Mud, sweat and gears...

The waters of another term at work had well and truly passed under the bridge, and the chance to take stock and recuperate in a 2 week break for the Easter holidays. Caz decided that we needed some time away from the bright lights of Stanley, so booked us all 2 nights in the lodge at Elephant Beach Farm. I was under strict orders not to bring any work, so I took my trail shoes and mountain bike instead. Ben, at the farm, had already told us it was too wet to drive to the coast, but this would not stop me getting there via foot and spoke!  

Stunning views of the rolling landscape while out on the metal steed. 

A full car (bike, food, children), a good weather forecast and the promise of a couple of relaxing days outside of internet and mobile contact - we set of in good spirits on Thursday morning. With the onset of Winter, the climate has turned rather wetter (and colder), which has in turn transformed the archipelago into what can only be described as a quagmire. It's quite simply muddy, everywhere, and by the time we had reached our destination, after a relatively uneventful drive, the car was for want of a better term, lagged!

Eager to stretch the legs, I left the girls playing around the cabin, fixed the wheels back onto the Trek, and after a brief word with Ben about my route, set off in search of the coast. The actual track was easy to find and follow. Not so easy was the pedaling. As Ben had promised it was extremely wet - in fact at times I was forced to pedal through sections of water that almost up to my ankles, which put my neoprene overshoes under serious examination. Thankfully, they passed with good results. The countryside is best described as rolling, with nothing too extreme in terms of gradients, however, a combination of mud and wind, made much of riding very heavy going. In fact I was wary of the depth of some of the wetter puddles I was forcing my way through at times, especially at the bottom of the hills, where I admit I did come off at one point. At least it was a relatively soft landing. I am not the most technically gifted of riders, and descending quickly has never been a favourite aspect of cycling for me. Small rivers suddenly appearing at the bottom of a fast, wet and muddy descents were, shall we say, raising the heart-rate a little - as were the efforts to claw my way back up the corresponding ascents on the other side!

The path ahead, snaking its muddy way through the hills.

 

Bucket and sponge beckoned. 

Unfortunately, while I did eventually make it to the coast, I missed a turn-off in the path, which would have taken me to the sandy beach. Unknowingly, it turns out I was only about 5 minutes away. Ultimately though, I was rewarded with some beautifully rugged landscape, a good work-out and some great bird-life: especially loads of Southern Giant Petrols (a favourite of mine) and a very close encounter with a Striated Caracara - sorry the camera was in my ruck sack at this point. With time pressing (I didn't relish the thought of being lost somewhere with the sunlight disappearing), I decided to head back to the lodge.

Friday morning greeted me with the dull thud of a headache. A combination of dehydration from yesterday's biking and a couple of glasses of cheap mead we had brought with us (and it definitely was only a couple!) had resulted in a mild hangover. Undaunted, I laced up the trail shoes and struck out early in search of the sandy beach and its penguins. I had consulted Ben on my error in navigation the day before, so was confident I would get lucky today. This time, however, I opted to go by foot.

Goal in sight - the coast!

It turned out to be a lovely run. I followed the trail I had cycled previously, my tread marks still visible in the mud. At times, I lost a foot nearly up to the knee in the mud, and really took it easy in the wettest parts - who knows what I would be stepping on at the bottom of those rather deep sections of water: dead sheep, birds, missing trail runners...? Despite the wet feet, my pace was good and I made excellent time in the conditions, and this time I made sure I took the correct turn-off, as the sea came into view.

As I rounded the headland, I could see a number of black and white forms standing out among the grass. Yes, it was the Gentoo penguins I had been trying to find. As I got closer, the familiar formal penguin dinner outfits became more visible, as did their smell! It was really difficult to get very close to photograph them however. Do you blame them? The appearance of a giant wet, muddy and sweaty runner trying to sneak through the grass towards them would probably spook even the friendliest of creatures... Like dominoes, once one spotted me and decided I was getting too close, the rest followed suit, with a surprisingly quick, yet awkward waddle over the heath.

A spot of penguin herding.

Just managed to sneak up for a closer shot...

...before they're off again.

Not wishing to scar these wonderful birds with images of my lycra-clad body more than was necessary, I soon headed down to the beach. This beautiful wind-swept beach reminded me of many a beach in Cornwall, during the Winter (penguins aside). Unfortunately, it was the wrong time of year for sea lions, but there were more Gentoos, enjoying the day on the white sands. These particular ones were even more nervous of my approach so I stayed at a safe distance for them to give them space.

Feathers and flippers enjoying  day at the beach.

Wintry but beautiful.

From the other end.

After exploring the other end of the beach a little, I was wary that my water was running low and that hunger was setting in. It was time to get back to the lodge. I suppose I had also better spend some time with the rest of the family as well.