Circumnavigation of Eastern Island

by Stan Chladek & Nigel Dennis

Why Easter Island? The world's most remote island is a small speck of land, some 2,600 miles from the South America mainland, 1,200 miles from Pitcairn Island and a thousand miles from Tahiti to the west. Towards the South there is nothing but countless miles of virtually empty Pacific Ocean all the way to Antarctica. The swells roll unhindered from New Zealand, and summer trade winds blow incessantly from the east. This together with the inhospitable coast of spectacular black lava cliffs and reefs, make the island a true challenge. This daunting coast line is broken by only two small beaches.

There is however one enduring mystic, the Island's famous statues.(Rapa-Nui in the native Polynesian tongue); silent giant stone sentinels (Moai) standing on platforms (Ahu), gazing over the barren land. The mystery of these monument builders, the meaning of their rock art and the islands ancient inhabitants.

It is clear that the first people came to Eastern Island from the West in the third century AD, probably from the Marquese Islands. The islands numerous stone platforms and sculptures appear quite similar to those from the Marquese Islands. Islanders started to build the stone structures sometime in the 7-8th century AD. The exact reason for carving the statues - and transporting them great distances across the island - is unknown; it is assumed that the statues were meant to portrait mythical ancestors or ancestral kings/chiefs. The Moai were erected on stone platforms and none of them out of approximately 1,000 that have been preserved are the same. All or most of the statues face inland, watching over the villagers of the island. During the period when the statues were being erected there was a large population (estimates range between 10,000 to 20,000) The majority seemed to be more or less peaceful and were engaged in agriculture, fishing and rituals connected with use of Ahu using Moai as temples, or perhaps burial places of their kings. The situation seemed to change in the 15th century, when Rapa Nui inhabitants sensed the impeding disaster caused by the deforestation of the island. The centuries of statue building and transportation had led to a tremendous consumption of wood and the resulting deforestation led to wind erosion and the loss of tillable soil. A shortage of wood probably led to the decline of boat building, a vital industry for survival on the barren island. The Gods were surely called to help the dire situation, the more help needed the bigger the statues got, a frantic attempt to entice the Gods to help. This was to no avail, the Gods help never came and by the end of the 15th century the old religion was abandoned, the building of statues terminated and apparently a new cult of Warrior Gods ensued. Several hundred statues were left unfinished in the great quarry of Rano Raraku and the statues standing on the platforms were toppled, many of them destroyed.

A ceremonial village of round huts, constructed using dry stone masonry, were built on the edge of the Rano Kau crater. The Bird Man (Tangata Manu) festival was enacted, young men contending for the Bird Man title engaged in a deadly contest originating from Orongo under the supervision of priests. The competitors would descend the steep cliffs of the crater down to the oceans shore, and swim through the surf and currents toward the small islet of Motu Nui. Those who survived the rough waters, infested with sharks and perhaps deadly fights with fellow competitors (who tried to drown each other) and somehow scaled the cliffs of the islet would fast in the islands caves. Waiting for the migrating sooty terns. Who ever could snatch the first egg, transported it back to Orongo in a small reed basket that was attached to the forehead, would be proclaimed the Bird Man, in effect, a King. His ascension would be celebrated by human sacrifices; the victims were called "Fish for the Gods." This ritual led to wars, and a means to obtain victims sacrifices and perhaps, cannibalism as well.

The tradition says that certain caves, including those on the island of Matu Nui or Ana Kai Tangata (just south of Hanga Roa) were used for cannibalistic rituals. In fact some of these caves are still decorated by the pictographs or petroglyphs of bird men, sooty terns or the face of Maku-Maku, a warrior god who required human victims. The best examples of the islands petroglyphs are on the sacred rock outcrops at Orongo, where the faces of Maku-Maku and the images of the bird man overlook the ocean with Mutu Nui and the spire of Motu Kau Kau in the background. Constant wars and quests for victims, either for sacrifices or as a supply of food to prevent famine, may explain the great population decline. Island oral history also speaks of civil wars between tribes of Short and Long Ears (as seen featured on the statues) is also a reason for the population decline and general decimation. One thing is clear, when the first European explorers arrived in the 18th century, they found a small destitute population which had totally lost the skills of boat building and did not know who built the statues. The stone age civilization, which grew in such great isolation was gone. It took a tremendous effort by modern day archaeologist to piece together the remarkable puzzle of the Rapa Nui.

Stan's knowledge of the islands history, made a paddling trip to this Island sound an attractive proposition. A short expedition to be sure, since the whole island circumference is not more than some fifty miles but with plenty of interest and exciting kayaking. We were inspired in part by the 1994 article published in the Sea Kayaker magazine by Michael Powers. Michael and his colleagues visited the island exploring in white water kayaks, experiencing very rough weather around the Island during the spring gales. Although we expected that the weather in mid-summer might be milder, we were sure that the strong easterly trade winds would give us plenty of opportunity for some exciting kayaking. In fact, we got a bit more that we bargained for.

On a February night we landed in a Lan Chile plane from Santiago bound for Tahiti, with a refuelling stop at Hanga Roa, the only town an Easter Island. After a six hour flight, we stepped out on a humid night. Hundreds of crickets could be heard as we scurried across the runway in the pouring rain to the airport building. There were six of us Frank and Doreen Goodman, Stan and Emma Chladeck, Nigel and Joni Dennis.

On our first day, the northeast wind blew like crazy and from our hotel we observed lines of swells from the west forming some of the largest surf we had seen. We had no idea that this swell would continue to pound the shores of this island for the next two weeks. We rented a couple of rickety Suzuki jeeps and went about exploring, scouting for possible landing spots. As we explored we stopped to wonder at the island's archaeological monuments. Most of the island is parched desert crisscrossed by dirt roads, scouting the coast was quite easy. Unfortunately it was obvious that there would be next to no landings so all our skill and experience would be needed if we were going to complete the circumnavigation.

The Island is roughly triangular in shape; each corner is topped by a dormant volcano, with steep cliffs falling into the sea. Scouting the coast confirmed what we suspected, other than the unprotected Hanga Roa harbour, there were only two places that we could land a kayak in these conditions. Just two small beaches on the north shore of the island: Anakena and neighbouring Ovahe Beach. Anakena Beach appeared to be a very good landing, with protection from both western swells and easterly winds. The Ovahe Beach was steep and rather difficult to approach through the reefs, probably not very useful, since it was next to Anakena beach. The rest of the coast comprised of endless black cliffs, studded with caves being bombarded by continuous surf.

The strategy for rounding the island appeared to be fairly simple: wait for a decent day when the wind would blow no more that 15 knots, start in the afternoon in a clockwise direction and make for Anakena Beach. This would offer us shelter and a sandy beach to land on, a good camp spot for the first night. We hoped for a light morning wind, this would enable us to paddle the north shore of the island and round the most committing headland - Poike Peninsula and its exposed Cabo Higgins. Local fishermen warned us that the eastern headlands, around Poike Peninsula would have difficult rough waters ; an area into which the local fishermen would prefer not to venture. This area had been impossible to scout due its inaccessibility. We were certain that there would be no landings for a good 15 miles. From there on, it should be all-downwind, along the eastern shore of the island. We planned for one more overnight stop at either Hanga Hotu Iti or Hanga Tee, both bays had small fisherman landings. The last leg should take us around the headland Cabo Sur, enabling us to reach the protected western shore all the way back to Hanga Roa; On reaching the west shore we should be sheltered from the effect of the easterlies. If we were lucky, we would try to land on a small offshore island, Motu Nui, a tiny speck of land with a mythological significance to Rapa Nuis ancient inhabitants.

We decided that February 11th was to be 'D' day. What a great way to celebrate your birthday. It was Nigel's birthday and he could think of no better way to celebrate. In the morning, the wind was moderate, so we assembled our sectional fibreglass kayaks, a process which took just 10 minutes and packed our gear for several days. Frank Goodman had come out with us with the intention of flying his parapont. He kindly offered to help so between us we carried the kayaks down to his hired jeep and tied them onto the roof. We had no roof rack so Thermorest sleeping pads were used to protect the roof and our tow lines to secure the kayaks. We were all set at about 3 pm so off we went down to the harbour. A few locals gathered and watched. To them we must have been a curious sight. Two of the local youngsters fancied hitching a ride so without invitation they climbed onto the rear deck of both kayaks. We set off out of the harbour, breaking through moderate surf soon losing our passengers. As we turned northward along the coast, we paddled on through the swells towards the platform of Ahu Tahai, just north of town. Ahu Tahai is a series of statues, some of them furnished with red top-knots standing on the shore. We tried to get close for a photograph, but the surf prevented us. We were able to recognize the remains of a boat launching ramp, next to ceremonial platform (Ahu). We paddled on along the great cliffs, passing several small islets till we reached the north-western point of the island where the slopes of Mount Terevaka dissolve into the sea.

As we rounded the headland our compasses swung to a south-easterly direction. We continued along the coast in the shelter of the islands cliffs. Suddenly the full brunt of easterly winds hit us, slowing our progress considerably. Soon, large waves were forming + the reality of our challenge became apparent, it felt cold and foreboding. The dark cliffs stretched out before us. As we paddled we passed caves and gullies. Soon we came across a perfect blowhole, a jet of water was pushed out through a small opening in the rock, and a huge fan of water was pushed high over our heads. The next three miles were really slow as the head wind had increased. It was know blowing 25 mph, you have to dig deep and find the drive to continue. Finally, as the evening approached we landed at the Anakena Beach through the small surf, accomplishing about 14.5 miles in 4.5 hours. The bay in which the beach is located is surrounded by a grove of palm trees. It is also the legendary landing place of the island's first king. He arrived from Polynesia some 1,600 years ago. Near the beach is a large, well preserved Ahu with several standing Moai (statues) gazing solemnly, their large eyes inlaid with coral & obsidian. Around, scattered among the palm trees are several large toppled statues with empty eye sockets. Some of the large stones used for building the platform were covered with bizarre petroglyphs, showing what is thought to be aku-aku, the protective spirits of the tribe.

As we slept in our bivi bags the wind increased. We were both woken by the noise of the palms and surf crashing on the beach. Too much wind, by 9 A.M. it had reached to about 40 m.p.h. The seas further out were wild, there would be no progress into this wind. The situation did not improve during the day, we decided to declare it a rest day and explore by foot instead. Fortunately, if one needs to hang around somewhere, this is the place to be. Good swimming, shade from the sun, protection from the wind and places of interest to explore.

The following morning at 6 am the air was still with no trace of yesterday's wind. We hurried with breakfast and packed the kayaks as fast as possible. The main problem being, that the wind would surly increase as the day warmed. We set off breaking through the surf and paddled at a comfortable pace. The sea was quite jobblie (an unofficial word for rough), we paddled on until about 8 am, when the wind began to increase. By 9 am it was blowing hard, straight into our faces. It was incredible hear were kayaking around an island and even when we turned a corner that damned wind was still in our faces. We could not hear each other over the booming noise of the surf and gusting wind, although we were paddling quite a way off shore. The waves were getting quite large (pretty jobblie), perhaps 15 feet or more, but so far the paddling was not too serious as the waves were not steep and only the odd wave would break forcing us into a low brace position. Progress was fairly slow, but slowly the great headland of Cabo Higgins came into view. In about three hours we reached the Eastern most point of the island, where a wall of huge breakers forced us to paddle a considerable way out to sea. These great white crested lumps must have been formed by the incoming swells meeting the waves rebounding off the cliffs. Although no mention of tidal streams had been made, it was obvious that there was some tidal movement that also effected the wave patterns around this exposed headland. (The effect of tides around the Eastern Islands were deemed to be negligible)The tide was probably running at 1.5 to 2 knots. As we paddled on it was getting harder to keep each other in sight. There were times when we did not see each other at all. As the waves got bigger we needed to separate for fear of a wave surfing us into each other. Although we tried to stay reasonably close; all we could see was the occasional glimpse of a head, or pitching bow of the kayak on top of a green monster. The waves were starting to settle and the paddling started to get a bit easier, finally we turned west toward the bay of Hanga Hotu Iti. We now had to contend with a very confused following sea, which was perhaps the hardest paddling so far. The kayaks were pitching and surfing down the face of waves. Every so often a wave would build and break on us forcing us to brace while the wave passed, we were getting closer to our next goal. Onwards past the needle of Mot Marotiri, this great column of rock forms an impressive stack. We had to pass this on the seaward side due to heavy seas. It did not take long to surf into the bay, but then there was another problem. We knew that there was a little harbour in the corner of the bay and we could see the starboard light that marked the entrance. As we approached the sea became very confused. If the water remained deep enough we should be able to pick a rout into the harbour. In these conditions it would have been nice to have a chart showing depths. But we had to make our best estimate and venture in slowly and hope. Soon we were winding our way between the rocks, now paddling quickly as we had to time our approach between the large swells. Finally we found the small rocky nook, protected by a small sea wall, where a fishing boat was anchored. The fishing boats are very similar in design to the Irish Curas found on the west coast of Ireland. Yet here we were thousands of miles away and the boats have evolved to a similar design. I suppose that if you dare to fish in these waters with such basic craft eventually all hull shapes will evolve to the same design as all will be striving for the most seaworthy of hulls.

We landed next to the great platform of Ahu Tongariki, with a row of Moai, which were toppled by a great Unami wave in the 70s and restored shortly after. Again, a row of silent stone sentinels, some with red top-knots looking inland, over the coastal plain, where a settlement perhaps once stood. A short way inland a basalt outcrop has been carved with a large profusion of enigmatic petroglyphs. Some of them were bird men, some were turtles, barracudas and mysterious faces of the cannibal god of Maku-Maku.

After a short lunch break we set off on our last leg for the day. We hoped we could reach Hanga Tee as this was the only possible protection on this part of the coastline. As we set out we were forced to paddle out to sea, we had no choice as the wind was blowing approx 25 - 30 mph and that coupled with the swells and underlying reefs gave us difficult sea to contend with. As we approached Hanga Tuu Hata the seas kicked up once more. Waves were forming great tubes and exploding into the outer reefs. It was necessary to head still further out to sea. By this time we were probably about a mile and a half out. Looking towards the land as we paddled, the coastline could only be seen as we reached the crest of the swells; even then we could not see the detail of the cliffs. Most of the time all we could see were the backs of the huge swells together with walls of foam and aerated water as the swells finally collapsed. It took us some 2 hours of paddling before we started to turn toward the shore, looking for the entrance to the bay of Hanga Tee, constricted by huge reefs again. From the distance of some 2 miles we thought we were able to recognize the headland. We were evidently on the right track, after a while we recognized Frank Goodman and Stans wife Ema standing on the point. By that time we were in big seas again, riding steep breaking waves toward the shore. The entrance turned out to be a fairly narrow channel between black jagged reefs. We will probably never forget the images and apprehensions as we approached. Again it was impossible to tell the exact rout in as neither of us could see the channel. Fortunately for us Frank had positioned himself and was directing us in waving a white handkerchief. Again the steep crested waves crashed around us as we picked our way in through the reefs sending up huge walls of foam. Dark shapes of volcanic rock, would appear periodically in the foam. Fortunately all went well as neither of us could have rescue each other. We found the right channel and entered a placid lagoon, where waves gradually diminished to some 6 feet and we finally rode to a small niche where a fishing boat was anchored. We accomplished some 20 miles this day in some of the roughest conditions that either of us had ever paddled in. We camped that night next to a fisherman's hut and spent part of the evening exploring the ruins of nearby Ahu Hanga Tee with yet more fallen giant statues. The next morning greeted us with a red sunrise as we set out early for the last 17 miles leg of our journey. The swell was bigger than the previous evening, we had to time our breakout through huge crashing waves in the gap between the reefs. After a few moments of furious paddling we were safely out and set our course in a south-westerly direction across the large bay of Hanga Vinapu.

At the head of the bay is a small beautiful ruin, the Ahu Vinapu. Its perfect masonry may have lead the Norwegian anthropologist Thor Heyerdal to compare it with the Inca masonry of Peru and speculate on the South American origins of the Rapa Nui stone age culture. The stone idol, standing in the front of this platform looks different from the other statues on the island and provided fuel to some speculations of its origin.

We paddled on cranking the miles out across the wide expense of the bay, as long as the beautiful weather would last, there would be nothing to worry about. Once again this was not to be. After about one hour of paddling we noticed the ominous darkening of the sky on the eastern horizon. A storm was approaching quickly; soon the whole sky turned into a deep indigo. The wind would pick-up, the sea would start to break. We both new this but could not tell how hard it would blow. We could not return into the following sea and wind. Neither did we have the luxury of being able to land. We had only one choice: Turn and head directly south and paddle away from the land. It was already blowing 25 - 30 mph, once the wind picked up still further there would come a point when we would only be able to paddle directly down wind for any length of time. The race was on to get as far out as possible so we could then turn and run with the wind behind us following a course that would enable us to clear the next headland Cabo Sur. If we managed to clear that we would be able to gain shelter from the high cliffs. This was potently the most dangerous part of the expedition. There was nothing we could do but accept the position that we found ourselves in and get on with the job in hand. There was no turning back and only one option. Once you come to terms with this you settle down and a strange sense of acceptance takes over. The sea state changed in no time and suddenly we were in the midst of 25ft high waves, some of the crests were being blown off and the waves began to steepen. The seas were spectacular, it was quite an interesting sight to see each other surfing the wave faces and pivoting on the wave tops. Although it seemed to be almost insane to be paddling a kayak in these water with only your blades to rely on it does prove how seaworthy these craft are. Finally we turned and headed west. After a while of constant battling with the angry ocean the islets of Motu Nui, Motu, Iti and Motu Kau Kau came into view. As fast as the storm started it was over and we were now passing along the great cliffs of the Rano Kau crater, some 1,000 feet high, straight under the ceremonial village of Orongo. The one hour storm with its following seas helped push us quickly along. Big swells were rolling in from the west, and the huge surf, formed spectacular tubes, the off shore wind was creating spectacular main like water fountains which sped up towards the sky as the waves broke into the vertical cliffs. As we passed Itu Nui it became obvious that landing on the island would not be possible. We chatted insensibly about how the Bird Men could have coped in these sea and how dangerous their deadly contest was. This chatter was probably the result of the realisation that we had reached safety.

We paddled on in a northerly direction, keeping our distance from the breaking swells. We continued north and soon we were manoeuvring into the open harbour of Hanga Roa. Now all that was left was to surf in through the breaking swells and land at the small beach and our trip was over. Moai evidently watched over us and wanted us to come back and tell the tale, so we landed in one piece.

A few days later, we hired a fishing boat and visited the isle of Itu Nui. It looked like an exceptionally calm day, but the boat still could not land. Somehow we managed to jump onto a small flat spot that stuck out from the islands cliff. Even today we could not have landed a kayak. On the island we met a large profusion of rather tame sea birds, you could not experience this on the main island. We also found caves that were once inhabited by cannibals. Inside the caves there ancient rock art could be seen. It is quite scary to see the Maku-Maku staring at you from the darkness of the cave!

The expedition had finished, it had probably been one of the most demanding rough water prolonged trip that either of us had undertaken. Easter Island is only small but it is an island that certainly has a sting in its tail.

A VERY JOBBLIE PADDLE!