Adrian Lowe had a heart attack a month ago, but today the 67-year-old sheep farmer and fishing guide charges his old green Land Rover over a rough grassy hummock that was once a minefield. “They got the last ones up a few years ago—we hope.” He winks and turns sharply to avoid a boulder. He was 26 in 1982 when Argentina acted on its long-disputed territorial claim and invaded the Falkland Islands. “It was a scary time,” Adrian remembers. The fierce 74-day war ended in a British victory, and in a recent referendum Falklanders voted almost unanimously to remain part of the United Kingdom, but our guide acknowledges the ongoing controversy, saying, “Let people be what they want to be. I only hope we can become good neighbors with Argentina.”  

Whether you call them Las islas Malvinas or the Falklands, this windswept archipelago about 300 miles off the south Patagonian coast is home to 3,700 people, most of whom live in the capital of Stanley and at the nearby Royal Air Force base, leaving an area about the size of Hawaii and Maui largely to sheep—Adrian estimates 500,000 of them. “That’s 150 for every person,” he boasts. “Got New Zealand beat on that score.” Brown trout and salmon were introduced from Chile and Britain in the 1940s and ’50s—the salmon failed, but the trout flourished, both as river residents and sea trout that enter saltwater, gorge on krill, then run home bigger and brighter. These trout, combined with the native Falklands mullet, provide excellent flyfishing for those willing to make the journey. My longtime friend Eugene and I are here for a week to fish and explore before boarding our ship to Antarctica… 

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