Change of Pace: Sea Caves

Sea caves! With cave art!

Next on the agenda was Ana Kai Tanata. This is a park near the southwestern tip of the Easter Island triangle.

I chose not to take the canoe.

Instead, I walked it.

I got to see a lot of the island up close. Although daily flights to Easter Island have restarted, the tourism industry is not. I walked past a lot of restaurants, and even entire hotels, that were still shuttered.

Not even the way-cool entrance is enough for that hotel to be able to re-open yet. A lot of restaurants closed. A lot of restaurants that are open keeping irregular hours. It's like a beach town in the off-season, except this should be high season.

My plan was to hike up the volcano Ranu Kao and stare into the caldera.

I abandoned that plan. First, I couldn't find what I would know for certain was the trail head -- I'm guessing it's the break in the fence here -- but that's not really a good assumption to make when you're a stranger in a strange land and you don't know the boundaries between public and private property or where you could get lost with no one around. Second, by this point, my legs were gelatinous.

To the sea caves it is!

This is the view from the cliffs at Ana Kai Tangata.

Apparently you used to be able to walk all the way down to the water, but the "no pasar" sign was up about halfway down. Good enough to keep me out.

The volcano looms to my left. Not invitingly.

And here is where the sea cave may be found:

And here is the cave.

Apparently you used to be to walk down and look into the sea cave, where cave art from the indigenous people was visible, but both the access is gone and the cave art has faded. So now it's just a cool-looking cave you can look down into.

I had worked up a powerful thirst, so I walked back to the "Aloha Food Trucks" and ordered a beer.

An "Austral." It's a Chilean beer brewed in the far south of Chile. My next destination, coincidentally, Punta Arenas. In this hemisphere, "southern" is associated with "cold," so the name "Austral" denotes cold beer. Yes, I've been in Chilean territory for a week and I've drank Chilean beer but not a drop yet of Chile's famous red wines.

For supper that evening, I returned to Neptune's Island:

Again, many restaurants are closed and some of the open restaurants are keeping irregular hours. And I was not interested in going to a restaurant with a dinner "show" -- not my thing -- it's OK if it's yours -- but I'll save the Polynesian dancing dinner show for when I finally get to Hawaii. So the known quantity it would be. But this time I would order a regular meal:

Risotto con camarones. Shrimp risotto. I ordered yet another Chilean beer with supper, even though wine would have been a good accompaniment. This was another Chilean beer: Kuntsmann, a craft beer from Valdivia in Central Chile.

I even ordered dessert:

Coconut panna cotta. Just like your Italian grandma would make, if she Polynesian blood.

The sun was setting on Hanga Roa.

Here is the sunset over Ahu Hotake in Hanga Roa harbor.

More More Moai

Moai on the beach. This time with a blue sky behind them.

Yesterday, I did the Grand Tour of Easter Island.

By the way, "Rapa Nui," the allegedly indigenous name for the island, is Tahitian. It's not native. It came into use fairly recently. The name is as "authentic" as calling it "Easter Island" or "Isla de Pascua." Locals do call it "Rapa Nui. Chilenos call it "Isla de Pascua." Tourists call it "Easter Island." Which one of those am I? Well, I guess for me it'll be "Easter Island".

Oh. There's a moai on the grounds of my hotel. I didn't ask, but I'm fairly certain this is not "authentic." I don't think it dates back to the time of the moai, before the moai were obliterated after the cult of the bird-man took over the island. I don't even think it dates back to the 20th Century. But who am I? An archaeologist?

Hotel grounds aside, there are a few important moai to be seen in close proximity to the village of Hanga Roa. But first:

The local Catholic church. It doesn't have the majesty of Gothic architecture, but it beats suburban-American ultra-bland.

And, on the way to the neighborhood moai, down the hill from the Catholic Church, is the Catholic cemetery.

There's even a moai doubling as a headstone in here.

Pretty sure that contradicts official Catholic dogma. but, hey, we got Pope Francis now. Anything goes.

But the walk isn't long to my destination du jour: Ahu Tahai.

That one is for those who like a horse in the foreground of their moai shot.

This one is for those who prefer their beachfront horses sans moai:

Or, if you prefer, a dog's life:

Back to today's featured attraction.

It's not them. They're not today's featured attaction. Impressive as a line of moai on a beautiful beach (on a sunny day!) may be.

These are just the opening act: a line of five moai, with the sixth is gone and not to be replaced or re-raised ever again (they don't do re-raising of fallen moai anymore) (it doesn't fit with the ethos of modern times).

Let's meet the star of the show:

Not the one in the front. The one in the back.

That moai!

Notice something different about him from all the other moai everywhere? Those eyes.

At one point, it was thought that moai had no eyes.

Sort of like me in the picture with the moai with eyes in the back.

Then, fairly recently, archaeologically speaking, an archaeologist found a pair of spheres that (a) looked just like eyes and (2) were just the right size to fit into a moai's eye socket. Many other pairs of eyes, in various states of damage, have since been found. But far fewer eye pairs than there are moai. Which has led to two conflicting theories. Everyone now agrees that at least some moai had eyes. And everyone agrees that because the eyes were made of fragile coral, most of the eyes have been lost to time, predominantly due to the moai-tipping wave of destruction that struck a few hundred years ago. But some believe all had eyes at one time and some believe only some had eyes even when moai had eyes.

The original pair of eyes that were found have since been placed in the local museum. The eyes in this moai -- who not only has eyes but a topknot -- indeed this moai really truly has it all -- are recreations, not originals. And the local museum is located just a few steps from this moai is standing. Amazingly convenient!

Unfortunately, the museum is closed. It's not the same strike that closed museums in Santiago. This is a dispute between a prominent local family and the Chilean government, with the family insisting that the museum was built on land improperly confiscated from said prominent family. So said family bolted the museum shut. Several years ago. The dispute has not been resolved.

Museum: cerrado. It's becoming a theme of this trip.

In case I did not mention it before, the red volcanic stone used for the topknots is incredibly, almost weirdly, light. "Light as a feather" is not too far off the mark.

Makes sense that something placed on top of a multi-ton statue, after it has been placed erect, would need to be made of the geological equivalent of balsa wood.

A different horse, this time north of the two-eyed moai:

The two-eyed moai posing dramatically:

This is a sign I've never before seen anywhere:

Don't step on the giant heads! You would think people wouldn't need such a warning, but, then again, that is the world we live in.

One last look before we move on:

I'll do a short post on the rest of my day later.

Dinner in Hanga Roa: Ceviche

Ominous. A cruise ship looms beyond the harbor of Hanga Roa

There are two reasons why I lose weight when I travel. First, I walk around A LOT. Second, because I walk around so much during the day, I don't have much of an appetite at night. So I wanted a light supper. That meant: ceviche.

It's a short walk from my hotel to Hanga Roa's restaurant row. In fact: it's a short to everywhere in Hanga Roa. The town is not that big. The first two restaurants I tried: cerrado. Closed. Twice daily flights may have returned to Easter Island, but the tourist numbers apparently are not enough to sustain all of the restaurants being open each night.

My third choice -- third because it was farthest walk -- was actually the top-rated restaurant on TripAdvisor: Neptune's Island.

"Top rated" on TripAdvisor doesn't always mean "excellent," or even "great," but it is a guaranteed "not sucky."

 

Decent crowd. Friendly staff.

I ordered the "mixto" ceviche, which was a local fin fish, octopus, shrimp, and -- this is the Easter Island variant of ceviche -- sweet potato.

Side order of rice. Good. Not great. Not sour enough. I like ceviche best when the flavor of lime absolutely overpowers the mild fish. There definitely was an insufficient level of acidity for my acid tongue. I did, however, like the fish and seashell shaped dinner plates.

This little girl came up to me to say "hola" when I was leaving the restaurant.

I wasn't sure how far she would follow me home, but she stayed at the beachfront.

Arrival on Easter Island

A moai of Ahu Hotake stares off into Hanga Roa harbor

I have been on Easter Island and I have solved the mystery of the giants heads. I have a serious answer. But you'll have to work your down to the end of the post to get the answer.

I flew in on a 787. The flight was quite unpleasant. It's a five-hour flight. It left Santiago's airport about an hour and 15 minutes late. That was not the problem. The only thing on my schedule today was flying to Easter Island. It's not like I had a connection to make. The problem was that I had a window seat and, in the middle seat, was a fat guy. He was big enough that he was encroaching on my seat. And I'm a fat guy, too, so I had no seat to spare. And to make matters worse? There was no one in the aisle seat! Tubby McLardbutt (he spoke English, so I know his name was not Tubito Culatagrande) could have moved over, or at least leaned over to the aisle seat and let me enjoy the entire seat I paid for. Not the type of problem I expect on international travel.

My back was killing me from the contortions I had to make to fit into my seat. I just about kissed the ground when I deplaned.

But who could prostrate oneself when there are sights to seat, right alongside the airport runway?

The airport is small. Not as small as this "gate" makes it look like.

But there is only one flight in and one flight out each day, all involving Santiago's airport. This is a massive improvement from the last three years. Isla de Pascua was completely shutdown for the COVID for 2020, 2021, and 2022. It only re-opened for twice WEEKLY flights at the beginning of this year and the current daily regimen just started this month. Time for us tourists to march right in.

I didn't feel like rolling the big bag the mile from the airport to the hotel, so I took a cab. And within a few seconds, I arrived at the Easter Island Ecolodge.

This hotel is much simpler than the one in the hipster neighborhood in Santiago. But still very clean.

And, unlike the hipster hotel in Santiago, this one has live chickens on the property.

And they won't shut up. Hopefully they will go to sleep when the sun goes down. I'm thinking I may not need to set an alarm clock.

This is most definitely not a hipster neighborhood.

The hotel is in the village of Hanga Roa, which is, for the most part, the only human settlement on this small speck of an island thousands of miles from anywhere. I think the population is a little more than two thousand permanent residents.

And as I am strolling down Te Pito o Te Huana -- which, I think, on Google Maps means that there are alternative names -- "Te Pito" or "Te Huana" rather than one long, cumbersome name -- and I spy my first two Easter Island heads:

Psyche! Just the busts of a couple of Chileno military men from the distant past.

They were in a little park at the corner of Te Pito (o Te Huana) and Atamu Tekena.

But I am on a mission to make it to Hanga Roa harbor, which is just another block away. Two whole blocks from the hotel.

By the way, there are a couple of super-ultra high end luxury spa hotels on the island. There are lots of what we would call "primitive" lodging. There is not much in the middle market. My Easter Island Ecolodge is probably what passes for mid-market on the island.'

And even though Isla de Pascua is, technically, Polynesian, way out in the middle of the South Pacific, it's still Chile. Which means it is still South America. Which means: soccer pitches:

Right across the street for the harbor.

This harbor area is the closest that Hanga Roa gets to "over-developed."

Ahu Hotake and the harbor in one frame:

"Ahu" means platform. The "moai" -- those world famous Easter Island heads -- are mounted on "ahu."

I have been trying to get to Easter Island since this was the vacation destination chosen for me for 2018, when for Advent 2017 I put the names of 30 places in the cookie jar and "Easter Island" was the last one in the jar. But I couldn't go in 2018, because the chance to go to China came up. In 2019, there were riots in Chile that were frequently shutting down Santiago airport and I didn't want to take a chance on getting stranded.

Then, in 2020, the 'vid hit. Chile was the most locked-down country in the Americas and Easter Island, in particular, was locked tight. I only learned a few months ago that they were re-opening the island for daily flights.

And, as I've learned from years of vacation planning, when a window opens, you have to throw yourself through it. The window opened and here I am: On Easter Island.

I have a full day tour scheduled tomorrow to see as many heads as I can.

I have three days here. I figured two days (which means three nights) would be enough to see everything, but this I know is a once-in-a-lifetime destination. I want to make sure I've seen it all here. I am not planning on leaving anything for a "next visit" to Easter Island.

Although I don't see myself booking a boat trip on one of these boats:

I left Santiago before breakfast. I ate only a cheese sandwich on the airplane. Tengo hambre!

I'm not sure how reliable google reviews are in a place like this -- especially since it has been largely shut down for the last three and a half years, so I decided to eat and what appeared to be (but is not billed as) a Peruvian restaurant.

La Vie Belle, which served Peruano food under a French name. I order what on the English language translation of the menu was dubbed "the butter fish of the day." The catch of the day, cooked in herbed butter.

Who doesn't like food cooked in butter?

The "butter fish of the day" was tuna. A very fresh tuna. I ordered it cooked "medio," which I thought would mean "medium."

"Medium rare" must mean "sashimi." "Rare" must mean "still in the net."

Anyway, as I am sitting in the restaurant, staring at the harbor, it came to me. The "experts" keep saying that "no one knows" why the early people of Rapa Nui (as Easter Island is called in the native tongue) carved and mounted all the giant human head statues all over this small island. And I know the answer. The serious answer.

Easter Island is a tiny, tiny speck of rock out in the middle of the Pacific, surrounded by nothing but thousands of miles of salt water. Even today, with modern transportation technology, it's a five-hour flight. And even today, with modern technology, the island can support a population of only a couple of thousand. So why carve out and populate the island with all these heads?

The early people of Rapa Nui just wanted to feel less alone in their isolated world.