. Sadly, the loan of a personal iPads is no more and the only screens hinge down above the central seats of a 2:4:2 layout. The choice of films is also pathetic by modern standards. There is no head rest, but the plane is quiet, comfortable and most passengers have an empty seat next to them. Did I mention, no alcohol on board.