Easter(n) corner of Polynesia

This page of Easter Island is a bit of a mishmash of out-of-context sentences and paragraphs which I never managed to forge into a cohesive story, a story with a beginning, middle and end. Bugger that. I'm trying not to fall too far behind. As I write this, we're getting ready to sail out of Gambiers. I still haven't written the Pitcairn story and there are a few big photo albums to be posted too. If the text is full of errors in grammar or disjointed thoughts, you'll have to live with it. You can always email me if you want to ask something. The address is in the front page. So here we go:

The Rapa Nui language sounded remarkably Polynesian. The Polynesians here are like black-haired Fabios in their statue, covered in tattoos - an art originating in Polynesia. They ride their black stallions down the main street of Hanga Roa, looking as fierce and strong as any Polynesian warrior ever was. The similarity in body-language, looks and culture seemed strikingly similar to the Maori people, living a mere 9000 km away in the land of the long white cloud. What is it that makes the massive area so homogenic in so many ways?

Map: ©Microsoft Encarta World Atlas

"Isla de Pascua" marked our last Spanish-speaking destination. It also marked the first one in Polynesia. The island - known for its Moai statues - has been part of Chile since 1888. The statues are considered the most significant examples of "megaliths" in the world, sparking many theories from the unwritten past of the island. Norwegian anthropologist Thor Heyerdahl studied Rapa Nui for years and in 1947 made a 101-day voyage on a traditional Peruvian balsa raft Kon-Tiki from Callao, Peru to the French Polynesia. Thor's motive was to prove that ancient South Americans could have migrated into Polynesia, being the original stock for modern-day Polynesians.

Thor's theory did not find much support, though it made him very famous. Both linguistic and genetic studies support the traditional Asian origin of Polynesians, even against the trade winds and prevailing currents. Easter Island's history includes warfare between two distinct tribes; the Long ears and the Short ears and if you like, you could blend that story into an idea of two different people meeting, mixing and colliding. You see, no-one denies the origin of Sweet Potato (Kumara or Kumala), spread throughout the Polynesian islands. The humble potato originates from Peru, South America. Either Polynesians made landfall all the way into the Peruvian coast, or they met with Peruvian sea farers at some point.

Hanga Roa landing. Even though the surf is not big today, a stable dinghy with enough horse power makes things a lot easier.

Whatever the case, today's Rapa Nui's population of 4000 people consists of 60% Polynesian, the rest being from Chile or a mix of the two. Spanish and Rapa Nui are spoken but the close link to French Polynesia makes french speakers feel at home too. I could hear the turning of the corner from one culture to another. The local's command of english was up 200% from mainland South America, thanks to the airport, the famous statues and a steady stream of tourists.

Easter Island lies firmly outside the two magic lines marking the tropics, well south of Capricorn. I had been a little lazy about studying the weather. South Pacific - in my head - was just a giant puddle of steady SE trade winds. Of course South Pacific ocean is not all that balmy and predictable, neither is Rapa Nui famous for any consistent weather. It lies on the edge of the trades and frequently gets swept by the tail end of cold fronts which trail behind the Southern Ocean lows. This brings sudden wind shifts from SE to NW, occasionally near gale-force. Adding to the problem is the predominant swell direction from SW. The swell, if there's a good blow down south, can reach several meters and make landing impossible.

The Armada was friendly and laid back. But make no mistake. They have strict rules about reporting your movements, monitoring VHF 16, burning your anchor light and not bringing ANY rubbish ashore.

A note about the weather

Many cruisers still blindly believe the guide books and many guide books still keep warning about the sudden changes of weather in Easter Island. The advise is as useful as a sextant in a modern cruising yacht. The truth is that the weather used to be unpredictable. In the old days the forecasting was not as accurate and there was less technology for cruisers to access the full synoptic picture, no internet on the island and less Pactor modems on board. Let's shed the past and live in today.

Easter Island does not have its own atmosphere, producing its own weather. All the weather that the island gets is visible in grib files, forecasts, satellite images and synoptic charts. The weather systems move from west to east. The prognosis is very accurate up to 72 hours ahead and even up to 7 days ahead a cruiser who checks the situation daily and pays attention to the area west and southwest of the island should experience no surprises with weather. It is good check the swell forecasts too, as they can make landings (or the return on board) impossible. In a NW blow the southern anchorages provide a reasonable shelter but both the swell and the corals forces yachts to anchor deep - around 20 meters or so.

Philip from a yacht next door chasing the surf ahead of him, trying to stay ahead of the rising surf behind him before making a quick dash behind the rock wall. The weather conditions are mild but large sets of surf still roll in regularly.

The Chilean Armada uses popular forecasts from msn.com and the like. They don't necessarily look at the big picture. A safe and enjoyable visit by yacht to Easter Island can be made by studying the synoptic situation to the west and south of the island and in my experience is best done by those born under the lucky star of Jupiter. That's me, thank you very much! :-)

Lucky or unlucky?

Luck is a relative thing. Despite some early difficulties we were lucky to arrive at Rapa Nui just before a NW blow. With an old seized up manual windlass forcing me to pull most of the chain by hand, I wasn't overly happy with deep water. We drove to Hotuiti and dropped anchor in 10 meters despite some rocks in the bottom. We held fine but the growing swell from behind us kept lifting us up and snagging the chain. The authorities were kind enough to take their inflatable through the surf and come on board for the entry formalities. We slept well but the morning spelled trouble.

The swell was getting steep under Aliisa and although not breaking (yet) we had better move out. The lifting of the anchor was scary and hard work. Again, not bad luck, just bad equipment and poor physical fitness on my part. All well, we got the tackle up and headed out to sea. The idea of drifting off in a developing crap-weather was not popular on board and so we decided to try anchoring back in Hotuiti, this time with our second CQR, only 6 meters of 10 mm chain and lots of old 3-ply rope. We chose a sandy area in almost 20 meters deep. Aliisa stopped, there was no more snagging of the chain. The weather came from behind the island and the up to 40 kn squalls kept us nicely bum-to the swell, which was now just lifting Aliisa up and down. Cozy and comfy inside, with a game of Scrabble and a few drinks.

This is the mandatory pose, I suppose. There are almost 900 statues on the island, ranging from 3 to 12 meters, varying slightly in style but mostly looking very contemplative.

Another day and the wind was gone, swinging back to the SE and putting us on a lee shore. No probs, time to pull anchor and head to town! Only half the job got done. Our CQR and chain decided to snag somewhere after all and stay down forever. Bugger that! Our only proper anchor is now the oldest covered in rust. Tired from 3 weeks at sea, two restless nights at anchor and pissed off by the loss of our ground tackle we started driving around the island. There was hardly 5 knots of wind. 1/2 hour later I noticed a 5 degree rise in the engine temp, an unusual gargle from the exhaust. The strainer wasn't full and the exhaust was getting hot.

It wasn't hard to guess who the culprit was. Once the engine had cooled down, I opened the water pump and pulled out the impeller. I had changed it in Panama. I don't know how often people usually change these things but the first one - the one in the pump when the engine was installed in 2004 - had been doing fine for 2500 hours. The new one was completely destroyed in only a few hundred hours of running. I put the old one back in.

The new one is on the left. The old one is on the right. Using led is banned for environmental reasons, apparently, so the old ones last forever while the new "eco friendly" impellers are piling up as land fill and increasing the sales all around the world. I'm not sure which option is more environmentally friendly...

Horses are still popular on the island and I was told they number around 1500. They roam free everywhere and many are used as everyday transport by the locals.

In Hanga Roa we found a nice sandy bottom in "only" 12 meters deep. I dropped our last remaining CQR, followed by all 50 meters of rusty chain. Our leaking zodiac and unreliable twice-sunken 4 hp outboard did not encourage us to go ashore. Fortunately there was enough traffic to service our needs: our neighbour Sy Raven offered us a lift and helped us with both fuel and water. The local fishermen were keen to receive money for a taxi service and finally the local dive shop took pity on us and helped us back on board for free.

Hanga Roa anchorage from the west. Aliisa is just right from the Moai.

The weather settled and all forecast models were showing a continuous east to southeast flow, perfect for leaving the rolly anchorage and stay ashore. We hired a car and sampled three of the island's many hostels and motels, staying a total of 4 nights ashore. The internet was fast and widely available, the hire-cars were affordable and there was enough to see for a few days. Our total stay in Rapa Nui ended up being almost two weeks long.

Tongariki burial site has 15 Moais standing in a row. Like almost all statues, they face the island, turning their back to the sea.

Lost in translation, the "Caballos Sueltos" refers to horses roaming free in the area, as they do all around the island. They are not wild though, marked by tattoos as their owner's property. This track led to a small crater lake, a popular watering hole for the local mustangs.

Keeping the town's lawns tidy...

But I didn't want to push my luck. We decided to go while the weather was still good. The 1100 Nm to Pitcairn was longer than any reliable forecast and whatever the weather might be later on, we always like to start softly. We loaded some drinks and fresh produce on board and called the Armada for a check-out. And that's our Rapa Nui story told. Highly recommended, particularly for air-travel. The constant worry about the yacht (the old guide books' ghostly weather changes still haunting my mind) and the rather rolly and uncomfortable anchorage made Easter Island an effort. Successful and well rewarded stop for us, but had the weather been crap, it could have been a real pain in the ass. But as some old Australian travel slogan (for Northern Territory) said: "You'll never, never know, if you never, never go".

Looking through the hole in the mainsail. The sailcloth was so brittle, it started a new rip on some of the needle holes. A full day of stitching and all our repair material is gone. There are three more rips already starting elsewhere on the sail.

Many caves to explore, some which have small windows opening on the vertical side of the cliff facing the sea. Super cool stuff! I wish had more than just the camera's flash to help us find our way.

Cattle, bulls, horses all roam free everywhere.

Sunset in South Pacific

Love Rapa Nui style