Robinson Crusoe Island/Juan Fernandez Archipelago/Chile
It is darker than the hour would indicate. As the earth rolls through space and dawn breaks across her like a wave on a beach, all day every day, somewhere it is always sunrise. For us, the pink blush of morning is somewhere above the clouds, as it should be at this particular place. The island ahead of us is shrouded, indistinct, a few lights twinkle near the sea, not fire, but electric, built of wire and glass, making the shadows behind and above loom even larger. Just perfect!
All my life it seems I have waited for this moment, this place, this bit of history, the Juan Fernandez Archipelago, Robinson Crusoe Island, once the home of Alexander Selkirk, the most famous of castaways. No, a misnomer, as he was really an exile of his own choosing, fleeing his dreams of shipwreck, following his fears to madness to wait for the next English ship, more than four years in coming!
It is not so dark now. Low clouds are piled against the high island, white, ragged clouds, shredded and fast, torn by the rocks, carried by restless currents of air, stark and beautiful against the blue sky that grows brighter by the moment.
Three options for the morning, I took the longest one, wanting to see as much as I could. Our group set off for a low point on the high ridge of the island, Selkirk’s Lookout or Mirador, relatively low, yet over fifteen hundred feet high where the lonely Selkirk would keep vigil for that longed for English ship.
The island is lush, subtropical, maritime, never hot, never cold, not too wet and never dry. We quickly climb above the small fishing community of San Juan Bautista, their many flowers and colorful cottages. Next is the forest, a plantation really of exotic trees, eucalyptus and Monterey pine fast growing and useful. The plantation is meant to protect the native forest above, a source of fuel and lumber, a bit of land sacrificed for the better good.
We are on a dirt road, then a trail, guided by park rangers, accompanied by friendly local dogs, excited, sniffing the air of strangeness. The path is often steep, but each turn brings a new view, more marvelous than the last. The vegetation is different now; many ferns beneath a short tangle of forest, most of what we see is unique to this island. Small purple flowers, fallen from above, dot the path amongst the brown leaves and curious liverworts.
At the top, with a view of both sides of the island, there is a long moment of exuberance, a giddy sense of freedom and accomplishment. How different it must have been for Selkirk to make the same climb, with the same view; our cheerfulness, his disappointment. What a difference it makes to know that the National Geographic Explorer is waiting for us in the bay below and lunch will be served just when we realize we are hungry. For him, it was back to his camp, not too far away, near some fresh water--we saw that too, lovely in the morning with cherry blossoms, prettier than he might have thought it.
While we were gone, Kelvin dove and brought back vivid images, others found birds or history or just walked around and perhaps discovered the house made of wine bottles, not quite finished though not through a lack of effort. In the afternoon the ship repositioned for Zodiac tours with fur seals and birds. I stayed behind and sought the wreck of the German light cruiser Dresden with our ROV, our deep-diving robot with the cheery yellow body. Found it! Alone and ruined, yet a very desirable abode for a myriad of fish. Dinner featured fresh local lobster and a host of new found friends to share it with.
It is darker than the hour would indicate. As the earth rolls through space and dawn breaks across her like a wave on a beach, all day every day, somewhere it is always sunrise. For us, the pink blush of morning is somewhere above the clouds, as it should be at this particular place. The island ahead of us is shrouded, indistinct, a few lights twinkle near the sea, not fire, but electric, built of wire and glass, making the shadows behind and above loom even larger. Just perfect!
All my life it seems I have waited for this moment, this place, this bit of history, the Juan Fernandez Archipelago, Robinson Crusoe Island, once the home of Alexander Selkirk, the most famous of castaways. No, a misnomer, as he was really an exile of his own choosing, fleeing his dreams of shipwreck, following his fears to madness to wait for the next English ship, more than four years in coming!
It is not so dark now. Low clouds are piled against the high island, white, ragged clouds, shredded and fast, torn by the rocks, carried by restless currents of air, stark and beautiful against the blue sky that grows brighter by the moment.
Three options for the morning, I took the longest one, wanting to see as much as I could. Our group set off for a low point on the high ridge of the island, Selkirk’s Lookout or Mirador, relatively low, yet over fifteen hundred feet high where the lonely Selkirk would keep vigil for that longed for English ship.
The island is lush, subtropical, maritime, never hot, never cold, not too wet and never dry. We quickly climb above the small fishing community of San Juan Bautista, their many flowers and colorful cottages. Next is the forest, a plantation really of exotic trees, eucalyptus and Monterey pine fast growing and useful. The plantation is meant to protect the native forest above, a source of fuel and lumber, a bit of land sacrificed for the better good.
We are on a dirt road, then a trail, guided by park rangers, accompanied by friendly local dogs, excited, sniffing the air of strangeness. The path is often steep, but each turn brings a new view, more marvelous than the last. The vegetation is different now; many ferns beneath a short tangle of forest, most of what we see is unique to this island. Small purple flowers, fallen from above, dot the path amongst the brown leaves and curious liverworts.
At the top, with a view of both sides of the island, there is a long moment of exuberance, a giddy sense of freedom and accomplishment. How different it must have been for Selkirk to make the same climb, with the same view; our cheerfulness, his disappointment. What a difference it makes to know that the National Geographic Explorer is waiting for us in the bay below and lunch will be served just when we realize we are hungry. For him, it was back to his camp, not too far away, near some fresh water--we saw that too, lovely in the morning with cherry blossoms, prettier than he might have thought it.
While we were gone, Kelvin dove and brought back vivid images, others found birds or history or just walked around and perhaps discovered the house made of wine bottles, not quite finished though not through a lack of effort. In the afternoon the ship repositioned for Zodiac tours with fur seals and birds. I stayed behind and sought the wreck of the German light cruiser Dresden with our ROV, our deep-diving robot with the cheery yellow body. Found it! Alone and ruined, yet a very desirable abode for a myriad of fish. Dinner featured fresh local lobster and a host of new found friends to share it with.
