Easter Island is now a blip on the eastern horizon, with our bow pointed west toward Pitcairn. We spent 20 days at Rapa Nui - one week longer than it took to sail there. I thoroughly enjoyed our time at the island. Our first week was blessed with east winds, so we were able to anchor off the main (only) settlement of Hanga Roa, on the west coast. I surfed daily, sometimes indulging in a morning and an evening session. On one such occasion, I was out surfing the smaller break to the south of the channel, and everyone but one other surfer left. The guy who was left started paddling over to the larger break, across the channel. I told him I don't like to surf alone, and that I'd follow him. We hit the other side, and the waves were noticeably bigger and more powerful. I was ready though, after doing a good bit of warming up on the easier break. I took my first right and then my next. Then a left. We paddled back over to the smaller break since he had had enough. Then I paddled back over to the large break cus he was leaving, and more people had arrived on the other side�...tiring to paddle all up and down the coast!

Back on the other side, I rode a wave. Paddling back out, a fellow surfer was taking off, and I duck dove right underneath him. Well, mostly�...my right foot trailed a little and his fin smacked the outside of my foot, bruising and cutting it a little. Not too much damage though. I took another good right, but as I hopped off my board at the end of the wave, an intense pain shot into both of my feet. I thought I had cut them on the reef. Not exactly. I pulled my feet above water to inspect the damage, and dozens of small black needles stuck out of my feet. Sea urchin. The big toe and the next two over on the top of my right foot, and the outside near my heel and ankle on my left foot were dotted with the sea urchin's needles. I caught one more wave, but decided it was time to head out to start dissecting my feet to remove the intrusive barbs.

A solid hour or two and a few beers later, I put down the tweezers and scalpel, halfway satisfied with my work. Both feet still throbbed and I certainly had not removed all of the needles. (As a note to the reader, I'm fine now.)

The following day we had to flee to the south/east coast as the wind had veered back around to the north. We spent the night (maybe 2?) at Rada Vinapu, an industrial oil terminal. Not exactly scenic, but it had much better protection than Hanga Roa with the new wind angle. We made our way up to Caleta Hotuiti the next day, and caught two tuna en route. They provided many tasty, nutritious meals for us, and thankfully broke up our monotonous staple of BBQ chicken.

Hotuiti is incredibly beautiful. There is a line of 15 moai on a very large platform greeting you at the edge of the cove. A tall cliff offers protection from a northerly blow, and is a gorgeous sight, sticking straight up out of the ocean almost 1000 ft. We anchored for the night in 80 feet, our deepest anchorage ever. The next day, all of our many hours at sea traveling to this distant island paid off. We took the dinghy in to the small landing, which is pretty much in somebody's back yard. There were a few guys hanging around but thankfully they smiled and waved. Once we'd secured the dinghy, we walked toward the statues, and began to get a sense of their grandeur. Towering at about 30 feet and weighing upwards of 10 tons (pretty sure on this figure�...don't quote me) the statues are a sight to behold. One even had a large hat atop his head, probably weighing around a ton, which defies explanation as to how it got there. We observed the statues for a while, taking many pictures, some with Andiamo in the background.

Our goal, though, was to explore the moai nursery on the side of the volcano. Hundreds of years ago, these statues were all carved out of the rock face at this spot. We walked along the coast on the only road and circuitously arrived at the nursery. The ground was absolutely littered with moai scattered here and there, some standing, others fallen, still some cracked in half, face-down. Hundreds of megalithic statues everywhere! It was surreal. Jared Diamond's book , Collapse, tells a cautionary tale of the decline of the Rapanui. He points at moai construction as a major reason for the downfall of the civilization. The islanders put all of their resources - time, energy, manpower, trees and rock - into making and transporting these statues. As a result, they nearly wiped themselves out, descending into civil war and cannibalism. Standing among the moai at the nursery, I can completely believe Diamond's account of the events. It defies the imagination just how much time and effort would have to go into carving these statues, with the much more difficult task of transporting them still to come. The broken, toppled statues everywhere pay tribute to the inherent difficulty. Still, as a modern observer learning from and enjoying the archaeology all around, I was riveted. The statues truly tell the tale of the island. They hold both culture and history, ingenuity and tragedy.

We climbed as far as the trial would lead, and thankfully rounded the corner that would let us look back over the anchorage toward Hotuiti. Andiamo was a tiny speck of white several hundred feet below and in the distance. We descended, and found a dirt road path cutting the corner back to the anchorage. As we took a few more pictures, a heard of wild horses trotted by, probably about 6-8 animals. They stopped at a watering hole. The steep, rocky side of the volcano was behind them, and it made quite a photo. I think I spooked them, though, and I got out of there as quickly as I could. Horses at a barn don't really scare me. But wild horses that could kill you with one kick�...out.

We went back to the boat and still had time left in the day, so we got on our wetsuits and jumped in the dinghy to explore the nearby structure. There are precisely zero fish at Easter Island, except for some small ornamental reef fish. I managed to actually spot a small flounder on the bottom and swam down and stabbed him with my spear - no shot required. He provided much more amusement than food. Still, he was my first and only flounder, so add that to the list. When we got back to the boat, I managed to dive to the bottom with just about zero breathe-up, which I was pumped about. 80 ft is not a record, but I hadn't been diving much, so that was legit. It was actually pretty easy, partly because the visibility was so good that the bottom was clearly visible in full detail from the surface.

The next week and a half after that, we were pretty much just relegated to hanging at Rada Vinapu, as the wind would not change from north. A stalled front, stationary for literally like 2 weeks, kept us just waiting for a weather window to leave. One night, we had each had a few rums and a few beers, and we were sitting watching Breaking Bad at about 8:30. The Armada came by in their large inflatable and woop wooped us with their siren. I figured they were going to yell at us for not having an anchor light on. They called us on channel 16 and said: TSUNAMI coming, 4 hours. We could hardly believe it! Dad and I had been discussing the theoretical event of a tsunami a mere 2 or 3 hours earlier over beers. What were the chances? They told us to head over to the west side of the island, and wait offshore in at least 100 meters of water. On our way over, they came over the radio to suggest we stay 3 miles out. Then they said 5. We figured that things were pretty serious if they kept upping the distance. We finally reached our spot, and fore-reached for hour after hour waiting to hear back from the Navy. We communicated a few times, but each time was to say stand-by, more info to come. Around 2 am, we finally decided to start taking shifts, getting some rest. I took a little nap, and woke to the radio crackling saying we could head back in. We were now off of Hanga Roa, so we anchored there for the night. We dropped the hook at 4 am. A rough night anchored and not much sleep later, we were finally back in town. We provisioned, buying lots more chicken and beer, and then went back over to Vinapu. The very next night, at about 11:30 we got a false alarm tsunami warning again! We picked up the anchor and began the slog back over to the west coast, but thankfully the Armada canceled the warning after only 30 minutes. Buh. Out for tsunamis. We anchored back in the exact same spot and passed out.

After a couple weeks of waiting for the weather to improve, we got our wish. Finally, we've escaped the stationary front and we're on our way to Pitcairn. We expect an 8-day crossing, traveling 1125 miles due west. I'm extremely excited to visit Pitcairn, and in fact, I've been dreaming of the arrival ever since I first heard of the island. I'll write in a few days to explain the allure of Pitcairn, and recap any noteworthy happenings offshore (hopefully not really!). At sea once again�...