Death Road down hill mountain biking

A small section towards the end of the Death Road. The road has widened by this point and the camera is pointing at too low an angle, but it's the only part of the video that isn't obscured by mud and rain on the lens.

8th December – Easter Island

We were up earlier to go on a walk to do the Northern route of the island. It was a clear and hot sunny day so we were well-armed with sun-cream, water and an enthusiasm to see the more remote sections of the island.

We took to route past our Maoi friends from yesterday, following the coast and stopping occasionally to admire the flawless blue sea and the rocks below from the vantage point of the cliff edge.

Our first real stop was at Anakakenga, where it’s possible to crawl through a small opening like that of the houses of Orongo, and into the caves below. Once inside, the cave opens out into two grottoes, each leading to apertures which enable you to stand suspended part-way down the precipice and over-looking the ocean. Matt went in first so I could get a picture of him perched high in the air above the crashing waves. Had it not been for the smell of the decomposing cow nearby it would have been perfect!

After Matt emerged it was my turn. I went in with a German couple and we had nothing but the torch in Matt’s phone between us. I wasn’t quite so brave as Matt and though I got close enough to the cave opening to see the sea, I was no way brave enough to stand on the edge of what essentially the middle of a cliff, with such a sheer drop into the crashing waves below me.

We followed the path for a while before stopping for a nice picnic at the last point before the path turned inland, and just before Ahu Tepeu, where we explored a platform with a few fallen Maois near a village site with remains of a few houses similar to those found at Orongo.

We followed the dusty path for several kilometres before reaching Ana Tepahu. We entered through a ‘Polynesian horticultural complex of sweet potatoes, bananas and taro’ and reached the two former cave dwellings.  

We had a look around the first one and took photos of the less-accessible second one and were just about to leave and get back on the road when a guy told us that the first one was actually about 400 metres long. We went back to explore its length and were glad that we had. We enjoyed poking around the lava tubes, apparently created when rocks farm around and moving stream of molten lava, were fascinated by a tendril of steam that loitered and rose in an small patch where a single strand of light streamed in through the roof.

We exited in the middle of a field and made our way back to the road and along the way a little to Ahu Akivi where there are 7 standing moai. It is the only inland Moai and only one where statues face out to sea. They are assumed to have astrological significance since, at the equinox, they look directly at the setting sun.

This was the first site of the day that was busy with tourists coming and going by the bus-load.  The Moais were an impressive sight and the whole experience was enhanced by the observation of the cultural collision of clothing choice between the sun-proof long-sleeves, jackets, hats and headscarves simultaneously sported by the Chinese, and the European students in their tiny shorts, tinier bikini tops and with nothing but a pair of sunglasses to cover their modesty.

We planned to climb the tallest peak of the island, the volcano Amunga Terevaka. However, partly because of the heat and partly because I didn’t fancy following a pack of near-naked student-types to the top, we gave it a miss and continued our circuit instead.

We were now quite far inland and without the ocean breeze it was super-hot. I was applying sun-cream constantly and cowering in the shade of my knackered Thai brolly but still struggling. We were determined not to miss out on the last stop of the route and so headed to Puna Pau – the site of the quarry where the top-knots for the statues were made before being transported to the sites around the island.

We hadn’t fully realised that the quarry was not exactly on the route and so would involve retracing our steps if we couldn’t think of an alternative. After dismissing the idea of nicking the bicycles carelessly left unlocked by another pair of tourists, we rested on the quarry-top for a while before deciding to risk taking a farmland trail that looked like it might possibly head in the right direction.

Undeterred by the log that appeared to intentionally block the route and in deep discussion about what Chilean trespass laws and what form local sanctions might take, we tramped our way across private land until we reached a dirt road.

The problem was then how to get to the dirt road. With the help of an old man who came out of his battered caravan to point us in the right direction, we worked out the ‘gate’ – a simple process of temporarily dismantling a barbed-wire fence in order to get out.

After about 7 hours, 20km and 1600 calories later (thanks Endomondo!) we arrived back at the campsite, with just enough time for a shower (with a miraculously appearing door that didn’t exist when we left that morning), a cuppa and a piece of fruit before heading out with the campsite crew to the evening’s entertainment.

The Rapa Nui Kari Kari dance is a ‘folkloric ballet of great strength and endurance’ but we were expecting something totally tourist-oriented and affected. It was no doubt very touristy but there were also no question about the power and the stamina of the performers. The women were graceful, energetic and beautifully dressed, but the men really made the show. They were all muscle, potency and intensity and had the most superb traditional dress.

I couldn’t help thinking of the lads at school and how they would respond at the idea of dancing, singing, wearing ‘skirts’ and yet even they would not have been able to dispute just how macho these guys were.

As well as a combination of vigorous and sedate (mostly female-led and quite honestly a bit dull in comparison) dances, there were also a couple of instances of audience participation. We studiously stared at the floor as they passed. As much as we fully commend the bravery off all who took part it, these exercises are pretty much designed for humiliation and it was impossible not to laugh at other peoples’ efforts - especially the guy who just shook his knees like a petrified chicken throughout the whole routine.

Back to hostel it was time for a long-overdue Pisco and a good chat with Elena and Marcal from Spain. They had done a similar route to us but had also worked in India for some time and so we had lots to talk about. They were too tired to make the most of the Pisco so we rescheduled a date for tomorrow.

I was just about to go to bed when I realised that despite my best efforts, I had managed to get myself a good dose of comedy sunburn. Due to my high, round-necked t-shirt, I now looked remarkably like the Cluedo-piece, Miss Scarlett. Thanks sun.

7th December – Easter Island

After the heat of yesterday, we weren’t too disappointed to wake to a drizzly day. We chatted to Jen, an open and independent German/ New Zealander who spoke 6 languages and would have been annoyingly attractive was she not just so damn nice.

Our mission for the day was to see some more of the famous sights of the island and place the geocache coin that we found 4 years ago somewhere that might serve as recompense for our sloppiness.

The volcano Ranu Kau, with the staggeringly beautiful lake residing in its extinct crater seemed like the perfect location. Even on such a murky grey day we could see the striking contrast of its blue water and green vegetation.

The location of Ranu Kau is deserving of its immense beauty. The volcano sits on the edge of the island with just a small lip of land before the cliffs drop dramatically down into the sea. This section is closed to walkers but it is possible to take a path that circumnavigates part of the crater and leads to the sacred village of Orongo.

The route was crazy windy and I feared I’d seen the last of Matt as he negotiated the geocache area but he assured me that the rocky outcrop meant he was protected by the wind and wasn’t as perilously close to falling into a volcano as he seemed. Good stuff.

At the entrance of Orongo we met Carlos, the ranger for the area and a devoted fan of The Beatles and Tom Jones. He told us that he dreamed of going to Liverpool and Wales and seemed to be constantly on the verge of bursting into song. It was all a bit incongruous to be on the site of a distant and ancient cult and be talking about how Tom Jones still has very sexy hips despite his advancing years.

So, Orongo was a ceremonial village, built when the belief in the Moais was changing, and used for just a few weeks at the beginning of every Spring. From approximately the end of the 16^th Century until about 1867, the Make-Make cut used it for the Tangata- Manu competition, where tribal chiefs, or their representatives, swam out to a nearby islet and waited for the arrival of the spotted tern. The aim was to get back to the village with the first egg to be laid. It was an incredible deed of endurance and physical strength and the winner was endowed as Tangatu-Manu (birdman) and regarded as sacred for the rest of the year.

The site contains 54 mud and slab houses which are partly set into the ground to shelter them from the powerful elements, and overlooks both the volcano and the sea. They were built and used from the end of 16^th century to 1867 and it was interesting to see how solidly built they were (though they have been reconstructed now) and marvel at their tiny doorways. Orongo is also the main rock art area and there were lots of impressive petroglyphs around but they were cordoned off, probably due to their proximity to the edge, so we were unable to see them as closely as we would have liked.

Thankfully, it cleared up a little while we were there so we ate our delicious-looking but stale (I’m sensing a theme) cake and enjoyed the views over the islet as well as the other aspect of the volcano.

6th December – Santiago Hotel to Easter Island

I was reluctantly dragged awake at 5.30, though, all moaning aside, the wake-up call makes all the difference in preventing fitful sleeps when one has less than 5 hours in bed.

Matt realised he’d left his swimming trunks at the pool yesterday and so I called reception to see if they had found them. I had to explain to the guy on reception a few times. He was initially very shocked and thought Matt had left the pool without any shorts on at all. I straddled the line between amused and embarrassed at requesting a skanky pair of shorts be returned from a high-class swimming pool. I soon tipped the balance however as the housekeeper, who delivered them to the door very shortly after, had them hanging on the tip of his finger and looked nothing short of appalled.

Breakfast was better than all other food they’d inflicted on us so far but still very deceptive-looking. I find it so confusing when food looks so good but tastes so horrid. I was beginning to fear for our time on the island - if that was all the Chileans could dish up with such extensive access to resources, I dreaded to think what it would be like on the most remote inhabited island in the world.

Along with our recent companions, we were reassured that we were going to actually get there when the car to the airport arrived on time and check-in was uneventful. I was especially relieved when Matt made it through the flight without any shenanigans and we both even managed a bit of sleep.

A few hours later, we circled Easter Island as the plane aligned with the runway. It was a great photo opportunity but I was also juggling with the camera of a nearby lady who’d asked me to take some pictures and so they were probably not as good as I’d like them to be.

On the ground we found ourselves at the least airport-like airport ever. It was just a small wooden building surrounded by palm-trees and totally lacking in any of the equipment and contraptions of modern airports. We walked down the steps of the plane, across the runway, past the wooden, handmade sign post which signalled where to go for transfers and into what felt like little more than a tourist info centre.

I was delighted when we were greeted with luxuriously heavy flower garlands by Victoriano and left to wait for our bags – the retrieval process for which still involved the same amount of unnecessary elbowing, pushing and shoving as the typical international hub.

I took my beautiful garland off and placed it carefully on a counter so that I could apply my sunscreen, onky to turn round and find that someone had nicked it!! Since so many people were wearing them and there is only so much variety you can get in flower garlands, I couldn’t identify the culprit. I seemed unable to stop myself gomping and grumping as I climbed into the car. Victoriano disappeared for a while and came back with a flimsy synthetic one. I was delighted! It was so sweet of him to get it and because it wasn’t made of real flowers, it meant I could take it as a momento.

The sense that the airport was just a pretend model one was increased as instead of the usual motorway journey, we literally drove around the corner and along for a block before reaching Tipani Moana campsite. There we were give a very thorough introduction by Benjamin, the owner and one of the islands very few full-time navy officers.

Keen to see more of the island, we walked into the main area of Hanga Roa, the only town on the whole island. We saw our first Moai, Ahu Tautira, right in the centre over-looking the sea. It was a little odd to see it right next to a restaurant and with a view of surfers behind it.

Further down the road we came across another piece of unexpected modernity – the park gym. I remember seeing these apparatuses for the first time in China, and being absolutely delighted by them. When I came home I went for a walk with my mum in Poolsbrook country park and was approached by a woman doing research on how the park might be improved. I put it forward as an idea and the woman seemed to be as thrilled as I had been about such a ‘unique’ concept. After a few more weeks in Derbyshire, I realised that China was not so exceptional and that, in fact, the park gym had already gained quite a lot of ground in the UK. We have since seen lots of them. How entertaining that such a notion may have made its way to this secluded patch in the distant reaches of the Pacific Ocean but had still not penetrated the deep, dark recesses of Poolsbrook.

So anyway, we had a lovely time playing on the gym by the sea and observing the enthusiasm of a local man who really went for it and a bunch of local dogs who were equally as keen.

We walked further around the coast in search of more Moais. We found a few clustered together with some carvings. We were quite impressed by one with eyes and carvings on its back, until we clicked that it was on a steel platform, looked quite new and was facing the wrong way.

At lunch time, my fear of a lack of anything decent to eat materialised. The prices of food in the restaurants was severely prohibitive and the supermarkets, though abundant in number, were predictably limited. We were hoping that there might be lots of tasty fresh produce grown on the island but suspected from the brown, wilting nature of what we saw, that it had taken the same journey as us – including the delay of being bumped off the flight!

After a nice afternoon nap in stifling tent heat, we went back out to see more of the Moais. A cluster of different structures were easily accessible from the town, featuring Ahu Ko Te Riku, Ahu Tahai and Ahu Bai Ure: known to us as, ‘the big one with eyes’, ‘the middle one with no eyes’ and the ‘row of five’, respectively. Our inability to pronounce their names did nothing to diminish the grandeur and gravity of watching the sun set behind them. The feat of man combined with the triumph of nature was awe-inspiring.

5th December – Santiago to airport

Despite the bad night’s sleep and not having to fly as early as we feared, we were still up at the crack of dawn to get everything packed and sorted before we travelled. We took the metro and a different bus to yesterday and were safely at the airport by 10.30am.

We had loads of time so we headed to the LAN office to see if my little bag with my water bottle had made it’s way to lost property – it hadn't but they did show the the iphone and tablet that had been found so I could have been quids in on the deal.

Our flight still hadn’t appeared on the board but since the queue was humungous, it made sense to get in it. A couple of hours later we were still in it and only had a short time until the plane was due to board.

When we finally got to the front, we were asked if we would like to volunteer not to fly until tomorrow. The deal was nowhere near as sweet as our volunteering jackpot at the start of the trip and Easter Island was a dream destination so we weren't willing to cut our trip there short.

The check-in lady had other ideas though and spent so long dithering that our time for boarding came perilously close. She offered us a flight back a day later but it flew to Lima before Santiago so we weren’t interested. After leaving us waiting for ages, she finished her shift and took off, telling us that someone else would look after us and the manager knew all about it.

The manager was doing her best not to catch the eye of the group of people who, like us, seemed to be stranded at the check-in desk. When I did manage to collar her and ask if we were getting on the flight, she simply said, ‘no’. Not too long after, she also picked up her bag and scarpered – this time without a word of explanation! I saw her trying to sneak off and chased her down but she was very dismissive.

Eventually we got to speak to someone helpful and things started to come together. We were sent off for a free lunch while they sorted out our flights and puny compensation. Things could have been worse though - there was another couple who were also bumped and had their time on the island reduced from just three days to two. They’d had their flights for about as long as we had and had even successfully checked in the previous night.

What couldn’t have been much worse was the food in the restaurant! Everything in the buffet looked great but tasted awful! I didn’t know it possible to make salad taste gross! We did have a good laugh about it though and crossed our fingers that the food at the hotel we would be sent to was a delicious as last time.

When we got back, the ground staff were panicking before we seemed to have a leg of our journey missing on our itinerary. We probably could have wangled an extra flight but admitted to intending to travelling overland to Lima at a later date. We did still have to go via Peru to get back to Santiago but they did change our Brazil flight to a more direct one and give us vouchers for food and onward travel when we got back to Santiago.

Finally, at gone 4pm, we were off to Hilton Gardens hotel. The one member of ground staff who had been exceptionally helpful, despite not speaking English, gave us both a hug and a kiss and waved us off.

I had a great afternoon in the hotel gym and pool. I can’t say I’ve missed much other than people but I have missed getting into my little head-bubble and pounding it out in the gym. After a good workout, I moved from the gym to the swimming pool, sauna and jacuzzi for a nice relax. I was about to go for dinner when Matt came to join me and we bumped into the couple we had seen at the airport, Mark and Margaret. We had a nice chat in the pool and arranged to meet up over dinner.

The company was great and we enjoyed hearing about their stories of travel in Russia but the food was terrible. I realised just how spoiled we’d been on our first ‘volunteer’ when the waiter brought over the menus, realised we were from the airport, huffed and took them back. He then told us what we were having chicken and mash for dinner. No choices, no vegetarian option, not even a smile. When Mark told him that was the same as we’d had for lunch, he reluctantly offered us pasta.

I couldn’t help but smile when the pasta came. It looked like a crappy kids version you get for a couple of quid when you order an adult meal in a chain-pub. The pasta was a kind of dried ravioli and it just wasn’t cooked enough. We chewed our way through a couple of pieces before Mark spoke to the waiter, very politely, and told him that they didn’t want to be there about as much as the hotel didn’t seem to want us but that we’d at least like something proper to eat.

We were told we could have something from the non-pauper menu but that we all had to order the same thing and from a pre-determined section. We gave the pasta a miss and agreed on the rack of lamb. It took ages to arrive and when it did, it looked so much more appetizing. Unfortunately, it was so tough that I got cramp and callouses trying to cut it. I was in stitches by the time that Mark just gave up and picked the thing up to tear it apart with his fingers and eat with his hands – not only was the whole situation ridiculous but it made him look even more like Ron Swanson that he did previously.

We were up late chatting and packing but it was so good to collapse into a big comfy bed without the noise of the Santiago hostel, knowing that tomorrow we would really be on our way.

Anji Canyon Jump

Apologies for the terrible encode quality and shocking editing. I'll upload a better copy when I get chance.

Anji Skydive