Mendoza, Argentina
February 5, 2009
For one delicious week I was on a tiny speck of spectacularly beautiful land, on a tiny volcanic island deep into the wide, open, blue Pacific. Easter Island, known locally at Rapa Nui, is the most isolated piece of inhabited real estate in the world. I was 2,400 miles from the South American mainland and 1,000 miles from tiny Pitcairn Island. If the whole of civilization had blow up, I´d have been
blissfully unaware.
Initially, I´d ha
d the idea to navigate the 10 x15 square mile island on foot. Just how big can
10 x15 be, I thought? Well, it´s much bigger than I imagined, especially on rugged terrain without proper hiking boots and under a fiercely hot, summer sun. But, hike and tour I did. In my six full days there, three were done on foot and the other three were done on scooter, car or in a taxi.
From there, we headed back to the Maoi quarry where
February 5, 2009
For one delicious week I was on a tiny speck of spectacularly beautiful land, on a tiny volcanic island deep into the wide, open, blue Pacific. Easter Island, known locally at Rapa Nui, is the most isolated piece of inhabited real estate in the world. I was 2,400 miles from the South American mainland and 1,000 miles from tiny Pitcairn Island. If the whole of civilization had blow up, I´d have been
blissfully unaware.
Initially, I´d ha
d the idea to navigate the 10 x15 square mile island on foot. Just how big can 10 x15 be, I thought? Well, it´s much bigger than I imagined, especially on rugged terrain without proper hiking boots and under a fiercely hot, summer sun. But, hike and tour I did. In my six full days there, three were done on foot and the other three were done on scooter, car or in a taxi.
I was staying in Hanga Roa, the only town on the island. It was my extraordinary good fortune to find, online, Las Cabanas Manteas. Carmen, the owner, met me at the airport and presented me with a lei of frangiopani, bougain
villea and hibiscus--my first introduction to the fact that, while Chile might own this tiny speck of land, it´s culturally and geographically part of Polynesia/Oceania. Las Cabanas was located just a bit out of town, 300 meters from the ocean, on a rise looking westward at the sea. I´d arrived at 8:00 p.m. By the time I got to the residencial the sun was setting--a fiery red ball dropping into the rugged blue Pacific. Almost immediately I met James and his partner, Jo, of the UK, and their two beautiful children, Henry and Mary, ages 4 and 2. We made fast friends of each other and my fondest moments involve this wonderful family. I miss them still.
James and I would sit outside long after dark trying to identify the constellations of the southern night sky. Venus was especially brilliant and we marveled at sitting right underneath Orion. Each night we´d look for the Southern Cross--the truest marker of being ¨down under.¨
The island was perfect for hiking--if one has the right hiking boots--which I didn´t have. That didn´t deter me in the least,
but I did have very sore feet and a highly aggrevated knee at the end of each aggressive hiking day. The island is studded with extinct volcanoes and my first hike was to Orongo, a 12 km hike that brought be up and away from Hanga Roa to a 400 meter volcano with an impressive crater with a hiking trail all around it. I hugged the rocky coast a bit, then hiked up a lovely trail, slipping, every now and then, through groves of heady-scented eucalyptus. Orongo was the site of the Rapa Nuian Birdman Cult and the most impressive petroglyphs are in this location. That, coupled with the fact that it was the absolute end of the island with an impressive view of the sea, made for a fine day´s outing.
The sun, however, was incredibly strong and it was necessary to carry three or four liters of water on each hike. No supplies could be purchased anywhere on the island except in the main town. I did not know this on Day 1 and got seriously dehydrated. A lesson well learned.
I´d come to Easter
Island for one reason, and that was to see the giant stone statues, the Maoi, that dot the island. Sadly, much is not known about the civilization that produced these giant statues. European intervention was a tragic encounter. After the Peruvian slave wars of the mid-1800´s, fewer than 100 Rapa Nuians were still alive. None of the story tellers, the ones who pass down indigenous history, were alive. Lost forever was the oral of history of how these people came to the island and why they built almost 1,000 statues.
It´s estimated that about 850 Maoi still exist. 400 of them are s
till in the quarry where they were carved; another 100 or so are at a point on the island where they were in transit; another 350 or so are on or around their ahus. Hundreds of these altars surround the island. Some of them were built to hold the Maoi, but most were used for ceremonial purposes. Early explorers indicated that most of the Maoi were still standing, but within a few years almost all of them had been toppled. Earthquakes? Tsunamis? Deliberately toppled? It´s still an open debate.
There were two ways to get around the
villea and hibiscus--my first introduction to the fact that, while Chile might own this tiny speck of land, it´s culturally and geographically part of Polynesia/Oceania. Las Cabanas was located just a bit out of town, 300 meters from the ocean, on a rise looking westward at the sea. I´d arrived at 8:00 p.m. By the time I got to the residencial the sun was setting--a fiery red ball dropping into the rugged blue Pacific. Almost immediately I met James and his partner, Jo, of the UK, and their two beautiful children, Henry and Mary, ages 4 and 2. We made fast friends of each other and my fondest moments involve this wonderful family. I miss them still.James and I would sit outside long after dark trying to identify the constellations of the southern night sky. Venus was especially brilliant and we marveled at sitting right underneath Orion. Each night we´d look for the Southern Cross--the truest marker of being ¨down under.¨
The island was perfect for hiking--if one has the right hiking boots--which I didn´t have. That didn´t deter me in the least,
but I did have very sore feet and a highly aggrevated knee at the end of each aggressive hiking day. The island is studded with extinct volcanoes and my first hike was to Orongo, a 12 km hike that brought be up and away from Hanga Roa to a 400 meter volcano with an impressive crater with a hiking trail all around it. I hugged the rocky coast a bit, then hiked up a lovely trail, slipping, every now and then, through groves of heady-scented eucalyptus. Orongo was the site of the Rapa Nuian Birdman Cult and the most impressive petroglyphs are in this location. That, coupled with the fact that it was the absolute end of the island with an impressive view of the sea, made for a fine day´s outing.The sun, however, was incredibly strong and it was necessary to carry three or four liters of water on each hike. No supplies could be purchased anywhere on the island except in the main town. I did not know this on Day 1 and got seriously dehydrated. A lesson well learned.
I´d come to Easter
Island for one reason, and that was to see the giant stone statues, the Maoi, that dot the island. Sadly, much is not known about the civilization that produced these giant statues. European intervention was a tragic encounter. After the Peruvian slave wars of the mid-1800´s, fewer than 100 Rapa Nuians were still alive. None of the story tellers, the ones who pass down indigenous history, were alive. Lost forever was the oral of history of how these people came to the island and why they built almost 1,000 statues.It´s estimated that about 850 Maoi still exist. 400 of them are s
till in the quarry where they were carved; another 100 or so are at a point on the island where they were in transit; another 350 or so are on or around their ahus. Hundreds of these altars surround the island. Some of them were built to hold the Maoi, but most were used for ceremonial purposes. Early explorers indicated that most of the Maoi were still standing, but within a few years almost all of them had been toppled. Earthquakes? Tsunamis? Deliberately toppled? It´s still an open debate.There were two ways to get around the
island: on foot or via scooter. A well-built road rings the island and most of the Maoi are a short hiking distance from either sea or road. One day, I chose the latter, and set out early to see as much of the island as possible. I say early, because, for some unknown reason, time is reckonded slightly differently on the island. The sun never really rose until 7:30 a.m. All of which was fine by me, because I rarely get moving early in the morning. Conversely, the summer sun sets around 10:00 p.m.--a perfect day.
I packed lots of liquid. For some weird reason nothing is sold outside of Honga Roa, and I did not want to run the risk of dehydration again. I was in absolutely no hurry. Within a ver
y short time I´d left the village and found myself on the road that hugs the sea. I´d divert down all dirt tracks, up and over hills and would park the scooter whenever I saw a Maoi. Almost all the Maoi have been toppled, but they´re so huge that at scooter-speed it wasn´t difficult to spot one. Often, there would be several in a line. And always, with only a few exceptions, the Maoi were placed a short distance from the Pacific, with their backs to the sea. All along the coast there were reconstructed ahus, most of which were nothing more than a piles of rocks that had been used in past as ceremonial altars. I stopped at each site and would explore these archeological wonders for as long as they held my interst. I´d also stop my scooter for every WOW view of the ocean--and there seemed to be scores of WOW moments. My camera certainly got a lot of action and I´ve more photos of Maoi and seascapes than I´ll ever need.
Each Maoi had been quarried and moved an enormous distan
ce from the site I was visiting. Some had been chiseled from a single pìece of stone and others had been quarried in pieces. None were standing; still, roaming around these sites gave me pause to think of the genius that created them. Mostly, it begged more questions than answers. Why were they built? How were they moved so far from their original source? What motivated their construction? So little is known that archeologists are still debating the answers.
I packed lots of liquid. For some weird reason nothing is sold outside of Honga Roa, and I did not want to run the risk of dehydration again. I was in absolutely no hurry. Within a ver
y short time I´d left the village and found myself on the road that hugs the sea. I´d divert down all dirt tracks, up and over hills and would park the scooter whenever I saw a Maoi. Almost all the Maoi have been toppled, but they´re so huge that at scooter-speed it wasn´t difficult to spot one. Often, there would be several in a line. And always, with only a few exceptions, the Maoi were placed a short distance from the Pacific, with their backs to the sea. All along the coast there were reconstructed ahus, most of which were nothing more than a piles of rocks that had been used in past as ceremonial altars. I stopped at each site and would explore these archeological wonders for as long as they held my interst. I´d also stop my scooter for every WOW view of the ocean--and there seemed to be scores of WOW moments. My camera certainly got a lot of action and I´ve more photos of Maoi and seascapes than I´ll ever need.Each Maoi had been quarried and moved an enormous distan
ce from the site I was visiting. Some had been chiseled from a single pìece of stone and others had been quarried in pieces. None were standing; still, roaming around these sites gave me pause to think of the genius that created them. Mostly, it begged more questions than answers. Why were they built? How were they moved so far from their original source? What motivated their construction? So little is known that archeologists are still debating the answers.
One of my principal goals for the day was to explore the volcanic quarry from where the Maoi had been
harvested. I really wasn´t prepared for what I saw. Up until then I´d only seen toppled Maoi along the coast. When I got to Rano Raraku it was raining and almost all tourists had left. I waited out the rain, which was an almost daily affair. (It would blow in and blow out with South Pacific regularity and would rarely amount to anything.) I parked the scooter and set off on foot. What I had not seen from a distance, and could only see when I got up close, was the sheer number of Maoi within the crater--over 150. Indeed, the majority of existing Maoi are located in this single spot. Some were standing and had been buried in soil. Some were fully erect, and some had tilted. To stand stand next to one of these wonders was absolute magic. Towards the top of the quarry were many more Maoi in one form or another of being quarried out. They were all unfinished and just lying there waiting to be finished. I had to wonder why so many were left undone and what island disruption terminated their completion. It was an hour or two of wonder and magic.
By now the weather had cleared, sort of,
harvested. I really wasn´t prepared for what I saw. Up until then I´d only seen toppled Maoi along the coast. When I got to Rano Raraku it was raining and almost all tourists had left. I waited out the rain, which was an almost daily affair. (It would blow in and blow out with South Pacific regularity and would rarely amount to anything.) I parked the scooter and set off on foot. What I had not seen from a distance, and could only see when I got up close, was the sheer number of Maoi within the crater--over 150. Indeed, the majority of existing Maoi are located in this single spot. Some were standing and had been buried in soil. Some were fully erect, and some had tilted. To stand stand next to one of these wonders was absolute magic. Towards the top of the quarry were many more Maoi in one form or another of being quarried out. They were all unfinished and just lying there waiting to be finished. I had to wonder why so many were left undone and what island disruption terminated their completion. It was an hour or two of wonder and magic.
By now the weather had cleared, sort of,
and I was at the far eastern end of the island. From the top of the quarry I could see the classic photo-op on the island--a line of 15 erect Maoi, set again the dramatic backdrop of the ocean. I´d give the quarry a little more time and set off for my next adventure.
It was late afternoon and the sun was firmly behind these mag
nificent structures. Thor Heyerdahl, who, probably more than anyone, put Easter Island on the map in the 1950´s with his books Kon-Tiki and Ahu-Ahu, reconstructed them years ago. They are stunning to see and one of the true travel-wonders of the world. I stood in awe at 15 gigantic Maoi, backs against the ocean, standing testament to a lost civilization. I knew I would return again at dawn to watch the sun rise from this magical spot.
Two of my fondest days were spent with James, Jo and the kids. The children were hearty little explor
ers and never complained on our long days out and about. (Henry, at age 4, had already traveled to four of the seven continents.) Our first excursion was on foot out of Honga Roa. I´ve dubbed it the "agricultural" tour of the island because we spent so much time circumnavigating the many small farms on the island. Our first goal was Ahu Akivi, in the center of the island, and unusual for two reasons; the Maoi face the ocean and they´re located inland. Ahu Akivi is a fully reconstructed line of eight Maoi. Because of its isolation, we were the only tourists there for well over an hour. It was lunch time. We ate what we brought, relishing our solitude and enjoying the view as we looked out over a gently sloping, volcanic rock studded landscape to the sea, almost a kilometer away. We bought deliciously sweet wild pineapples from a couple of local venders. It was both a delicious time with wonderful people to share this marvelous place, and a delicious treat to eat wild pineapple.
James had been on the island before and was a perfect guide. From Ahu Akivi we set off for Puna Pao, the smaller volcanic crater from which the Pukaos oringinated. (The pukao are the ¨hats¨or head pieces that some, but not all, Maoi, wear.) This was our ¨agricultural¨ tour. We trekked past numer
ous small family fruit and vegetable farms and past a few smaller dairy farms. (Almost nothing is produced on the island and almost everything is transported in from the mainland, so fresh ¨anything¨ is highly valued, and expensive.) The island is studded with all sorts of dormant volcanoes--most of them not much bigger than small hills, so the landscape is quite dramatic. More than once rain sidetracked us, but nothing ruffled the gang of three adults and two tiny explorers.
Our goal was Puna Pau, the quarry where the red obsd
ian top-knots were dug out. Few Maoi on the island have these unique head pieces and few still had them when the island was at its height of civilization. Most scholars think they were purposely put on only a small percentage. We were fortunate to find a dig going on by a team of archeologists from the UK. They were more than happy to answer our many questions and explain their mission. The team was meticulously removing soil from the base of a still intact pukao. Their goal was to find some form of tool or wood from which they could conduct carbon dating.
By now all of us were tired, thirsty, dirty and hungry. We´d weathered three or four thunderbrts, hiked a good 12-14 kilometers,
down winding country paths, and up and over numerous volcanitos to explore all the remaing pukao. It was time to return to Honga Roa. James led us down foot paths, past cows and horses, past larger family gardens, into the "suburbs" of town. We stoked up on groceries, made arrangements to rent a car the next day, returned home, and settled in early.
It was late afternoon and the sun was firmly behind these mag
nificent structures. Thor Heyerdahl, who, probably more than anyone, put Easter Island on the map in the 1950´s with his books Kon-Tiki and Ahu-Ahu, reconstructed them years ago. They are stunning to see and one of the true travel-wonders of the world. I stood in awe at 15 gigantic Maoi, backs against the ocean, standing testament to a lost civilization. I knew I would return again at dawn to watch the sun rise from this magical spot.Two of my fondest days were spent with James, Jo and the kids. The children were hearty little explor
ers and never complained on our long days out and about. (Henry, at age 4, had already traveled to four of the seven continents.) Our first excursion was on foot out of Honga Roa. I´ve dubbed it the "agricultural" tour of the island because we spent so much time circumnavigating the many small farms on the island. Our first goal was Ahu Akivi, in the center of the island, and unusual for two reasons; the Maoi face the ocean and they´re located inland. Ahu Akivi is a fully reconstructed line of eight Maoi. Because of its isolation, we were the only tourists there for well over an hour. It was lunch time. We ate what we brought, relishing our solitude and enjoying the view as we looked out over a gently sloping, volcanic rock studded landscape to the sea, almost a kilometer away. We bought deliciously sweet wild pineapples from a couple of local venders. It was both a delicious time with wonderful people to share this marvelous place, and a delicious treat to eat wild pineapple.James had been on the island before and was a perfect guide. From Ahu Akivi we set off for Puna Pao, the smaller volcanic crater from which the Pukaos oringinated. (The pukao are the ¨hats¨or head pieces that some, but not all, Maoi, wear.) This was our ¨agricultural¨ tour. We trekked past numer
ous small family fruit and vegetable farms and past a few smaller dairy farms. (Almost nothing is produced on the island and almost everything is transported in from the mainland, so fresh ¨anything¨ is highly valued, and expensive.) The island is studded with all sorts of dormant volcanoes--most of them not much bigger than small hills, so the landscape is quite dramatic. More than once rain sidetracked us, but nothing ruffled the gang of three adults and two tiny explorers.Our goal was Puna Pau, the quarry where the red obsd
ian top-knots were dug out. Few Maoi on the island have these unique head pieces and few still had them when the island was at its height of civilization. Most scholars think they were purposely put on only a small percentage. We were fortunate to find a dig going on by a team of archeologists from the UK. They were more than happy to answer our many questions and explain their mission. The team was meticulously removing soil from the base of a still intact pukao. Their goal was to find some form of tool or wood from which they could conduct carbon dating. By now all of us were tired, thirsty, dirty and hungry. We´d weathered three or four thunderbrts, hiked a good 12-14 kilometers,
down winding country paths, and up and over numerous volcanitos to explore all the remaing pukao. It was time to return to Honga Roa. James led us down foot paths, past cows and horses, past larger family gardens, into the "suburbs" of town. We stoked up on groceries, made arrangements to rent a car the next day, returned home, and settled in early.
The next day,
my last full one on the island, we all rose long before sunrise, drove off in the dark to the eastern end of the island so we could watch the sun rise over Tongariki, a line of 15 Maoi that had been re-erected in 1960. Few travel experiences in my life have equaled that morning. We settled in for a front row view, sharing the site with only a large handful of other tourists. The sun did rise, the line of Maoi stood impassively with their backs to the sea, cameras were frantic and I was in travel heaven. What a way to start the day.
my last full one on the island, we all rose long before sunrise, drove off in the dark to the eastern end of the island so we could watch the sun rise over Tongariki, a line of 15 Maoi that had been re-erected in 1960. Few travel experiences in my life have equaled that morning. We settled in for a front row view, sharing the site with only a large handful of other tourists. The sun did rise, the line of Maoi stood impassively with their backs to the sea, cameras were frantic and I was in travel heaven. What a way to start the day.
From there, we headed back to the Maoi quarry where
we were the only tourists. It was still very early and we
had the site totally to ourselves. We hiked to the
summit, explored sites we really weren´t allowed into, then worked our way to the backside of the quarry to the crater itself. What a treat. Inside, all along the wide crater, were scores of smaller Maoi, waiting for the sun to splash them with light. We meandered along the path, shooed cows out of the way more than once, and only left when the first tourist appeared.
From there, w
e returned to town, and dropped Jo and Mary off at the hotel. James, Henry and I spent the rest of the wonderful day tracking down toppled Maoi, wandering off on trails to see rock-chisled petroglyphs, and finally spending the long, hot, summer afternoon at the beach.
e returned to town, and dropped Jo and Mary off at the hotel. James, Henry and I spent the rest of the wonderful day tracking down toppled Maoi, wandering off on trails to see rock-chisled petroglyphs, and finally spending the long, hot, summer afternoon at the beach.
My time on Easter Island came to end. I packed my bag
s and flew back to Santiago. A week was ample time, but a return visit would be nice. When the UN designated RapaNui as a National World Heritage site, they commented that the island´s treasures were "a masterpiece of human creative genius...and a unique testament to a civilization which has become vulnerable." I had to agree and was grateful for the opportunity to see them first hand.
s and flew back to Santiago. A week was ample time, but a return visit would be nice. When the UN designated RapaNui as a National World Heritage site, they commented that the island´s treasures were "a masterpiece of human creative genius...and a unique testament to a civilization which has become vulnerable." I had to agree and was grateful for the opportunity to see them first hand.
