Rich sailed within a quarter mile of Easter Island’s southern coast. He scanned it through binoculars as he sailed west and around the western tip. The village of Hanga Roa sprung from the island tropical flora. There appeared no hospitable docking area.
Rich radioed ashore for information where to dock. The Chilean Navy responded that they would send a civilian craft to guide him into a small inlet where The Odyssey could dock.
A small wooden boat with an outboard engine dashed past a breakwater of jagged rocks and headed toward The Odyssey. It was piloted by a man who appeared native. He waved to follow him and turned the boat and waited for Rich to power his engine.
Rich followed the boat safely into a small harbor full of bobbing brightly colored small boats. Rich moored The Odyssey and paid the pilot.
Immediately, a Chilean naval officer arrived on foot and checked Rich’s credentials and conducted a brief inspection of The Odyssey while he remained on shore.
“How long do you plan on staying?’ the officer said.
“A day or two,” Rich said. “I want to check my lines and fittings and buy some fresh food,” Rich said.
“If you plan on staying longer it might be best to stop by my office,” the officer said. “There are many ancient artifacts on this island and we have strict laws protecting them.”
“I don’t plan on visiting them, but if I do, I will stop by your office,” Rich said.
“Have a pleasant stay, sir,” the officer said.
“Thank you, sir,” Rich said.
Rich secured The Odyssey and went on a walk to find a store. He walked past two large stone Moai statues. “I’m not sure they are all that mysterious,” Rich thought, “like many other buildings and castles, these people made impressive and frightening statues to scare away enemies and evil spirits. They’re working; I want to leave as soon as possible.”
Rich found a store, purchased supplies, and paid a man in a three wheel motorcycle to transport him back to The Odyssey.
Rich inspected the lines and all was well. He waited exactly 24 hours from his arrival, to leave. He wanted the tides to be the same to avoid the reefs.
After motoring safely from the small harbor, the sails were hoisted. Rich lifted his head. “Pitcairn’s Island lies another 1200 plus miles west; the island of Mutiny on the Bounty.”