Ancient Civilisations - Easter Island

Episode Date: January 2, 2026

First inhabited by the Rapa Nui people a thousand years ago, Easter Island is best known for its hundreds of giant stone statues. But what inspired a group of ancient Polynesian explorers to settle in such a remote spot in the South Pacific? How did they almost bring their own community to the point of collapse? And as ancient traditions meet with modern tourism, what is the future for the Rapa Nui people? This is a Short History of Easter Island. Written by Emma Christie. With thanks to Dr. Jo Anne Van Tilburg is an American archaeologist and the Director of the Easter Island Statue Project. She’s spent three decades working on Rapa Nui. For ad-free listening, exclusive content, and early access to new episodes across the Noiser network, join ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Noiser+⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Now available for Apple and Android users. Click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or go to ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠noiser.com/subscriptions⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's December 1862. England is ruled by Queen Victoria, and in America, Abraham Lincoln is the 16th president as the Civil War ridges on. But on Rapa Nui, a tiny triangular island 2,000 miles from mainland Chile, a boy and his father stand on a sloping hillside, digging their crop of sweet potatoes. A faint breeze rustles the boy's loincloth, but the heat is relentless. Tired, the boy sits on the drum. eye earth to rest. He watches the waves crash into the black volcanic rocks that lie in the coast, then asks for a story. His father smiles and starts to tell him his favorite one. It's about their ancestors, great navigators who sailed for 20 days to reach this island a thousand years ago,

with only the stars as their map. The boy looks further up the hill to where the giant stone heads scatter the landscape. These are the Moai. They are said to possess the spirits of the dead chiefs and priests of his people. If they are honored, the islanders, who are also called Rapa Nui, will be protected. Suddenly his father falls silent. The boy gets to his feet and follows his gaze. A little way out to sea there is a huge ship, its masts towering above its bulging hull, but there are smaller rowing boats too, carrying men, coming ashore. The man drops his tool, a pick made from stone, and takes his son's hand. They head down to the village to see who the travellers are.

They have been visitors before, and they have not always been friendly. But by the time the pair approached the edge of the settlement, they can hear that this is not a peaceful visit. The boy follows his father behind a fallen moai, and crows. crouches to hide behind it. Horrified they watch as the newcomers round up the bewildered villages, shattering the peace with their guns. Forcing the men into a group, the strangers use wooden poles and ropes to join them together like animals.

Mothers and children are screaming, as men shout and try to struggle free. Hundreds of them are being forced onto the outsider's boats and taken to the big ship. The man covers his son's mouth so he won't scream, but neither of them can comprehend. what is happening. The visitors before took only food and fresh water, never the people themselves. The Rapa Nui have lived on this island for a thousand years without needing or wanting to leave. It's their home, their culture, their world. Reaching his muscled, heavily tattooed arms towards the stone giant in front of him, the man pleads for help from their ancestors. There are hundreds of Moai on the island, but right now the boy can't be sure that's enough to protect them.

Together, they watch helplessly as their neighbors are led away. Soon half of their number are gone, taken by these people who they will later understand to be Peruvian slave traders. Most of those captured will never again set foot on this place that outsiders call Easter Island. By inhabited by Polynesian settlers around 900 AD, Easter Island is home to one of the most remote communities on Earth. Isolated from the rest of the world until Europeans arrived in the 18th century, it is best known for giant stone statues that dot the barren landscape. These spectacular monoliths, known as Moai, now draw 150,000 visitors every year.

But what inspired these ancient people to settle in such a remote spot in the south Pacific and populated with statues. How did they almost bring their own community to the point of collapse? And as ancient traditions meet with modern tourism, what is the future for the Rappanoi people? I'm John Hopkins, and this is Easter Island. Around the year 800 AD, Polynesian explorers of the Eastern Pacific prepare for a mission that will change the lives of their people forever. news that resemble modern-day catamaranes, they venture east looking for islands to colonize. For centuries their ancestors have done the same, voyaging across vast expanses of ocean, guided by their intricate knowledge of the stars. Though this group have no navigation devices

on board their vessels, and nothing is written down, they are hoping to find somewhere that was first noticed by another expedition years ago. Even so, their quest to find a fabled scrap of habitable land is far from easy. This is an ocean that covers over 60 million square miles, or one-third of the Earth's surface. Dr. Joanne Van Tilburg is an American archaeologist and the director of the Easter Island Statue Project. She spent three decades working on Rappanoi. It's an isolated island, literally in the middle of nowhere, and they got there because

they were among the world's greatest voyagers. So we all know about the Vikings, we all know about the Phoenicians, but not everyone knows about the Polynesians. They had developed a methodology for sailing and building, very substantial double-held canoes. They had a long tradition of navigation and a long tradition of exploration. So it was the Polynesian voyagers who were able to construct a vessel strong enough and capable of entering those isolated and empty waters. and find Rapa Nui. When they found Rapa Nui, word was sent back to the home island,

and over time it could have taken years, a new voyage was mounted with the settlers aboard. So this was a very, very concerted, definite, and planned methodology of searching the empty Pacific for new islands to settle. Two double-hulled canoes moved together through the choppy South Pacific. Tought sails pushed the sea.

Taut sails push them onward, the vessels lifting with the swell, then dropping. The sun is rising, glinting gold on the crests of the waves, and rousing those who manage to get some sleep on such rough seas. The chief, though, has been awake for hours. He sits at the front of the leading canoe, tugging the tips of his short beard, as he stares of the same view he's had for the past 20 days, a seemingly endless, edgeless sea. The stars have been his guide and the seabirds who know better than any human the best routes to dry land.

But with the weight of responsibility for his people, even he is beginning to worry. Behind him, a mother hushes a crying baby, and a pregnant woman whispers to the unborn child in her swollen belly. Then a cry comes, from the second canoe a little way off. Immediately the sounds of the sea are drowned out by the excited voices of many men and women all speaking at once. But the chief is the only word that matters. Land. He leans out of the canoe, ignoring the violent thud of waves against its wooden sides as he takes in the first view of the island. Most of the coastline consists of sheer cliffs and rocky outcrops, offering no obvious refuge.

Jagged black rocks threaten to rip their vessels to pieces. But eventually he sees a beach, just as his elders promise. He gives the command and the two canoes adjust their course, heading towards the harbour that nature has carved for him and his people, inviting them in. There is a break in the cloud, and the sun shines down on an emerald haven even more beautiful than the home they left. Soon, the travellers are splashing through the shallows. The chief savours the sensation of the warm sand under his feet, after so many arduous days

at sea with the wind in his face. He helps drag the canoes from the turquoise water to the white coral sand. Ahead of him a thick forest of tropical palms pierces the blue sky. Unfamiliar birds lift from the canopy and the chief smiles knowing that there is a plentiful supply of food for his people. The navigators were right. This place they cited out towards the rising sun is nothing short of a utopia. The island these explorers now begin to colonize, measures just 64 square miles. Situated thousands of miles from the nearest civilization, the rugged, hilly landscape,

is formed of three long extinct volcanoes, one at each point. They call this new land Rapa Nui, and that is also the name of the people who live here. It will be the island's only name until a thousand years later when other explorers will come and call it Easter Island. I think what they found when they got there was a literal paradise. It was formed by volcanic action, and it would have been heavily forested, lushly forested, with palm and then other lower shrubbery-like trees and so on.

It was also a major bird rookery. So the island, if they were there at the right time of year, would have been teeming with birds, which would have been welcome for the voyagers, of course, is food. fish not so much. Rappanui does not have a reef. So the fish that were available were inshore fish or else the migrating large pelagic fish like tuna.

So I think what they found was an island likely bigger than the one they had left and probably one that appeared to them as welcome, engaging, inviting, and heavenly when they first saw it. On arrival, the settlers worked together to create shelter and safety. Some stay at the beach, unloading their cargo. Of the men and women on board, many are experts at highly valued crafts.

There are house builders, shipbuilders, fishermen, farmers, and artists. But they bring children with them too, and some of the women made the journey while pregnant. It won't be long before the first babies are born on the island. As seasoned colonizers, they have also brought tubers and sugar cane, which they quickly integrate into the flora of the island. To supplement their diet, they introduce animals small enough to travel on canoes, including chickens and Polynesian rats, are now extinct animal similar to a guinea pig.

Looking further ahead, their cargo also includes sapling trees brought from home. These include the paper mulberry tree, the bark fibers of which can be peeled off, pounded, and mixed with water to make a versatile material, ideal for fabrics. With the canoes unloaded, the chief sends a team of explorers to search the island. He wants to make sure they're the only humans there, and to create an inventory of the resources available to them. Where can they find fresh water? Where else can they land their canoes? Where are the best places to grow the crops they've carried with them? What they find is a land packed

with trees, some taller than any they've seen before. Before long, they start to be. They start outfelling this precious resource to build homes and make tools and vessels. A new community is created around the chief and his family. The other settlers are housed based on their social rank, following the traditions of Polynesian culture. Daily life is busy, with tasks split along gender lines. Some men spend their days at sea in canoes built for deep water, hoping to catch tuna and other large species of fish,

which can feed up to 70 people. Others work in the palm forest, clearing large areas of trees to make space for agriculture. The sweet potato is introduced around 1,200 AD. A drought-resistant crop, it quickly becomes a staple part of their diet and occupies up to a tenth of all land on the island. Meanwhile, the women hunt for birds and eggs,

fetch fresh water, make fabrics and clothes, and look after the children, the sick and the elderly. At night, the families come together to share the stories and songs of the ancestors and to create new ones. The skill that will become the most important is carving. After two or three hundred years here, the Rappanui people know every inch of the island. They have studied and experimented with all the different types of stone and rock, and know the qualities of each. They have no metal tools, but have discovered which stones are best for making spear points,

and which are ideal for cutting down trees. Thousands of examples of their simple stone hand chisels have since been found all over the island. That tool was a handheld pick, shaped kind of like a potato. You held it in your hand. If you pick them up and hold them today, you can actually feel the finger grips that people use to hold on to them.

In Polynesian culture, carving is an honored profession. Evidence of their traditional skills can be found across the South Pacific. But the statues created on Rapa Nui are unique. It all begins when islanders find a stone from which large objects can be carved. Known as tufe or tufa, it's discovered on the steep sides of a long extinct volcanic crater called Rano-Raraku. Rano being the local word for a volcano with an inner lagoon. The stone here is formed of compressed volcanic ash, making it softer than other rocks and easier to

work with. Mistakes can be easily altered. The crater lake provides the necessary fresh water. The volcano becomes both a quarry and a workshop. And it's here that the skilled carvers of Easter Island create 95% of the moai which have captivated the world for centuries. The statues are made in the form of a male human. It's not a female figure. It's not a partially animistic figure. It doesn't have fish qualities or bird qualities or anything else. It is recognizably a male human. And that is why we, all of us, are fascinated because it looks like something someone we should know. We recognize ourselves as human beings in that figure. If you go to the Marquesas Islands, you will see magnificent statues, but they're hard to recognize as fully human. If you go to the Austroes

or to Tahiti, you will see the same sort of thing. If you go to Hawaii, you will see magnificent, tall wood carvings, but they are not relatable to us today in the same way that Rappanui figures are. Because Rappanui figures stylistically are not only huge, they're benign. They are not threatening. Their facial expression is calm. It's almost reassuring. It's steadfast.

It's reliable. And I think we love that. all of us as humans. And they must have loved it in whomever they patterned those statues after because it meant their survival, their continuation as a people. The largest moai are as tall as five men and weigh up to 80 tons. Frequently described as heads, in fact, the statues have recognizable human bodies, though many have dropped under meters of soil over time. Traditionally, islanders believe these giant statues embody the spirit of prominent ancestors and that their spiritual energy, known as manor, can influence worldly events.

But how do the Rappanui people create these vast statues with such simple tools? The explanation lies in the quarry itself. Before they start carving, teams create a complex infrastructure of canals and channels cut into the bedrock. They make steps and handholds, which allow four or five carvers to climb up and down the rock as they work. Then they cut a large rectangular block which they'll transform into a towering statue. Many are carved on their backs in the quarry, then eased downhill into deep pits so they stand upright without being lifted. Upright logs and rope are used to hold the statues in place while the carvings are completed. For an average-sized statue of around four meters in height, the carvers are supported by a crew of up to 20 people.

Some bring food and fresh water to the quarry. In the 20th century, archaeologists find fish bones here, and believe farmers may have grown food on site exclusively for the workers. Other members of the team create and repair tools, most commonly a handheld pick. But it's the master carver who transform. the rectangular block into a human figure. He begins by creating the neck, marking out two distinct parts on the surface of the stone, head and torso. Although very similar in style, not all statues are identical.

The master carver decides on the relative proportions and the details of the face early on and works from there. The latter parts of the process involve carrying complex markings, known as petroglyphs, onto the backs of the statues. statues. Eyes are added, made from white coral and black obsidian rock. Some are later topped with a red volcanic stone hat, which may indicate the status of the dead chief it represents. In this way, more than 900 moai are created by the sculptors over a period of around four centuries. Around 300 remain in the quarry. Some are complete, a few are broken, and others are abandoned unfinished. More than half of the finished moai are transported up to 15 kilometers along rough roads that traverse the hilly terrain. But moving giant blocks of stone, with only basic technologies, is no mean feat.

Early one morning, a master carver is hard at work in his open-air workshop. His tattooed body naked, except for a loincloth, he chips away at his huge stone sculpture. Seabirds saw and wheel above him in the perfectly clear sky. behind him the side of the volcano is like a beehive full of deep cavities where other groups of men have extracted blocks for carving sweating under the furious heat of the sun the carver softens the stone by splashing it with water from the small lakes that dot the crater then he brings his pick to the rock finessing the features finally he straightens and steps back to admire his creation the brooding for form of a beloved ancestor now gone from this world.

This one has a slanted forehead and deeply inset eye sockets that catch the shadows. It's time to move the stone giant from the quarry. Soon his team arrive. Almost a hundred men strong. They drag with them the trunks of palm trees cut from the lush forest surrounding the crater. Under the experienced eye of their foreman, they use the ropes they've made from plant fibers to secure the finished statue and carefully lay it down onto the trunks that act as rollers beneath it. Every part of the journey involves careful management to ensure the moai arrives intact,

accompanied by the creaking and scraping of wood on stone and the grunts of human effort. Little by little, the statue shifts. The men heave their cargo along rough tracks through the forest and over rocky clearings. At intervals, they pass the over-go. grown remains of other sculptures along the way, broken and abandoned by the perilous journey. The group rest before the final push up towards the cliffs. Here 13 Moai already stand, looking inland with their colossal backs to the waves that crash on the black rocks below. Carefully the men ease it towards a ceremonial platform called an Ahu, where it will stand as the

14th Moai on this site. Though legend will later hold that the Moai walked here themselves, the exhaustion of these men tells a different story. Lining the huge stone up, they wait for the signal and then give a final heave. The Moai lands with a bang that shakes the ground beneath them. It totters, then stands upright at last. A cheer goes up and the master Carver smiles, knowing that the community will be protected a little more by his creation.

I don't know how they did it, and no one does for sure. We don't have the murals that you have in Egypt to explain how things were moved. However, I do have a strong sense of not only how the community must have been organized to accomplish them, but also on what was possible and doable in those days and what was accomplished on other islands, because big stone blocks were moved in Tonga, big stone pillars. were moved in Micronesia, huge statues were moved in buildings built in platforms and ceremonial structures in many places in Polynesia and in Southeast Asia, without the use of the wheel or some of the things that we cherish as mechanism. I don't think really, really complicated, intricate methods were used. Why do we not know? We don't know because the oral traditions of Rappanoi people who might have explained to us how they did it were damaged and destroyed. after the coming of Europeans. There was a huge impact made on Rappanoi oral traditions

by the coming of Europeans. The Dutch are the first European explorers to set foot on the island. Led by Jacob Rogavine, they come across it on Easter Sunday, 1722, and name it accordingly. But their first glimpse of the island is a far cry from the view that welcomed the first Rappanui settlers centuries earlier.

We know that, for example, when Rappanui was discovered by Europeans in 1722, it was denuded of trees. They were all gone. Deforestation is one observed fact. It is undeniable. And deforestation has impacts on soil quality, on the availability of water, on the way in which shade can be used to cultivate plants. It is the single most disastrous act that humans can have. on their quality of life is to deforest large sections of an island or a planet.

So that's undeniable. Deforestation is the first step toward disaster, and the Rappanoi people took it. In place of the palm forest, the Dutch see a barren, dusty landscape. Some of the Moai statues which stood so majestically for centuries now lie on the ground, slowly eroding. The population of the island, which may have reached 15,000 at its peak, currently stands at around 3,000 to 4,000 people. Some accounts claim a man from Easter Island swims out to greet the Dutch ships. But tensions rise once the visitors step ashore. The Dutch in 1722 at first contact, fired in fear and disobedience, and killed or injured 12 people.

The rampanty people responded with frustration, fear, and anger, but they were brought under control by a local authority, a chief or a priest, and brought food to give to these intruders. So they responded with the same way that they would have responded to either a chief or a God who challenged them. They actually tried to calm things down by giving food. The Dutch move on, and almost 50 years pass, before another European ship stops of the island.

In 1770, the Spanish Viceroy of Peru sends an expedition, and four years later, British explorer James Cook visits for a few days, extracts from his logbook paint a sad picture. Though he describes plantations of potatoes, plantains and sugar canes, he describes the island as barren and without wood. He sees few animals or birds, and claims the people live in low, miserable huts. Even the local people's canoes are in a very poor condition, and according to him at least, are not fit for any significant navigation.

Despite the obvious poverty, the visit by Captain Cook's crew leads to more violence. One of the men with that party fired at a rappenui man who had snatched a bag of food from this crewman's hand and run away with it, and he fired at him and hit him in the back. And he said the man got up, and then walked away. So those were the two incidents when Raffinuit people saw a gunfire or felt the repercussions of it. In a way, it was far more effective than shooting a whole bunch of people

because what they did was they just said, pay attention. I have thunder and lightning. And the Rappanian people said, we got it. We know what to do. We know how to handle you. And they did so.

They handled them very well, actually. From then on. Captain Cook's men stock up on food and a little water, then leave a few days later. As foreign ships become increasingly common, the people of Rappanui devise a method of dealing with them that's not as submissive as it seems at first glance. In the first century of contact by Europeans,

the Dutch arrived, then the Spanish, then the English, then the French. And lastly, for just a short offshore call, the Americans. So in that first 100 years, the Rapini people saw five or six different types of ships. They saw people wearing different types of uniforms. They saw people acting in different ways, speaking different languages, and different flags. And you can bet that that information was passed on from one generation to another. That comparison. So that was the first generation of tourism.

And what did the Rappanui people do? How did they react? They controlled that tourism. When those people went ashore, they were led by guides who took them to the sites that the Rappanoi people allowed them to see, and kept them from the sites they didn't want them to see. And that includes Captain Cook's party that they led all the way out to the southeast coast, but didn't let them see the quarry. But the islanders' contact with outsiders soon takes a darker turn. In December 1862, slave raiders strike from Peru, capturing around 1,500 men and women.

Following a later public outcry, the Peruvian government grants freedom to some islanders, but when they return, they bring smallpox. The epidemic which follows wipes out much of the population. Shortly afterwards, the first Christian missionary arrives. French-born Eugène Arro is the first foreigner to live with the Rapanui people. Mass conversions of the islanders begin in 1866, and within two years, almost the entire population is right. Roman Catholic. But disease strikes again. A tuberculosis epidemic kills a quarter of the

remaining population, leaving fewer than 1,000 native people alive. And even then, many end up leaving. The missionaries were depopulating Rapanui people by putting them on ships and taking them to other islands. And as we know from colonizing efforts in the United States and South America, when people were taken away, they took away the tallest, healthiest men most of the time and the prettiest women or the children. They didn't usually take the old people. The old people died off. But away onto the horizon went Rappanoe history because the stories, the legends, things that they would have remembered and told and retold at night under the stars, that was all gone. That was all gone.

And it was a concerted effort on the part of first explorers, missionaries, and colonials. It's one of the saddest stories in the entire Pacific. By the late 1800s, the island has more moai than people. A British Navy survey ship arrives on the island in 1868. Its team make detailed records of the island's flora, fauna, agricultural practices, architecture, and the physical appearances of Rappanui people. They note how tattoos of creatures and gods are created using bone needles and natural inks made from leaves and are used to distinguish status. But the crew conclude that the Moai are no longer worshipped and that the Rappanoi people now believe in one god.

A statue is discovered half buried inside a ceremonial house and men are instructed to dig it out. It's then dragged to the coast on a sledge and rafted out to the ship. It's believed the islanders called the statue Hoa Hakana Naya, a name that might mean lost or stolen friend in the Rappanui language. On their return to the United Kingdom, the statue is offered to Queen Victoria, who subsequently donates it to the British Museum. Carved bird motifs on its back

reveal details of the Birdman cult that existed on the island after the system of chieftains collapsed. Researchers believe the rudderless community held an annual competition in which contenders scale a cliff, swim to an island, and retrieve the first sooty turn-egg of the season. The winner, or birdman, gained privileges and status for that year. This unique moai is one of numerous statues and artifacts, taken from Easter Island in the 1800s. Some Rappanoi people see statues and museums as ambassadors of culture. Others see them as absolutely stolen objects that were acquired from desperate people who would take a pack of cigarettes for a statue or a cup of milk for their children for a statue.

And that is true. That happened. And then there's a third group which sees their statues as spiritually inhabited by their ancestors still. and they see them as they look at them in foreign countries, in foreign environments, at the mercy of the eyes of many, many people whom they don't know. They see these statues as endangered spiritually and want them home where they're safe and cared for. So that's kind of, you know, scientific grave robbing. On the other hand, researchers, good researchers, need that material for lots of reasons that can shed light on the rapidity path. By now, much of the land on Easter Island has been leased by European sheep branches,

with Rappanoi people confined to one specific area. Contemporary reports claim the French missionaries object and appeal to Chile for help. This eventually leads to the loss of something even more powerful. Independence. In 1888, after almost a thousand years of self-sustained existence, the island is officially annexed by Chile, its geographical neighbor. Whether they like it or not, the Rapa Nui people become Chilean citizens. But the new century brings with it new ideas and new visitors.

It's July 1915. War is raging across Europe. But that's a long way from this tiny island in the South Pacific. Here, seabirds squawk and rise from the roof of a small church as the bells start to ring. Tied up outside the simple houses of the village, A few horses raise their heads as the Rapa Nui people start to come together for prayer and song. It's been 30 years since the first Christian missionaries came. Now, a fair-skinned Englishwoman comes striding past the church.

Tucking her notepad and pen into her pocket, she pauses to stroke the nose of one of the horses before settling her pack more comfortably on her back. Then she begins the climb up the steep hillside that leads to the quarry. Soon her pace slows, and for a moment she stops to catch her breath and take in the view. The land is punctuated with huge statues hewn from black volcanic rock. Many of them now lie face down in the dirt. If the biggest ones were upright, they'd be five times as tall as she is, but she'd need all 250 of the islanders to move them. While the natives seem to pay these statues little attention, the elders she saw

spoken to have been more effusive. They have told her the stories of their ancestors, how for centuries the people here believed the statues embodied the spirits of the dead. Wind whistles in from the sea, blowing her hair into her eyes. When she turns, she realizes she's been followed by a little boy, the mop of black hair. He's naked, except for a loincloth made of dried grass. He cocks his head and asks the same question he did yesterday, and the day before that. Are there no Moai in England, he asks. She smiles and shakes her head, and the two of them walk together further up the hill, and they reach a statue that's buried up to its neck in soil.

For a moment, she's reminded of holidays by the beach in England, of children using tin spades to dig holes in the sand that were big enough for humans to stand in. As the boy jumps up onto the statues, she kneels, placing both palms against one of the stone faces. She moves her hands over the elongated ears, tracing with her fingertips the smooth grooves of its pouted lips, long nose and deep eyes. Excitement surges in her chest as she imagines what she'll find under the soil. She won't have to wait much longer to find out. Soon there are voices, and she turns to see her crew climbing the hillside, on ponies, carrying the tools they'll need to start the excavation. The men, her colleagues, along with a few Rappanui men, are in good spirits when they arrive.

Once they've unloaded the kit, her husband, who has accompanied her here, comes over and hands her a trowel. She grips it and steps towards the giant at her feet, savoring the moment. This will be the first time anyone has excavated one of the moai, and she will be the one to do it. She kneels down and starts digging. Assisted by a team, including her husband William, British archaeologist and anthropologist Catherine Routledge, hedged the project known as the Manor Expedition, after the Polynesian word for supernatural force or power.

Supported by the British Museum and the Royal Geographical Society, her team stays on the island for 17 months. With the help of an islander named Juan Tapano, she makes detailed records of the Mo I-Stagull. statues and excavates more than 30 of them. In her journal, she writes, in many places it is possible in the light of great monuments to reconstruct the past. On Easter Island, the past is the present. It is impossible to escape from it. The shadows of the departed builders still possess the land. The whole air vibrates with a vast purpose and energy which has been and is no more.

Despite having no formal training in the skills and techniques of archaeological excavation, her work provides a platform for future generations of archaeologists. She was not well-trained as an archaeologist. She was actually a historian, one of the first women to graduate Oxford, but she got archaeology. She went off into the field with nothing but a little piece of paper that had eight points on it that were told to her by her professor saying, If you're going to be an archaeologist, do this list of things.

So she put that in her pocket. She went into the field, and from time to time, she pulled it out and said, oh, I better do that now. What's that? I should write down how deep this hole is I'm digging. So, you know, that's the kind of thing she was doing. But she got it right. And a generation of archaeologists who followed her have shown she got it right.

She understood that the platforms, the Ahoo, on which the statues were built were in stages of architectural style. And she named them. she recognized them. She understood all of the information that was given to her by rapidly people regarding how those Ahu and statues were used. What she didn't do, but you can't blame her because she was a child of the times in a way, was actually conduct excavations in a proper manner. She just dug holes. And then she got out that little piece of paper and wrote down how deep the hole was and went on her way. But that was archaeology at the time.

It was just a developing feel. In addition to studying the statues, Routledge wants to hear the stories of the island's people. The few hundred who remain still know the stories and songs of their ancestors. Some even have parents and grandparents who lived through the early European contact and the missionary era in the 1800s. Routledge realizes that if she wants to understand the statues, she has to understand the people and their culture. Thanks to Tapano's translation skills,

She interviews the members of the remaining Rappanui community. She focused on the old people and prodded and pulled and really worked hard to do what she called save living memory. She was obsessed with the idea of saving the stories of the past. And she wrote hundreds and hundreds of pages in very horrible handwriting, hard to decipher, about the people she talked to and what they told her, who their parents were, who their grandparents were, who their grandparents, parents were, who the founding ancestors were, what the stories were that were told them.

So she got the living memory down according to those she had contact me. Now, that doesn't mean it's gospel. That doesn't mean it's the Bible according to Catherine Rowland. What it is is what she was told. And she honestly, diligently recorded it. In 1919, Routledge publishes an account of her journey and research called The Mystery of Easter island. The book proves popular, but few tourists are able to visit the place she writes of. Those who do travel by ship from Chile. It only departs twice a year and takes more than a week to arrive. Tourism on the island is transformed forever in 1967 with the advent of weekly flights from Santiago, the capital of Chile. Soon afterwards, work begins on hotels to accommodate

the increasing number of visitors, already around 4,000 a year and rising. In 1995, UNESCO names Easter Island as a world heritage site, marking it out as a place of what it deems cultural and natural heritage of outstanding value to humanity. Tourism continues to increase, as does demand for hotels, restaurants and other infrastructure. By the time of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, Easter Island is receiving 14 flights a week and a total of 156,000 years. visitors. Now, though the local population stands at around 7,500, fewer than half of those are Rapa Nui people. These days, it's estimated that 75% of the population work in tourism, an industry that generates around $120 million every year. But it's not all good news for the indigenous people and their island home. Tourism is the lifeblood of Rappanui. It is why people

come there to see the statues and spend some money in restaurants and hotels and products and so on. And the Rappanoi people appreciate it, they value it. They also are smart enough to know that it's creating problems because tourists are indiscriminate in their use of water. They don't try to conserve it. In their use of automobiles, they pollute the community, they rent cars and create problems. They're indiscriminate in the way they approach Rappanui people to see sites, go on to sites they're not allowed to see. And in general, they're indiscriminate in the way in which they recognize that they are in a living culture and should show some respect. So this is a kind of generalization that we don't like because it puts everybody in one group. There are tourists and there

are travelers. But in general, the Rappanian people welcome tourists, but are now much more careful about how they treat them and what they allow them to see. And that's to their credit, in my view. Where the first Polynesian settlers built shelters and homes from upturned boats, today's travelers admire the island's rugged coastline and white beaches from the comfort of their hotel balconies. And where lavishly tattooed men and women once feasted on birds from lush palm forests, today there are restaurants built on the deforested land. Now, some Rappanui people are fighting back against the Chilean control of the island, arguing that unchecked tourism threatens its fragile ecosystem.

Demanding greater investment in the education, health care, and trade connections of the local community. Some indigenous people say that their human rights are being eroded by the larger nation. There are even calls for a return to the independence they lost almost 140 years ago. Despite the passing of the centuries, most of them are I remain. These giant stone figures stood as the landscape changed, as the explorers and raiders came and went, as a great community rose and fell and then recovered again. But the people of the island itself now struggled to maintain their culture and the physical well-being of the land. In many ways, it is a microcosm of the world at large.

I think what we can learn is the intrepid nature of exploration and voyaging, We can learn also the challenges of settlement and management of natural resources. I think we can learn the ways in which we're more similar than different as people. And I think if we get past the idea that we have to look at Repenui as a place where disaster happened and, oh my goodness, lets us all not do that, we're doing it. We are doing what humans worldwide do. We're migrating, we're using resources, we're claiming new territory, we're exploring, we're no different. We turn to science, we turn to religion, we turn to education.

They did all the same things and had all the same tools. I think the one takeaway here for all of us is protect the forests and not take any more because the first step is gone, but let's not take any more steps toward D4. station, no matter where it's in Europe or the United States or South America, wherever. And I think lastly, if there's a lesson to be learned from my point of view, it's simply not to point fingers anymore. We need to take charge and take ownership as people together of the challenges we face and the ways in which we've made those challenges worse instead of better. Next time we'll bring you Ankur.

Ankurwat is one of the most visited temple sites on the planet, suffering from this extensively and falling apart in all parts of the temple. A staircases, the park system, etc. is falling apart through all the tourism today. The very core, a central pyramid of the temple was just meant to be visited once a year by the king. And now we have two million people climbing the staircase per year. So you can imagine the temple is suffering a lot. That's next time.