We knocked off most of the main stops on the Golden Circle tour yesterday so today feels like a good day to slow things down a bit. There is a hot pool called the Secret Lagoon about 45 minutes away in the town of Flúðir (Fludir). According to our guide book, it is a more natural version of the concrete-encased pools in Reykjavik, so sounds like a good spot to just soak for a few hours and relax.

The real things doesn’t disappoint, and after a pass through the communal showers (which the boys find no more appealing the second time around) we sink into what otherwise would pass for an old fashioned swimming hole, just much, much warmer. All around us are smaller pools, steaming and bubbling with hot water coming from deep in the earth. There is even a small geyser that erupts every 10 minutes or so. We’ve been warned that the tours busses start rolling in around 3pm, and the sudden influx of tourists is our signal to collect our things and make a hasty exit.

We have no particular place to go so figure we’ll just explore a bit. I remembered seeing a side road of some significance on the way in, so that seems like a good place to start. At the intersection, this handy sign possibly provides some useful information about what lies ahead. However, rather than calming the nerves of my trusty navigator, it serves only to convince her that leaving the highway means getting lost and all freezing to death. With that road blocked, we instead decide to head to Hella to re provision for the next few days.

Back at the cabin, tonight looks like our best bet for Northern Lights. According to the forecast, most of the country is going to be overcast, but if our luck holds, the Southwest corner (where we are currently) will have a few hours of clear skies between 11pm and 2am. The boys have figured out the dusty Playstation 2 in the loft, and after a delicious dinner of hot dogs and pasta, have retreated upstairs to wait.

Around 11:30pm, we see the first streaks of green appear in the sky. Throwing on our winter gear, we all rush outside for a better look. Solar activity isn’t particularly high this evening, so compared to some of the brochures it isn’t much, but not knowing if the weather was going to give us the chance to see them at all, they’re perfect. The boys try to take pictures with their phones, but without the right gear, the Northern Lights are something you only really take pictures of in your mind. So there we stand – the Roberts family, bundled up against the cold a few degrees below the Arctic Circle, starting up at the night sky just trying to capture the moment.

By midnight, the lights are starting to fade and the members of our small group are starting to break off and head back indoors. We hope to get a fairly reasonable start in the morning and are just settling into bed when a bright purple streak shoots across the sky. A giddy shriek from Mom sends everyone back outside for the real show. Above us are rivers of lights, flickering and dancing like crazy. It’s unlike anything I ever saw growing up and everything we hoped it would be.

It doesn’t even come close to doing them justice, but the lights are so bright this time around that some even register on our cameras

What a spectacular way to finish our day in Iceland.

It’s back into a very full car today as we say goodbye to Reykjavik (for a while at least) and head for the interior to see the sights of the Golden Circle. Being just a short drive from the city, this is the quintessential day tour in Iceland, with busses full of blue-haired ladies making the rounds in both directions. We plan on spending the next three days in the area so will be taking things at a bit more leisurely place.

No more than 30 minutes from Reykjavik it is like we have entered another world. Signs of civilization have melted away behind us, leaving wide open vistas as far as the eye can see. Here is where our adventure really begins.

Now with no buildings here and very few trees, wind is not your friend, taking chilly temperatures and making them downright unpleasant. Grumpy cat is not amused.

Our first destination is Þingvellir (Thingvellir to us sorry folk with only 26 letters in their alphabet), a spot with both historical and natural significance. Deep under our feet, two continental plates are in motion, slowly tearing Iceland apart. At the rate of about 2cm per year, the earth here is moving in opposite directions, providing a unique opportunity to see forces of nature at work, literally ripping rocks apart.

This spot also served as the site of the Althing, where, not far from where these two goobers are standing, representatives, not far from each region on Iceland gathered for the world’s first (and now oldest) parliament.

And because I’m a sucker for waterfalls…

Next on the agenda is Geysir, the geyser from which all others geyser’s got their name. These days it is just a quiet, steaming pool with some bubbles here and there, but just a few steps away is another, named Strokkur, that erupts like clockwork every 5-8 minutes.

Last on our list for today is Gulfoss, one of the iconic waterfalls of Iceland where water from the Hvítá River seems to disappear into the earth.

Days are still fairly short here and by this time it is getting close to sunset. With the goal of finding the cabin we have booked for the next few nights while it is still daylight, we head of towards the town of Hella. As towns go it isn’t much to speak of, but with a gas station, a grocery store (creatively called The Grocery Store), and a bakery, it has everything the Roberts family requires.

Our cabin is just a short drive from town, but with the assistance of Google Maps a few wrong turns, we somehow manage to turn that into an hour long journey down a combination of back roads, and rutted gravel tracks that apparently bear enough resemblance to roads to pass Google’s exacting standards. As darkness falls, the instructions “look for a black house from the road, and just past that, turn left at the green gate” become surprisingly less effective.

On our third pass we finally figure it out and unload. Our hope is that, miles away from any city lights, we’ll be able to relax here in the hot tub at night and watch the Northern Lights overhead. We haven’t seen much clear sky since we landed in Iceland, but the forecast looks like it might cooperate tomorrow night so we’ll keep our fingers crossed.

Note to self, when confirming on AirBnB that the place you are renting has a hot tub, also ask if it has any water in it.

Our plan for a good night’s sleep and then hitting the ground running goes off the rails pretty early. Literally, in my case as I’m wide awake and staring at the ceiling at 3am, meaning by the time my oldest teenager finally emerges from his hermit hole, I’ve logged a half day and am already looking forward to a nap. On the bright side, we don’t need to worry about finding breakfast, as by the time we get into the car it is pretty much lunch.

We’ve come to the conclusion there isn’t a long list of must-sees in Reykjavik, so our plan is pretty fluid. At the airport we grabbed a couple of the tourist magazines they have near baggage claim, and number seven on their list is the Icelandic Phallological Museum. Yup, that’s pretty much what it sounds like – a penis museum, boasting the world’s largest collection of penises and penile parts (http://phallus.is/en/). Sadly, while experiences don’t get much more “once in a lifetime” than that, opposition is just too stiff, particularly amongst the younger members or our crew.

Instead we head off to Hallgrímskirkja, the largest church in Iceland. It’s tower is one of the tallest buildings in the city, and on a clear day supposedly offer a fantastic view of the city and surrounding mountains. Today, unfortunately, is not such a day. Out front, there is a also a statue of Leif Eriksson who, judging from the blank looks on the faces of my tiny tour group, is in desperate need of a better PR person.

There are a fair amount of people wandering around this part of the city, and rather than jumping back into the car, we decide to follow them down the street, stopping in souvenir shops from time to time to look for things to being back home. As cities go, it’s almost freakishly clean and orderly here, with the only real concern we have being the complete inability to understand street signs.

We eventually end up on Laugavegur street, the main shopping district and one of the other spots recommended in our books. We don’t see a whole lot that grabs our attention but, on a side street, do come across an amazing bakery where we load up on pastries.

Back in the car, we decide to take in one of the local thermal pools. While the Blue Lagoon has by far the best marketing, there are dozens (if not hundreds) of naturally occurring hot springs throughout Iceland, the vast majority of which come without the $50 entry fee. Laugardalslaug is the largest such pool in Reykjavik, with the steam rising from the geothermal activity (and not the constant fog) supposedly giving the city its name – Smoky Bay.

Thermal pools are serious business in Iceland and there is a pretty strict process for using them. The water isn’t treated with any chemicals, so before stepping in, a thorough scrub in the communal shower, sans swimsuit, is a must. Three boys, mumbling under their breath about not wanting to go to a penis museum, are not impressed.

Trauma aside, relaxing in the warm water is a good way to spend a few hours on an otherwise cold day. In addition to the hot pools, there are a couple of large outdoor swimming pools, a waterslide, and a huge indoor pool that one could have all to themselves. That said, as the main such place in Reykjavik, it is a bit on the industrial side, so once we get out of the city I suspect we’ll find something a little more natural.

Jet lag still seems to taking its toll on our intrepid crew, and an hour or two in a hot pool does us no favors. So after working our way back through the sausage barn (Mom excluded), the consensus is to head back to our room. It’s a bit on the early side again but I think we’ve managed to tick all of the items off of our Reykjavik list. Tomorrow we’ll be packing up and heading out of town to see some of the popular stops on the Golden Circle, and more importantly, getting away from the city lights to up our odds of seeing some Northern Lights.

While most sane people are taking advantage of the mid-winter school break to seek out sunshine and sandy beaches, the Roberts’ somehow decided it would be a good idea to go north. No, not to Whistler or Kelowna, which might make perfect sense, but to Iceland. In winter.

As crazy as it sounds, there is actually some logic to it. Growing up in Dawson Creek, cold winters with only a few hours of daylight were just how things worked. I don’t miss them for a second, but along with 4:00 sunsets and 40 below temperatures, on clear nights, seeing the Northern Lights was a pretty common occurrence. So much so that, as a kid, if you told me they out, I probably couldn’t have been bothered to get off the couch and take a look.

Living in Seattle, we don’t have to put up with the cold anymore, but as our kids get older (how did go from diapers to SATs overnight?), we realize there is still so much we want to show them, but so little time. On that list is the Northern Lights, and what better place than Iceland.

Logistically, it is a whole lot easier than sounds, particularly for anyone that lived through last year’s flights to the Galapagos Islands. There is a direct flight from Seattle, and following a polar route, it clocks in at just over six and a half hours, just an hour more than traveling to New York. The catch is the time change, with our oh so reasonable 3:30 departure time translating into a 6:30am arrival. A trip that short doesn’t really lend itself well to an Ambien-induced nap, so we’re a little worse for wear by the time we clear customs, pick up the rental car, and head into Reykjavik.

The past few days I’ve been watching both the weather and solar activity forecasts, and at the moment, neither are looking great. The fog and drizzle are really no surprise then, but for a tired crew, they add an extra layer of unnecessary “blah”.

Like Chile, it’s pretty slim pickings when it comes to hotels here, and the few that do exist are outrageously expensive. Given that, most of what we have booked so far has been through AirBnB, with the next two nights being half a duplex a short drive from downtown. Unfortunately, check in isn’t until 1:00pm, so with about 4 hours to kill, we head downtown in search of breakfast.

As capital cities go, Reykjavik is definitely on the petite side, with only 200,000 in the metropolitan area (however, there are only 300,000 people in all of Iceland, so in that context, it is huge). That makes it roughly the size of Spokane, although early on a Saturday morning, it feels even smaller than that. Very few people are on the streets and hardly anything seems open.

After parking the car and wandering past a few blocks’ worth of closed restaurants and shops, we settle for some snacks at the Icelandic equivalent of 7-11. We play it safe for now, but there is some funky stuff for sale here, and before we left Seattle there was a lot of big talk about trying the shark meat they let rot in the ground for six months, so we’ll see how that all goes.

What does catch our attention is just how expensive everything seems here. While the restaurants aren’t open yet, the menus are posted outside, listing $20 hamburgers, $9 milkshakes and $50 pizzas. Even a grab and go hot dog at the tiny kiosk in the park will set you back a cool $10. Multiply by five people, then by nine days, plus the heart medication I need after doing the math, and it’s hard to imagine how anyone could live here unless salaries are through the roof (which according to Google, they’re not).

With our breakfast search coming up empty, we decide to start making our way towards our hotel, crossing our fingers that they’ll take pity on us and let us check in early. Along the way, we find a supermarket where we load up on some essentials (like the always reliable noodle soup), cramming them in around the boys wherever we can find an empty space.

By this time it is just past noon, and where our day would normally just be getting started, today we’re well into the fourth quarter. Not long after we arrive at our hotel, the entire squad is sound asleep. There is a little movement around dinner time, and challenging game of english Scrabble using an Icelandic set of tiles, but no real momentum to get back in the car and explore the city.

We have one more full day in Reykjavik before moving on to the countryside, so once the batteries are fully charged, we’ll see if we can’t up our game a little.

There’s something sneaky about a super comfortable bed and walls that actually block sound ganging up to surreptitiously lower your defenses until – BAM! – it’s 10:00 in the morning and you’re scrambling to make the tail end of breakfast. While a good night’s sleep is not to be taken for granted, my system doesn’t always do well with wondering what we might be missing by not being out and about.

Since we arrived after dark, this is also our first chance to see Santiago, and given all of the mountains we flew over on the way in, we are excited to see it. It’s a great day outside but, as with many big cities, the smog has settled in, leaving only faint outlines of what must be a magnificent panorama on a clear day.

By this point in our journey we’re both a little tired and a little hard to impress. With more time perhaps we’d venture outside of the city into wine country or on a day trip to Valparaiso (which people seem to rave about), but this is a quick stop before flying back home so we consult our guide book for a few local highlight and motivate ourselves out the door.

Our first stop is Cerro San Cristóbal, one of the the highest points in Santiago. While it is possible to walk to the top in about 45 minutes (about 1,000 feet up from the base), we opt for the cable car, which makes a few stops along the way to drop off visitors to the zoo and a few other attractions. All of this is part of a huge city park called Parque Metropolitano that serves as a quiet escape from the chaos of the 8 million people surrounding it.

From the summit, Santiago sprawls out for miles in every direction. The views are impressive, but sadly, the layer of pollution trapped in the valley completely obscures the Andes off in the distance.

Set atop Cerro San Cristóbal is a 72 foot statue of the Virgin Mary. It is not quite the same scale as Christ the Redeemer in Rio, but it is also not cloaked in a thick blanket of fog so maybe that makes it even.

Leaving the park, we pass by this handsome fellow. The hat is particularly nice touch and we can’t help but think of Sam and how crazy he went over the llamas and alpacas in Peru.

We head off on foot towards the Mercado Central, stopping at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes along the way. It is high noon by this point, so it’s a toss up whether we appreciate the air conditioning or the exhibits more, but either way it gives us a nice break before pressing on.

Our goal for the market is to find some last minute gifts for the boys, hopefully finding some food carts along the way or a good spot serving up lomitos. Unfortunately, neither of those turn out to be the case. Most of the shops are selling everyday items for locals (hey kids, we got you something in Chile – underwear!), and what food we do find seems overpriced and uninspiring.

We are stopped several times by good samaritans warning us to hold on to our camera and to keep our phones in our pockets. We’ve never felt unsafe anywhere in South America, but apparently pickpockets and the old snatch and grab are pretty common here. Now that would hardly be worth mentioning, were it not for what happened next.

While passing through the doors to a church, I feel something splatter on the back of my shirt. I immediately look up figuring I’ve been targeted by a group of pigeons roosting on a ledge, but there are none to be seen. As I’m cursing my luck, thinking about how much time we’ll waste going back to the hotel to change, a friendly man shows up with some napkins and starts wiping off my shirt. Two other people soon join, slowly pushing us away from the rest of the crowd as they attempt to clean up the mess.

Suddenly, my astute travel companion feels a tug on her bag, and spins around in time to see one of our sympathetic passersby helping themselves to a wad of our cash. She manages to grab it back before our new “friends” vanish back into the constant flow of people entering and existing the church. As we head back out the door, someone mentions they saw the whole thing and watched the perps head down the street. I’m not sure that actually makes things any better.

Thoroughly down on Santiago after this experience, we do the best we can to clean off whatever slop was thrown on us and head back to the hotel. We’re still without souvenirs however, so after a short break to regroup, we take one last excursion to the Los Dominicos craft market.

All in all, it is a disappointing end to an otherwise spectacular adventure. Today notwithstanding, we love Chile. Chiloé, Patagonia, Easter Island, it was all amazing, and those are only the parts we saw. There’s plenty yet to cross off our list so we’ll definitely be back.

It’s a glorious day for my trusty traveling companion, as after a long journey through Chile, sampling an array of local accommodations, she is safely back in the comfortable surroundings of the Hyatt. She’ll probably say the penguins on Isla Magdalena were the highlight of her trip, but the look on her face tells me there’s a challenger for the title.

Getting here was pretty uneventful. As out flight didn’t leave until the afternoon, we took advantage of our rental to make a quick trip into town for a few last minute gifts and some fresh empanadas. We also stopped by the small museum again, where the exhibits made a whole lot more sense given all that we have seen since our first time through.

The next five hours in a plane was about as exciting as it sounds, but a few more movies helped pass the time, and by 9:00, we started our descent into Santiago. Out the window the sun was setting and, with the Andes in the background, made for quite a sight.

We have just one full day here, and even with our guide books in hand, aren’t exactly sure what we want to see. There are a couple of obvious stops, but unlike Lima and Buenos Aires, there just doesn’t seem to be as much to do. I guess we’ll figure it out in the morning.

We’re on no set schedule today, which gives us the opportunity to enjoy a leisurely breakfast while trying to cobble together an agenda. We definitely need some souvenirs for the boys, and there are a few places in town we have spotted over the past few days, so that seems like as good of a place as any. Of course, on an island where the primary thing to see are gigantic rock statues, there are no lightweight mementos. So while my shopping consultant happily turns our cash into trinkets, I can’t help but wonder how I’m going to sherpa everything all the way back to Redmond.

When the money runs out it’s finally time to get back on the road. All around the island there are dirt tracks leading off the pavement and end up at the shoreline, where the rock formations have created quiet swimming holes that are far more popular with the locals that then tour groups. It takes a few tries to find one we like, but once settled in there’s something very zen about just soaking in the warm water watching the waves crash against the rocks just a few feet away.

From here, we decide a little beach time would be a nice way to spend our final afternoon and head off towards Anakena Beach. As we pass by Tongariki, the sky is blue, the parking lot is devoid of tour busses, and we can’t help ourselves stopping for one last look.

During our tour, there were a few particular spots our guide pointed out, but that we never paid much attention to because of the crowds. The first is a mound of dirt that the Japanese built up when they restored the site to just the right height for tourists to stand on to become part of the row of statues. The other was a rock that is apparently quite popular with the Chinese tour groups looking for pictures of themselves jumping above the Moai. My fellow adventurer is usually an easy mark for cheesy things like this, but not today, so it’s either me or let the opportunity go to waste.

The rest of the day is spent relaxing on the beach, mixing a little snooze time with a bit if swimming and, of course, people watching. The monuments around us are old hat now, and we pay them hardly any attention at all – what a difference just a few days makes.

All we have left on our list is the cultural dinner show. Every trip we take we say we’ll never do this kind of thing again, but every trip we end up giving it another try. This time around we have the option to skip the dinner and join before the dancing begins, so head down to a restaurant our hotel recommended right on the water. They say the food is tasty, reasonably priced, and that there are no better places to watch the sunset. The advice is spot on.

It’s just a short drive from the restaurant to where the cultural show is taking place, and as we roll in, the rest of the crowd is just finishing up their meal. While we are waiting we get a bit of ritual body art before grabbing a couple of prime, front row seats.

We are still patting ourselves on the back for literally touching stage when a man pushing 50 walks right up to the edge in his grass skirt to provide a bit of narrative. The good news is that he’s wearing a marble bag under the skirt to keep things under control. The bad news is that the skirt covers so little I can see he is wearing a marble bag.

I’m more than a little relieved when he finishes his spiel and walks to the back of the stage, but that just clears the deck for three dudes that will spend the next 30 minutes jumping and shaking themselves into a sweat. At SeaWorld they at least tell you when you are sitting in the Splash Zone, but here there’s no warning and nowhere else to go once the lights go down.

By the end, I feel like I’ve been through a bachelorette party but without the alcohol. Four rows back it was probably not that bad of a show, but right now, there is still a bit of PTSD going on, so time to head back to the hotel and curl up into a tiny ball.

We’re back on the tour bus once again. Today’s itinerary will take us to the northern and eastern sections of the island, and has the grandiose name “Megaliths”. It’s more big statues like we saw yesterday, but I suppose something like “Yet Another Day Looking at Big Heads” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it. Nevertheless, it’s bought and paid for, so no turning back now…

The first stop is an area called Hanga Poukura. Back in the day, this was one of the more impressive displays of Moai, with the construction of the platform exceptionally crafted in the Inca style. Today though, it is mostly a ruin, with a long row of statues lying face down on the ground.

As with most of the moai, this site is right near the ocean, and when conditions are right, there is supposedly a blow hole here worth seeing. It’s not happening for us today unfortunately though, so we’ll have to take the guide’s word for it. Wandering about however, I do come across this interesting sign, which I think means the Rapa Nui coined the phrase, “Don’t come up on me”, long before Latrell Sprewell made it famous before trying to choke PJ Carlesimo.

Next up is Te Pito Kura. We stopped here a few days back when we were on our own, not really knowing what it was, so this time we get the story to go with it. At first glance, it looks like just another face down statue, however, this was the largest Moai ever moved to it’s final location, and once of the last ones seen standing (before the restorations). It clocks in at an impressive 10 meters tall and weighs 70 tons. The top knot lying nearby adds another 2 meters and 10 more tons.

Around the left side of the platform, there is large, round rock that is clearly out of place in this environment. It is smoothly polished and has a high enough iron content to play havoc with a compass. Legend has it that it was transported to Easter Island by the first king, Hotu Motua’a, to bring mana to this new land. The rock wall around is a recent addition to keep tourists from standing on it. True story.

At this point, we’re close to Anakena, and since there are a few restaurants near the beach, it makes a good stop for lunch. We’re brown-bagging it, but manage to find a quiet table under a tree, that we share with my new friend Chickenee (not Chickadee, Chickenee). That last part will only make sense to Joey.

We already have some good pictures of the Moai here, so only one to add today, but more importantly, we get some history. As I wrote a few days back, this area is believed to be where the first Rapa Nui landed and is where the first of the Moai were restored by Thor Heyerdahl in the 1950s. The statues here are in particularly good shape as, once they were tipped over, they were quickly covered by the drifting sand and preserved from the elements.

There is one more platform to visit on our tour, this one at Tongariki. This is probably the most famous collection of Moai on the island as most guide books, travel brochures, etc. have pictures of it. Like the others, it was destroyed by the Rapa Nui during their civil war, followed by a tsunami in the 1960s that carried many of the statues further inland. It was restored in the 1990s with funding from the Japanese, and is the current titleholder for both largest platform on Easter Island (with 15 Moai), and the heaviest Moai to reach its final destination – a behemoth weighing 86 tons.

While many of the original statues were moved back to the platform during the restoration, some remain where the tsunami left them, including this unlucky fellow (the volunteer in the pink shirt was not carried here by the tsunami but was included here for context).

As we finish up here, there is an unusual lull in tour bus traffic, providing a few minutes of solitude to just lay back and soak in all that we are seeing. Its a nice break from the constant pace of our tour and provides an opportunity to try and fix the moment into memory.

Our last stop is arguably the best, Rano Raraku. The slopes of this volcano are the source of all of the giant Moai on the island and images of them half-buried in the ground there are what usually come to mind when you hear the words “Easter Island”. Unlike monuments that typically are commissioned individually, the Rapa Nui maintained a Moai factory of sorts, where statues were constantly being carved from the rock. When a village required a Moai to hold the soul of a departed leader, one would be chosen from the inventory on Rano Raraku, transported to its final location, and there have the final details carved into it to make it resemble the individual.

Nearly 400 Moai remain on Rano Raraku, scattered randomly and in various states of completion.

Some still remain attached to the volcano, including the largest Moai ever carved – a 270 ton behemoth affectionately called El Gigante. He’s a bit difficult to spot in the second picture below, sort of a Rapa Nui version of Where’s Waldo?

Similar to Orongo, the crater of Rano Raraku contains a freshwater lake that supports a much more diverse habitat than elsewhere on the island. It’s a sensitive area, and since there are no rivers or streams to replenish it, this classy fellow from our tour decides to pitch in and try to top it up.

All the walking has left my fellow traveler and I a bit parched, and like the ballpark, we’re part of a captive audience. No vacation is complete however, without the obligatory $4 Diet Coke.

We’re nearing the end of both our Easter Island trip and Chile overall. Tomorrow is a free day that will give us a chance to go back and visit a few of our favorite spots, and after that, we’re off to Santiago. As always, these final days seem to just fly by.

It’s the first of our day tours today. These are the only thing we booked from the US, as we figured it would be pretty disappointing to come all this way and find them sold out. We probably didn’t need to worry as private guides are readily available for only a bit more money, but we get some peace of mind and are locked in with a small group (8 people at most) rather than a bulk tour on a giant bus.

Our guide is native Rapa Nui and clearly proud of his culture, going into great detail about the legends surrounding the island. So little of the actual history is known because so few people survived to pass the stories on. While at it’s peak, about 15,000 people lived on Easter Island, by the late 1800s a shortage of resources, diseases introduced by European explorers, and raids by slave traders from the mainland had decimated the population, leaving just 111 (less than 1%). Of these, not a single one was of the class that understood the Rapa Nui written language, making the few records left undecipherable.

We start at collection of statues just outside of town, but with a completely new understanding of what we are looking at. When the island was first settled, it was divided into regions, each led by one son of the king. Over time, each region built monuments that they believe contained the spirits of their deceased leaders. The statues were placed on elaborate platforms, almost always facing inland, to keep watch over the people, and during a ceremony would have “eyes” of coral and obsidian added to “awaken” the spirit.

The main part of the statue was carved from the crater of Rano Raraku, one of the three volcanos that formed the island. Weighing as much as 80 tons, they were moved up to 14km (nobody knows exactly how) to their final destination. In many cases, another stone representing a topknot (the leader of a region was not permitted to cut their hair) was cut and transported from a separate quarry before being raised up and placed atop the head.

There are roughly 900 known moai, of which about a third made it to their final location atop a platform. Another third remain on the slopes of Rano Raruku, with the rest laying along the path from the volcano to the shore. The Rapa Nui believe the statues were moved standing up, and if one tipped over during transport, it was no longer fit to hold a spirit and was simply abandoned.

Our next stop is Ahu Akivi, a set of seven moai that are the only ones facing out to sea. These are said to watch over travelers and are in honor of the seven scouts who remained on the island following its discovery to await the arrival of the king.

From there it is on to Puna Pao, where topknots were produced. Several examples of “work in progress” remain scattered around the site, and from this vantage point it is clear just how far these massive blocks needed to travel.

The tour then moves on to Ahu Vinapu. Here the moai haven’t been restored and still lay face down on the ground. According to our guide, as the Rapa Nui started to die off from diseases introduced by the Europeans, they grew angry with the statues, losing faith that they were able to protect them. The population split into one group that still worshiped the moai, and one group that did, soon devolving into a civil war. By the time it was over, not a single one remained standing.

This site is also known for the precision stonework of the platform. It is like nothing else seen on the island, and would be right at home in Machu Picchu, leading some archaeologists to believe the Rapa Nui traveled as far as the mainland, trading knowledge with other advanced cultures like the Inca.

Our final destination is the ceremonial village of Orongo, situated on the rim of the Ranu Kau crater. Following the toppling of the moai, worship of the statues was replaced by the Birdman Cult, under which leadership of the island was determined by a competition each year. In the spring, each region nominated a representative live in Orongo village and train. In August, the contestants would climb down the volcano, swim through shark-infested waters to a small island, and search for the egg of a particular seabird. The first person to find an egg and return to Orongo village secured the right for his region to rule all of Easter Island until the following year.

From the rim of the crater the views are fantastic, but some ominous weather is bearing down on us and it’s time to get moving.

We wrap up the tour with a visit to the catholic church to see how much of the Rapa Nui symbolism was incorporated into the architecture and various carvings. The hold daily services here in Rapa Nui language that I think would be interesting to look in on, but I’m not sure we’ll have a chance to work it into our schedule.

Tomorrow, we’re back with the same guide to focus on the north half of the island.

Today is a free day on the schedule. We have tours booked for Monday and Tuesday that will take us around the island and teach us more about the history, so we don’t want to ruin those by seeing too many things on our own. Instead, we rent a car for the day and decide to head to the only sandy beach on the island (there are actually two, but one is off limits because of falling rocks).

On the way out of town, we see the museum is open, and decide it would make a worthy detour. It’s small, encompassing just two rooms, but the exhibits all have English translations and help fill in some of the many blanks we have when it comes to understanding what we are seeing. We learn when people first settled these islands, where they came from, when they started building the statues and what they represent. We also learn that the very people that carved, moved, and mounted over 300 of them on platforms around the island, pushed every single one over, and that what we can see nowadays are restorations. It is really quite fascinating, and definitely a great overview.

We continue on to Anakena Beach, which according to legend is where the first Rapa Nui people landed. It is also home to another restored platform, which looks spectacular against the bright blue sky.

Most things are pretty well fenced off to keep tourists a safe distance from the statues, but clearly they still have issues that warrant signs like this one. Should it really be necessary to tell people not to walk across the face of an 800 year old statue?

The midday heat is starting to take a toll on us sensitive Seattleites, and the shade of a nearby palm tree seems like just the spot to have lunch and relax for a bit. We’re not the only ones with the same idea, and with not a lot of shade to go around, sometimes you have to share.

With a good burn suitably in place, we take the long way back to town along the coast, stopping every so often to look out over the cliffs and the cobalt blue water.

We also cheat a little bit and stop at some of the locations we know were are part of our tour. We had the best of intentions, but who could come across places like these and just keep driving?