It’s all rather worrying to see the current Argentinian president once again 'talking up' his country’s right to the Falkland Islands (or the Malvinas as he would prefer), writes Clinton Rogers.
Surely no one wants to see another war.
I vividly remember reporting on the last one, from a distance, as losses among West Country military personnel started coming through.
The saddest of times.
World politics is certainly not a subject for a column like this.
But I thought I would share with you some memories of a trip I made to the Falkland Islands in 2007.
I’d been invited to join a group of West Country sailors who had decided to recreate the famous Royal Marines 74-mile 'yomp' across the islands.
That remarkable physical endeavour – the Marines had to walk to confront the enemy in Port Stanley because most of their helicopters had been destroyed – has become a proud part of British military history.
I remember I only had a week to prepare.
But I’d been advised to expect “four seasons in one week.”
There was nothing predictable about the Falklands weather, I was warned.
The first thing I did was source a one-man tent.
I went to a specialist local camping shop and was shocked to be told it would be about £200.
Now, I shouldn’t have baulked at the price because the BBC was paying, but I did and ended up buying one from Argos for £30.
The first time it rained on the Falklands I realised why the tent was cheap – it leaked.
Luckily, I also had a foil hyperthermia bag.
It kept me dry, but the constant “tink tink” of the raindrops seeping through the canvas and hitting the foil kept me awake all night.
Camping lasted three days – then I checked into a guest house.
It was a fascinating trip.
Read more
Clinton Rogers: Why your family history could hold vital health clues
Clinton Rogers: When Somerset place names prove difficult to say
Clinton Rogers: Can the BBC licence fee survive in its current form?
Seeing the remnants of war still scattered across the barren countryside was a humbling experience.
What those young men must have gone through.
On a lighter note, I decided these days you had to like Aran sweaters and penguins to consider visiting the Falklands.
It would not be top of my holiday destination list.
At the time I was there, the island was still littered with land mines.
I had a local guide called Adam, a very knowledgeable young man and confident in his driving ability.
It was very easy to get stuck in mud driving across the island if you didn’t stick to the one main road.
Adam came up with an idea to avoid the mud – just move the ropes carrying signs 'WARNING LAND MINES'.
His thought process was that the ropes were probably put up a safe distance away from the mines themselves.
Nervously, I suggested to him that others before him might also have moved the ropes – but that didn’t seem to register.
We survived.
The Falklands are very much like England, 50 years ago.
Red phone boxes, a Lloyds bank on the street corner and a very quaint way of life.
When I was checking out of my guest house, I tried to pay my bill with a credit card.
No cards accepted.
Not to worry, I said, I would go to Lloyds Bank and get cash from the ATM (it was 6am, so the bank was closed).
No ATM on the island.
My host was unperturbed.
“Not to worry, my love,” she said.
“Just send me a cheque when you get home.”
Imagine that happening here.
My parting gesture to my local guide Adam was to gift him my tent – no point taking it home.
“I wouldn’t let my dog sleep in that,” he said.
Fair point.
Share