Penguins, Sheep, Sea Lions and Battlefields-Week in the British Falkland Islands

November 2022: To complete my journey through all South American countries, I felt that skipping the Falkland Islands would leave too much unexplored. This remote British archipelago between Patagonia and Antarctica is rich in wildlife and dramatic landscapes. Fought over in the 1982 war between Argentina and the United Kingdom, the islands boast miles of sweeping wilderness that I simply couldn’t miss. For this reason, my wife, Paula, and I spent one week in the Falkland Islands as part of a two-week trip that included Chile, Uruguay-Crossing the Río de la Plata River by Ferry to the Uruguayan, Colonial Era Town of Colonia de Sacramento | Venture The Planet, and an expedition to Tayos Cave in Ecuador-Expedition into Cueva de los Tayos, Where Explorers Including Neil Armstrong Have Searched for the Legendary Golden Tablets with Alien Like Symbols | Venture The Planet.

The Falkland Islands were never known to have been inhabited before the arrival of Europeans. Too remote from South America and too desolate to sustain early civilizations, the islands remained untouched until the British established some of the first settlements in the 1700s. The earliest settlers were seafarers seeking refuge from the ferocious storms of the Southern Ocean. The islands initially served as a base for repairing ships battered by the hurricane-like conditions commonly encountered while rounding Cape Horn, the southern tip of South America.

During the whaling era, the Falklands attracted more settlers, as whales, penguins, and seals were hunted nearly to extinction for their oil. The California Gold Rush further increased ship traffic between Europe and the Americas, bringing additional settlers. Before the construction of the Panama Canal, all intercontinental maritime travel between the Atlantic and Pacific had to pass near the islands. However, with the canal’s completion in the early 1900s, ship traffic in the region drastically declined, and the Falklands faded into obscurity.

Despite their isolation, the Falklands maintained a British military presence throughout both World Wars, playing a crucial role in British naval battles against Germany in the South Atlantic.

After World War II, the Falklands remained one of Britain’s most remote territories. This isolation, combined with the islands’ proximity to Argentina—roughly 300 miles away—led Argentina’s military dictatorship to believe in 1982 that an invasion would be an easy victory. In the harsh winter, Argentine forces invaded, quickly overwhelming the islands’ minimal defenses. They fortified positions, laid thousands of landmines on potential landing areas, and held many Falkland Islanders in internment camps. Locals I met shared personal accounts of Argentine soldiers arriving at farms and forcibly escorting them at gunpoint.

Despite Argentina’s superior troop numbers and months of fortification, the U.K. swiftly dispatched a naval task force and launched a counter-invasion. In a brutal campaign lasting just four months, British forces—including Royal Marines, the Scottish Guards, and the Gurkhas—recaptured the islands. These elite units executed daring nighttime raids, storming Argentine machine gun nests on remote hilltops. By the war’s end, 649 Argentine and 255 British soldiers had lost their lives.

Though Argentina was defeated, it continues to claim sovereignty over the islands, referring to them as “Las Islas Malvinas.” However, a referendum held by Falkland Islanders overwhelmingly reaffirmed their British identity. In response to Argentina’s ongoing claims, the U.K. has maintained a strong military presence. The islands’ main airport, Mount Pleasant, is a military base, and all arriving passengers must adhere to strict military regulations, including a ban on photography.

Due to their geographical remoteness, the Falklands remain sparsely populated, with only around 3,000 residents. However, in recent years, tourism has emerged as a key industry, particularly from Antarctic-bound cruise ships. Independent travelers, like my wife and me, also visit by plane. The economy further benefits from industrial fishing and the export of high-quality wool from the island’s sheep farms.

With such a small population relative to the landmass, the Falklands offer vast, untouched wilderness. The people here have a frontier-like mentality—self-sufficient, hardworking, and deeply connected to the land. Many of the farms and outlying settlements reminded me of the rugged homesteads of the Australian Outback.

Location of the Falkland Islands to the right of the tip of South America-Cape Horn

With the Falkland Islands’ extreme remoteness and limited access, flights are scarce. Most routes require passing through Argentine airspace, further complicating travel logistics. Currently, only two flights serve the Falklands each week.

The first is a weekly LATAM Airways flight from Santiago, Chile, with a scheduled stop in Punta Arenas. As part of an agreement between the Falkland Islands and Argentina, this flight is required to land in Río Gallegos, Argentina, twice per month—even if no passengers board or disembark.

The second option is a no-frills military flight from the U.K., which involves a long journey with a refueling stop in Cape Verde before continuing to the islands.

My wife and I chose to reach the Falklands via the LATAM flight, which departs only on Saturdays from Santiago. This meant committing to a minimum stay of seven days on the islands. Before our flight, we spent a day exploring Santiago, including a visit to the Museum of Memory and Human Rights, which honors the victims of Chile’s military dictatorship under Augusto Pinochet. During the 1970s and 1980s, thousands of Chilean citizens were tortured and murdered under his regime, and the museum serves as a powerful reminder of that dark chapter in the country’s history.

Overview of Portraits of Chilean Citizens Murdered by Pinochet regime

Then, we boarded our LATAM flight and soared over the Andes Mountains, descending into Punta Arenas at the southern tip of Chile. There, we cleared Chilean immigration before continuing to Río Gallegos, Argentina. This stop—mandated by the agreement between Argentina and the Falkland Islands—was brief, with only two passengers boarding and none disembarking. Regardless of passenger traffic, the flight must pause here before proceeding to the islands.

From Río Gallegos, the final leg to Mount Pleasant in the Falklands took just an hour. However, landing in the Falklands is never a certainty. With extreme gusty crosswinds, especially from the north, the British military operating the airport frequently denies landings when conditions become too hazardous. I soon learned that many flights are turned away at the last moment, forcing passengers to return to Argentina or Chile and try again another day.

Our flight over the Andes from Santiago, Chile

Because of these unpredictable conditions, the airport can sometimes remain closed for days. Our own flight, on final approach into Mount Pleasant, had to abort its landing due to intense northerly crosswinds. At the last moment, the plane suddenly pitched sharply upward, sending everyone’s stomachs dropping in a roller-coaster-like jolt. The turbulence was severe, sparking anxiety throughout the cabin. Children screamed, and the kid in front of me vomited—unfortunately, some of it seeped through the seat onto my camera bag.

For the next 20 minutes, we circled over the ocean, hoping for a break in the winds and permission to land. Thankfully, clearance was eventually granted, and we touched down safely. However, later in the week, the airport was forced to close due to high winds, even delaying a flight carrying Princess Anne of the British royal family by an entire day.

I was especially eager to spend time with the King penguins, one of the main attractions that drew me to the Falkland Islands. The remote Volunteer Point, accessible only by a rugged 4WD track from Stanley, is home to the largest King penguin colony in the Falklands and is the best place to see them. In addition to the Kings, the area is also inhabited by Gentoo and Magellanic penguins, along with a variety of other wildlife, including sea lions that prey on the penguins.

When I discovered that a small farmhouse at Volunteer Point offered limited overnight accommodations—just two rooms in the house and a small detached cabin—I knew this was the perfect opportunity to fully immerse ourselves in the natural beauty of the area. Initially, I was disappointed to learn that the farmhouse was fully booked for months, but luck was on our side when a last-minute cancellation allowed Paula and me to secure the cabin for three nights. For four days, we were fortunate to be guests in this incredible wildlife paradise.

Derek, who runs the guesthouse with his wife, picked us up at the airport and drove us across the northeast of East Falkland Island. The journey took approximately four hours via a rough 4WD track through private land that forms part of a sprawling sheep farm. It’s hard to put into words just how remote Volunteer Point is. The farmhouse and our small cabin—surrounded by a white picket fence—were the only structures for miles in any direction. From our cabin, we had an incredible view of the long, white-sand beach where penguins and marine mammals roamed freely. Magellanic penguins guarded their burrows nearby, while flocks of semi-wild sheep and their lambs grazed in the grass alongside the penguins, creating an almost surreal scene.

Over the next few days, Derek and his wife took great care of us and a few other guests, providing warm hospitality and home-cooked meals despite going through a difficult family crisis. Their kindness and effort in the midst of personal challenges did not go unnoticed, and I remain deeply grateful for their generosity.

As cozy as the farmhouse was, we spent very little time indoors. Each day, we explored the beaches, observed the penguins, and watched the ever-changing marine life. At the far end of the beach, about a mile away, a small trailer stocked with couches, a heater, and a bathroom served as our base for deeper wildlife exploration. Spending several days at Volunteer Point, rather than just a quick visit, allowed us to witness the penguins’ natural behaviors at all hours, from their morning rituals to their sunset gatherings on the sand.

Paula walking in the distance to the guest house

Don’t be fooled by the white sand beaches of Volunteer Point—the Falklands are cold, even at the start of summer during our visit. The relentless Antarctic wind blasted us as we walked along the shore, forcing us to bundle up from head to toe in our winter gear just to stay warm. Over the course of our three-day stay, the weather was mostly grim—grey skies, howling winds, and freezing temperatures. The exception came on our last day when, unexpectedly, the sun emerged, and the temperature climbed to a relatively balmy 60°F. It turned out to be the nicest day of our entire week in the Falklands, but the good weather didn’t last long.

As we wandered the beach, we frequently encountered Magellanic penguins, a shy species that digs burrows to nest their young, as well as Gentoo penguins, upland geese, and flocks of sheep grazing nearby. Giant petrels with massive wingspans soared overhead, but they were too fast for me to capture in a photo. Despite the harsh conditions, the landscape was teeming with life, making every moment an unforgettable experience.

Mother Sheep with Lamb

Maggelinic Penguin Guarding his Burrow

Beach of Volunteer Point

The true highlight of Volunteer Point, however, was the colony of 3,000 King penguins that lived about a mile down the beach from the guesthouse. This area is a private wildlife reserve, with the animals protected by the guesthouse operators and strict rules designed to prevent harassment. That said, the King penguins had little aversion to human presence. While we made sure to keep a respectful distance, they had no such boundaries and often approached us out of curiosity.

One particularly bold penguin took a special interest in us, following us everywhere we went. He would waddle up, stop just a few feet away, and stare at us inquisitively. The moment we turned to walk away, he would resume his pursuit, shadowing us along the beach.

Paula standing among the King Penguin Colony

Me with the King Penguins

The best part of visiting the penguins was simply sitting among them, quietly observing as they went about their daily lives while trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. They were endlessly entertaining to watch. Their antics, especially the displays of male bravado, had us laughing—males would puff up their chests, waddle in small circles, and slap their wings against themselves in a comical attempt to assert dominance.

Meanwhile, the fluffy, plump brown chicks—still covered in their downy feathers, not yet adorned with the vibrant plumage of adulthood—waited eagerly for their meals. To feed them, the mother penguins would regurgitate food directly into their open beaks, a fascinating yet slightly messy process to witness up close.

Male Penguins in a Show of Masculinity

Mother penguin regurgitating Food into the Mouth of a Chick

Being so far south, daylight stretched from 4 AM until 10 PM, giving me plenty of time to take full advantage of the long days. I made a habit of waking up early to have the penguins all to myself before the day-trip tourists arrived from Stanley around midday, staying only until the early afternoon.

On our last day at Volunteer Point, I sat quietly among the penguins when a cluster of plump, hungry chicks began to waddle toward me. They were waiting for their parents to return and feed them, but they seemed confused—perhaps mistaking me for an adult penguin. One by one, they approached me, their fluffy brown bodies swaying as they came closer. When they realized I had no food to offer, they grew frustrated and began pecking me with their sharp beaks, as if demanding I fulfill their expectations.

Chick who kept pecking me

Wherever there is prey, there are predators—and at Volunteer Point, the penguins are the prey. Their world is filled with dangers. Giant petrels glide ominously overhead like prehistoric pterodactyls, occasionally swooping down to snatch an unsuspecting chick. Turkey vultures lurk, scavenging sickly animals, whether penguins or even sheep. But the most formidable predator I encountered was the southern sea lion.

Unlike the sleeker California sea lion, the southern sea lion looks bulkier, meaner, and more like its namesake. These massive, 1,000-pound hunters patrol the shoreline, waiting to ambush penguins as they enter or exit the water. While penguins are torpedo-like in the ocean, too fast and agile for sea lions to catch, the sandy beach is a different story. On land, the sea lion has the advantage—faster than a waddling penguin, it will charge, seize its prey in its powerful jaws, and drag it back into the water for a brutal feast.

I watched this grim cycle repeat itself several times during my stay. On one occasion, a lurking sea lion mistook me for a penguin and charged. It stopped about 30 feet away, staring me down as if trying to size me up. Just then, an unsuspecting King Penguin emerged from the ocean right next to the sea lion. In an instant, the predator turned its attention, lunged, and snatched the penguin in its teeth, dragging it back into the waves for its next meal.

Turkey Vultures

Sea Lion Staring me Down

Sea Lion with a Penguin Meal

Sea Lion Hunting Penguins

It was surreal to see penguins on a white sand beach rather than in the snow. They marched in small troops down to the shoreline, their heads swiveling as they cautiously scanned for any sign of lurking sea lions. At the slightest hint of danger, the entire squadron would suddenly waddle back toward the safety of the grassy tundra, their retreat as synchronized as their advance.

Penguins  looking to enter the water on the lookout for sea lions

Penguins Retreating to the Tundra After Spotting a Sea Lion

Penguins Running in Fright

March of the Penguins

King Penguins Marching on Beach

On our last day at Volunteer Point, the weather finally cleared, and temperatures soared, revealing that we had been in paradise all along. The water transformed into a stunning turquoise green, and the beach took on a tropical white appearance. Taking advantage of the rare warmth, we headed in the opposite direction along the shore, climbing the sea cliffs and exploring hidden nooks and secret coves. It was one of the only times during our week in the Falklands that I was able to shed my jacket.

Paula looking out over Volunteer Point beach

Hard to believe this isnt the Caribbean

The only sizable town in the Falklands—though by no means a big town—is Stanley. Of the 4,000 people who live in the Falkland Islands, nearly 3,000 reside in this quiet little seaside town, which exudes British village charm and serves as a convenient base for further travels into the islands. We spent the remainder of our trip in Stanley, staying two nights at the Malvinas Hotel and another two at our favorite, the Waterfront Hotel—a small boutique hotel with excellent dining. Our second-floor room featured a large window with an amazing view overlooking the harbor.

Paula and I loved strolling through town, observing the daily lives of the locals. We discovered that, in addition to its largely Caucasian British population, about 10% of Stanley’s residents are Filipino service workers, who become eligible for British citizenship after five years. The town is also home to immigrants from former British colonies, including India and Zimbabwe. Many Zimbabweans, experienced in land mine removal, originally came to assist in clearing mines left from the 1982 war and decided to stay after their work was complete. Our impression of Stanley was of an idyllic, multicultural, and friendly town where poverty seemed virtually nonexistent.

During our stay, the Falklands were commemorating the 40th anniversary of the 1982 war, with British veterans visiting for a parade and memorial service. Princess Anne, the sister of King Charles and daughter of Queen Elizabeth, was in town for the event. She laid a wreath at the memorial honoring the fallen British soldiers, as the entire town of Stanley gathered around. The ceremony included a moment of silence, followed by melancholic bagpipe music, a solemn tribute to those who had lost their lives in the conflict.

Stanley

Christian Church with Whale Bone Arch and Cut Outs of British Soldiers from 1982 in memorial of the war

Typical house in Stanley

Princess Anne Paying Her Respects to the Veterans of the 1982 War

Old sunken wooden boat in the harbor

There are few roads in the Falklands, and the main one is gravel. The rest are rough 4WD tracks used by landowners to patrol their property and round up sheep. Because of this, nearly every vehicle on the island is a four-wheel drive, typically an old Land Rover or Range Rover. The sight of these antiquated Land Rovers scattered across the island was impressive.

I rented a Land Rover for three days to explore East Falkland, but upon arrival, we were informed that only a Mitsubishi Pajero was available. With our 4WD rental, we felt free to explore the entire island. However, one strict rental rule prohibited us from leaving the gravel roads to venture onto the rugged 4WD tracks, limiting where we could go.

Empty Roads of the Island

We set off one morning with water and snacks to explore the island, and it was astonishing how quickly Stanley—and any sign of civilization—disappeared behind us. Before long, we were surrounded by a vast, desolate landscape, shaped by relentless winds.

We encountered very few other vehicles, but every driver we passed gave us a friendly wave, a small but telling sign of the island’s tight-knit community.

One of our stops was at some of the 1982 battlefields, now little more than wind-swept hilltops strewn with rivers of stone left behind by retreating glaciers during the Ice Age. Paula, feeling under the weather, stayed in the car while I braved the elements to climb the rugged hills where fierce battles once raged between British and Argentine forces.

View from a hilltop battlefield

Argentine gun left on a hilltop

A building used by Argentine forces during the war that was bombed by the British 

View of Twin Sisters Mountains Battlefield

Mountain Spine Overlooking Stanley

Climbing the solitary hilltops where British and Argentine forces clashed in 1982 was a sobering experience. As I stood in the biting wind, I tried to imagine the terror, cold, and chaos of battle that once unfolded here. The remnants of war were still scattered across the landscape—shrapnel fragments from bombs, deep craters, rusted guns, and abandoned ammunition boxes, all serving as stark reminders of the conflict that had scarred this remote land.

Wreck of an Argentine Helicoptor that was bombed by British forces during the war

Following the Darwin gravel road to the southern end of East Falkland felt like venturing into pure wilderness. We passed few vehicles, and structures were almost nonexistent. Despite the clear skies, the wind was fierce and biting, a constant reminder of the harsh conditions that define life here.

There was a liberating feeling in exploring this desolate yet beautiful land, knowing we could go almost anywhere—except for the 4WD tracks, as per our rental agreement. One of the most poignant stops of the day was the Argentine war cemetery, where over 100 soldiers remain buried, facing the vast, empty plains they fought over in 1982. Some graves bore names, but many were marked only with a simple inscription: “Here lies an Argentine soldier known only to God.” The wind howled through the cemetery, adding to the solemnity of the moment.

Argentine Cemetary 

As we continued down the road, we came across a quiet, lonely graveyard near the settlement of Goose Green. Some of the tombstones dated back to the 1800s, a reminder of the long history of this remote land. The graveyard, with its weathered stones and stark surroundings, added to the eerie tranquility of the area.

From there, we made our way into the settlement of Goose Green, which has a population of fewer than 100 people. We had hoped to grab a bite at the small local café, but a friendly local woman informed us that it was closed. The lack of amenities was a testament to how isolated this part of the Falklands is, yet there was a certain charm in its solitude. We made do with what we had and continued our exploration, absorbing the rugged beauty of the island.

Goose Green Graveyard 

Goosegreen church 

Paula bundled up in the cold 

From Goose Green, we decided to visit the Bodie Creek Suspension Bridge, a historic iron bridge built in the early 1900s to help local residents transport their sheep across the ocean inlet that divides the area. Finding the bridge wasn’t an easy task, though. We ended up driving along a rough, deeply rutted 4WD track that made the journey challenging but all the more rewarding.

When we finally arrived, the sight of the bridge was incredible. The structure, now abandoned and dilapidated, stood as a testament to a time when it played an important role in the community. The bridge was far too unstable and unsafe to cross on foot, but the view of it from the surrounding land, surrounded by the wild and untamed beauty of the Falklands, was well worth the effort it took to get there. It felt like we were standing at the edge of history, surrounded by the silent echoes of the past.

Delipatated Bodie Creek Suspension bridge

On a day trip from Stanley, we had the opportunity to explore Kidney Cove with two British friends we met in the Falklands at Volunteer Point, Simon and Lucy. Simon, who had joined the British Royal Air Force, was incredibly knowledgeable about the island’s history and military past, and it was fascinating to hear his stories and insights about the area.

Kidney Beach is located on a vast stretch of private land, owned by a sheep farmer named Adrian. For most of the day, we explored his massive farm in his old but reliable Land Rover. Adrian was a humble and kind-hearted man, and he shared his deep knowledge of sheep farming and what life is like on the Falkland Islands. I was even surprised to learn that Adrian had once been to Minnesota!

Adrian took us to several Rockhopper penguin colonies, which were mixed in with colorful Cormorant birds. These colonies were perched hundreds of feet above the ocean on clifftops. It was incredible to watch the penguins hop up the steep rocks to reach their nests and raise their chicks, safe from the dangers of sea lions. Adrian did mention that he had once seen a sea lion on the cliff tops, so it turns out that even these penguins aren’t entirely safe from the predators lurking below. Nonetheless, the sight of these resilient penguins thriving in such a unique environment was a remarkable experience.

4WD drive tract on Adrian’s wild private land

Rock Hopper Penguin 

Cormerant Birds

Rock Hopper Colony

On our last full day in the Falklands, we were lucky enough to have great weather again, so we decided to drive out to Pembroke Lighthouse. This historic lighthouse, dating back to the 1800s, is located on a point that overlooks the entrance to Stanley’s harbor. The views from there were breathtaking, with the lighthouse standing as a sentinel over the rugged landscape.

From Pembroke, we made our way to a bay where we explored two shipwrecks, with the most striking being the wreck of the Lady Elizabeth. This iron-clad ship had met its fate in Whalebone Cove in 1936, and seeing the remnants of it against the backdrop of the wild shore was a poignant reminder of the harsh environment these waters could present to sailors.

We then drove out to Gypsy Cove, known for its stunning white sand beaches. While there, we happened upon a British military unit demonstrating how they safely removed Argentine-laid land mines that had plagued the area until relatively recently. The beach, though beautiful, is still roped off due to the ongoing risk of land mines that might wash ashore from the sea. The Falklands had once been one of the most heavily mined regions in South America, though most of the fields have been cleared. Even now, however, there are occasional land mines that surface, reminding visitors of the region’s complex history and the lasting impacts of conflict.

Pembroke Lighthouse

Paula in front of the lady Elizabeth shipwreck 

lady Elizabeth shipwreck 

Gypsy Cove beach

Paula at Gypsy Cove beach

On the day of our flight departure, the winds were the strongest they had been all week, and I feared our flight would be cancelled. When I asked a local if the flight was cancelled, I often received the response, “Flights are often cancelled here, we’re used to it.” Luckily, by the afternoon, the winds magically died down at the airport, and we were able to depart on time back to Santiago, Chile.