Day 11 - Rapa Nui

Tukuturi, the kneeling tiki, looking down from Rano Raraku to Tonjariki

Two half-day tours, again with the studly yet knowledgeable Hugo.

Farthest out, Motu Nui, the island of the sooty tern

  The morning is the southernmost part of the island, beyond the airport.  We start with the dry-stone ceremonial village of Orongo, where the Birdmen and priests lived.  There were seven men in the annual Birdman competition, one from each clan.  For a week, they were kept off together in secluded preparation, each trying to size up the competition. Then in the morning of the contest, they would climb down the cliff with the totoro buoys they had picked and woven themselves, paddle a mile to the island, climb the cliff, find the first sooty tern egg, bind it to their forehead with a bandana, climb back down, paddle back, climb the cliff of Orongo and win the right to live alone for the year as Ultimate Ruler.  It was a tribal system that replaced the “my moai is bigger than yours” system, but it didn’t have long to live before the White Man sailed into view and changed things forever.

       At Orongo are also many petroglyphs, lots of birdman symbols, one stone that looks like a turtle, and a fresco with human hands.  It's an art gallery in stone, all anonymous works by skilled hands working with prehistoric tools.

  After that we slog up the volcano to the brim of Rano Kau and look out over the islands and down into the caldera with its totoro reeds.

       Then on to Vinapu and an ahu wall that looks for all the world like Cuzco.  It’s easy to see how Heyerdahl - and anyone else who had seen the Inca fortresses - would think perhaps the ancestors of these islanders had sailed west from Peru instead of east from Polynesia.
  At the end of the morning we pick our way down steep steps to Ana Kai Tangata cave, where rough waves crash in from the sea.  How you juxtapose those three words can mean “the cave of eating men” (where men eat) or “the cave of the man-eater”, which may partially explain the allegation that some Rapanui were cannibals.  The walls are decorated with colored shreds of pictograms... as well as a rock shape that looks very much like a polar bear to me.  In a prehistoric cave it would have become a painting with plant-colored dyes highlighting the snout and haunches.  Hugo sees it when I point it out to him.
  All this in a half-day.
  The van drops us off in town.  I attach myself to the Canadian professor, his son and friend for some tuna ceviche.  A short stop at the hotel for a change of clothes; it’s getting hot so I change into tropical gear:  white shorts and a white shirt.
 

Hanga Roa, the island's only town, as seen from Puna Pau

We start the afternoon with Puna Pau, the quarry where all the red topknots (pukao) came from.  There’s a great view of “Our Town” - Hanga Roa - spread out below.  It’s the only town on the island.

  After that, a short distance away is the ahu platform with the seven moai, one for each clan:  Ahu Akivi.  They had been toppled, breaking into pieces, but have been puzzled back together at great expense and effort.
  Then Hugo takes us off the grid:  to Ana Te Pahu Cave, which is actually not part of the predefined tour.  No pictograms, no moai... just a basalt cave with water dripping from the black rock ceiling.  I kid Hugo that he waited until I was bare-legged and in white for this.  There is no light and the stone is black and jagged.  And slippery.  For half an hour we make our way through this lava channel, guided by light from one or two flashlights and several cell phone screens.  The hands of Hugo and his driver Koi (from Les Iles Marquises, the Marquesas) are strong and welcome, and I’m not the only one who avails themselves of some assistance.  Jokes echo back and forth in the dark.  Then we literally see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I’m somehow the first out, greeted by a spiny tree whose branches block the way.  I push them aside and scramble up the embankment, followed by the two Swiss nurses.
  Then Kent, the Canadian professor, appears, his head bleeding all over his clothing.  At the very end, he didn’t duck and has cut his scalp badly.  The cave gods have taken their sacrifice.

Tahai

  Everyone slogs through the marshes and piles into the van, to be deposited at Tahai on the coast on the town’s north side. One moai, complete with frightening, all-seeing eyes, stands alone; five more partial ones are aligned nearby.  I decide to accompany Kent and the boys to the hospital, in case an extra hand is needed, and to lend moral support to Hugo, who feels guilty.  My role ends up being limited to staying with the van, which has been left with motor running in the haste. The hospital does nothing but hand Hugo some bandages and disinfectant, so the Canadians are returned to the hotel.

       Hugo and I go back to pick up the others, although his mind is elsewhere.  I tell him about my tourist in France having a seizure in the backseat as I drove, and hope it helps.  But I doubt he’ll tell me he got a good night’s sleep when we meet tomorrow.