Christian Silva was sixteen when he took off at the peak at Papa Tangaroa on his thick 7'4". Taking the drop he blacked out momentarily, before reviving in time to escape the mountain of whitewater that was crashing down behind him.

He was camping at Tangaroa on Rapa Nui, with his brother Mario and fellow surfers Ali Fletcher and Benjamin Tuki. "We were young and didn't realize what could happen. Now I don't surf there anymore because I know" said Christian, now twenty-five years old.

It's the least hospitable stretch of south coast you're ever likely to come across. South Pacific swells detonate brutally onto craggy volcanic rock, creating waves that couldn't be any heavier. Many of the waves that pass as surfable here break over shallow rock platforms covered in sea urchins.

Getting in and out is not the problem, it's what you do when you're out there. Big wave experience and equipment are essential if you want to rise above mere survival surfing.

There are redeeming features, however. The subtropical climate is warm enough for board-shorts in and out of the water, for most of the year. And there's the west coast. It also gets serious with inconveniently placed rocks and urchins, but it has places to surf when it's small, which it is much of the time.

Only a few travellers have tackled the waves here over the years. Not many, just a trickle of chargers most notably from Peru, Brazil, Hawaii and California. Why more don't come is probably partly down to the expense of getting there. Lan Chile Airlines has a monopoly and its flights are expensive - plus you can only reach the island via Tahiti or Chile. The other reason is the seriousness of the waves. Rumours spread quickly and if this was an idyllic wave haven, the crowds would've come long ago.






Laird Hamilton and his team made expeditions here in 1994 and 2001. They based their focus around the daunting rights of Papa Tangaroa. Both times they scored it big - big enough for a highly energized Brock Little to comment after one session in '94, "That's an A-grade Hawaiian wave".

But they'll be back because as Laird and the locals all know, it gets a hell of a lot bigger.

Officially named Easter Island, it's Rapa Nui to the people that live here. The island's 117 square kilometres is the most remote inhabited land on the planet. It's also Polynesian, marking in the southeast corner of the Polynesian Triangle which spans much of the Pacific.

Though Chilean governed, the culture is almost exclusively Polynesian. Here the Rapa Nui flag flies proud and the islanders prefer to speak their native Rapanui language (linked to Maori, Tahitian and Hawaiian) than the introduced Spanish.

The locals probably wouldn't be concerned if the Chileans upped and left, but it's a little late for that. Chilean people make up a third of the three thousand population and are firmly ingrained into the island`s bloodlines. Chile hasn't forced its hand either. You have to have Rapa Nui blood to own land here. This birth-right can be bequeathed to your children if one of you is a local, but there's no way of obtaining it just through marriage.

That the Rapanui people hold such a position over their land is a testament to their enduring strength. Peruvian slave traders decimated their population to as little as a few hundred in the 1860s. With the problems they've had from outsiders throughout their history, it wouldn't be surprising if they were guarded or aggressive. Yet they are amongst the most tranquil people you will find anywhere. They love their land, their heritage and each other. The Carabineros, policemen, posted from Chile to keep the peace, have little more to do than observe.

Their surfing history is no less extraordinary than the mysterious Moai statues that the island is known for. For hundreds of years people have been surfing here. It began when they saw turtles surfing the waves and decided it looked like fun. They called it Haka Honu - becoming a turtle.

And there's many myths and legends relating to this transformation, like that of the King, Tuki Haka Hevari, who died surfing at Papa Tangaroa.

The legend of Tuki Haka Hevari

There was a king called Tangaroa who went to live after the war in Hotu iti in a cave called Ana iti. Like all the nobles, he had a special power called the Mana.

Using his Mana, he spiritually concieved a chicken. One day another clan of warriors came and killed the chicken in front of the cave. When they were removing the bird's intestines a boy called Tuki Haka Hevari was concieved from the spirit of the animal - again, through the Mana of Tangaroa.

One day Tuki Haka Hevari went to Pua te ohe ohe on the west coast, where a group of men were surfing. He sang a song to make them fall off the waves.

E Pua, E Pua te ohe ohe, E Pua te nanaia, E tama te ra'a, Hiro rayi paku paku, Rua hie, Hati mai ena, Hati hati pu. There's a young man riding on the wave crest, Now riding to the sky, The sun - The foam, Ruahie! The wave folds down, It's flat, It's lost its force.

The surfers found him and gave the boy a thrashing and afterwards he hid in a submarine cave called ana Tigi tigi honu where he painted a turtle on the cave wall using his blood.

He was weak and one day he saw a tree trunk floating past. He hopped inside and the trunk floated around to the south coast and washed up at Hanga Nui near Hoku iti.

Two sisters were on the shore. One saw the trunk and said "Look, my trunk", but the other sister saw Tuki Haka Hevari and said "Look, my man". He was unconcious and they took him to their home and looked after him until he was strong.

He made a protested garden from rocks and planted taro, bananas and sugar cane to repay the girls the favour.

One day he asked the people to make him a koro paina - a type of throne that only kings were transported on.

"Cut the taros, bananas and sugar cane, and bring chickens," he said. "I want to return to my father."

But the people laughed because they didn't know he was a king. He used his Mana to make the garden walls fall down and the people finally believed he was a king so they built his koro paina.

The two sisters were in love with him and tried to follow him to Tangaroa. But he told them to go back to their family.

Tuki Haka Hevari returned to his father, Tangaroa, and later took up the sport of surfing. But it was to be the undoing of this mythical young king, for he died riding the great wave named Papa Tangaroa, the place of his father.

Kindly researched and translated by Christina Walter Hucke

In recent times, the modern surfboards didn't arrive to the island until the late 1980s, strangely late, even compared to other remote islands, although General Pinochet's military dictatorship no doubt played a part in keeping travelling surfers away.

The next chapter is happening now, as the islanders are at last assembling the necessary equipment and experience to charge some of the meanest waves on the planet. More will be seen of their exploits in the future. Not just because it's in their ancestry, but also because they are Polynesians, and Polynesians love the ocean.

Only the ancient chant of O he'e ho has remained the same over the centuries. It's the call all Rapa Nui surfers use during lulls to bring the waves.


Victor Ika is Rapa Nui's oldest grommet at 31 years old. I met him surfing at Motu Hava in the town of Hanga Roa, where the entire population of the island now lives.

It was sunny and head-high offshore peaks were lazily flopping in. The two of us shared the lefts and rights, which both ended prematurely thanks to unfriendly rocks that make a sudden appearance down the line. Between waves, Victor chatted to me in English, happy to be surfing and sharing waves with a newcomer.

Sitting on his longboard with his sun-cap on, he told me how he was waiting for his Brazilian wife to return from her country, and his sister to arrive from California where she now lives.

Alicia Ika has been surfing for many years, and is the most accomplished female surfer on the island. She taught her elder brother to surf three years ago on a tandem surfboard called tabla supergrande.

Victor told me how he feels close to the spirits when he surfs. "I love the tradition of being a Polynesian, and being there in that split second on the wave where it feels like I have a connection with my ancestors. It's the primary reason I surf", he says.


Right next to Motu Hava is a wave called Hanga Riva Riva, commonly known as The Pea. Home to a powerful right in solid swells, most of the time its soft lefts and rights are grommet heaven. This is the breeding ground of Rapa Nui surfers.

After school and on weekends, it gets packed with screaming girls and boys who combine to decimate almost every wave that appears. Most of them ride bodyboards simply because surfboards are expensive and hard to come by. But unlike in the past, some do have surfboards and for those keen enough, a board eventually comes their way.

For the first generation of modern board riders on the island, life was much different. During the late eighties they were still riding crude boards shaped from wooden doors or anything else they could find. Before each surf they had to create a rocker. This meant soaking the board in water and then placing a heavy rock on it for an hour or two.

"My first fibreglass board was two pieces of different board stuck together, and for that time it was the best gift you could have", says Christian Silva. "But now the grommets want better boards".

Rapa Nui's unofficial surf ambassador Andres Pakarati, says that when the first surfboards began arriving, there was a long list of surfers who wanted to use them. "After three rides it was someone else's turn," he told me.

In the beginning the locals had to rely on the generosity of travelling surfers, who often left boards behind. Even today boards are still hard to get and travellers are constantly asked to sell their boards. Today there's a dive shop that sells imported boards, the only problem is they're all short boards on an island where big wave guns are what are really needed.



The Moai are the main reason most people visit Rapa Nui. I hadn't been on the island long when, early one morning, there was a knock at my door. "Hurry or we'll miss the sunrise" said Nano Nunez, a bodyboarder I'd met in the water.

Racing across the south coast in Nano's old red pick-up, he told me how he was studying tourism in Santiago. After graduating he plans on returning to become a guide for English speaking tourists. We arrived at Ahu Tongariki, the largest Moai platform on the island. Here fifteen Moai stand side by side with their backs to the nearby wave at Hanga Nui. The Moai were immense, some over ten metres tall. Nano told me how bloody wars had led to all the Moai on the island being toppled by his ancestors.

In 1992 the Japanese re-erected the fifteen Moai at Ahu Tongariki using a crane. Many other Moai platforms on the island have been re-erected at different times, while others lie where they were pushed down, centuries ago. After Nano's tour I spent a lot of time at the Moai sites, in particular Ranu Raraku. This is a small volcano where Moai were carved from the rocky slopes. Many Moai lie embedded in the rock face at different stages of the carving process. Others stand finished, not yet transported to their intended sites because when the wars began, work just suddenly stopped. In the afternoon sun, when there were few other people around, it was an incredibly serene place to explore.



You have to spend months in Rapa Nui to see all of its waves in action. It was Easter and I woke late with a pisco-induced hangover nurtured in the dark and rustic interior of Toroko - one of the island's two discotheques.

There was some sort of Christian festival going on. Somewhere in Hanga Roa free food was being handed out. Considering the price of food on the island, which may as well have been Europe, this seemed like a good idea. So I jumped in with a van-load of people and we cruised to the other side of town. On the way, I caught a glimpse of the coast. Clean lines were visible, there was a decent swell at last, and here I was, in a van heading to a Christian festival. The food was beef and watermelon, lots of watermelon. I quickly ate some melon and left behind the Festival de Sandia, running home to fetch my mountain bike so I could check Mataveri.

I'd seen a photo of Mataveri on Andres' wall - emerald lines breaking down its long point. This wave seemed to be the link between the island's contrasting waves. Rapa Nui's waves are either intensely big and powerful or a little on the small side, and they're all short rides. Mataveri is long, and although it gets big and intense, it's more manageable than the south coast. Waves were breaking, although the place was deserted. But when I returned an hour later there were twenty locals in the water and a couple of Peruvians. Mataveri had become solid with the changing tide and its long sections were folding fast.

Pico Alto charger Pedro Klima was taking off on triple overhead waves. Along with his friend Tomy Dragich, they were the only foreign surfers I met on the island in the seven weeks I was there. Teenagers Petero Teao and Chinamu Arevalo were also charging, weaving fast speed lines down Mataveri's walls.

As an example of just how young modern surfing is on Rapa Nui, it was the first time for more than half of the locals out there that day. Unfortunately Mataveri is a fickle wave and it didn't break again before I left. Petero Teao (who for some reason insisted I call him Petrescu even though this name was a mystery to everyone else) is one of a few up and coming surfers, the second generation of the modern era. For Rapa Nui surfing to progress, surfers like Petrescu can't be lost to other things as they have done in the past. The greatest living surfing legend on the island - Ali Fletcher - doesn't even surf anymore.

"You give Ali a surfboard and he can make magic on the waves", Victor once told me. Ali Fletcher has surfed all of Rapa Nui's south coast spots including Papa Tangaroa, and he often surfed them solo. While his reasons for giving up aren't clear, it's more obvious with most of the others who have moved from the ways of the turtle back to the land. Many leave the island to study in Santiago or just move on to other interests. More significantly, the limitations of the wooden boards had previously restricted most of the islanders to surfing the mellow waves of the Pea and Motu Hava. Other spots were just too demanding for the equipment (although Ali Fletcher did surf the intense wave, Viringa o Tuki, on a piece of wood). With no room to progress, it was normal for almost everyone to give up in their teens.

"Our generation was the first. Before, there were grommets but they all quit at fifteen or so", says Rene Varas, one of the keenest surfers on Rapa Nui and one who is determined to help the surfing culture to grow in the future. Rene plans to be the first person to offer surf tours on the island. He is currently putting the finishing touches on self catering units at his family's property. Rene's idea is that surfers will come and stay at his place. When the waves are good he'll take them surfing in his 4WD, or they can hire a car. "But we go together and I take them to the waves," says Rene. "We always go with friends to the south coast, never alone. And if the surf's flat, we`ll go fishing and diving, or off-road, exploring the island's three volcanic peaks, caves and lava tubes, and of course the Moai. There's plenty to do here". Serious surfers, curious surfers, adventurous surfers - these are the people that Rene is expecting, and as the surf world appears to be shrinking all the time, chances are, they will come.

Days of small waves at Motu Hava had passed. But the wind finally swung. Rene and Rafeal Varas, Christian Silva and Wilo Teao picked me up and we drove to a south coast wave named Pakaia. It was breaking clean and powerful although far from perfect. Unlike many of the other spots, Pakaia breaks in deep water.

This was the second time I'd been to Pakaia. The first was a week before with Tomy - one of the Peruvians. His friend Pedro had dengue fever, which had only recently appeared on the island, so he couldn't surf. Tomy paddled out on his 8'0" and got annihilated on his first wave. It snapped his legrope, sending his board to the rocks. He swam in and quickly drove the fifteen kilometres back to town for another legrope, returning to charge a dozen waves before dark.

On this second day the waves were serious enough for Rene, Christian and Wilo to paddle out on guns. Rafael, oblivious to the power of the waves as teenagers often are, was on a 6'4". Rene and Christian first surfed Pakaia a few years ago and have both surfed it about a dozen times. "Pakaia is safer" says Christian. "Maybe it'll break your neck but you won't find a rock. When you surf at Pakaia you feel something strange. We knew about it, but my first time was with Brazilian Carlos Burle. I had a 6'6" and watched from the side. My dream is to make a big tube in Pakaia and surf the place really well," he says. Christian, Rafael and Rene all caught solid waves, and this time it was Wilo's turn to gain experience from the side. Wilo paddles outriggers and along with Rene free dives down to 35 metres, so it's probable he'll charge the wave at some stage.

Pakaia is Rene's favorite wave. "I respect Pakaia more than the other waves. It's always powerful and if it doesn't snap your board, it'll usually damage it somehow," he says. Before surfing Pakaia, Christian talks to the spirits. He asks them to look after him and his friends, and tells them they have only come to surf. "Here you must respect the Tapu (a family place, not your own)," says Christian. Several days later the south coast is on again. Big groomed lines sweep into Papa Tangaroa. The waves faces are 40 foot and clean. Huge barrels appear as the wave explodes down the line and finally collapses onto dry volcanic rock.

"Tangaroa is crazy and only really for the people who want to die" says Rene, only half serious. "If you wipe out on the take-off it's a problem because the Te Papa (rock shelf) is shallow. I'm not ready for it yet. I need a 9'0" gun and more experience. But of course a jet-ski would be better."

Just along the coast is the safest wave on Rapa Nui's south shore. Viringa o Tuki's walls are fat, but it's still big and powerful with a lot of water movement. Volume is required to catch the waves here - longboards or thick guns.

Andres Pakarati says you need a different board for each wave on Rapa Nui. "At the moment we don't have them, so we use what we have. But perhaps with a shaper on the island we could get the boards we need to move ahead," he says. Outside of the town of Hanga Roa the island is all but deserted apart from the hundreds of horses that roam the land. Up on the highest peaks of Terevaka or Poike, you're all alone looking out over the Pacific. There's an energy here that effects you and makes it hard to leave. It's a subtle yet powerful energy. You feel it amongst the Moai, in the waves, all around the island.

Some call this land Te Pito o Te Henua - 'the navel of the world' and certainly it is home to one of the oldest surfing stories, and one of the youngest.

"As a Chilean friend once remarked to us," says Andres, "you guys, your generation - you must pave the road."

Rapa Nui's surfers are paving that road and working hard to keep the ancient path open to future generations.

by Paul Kennedy © 2007