Starting at sunrise and ending at sunset, this day offered a comprehensive survey of the history of the island, including one of the most impressive moai ahus (platforms) and a glimpse back into a mysterious moment in time. I awoke early and caught a ride with some other campers to the east side of the island for sunrise at Tongariki, one of the most impressive ahus with 15 re-erected moai facing a large field, with their backs to the sea. The sun rises behind them, and we were able to see their faint outlines gradually take form in the waxing light. This ahu is actually the largest ceremonial structure anywhere in Polynesia, measuring 22 meters long. Given that Easter Island represents the farthest reaches of early Polynesian travel (it is the eastern point on a triangle cornered by Hawa'ii on the north and New Zealand on the southwest), we're talking about a vast area of the Earth's surface. Though the moai had already been knocked over during the warring period that I wrote about below, they were done even more damage by a 1960 tsunami, during which the moai were scattered far inland. Over the next decade, a Japanese company paid over $2 million to restore the ahu. You can still see a few broken moai and far-flung topknots lying around the field. These restored moai represent the high point of carving on the island, and also represents the sheer amount of resources it would have taken to transport so many moai from their carving grounds.
Rano Raraku, a site on a volcano a mile or two from Tongariki, is where they were all carved. The quarry, like so much on the island, remains shrouded in mystery. Lying strewn about the side of the volcano are 397 moai in various stages of completion -- some just beginning to be carved, some basically done. What gives the place the feel of a living graveyard is the fact that most of the moai are half submerged in the ground, with their heads and sometimes torsos sticking out. After the moai were carved out of the volcanic rock, they were rolled down the hill into a pit, where their features were then refined and decorated. For some reason that no one quite understands, the moai were essentially abandoned there all at once, and the pits have since filled in as soil has moved downhill. It's as if the workers of the island, whose spiritual life revolved around these moai, just dropped their tools and walked away one day, never to return. What remains is a village of tilted statues, all the more compelling because they're not neatly arranged on a platform, but instead seeming to be going about their daily business.
From Rano Raraku we traveled to the north of the island, visiting the only two beaches (where I got to try out some snorkeling!) and seeing the largest moai ever transported from the quarry.
Sunrise at Tongariki
And rainbows, always rainbows.
Rano Raraku, where moai were carved out of the rock above, and then rolled down into pits for further refinement.
This guy, above and below, captured my attention. He had attitude. I called him "The Dude."
Little clusters like this are all over Rano Raraku, staring out over the island.
Tongariki as seen from Rano Raraku. The large field and former village where the tsunami scattered all the statues is toward the left.
Higher up at Rano Raraku you could see moai in the early stages of being carved out of rock.
This is the only known sitting moai.
After leaving Rano Raraku, we went to Anakena, one of two beaches on the island. Sand is rare, and this beach (behind the moai) was one of two relatively easy landing spots for canoes.
Te Pito Kura (now toppled) is the largest moai ever transported. Its topknot alone is over 2 meters high and weighs about 10 tons. The body is 10 meters and weighs over 100 tons!
We then went back to Tongariki for a view in the light of day.
You can see that the platform is significantly larger than the moai that occupy it -- several irreparable ones are still scattered about the field after the tsunami.
And finally, sunset at my campsite
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