The moon was still shining when I awoke, casting a soft glow over the landscape. By the time breakfast arrived, the sun had risen, promising a crisp, clear day. We had an 8:00 AM start for our 5-kilometer hike up Mt. Williams. While the name might sound formidable, the summit tops out at just 800 feet. The real challenge wasn’t the elevation—it was the wind and the uneven terrain.
Much of the time, we weren’t on a marked trail. Instead, we followed our guide, Brian, picking our way across a patchwork of low-growing vegetation, boggy ground, and thick tufts of grass concealing the undulating earth below. At times, the wind was fierce—strong enough to demand attention but not enough to knock us over. I was grateful for the hiking pole I’d brought along; it proved invaluable for keeping my footing.
Berries, Berries, Berries
As we walked, Brian pointed out the native berries that carpeted parts of the landscape: diddle-dee berries, teaberries, and the ominously named devil’s strawberry.
Diddle-dee berries (Empetrum rubrum), also known as red crowberries or murtilla de Magallanes, are tart rather than sweet. Still, they’re popular in local jams, which likely mellow their sharpness. Teaberries (Myrteola nummularia) are plumper and pleasantly sweet—perfectly edible on their own or, again, turned into jam.
Then there’s the devil’s strawberry (Gunnera magellanica). Though it looks tempting, it contains oxalates that can cause anything from irritation and nausea to kidney stones. Our guide knows someone who mistook it for something else and ate it—she lived to tell the tale but didn’t feel great afterward. I opted to admire that one from a distance.
Geese on the Moor
We also spotted upland geese, common in the Falklands and known for foraging on diddle-dee and teaberries. The sexes are easy to distinguish: males are strikingly white, while females sport a more subdued brown patterning. They moved through the landscape with purpose, undisturbed by our quiet presence.
Scars of War
Brian, our guide, served in the Falklands War, and the land still bears the marks of that conflict. He pointed out craters left by artillery fire—each one a different size, each with a story. He could tell at a glance which type of armament had caused which crater.
We paused at rusted mortar launchers and the remains of a makeshift lean-to once used by soldiers seeking shelter. It was a sobering reminder that this rugged, windswept landscape wasn’t always peaceful.
Many land mines were planted in this area during the war, making parts of it inaccessible for decades. Brian reassured us that all mines had been removed by 2020. The UK began the demining effort in earnest in 2009, and over 30,000 mines were eventually cleared from the islands, with a significant concentration near Stanley.
Fish, Chips, and More
After the hike, we took the staff’s recommendation and headed to The Waterfront Café for some well-earned fish and chips. The meal was outstanding—crisp batter, flaky fish, and a cold local beer to top it off. Satisfied and a little sleepy, we made our way back to the pier to catch the next ship to Silver Wind.
Final Thoughts
The Mt. Williams hike was more than just a walk through nature—it was a journey across landscapes shaped by wind, war, and resilience. The land may look wild and untamed, but it carries deep history in its soil: from berries that have fed people and geese alike, to craters that remind us of recent conflict, to signs of renewal as the scars of war are cleared and the ground becomes safe again.
Walking with someone like Brian, who knows the land both as a soldier and a guide, added meaning to every step. I left with a full belly, a tired body, and a deeper appreciation for this quiet corner of the world.
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