28th November: Falkland Islands


Who on earth would fight over this…?

The Falklands is incredibly empty. It looks like Scotland after a war. There are no trees except the sad convicts planted by the scattered residents. Stanley only seems to exist through grim determination and fleecing the cruise ships. In every direction along the water there are wooden or steel wrecks slowly giving in to the weather, and the hills are littered with bits of war machinery. I walked out of Stanley through an ice wind and eventually reached the dunes and beaches of Gypsy Cove. The sand is blindingly white and the water is travel-brochure blue, but everywhere there are warning-signs showing a one legged man and the words ‘danger mines’. Only the oblivious penguins are enjoying the cold Atlantic surf.

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