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Stanley Accommodates 1,100 Unexpected Guests from MV Amsterdam By Alison Inglis Wednesday 2 February 2005. 5pm, and as I rush in and out of nursery, collecting my children, the supervisor tells me that 1,900 passengers from MV Amsterdam are stranded in Stanley; the nursery has had a visit from one of the shipping agents, asking if anyone can provide emergency accommodation. Driving home along Ross Road, I note the tenders tied up at the public jetty, the monster waves out in the harbour, and the absence of any pedestrians, driven indoors by the stormy winds. Back home, I switch on the radio, abandoning World Service in favour of FIBS (Falkland Islands Broadcasting Station), expecting to hear the announcer calling for volunteers to provide accommodation. At this point I should say in dramatic fashion that there is an echoing silence, but of course there isn't - the Top Forty Jukebox is in full swing, the cheerful teenage presenter talking-up songs I don't like by bands I've never heard of. When did I get too old to enjoy chart music? The 6pm news bulletin from ITN in London, the nightly episode of agricultural soap The Archers, the weather and shipping forecasts (both predicting more stormy weather over the next 6 hours, the wind dropping to a light breeze by dawn), the local flight schedule and the evening news programme go by, without a mention of stranded passengers. My husband Jason and I discuss the situation, agreeing that the Amsterdam couldn't possibly hold 1,900 passengers, and reflecting that maybe accommodation has already been found for the few passengers stranded on-shore. We both recall a previous incident a few years back when some 200 cruise-ship passengers were accommodated in various guest-houses for several days while their shipmates rolled around uncomfortably on the high seas, waiting for the wind to drop sufficiently to allow the ship to come back into harbour. In passing I suggest that maybe we ought to drive round town, see if anything is happening, and offer what help we can, but the children are fractious and by the time they're settled in bed Jason is heading out the door to prepare for his weekly 90-minute radio show on FIBS, presenting the latest albums. Just after 9pm Jason phones to say that I will shortly be getting a phone call from Stephanie at the Falkland Islands Company (FIC) shipping agency. She has just phoned the studio and asked him to put out an announcement. Accommodation is urgently required for hundreds of stranded passengers from the Amsterdam. High winds are preventing the tenders from returning to the Amsterdam at its mooring in the outer harbour of Port William. Jason has volunteered our sofa, and by the time Stephanie phones me I remember that we also have a spare mattress and an airbed, so I offer to take 3 passengers provided they are all the same sex. Stephanie informs me that our guests will arrive by bus, no later than 10pm, but must be returned to the public jetty for 6am the next morning. By 10.10pm Jason is home from the studio, and we quickly retrieve the airbed and a sleeping bag from the attic, pull out the spare mattress from under a bed, and gather together duvets and linen. For the next half hour we peer expectantly out of the windows, occasionally catching a glimpse of a bus driving along Ross Road East. At 11pm we decide to go to bed, and just as we are turning out the lights a bus draws up. 3 uncertain figures emerge from the bus, shepherded by a harrassed FIC employee. We open them door, they enter, the bus departs. Our unexpected guests are Gloria and Elizabeth from Brooklyn in New York, and Marsha from Los Angeles. Gloria and Elizabeth are obviously exhausted and ready to sleep, after bobbing about on rough seas for several hours that afternoon while their tender attempted to return to the mother ship. By contrast Marsha is enjoying the experience of being stranded, having spent the afternoon with her husband investigating local hostelries. Our guests have already been fed, every commercial kitchen in Stanley apparently swinging into action to produce vast quantities of hot food for the stranded passengers. Marsha chats a little, expressing her amazement and annoyance at fellow passengers who refused offers of hospitality, preferring to sleep on a wooden floor than run the risk of encountering strangers. We discover that several hundred passengers are still at the Falkland Islands Defence Force (FIDF) premises, with many more at the Parish Hall and some lucky few at the Upland Goose Hotel. Marsha has left her husband behind at the FIDF Hall awaiting the chance of relocating to a private home, and we subsequently learn that he spent the night at the home of local residents Karen Steen and Paul Brickle, joining them as they sampled champagne in preparation for their forthcoming wedding. Only 5 minutes after Gloria, Elizabeth and Marsha's arrival, another FIC employee arrives, this time in his own car, with 3 men, hopeful of finding a bed for a night. Reluctantly we have to turn them away, conscious that we cannot squeeze any more sardines in. (The next day we remember the second airbed.) As we retire, Jason and I agree that if everyone arrives at the public jetty at 6am the result will be complete chaos and long queues. Accordingly we decide not to set the alarm clock, and to see what time everyone wakes. I wake just before 6am, and on the dot decide to get up, in case any of our visitors are already awake, and worried that they may literally miss the boat if they are too late. Marsha sits down for a cup of tea and a chat, and Gloria and Elizabeth devote themselves to Kirsty, age 18 months, who is looking particularly angelic on this overcast morning.. Meantime big brother Craig sleeps on. The day is grey but calm. We take a few photos on the verandah, and answer the flood of questions about life in Stanley. All too soon it is time for Jason to take our guests down to the Public Jetty. We are happy to have met them, but feel a sense of missed opportunities; we would have liked to have spent more time together, and got to know a little about their lives too. Driving to work at 7.45am I am astonished to see how quiet the Jetty area is - so efficient are the ship's tenders that all the passengers have already been reunited with their cabins and clothes. Over the next few days we swap notes with other hosts, envying those whose guests arrived early evening or who sat up and chatted all night, feeling sorry for those disappointed few who sat up awaiting visitors who never arrived. The next day, Friday 4 February 2005, our weekly newspaper, the Penguin News, leads with the story 'Homes open to stranded passengers'. We discover that more than 1,000 passengers and crew were left ashore, while two employees from Stanley's Philatelic Bureau spent the night on board the ship after they too became stranded. We learn that the Governor's deputy, Harriet Hall, took to the phones from 5pm onwards, working her way through the telephone book as she sought bedspaces for the homeless travellers. While some of the stranded passengers were cared for at the Parish Hall, the majority were moved to the FIDF Headquarters where they were provided with food and drink while the ship's agents from the FIC worked to find accommodation. Over 500 guests were billeted to Stanley homes and to Estancia Farm while the remaining passengers and crew bunked down in the FIDF Hall, Parish Hall and the public rooms of the Upland Goose Hotel. Some hardy souls spent the night on pews in the Cathedral. The King Edwards VII Memorial Hospital was inundated with calls from passengers who had not brought vital medication ashore. Some passengers didn't even know what drugs they should be taking, while others knew only the name by which they are retailed in the USA, causing a headache for pharmacy staff as they tried to work out the British equivalent and check they got the dosage correct. Governor Howard Pearce later thanked all involved "for responding so generously and rapidly to this unexpected situation", singling out for praise the employees of the FIC Shipping Agency, members of the FIDF, the volunteers at the Parish Hall, the cooks who produced such vast quantities of quality food in such unexpected circumstances, and the coach drivers of Falkland Islands Tours and Travel. Very shortly afterwards a contingency plan is drawn up, co-ordinated by the Falkland Islands Tourist Board. All Stanley residents are invited to complete a detailed questionnaire confirming how many and what kind of bedspaces they can offer stranded travellers if such a situation reoccurs. Advice sheets have also been prepared for ships to issue to their passengers before they come on-shore, reminding them to wear appropriate clothing and carry any necessities such as medical supplies. Over the next few weeks we are happy to be bombarded with 'Amsterdam' mail. First, a letter from Captain Jonathan Peter Harris, Master, MV Amsterdam, who writes, "On behalf of all of the officers and crew of the mv Amsterdam, I wish to extend our heartfelt gratitude to you and to all of the people of Stanley. As you know, due to unpredicted winds, we were forced to discontinue our tender service last call, leaving approximately 1,000 cruise guests and staff ashore for the evening. You opened your homes and hearts to our passengers and crew. I have heard many stories from our guests of the warm hospitality and generous nature of the many Falklanders who reached out to help. I am certain that many will remember the experience for years to come with great fondness and gratitude. We look forward to visiting you all again." At church the following Sunday a selection of messages of thanks are read out from some of the many passengers who spent the night either in the Parish Hall, or trying to snatch some sleep lying on the narrow wooden pews. One visitor candidly writes 'I have been told to write this card by the ship's officers'. I am amazed at how much gratitude is shown, by those who have suffered cold and discomfort, wrapped in blankets and sustained by endless hot drinks produced by a stream of volunteers from amongst the congregation. Next we receive postcards from Gloria, Elizabeth and Marsha, posted in Stanley the next time the ship returns with its next group of passengers, bearing a photo of MS Amsterdam sailing in calm seas and bright sunshine, with the legend 'Holland America' (the name of the cruise line). The printed text reads, "mv Amsterdam. Holland America Line's second flagship, blending classic style and tradition with contemporary ambiance and features. Hallmark signatures - an all-suite concierge deck with exclusive Neptune Lounge. Ocean views from 81% of the staterooms. Internet café. Lido pool area sheltered beneath a retractable dome. Antiques and fresh flowers throughout the ship, and the magnificent 'Astrolabe' clock tower, centrepiece of the three-deck atrium." The messages are much more interesting, assuring us that we will hear from our American friends again when they return home. And so we do. Emails, cards, letters, Dr Seuss books for the children, and Disneyland memorabilia follow. We are overwhelmed by their kindness, and only hope that someday we may meet up again. Since I have family in both Brooklyn and Los Angeles, this may not be a forlorn hope. Truly, it is a small world, where shared values of hospitality are never out of fashion.
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