After the Athletics "season" had run its course many people were left in a state of limbo. The British forces were beginning to run down with many of the expatriates having to endure the Herc. flight back to Ascension. And they are welcome to it. The RN had pulled back a few ships to more temperate climes, so leaving the RFAs to do yet more of the jobs they were supposed to do. Not all of this was "Bad News" though. Until now the "jollies" had been treated as an RN "perk" and the RFA was ignored. So visits to South Georgia had been the preserve of the war canoes. As far as we were concerned a trip over to S. Georgia was more than just a "jolly". Ever since the Argentinian "scrap-men" were ejected, and the Argie sub "de-commissioned" a small contingent of Marines had been based in the old Grytviken Post Office building. They obviously needed re-supplying every now and again with a bit more than a Frigate could supply. And what better to do that than an ammo ship that also doubled up as a floating supermarket. Enter "Fort Grange".
Normally a Merchant ship without a passenger certificate wouldn't be able to carry more than 12 passengers. As we would often carry as many as "was required" a few more places were sort of advertised around the bazaars on a "first-come, first accepted" basis. Being a pretty full ship what with the flight on board we had space for about 20 extras. Sometimes the word "democracy" fulfills its meaning, so we had a passenger list of 1 Brigadier, a couple of army Captains and the rest were sergeants and army privates. A nice mix.
Although South Georgia is just over 800 miles fro the Falklands the bit of water between them is amongst the lumpiest and windiest stretches of water in the world. Not too bad getting there as the wind and sea is more or less astern. Of course, in "really bad" weather a stern sea can cause problems with steering and "pooping" (make your own minds up about that), but this time there was no problem. Going back is always a different thing. Very uncomfortable....even more so for the "passengers" I suppose. Not my problem!
Entering Grytviken Bay was a bit eerie. Total silence. Towering mountains that deflected the SW gale. The "Blue Glacier" shining a brilliant pale blue in the sunlight. The snow bleaching off the top of the surrounding mountains. The magnificent clear and clean air and visibility.....and the silence.
A lot of "Ground Rules" for those going ashore had to be laid down, and these were presented by the OIC of the small "resident" team of Marines. Most of what he said was just common sense. We had permission to take souveneirs of whatever size (a lathe, for instance) and anything lying around...but no vandalism. Basically, take, do not destroy...ever.
RFA crews on the whole are a few years older and more "proffessional" seamen than their RN counterparts, so we had no problems with these rules. Because (I think) the sense of isolation and stillness of the place gave many of our ships company a bit of "breathing space" not normally found on board, many preferred to wander alone or in pairs. No mass parties.
Solitude and silence seem to be alien concepts to many young people today, so we as a whole were quite horrified by the levels of vandalism wreaked upon this beautiful place by some previous RN crews. Don't argue....I KNOW what ship they were in.
But of course our flight had to ruin all this tranquility. At "home" one more aircraft is just a minor intrusion, but here it was an abomination.A pox on them. The excuse for flying was that the herd of wild deer needed culling. These deer had probably been "imported" to vary the menu of whale meat. But when everyone left at 5 minutes notice the deer were just abandoned. They have become very stringy and not very well nourished animals, but they still breed. However much I agree with "culling" I was not alone in feeling absolute disgust with "our" flight actually machine -gunning the fleeing deer from behind (in both senses of the word). It only made it worse when they (the flight) couldn't understand why they were treated with disdain fo a couple of weeks or so.
My first "excursion" was solitary by choice. Time to myself. Looked at and into the flour silo that was still full of flour and home to millions of rats.(Never seen a human, so no fear...and none from me either), The full and slowly leaking oil tanks. The workshops that would only need a squirt of WD40 to look immaculate again. the little church....ah, well, different here. A simple wooden building on the lines of a Methodist Chapel with ground floor pews and a surrounding balcony. This was evidently the "social centre" as well as a place of worship. Films were shown here as evidenced by the smashed remains of a projector and reel after reel of old film strewn all over the place and trampled on. This, and other acts of mindless vandalism almost became my abiding memory of Grytviken. But the sheer beauty of it all pushed those thoughts away. I plodded over to Shackletons grave / memorial. Very simple and very apt. While I stood there and pondered on his feat of climbing the mountains behind me I for once in my life felt very humble. Until the bloody Sea King came back and ruined my reverie.
Grytviken was a whale processing plant. It must have been hell working here, but around the corner so to speak is another base called "Stromness". This was the engineering and repair yard. So we took Fort Grange around to "have a look". No signs of vandalism here. Everything just as it was when they all upped-sticks and left at short notice. Although this was 1982 it really is true that unfinished meals were still there. Astonishing. But I expect modern tourism has ruined the best part. The solitude and silence.
I was going to put some pics on here at this point, but I've realised that the pics themselves have a little story. So that's the next one. BY.