The most commanding feature of Easter Island, depicted in film and literature are the Moai. From every part of the island, from their birthing place at Rano Raraku they spread ranging in size from two to ten metres - staring with shadow framed eyes timelessly out. They are unique in the world, and of all places a tiny little island stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Day one, sunscreen layered, agua, enthusiasm and tourist map covered in Moai icons had me walking off into the sun. Several hours, and no standing moai had me tired, sunburnt and just a 'little frustrated'.

Day two, motorbike, screw the pedestrian access.

Hot tarmac, twisting roads, great scenery, no one else driving. This is how to see Easter Island. Two days covered the big sites, then the trail riding, followed by lets belt over the trailess rock strewn centre of the island (fly over the handlebars a few times) fun began. Moai motor madness, there has to be a game in that somewhere.

According to oral histories they represent chiefs, priests and leaders, built facing inland to protect the mana of the clan.

An alternative perhaps more to do with penis envy - poorly endowed chiefs without the benefits of modern surgery immortalising themselves to the world. Rock hard and huge.

700AD seemed to be when production was at its peak. They were carved out of the rock, until only the spine remained attached, then slid down the hill and moved to their destinations. Weighing up to 20 odd tonnes how they were moved is still a mystery, moved with all their carvings undamaged during transit.

From legendary belief of the stones walking a little every day to palm trunk rollers and levers they stand beyond belief. Then the island fell apart the locals deciding to take to obsidian and beat on occasion eat each other senseless. A spanish expedition in 1770 saw easter island in tall glory, with cook in 1774 finding it trashed, with fallen Moai and lean battered people. Lack of food, overpopulation (a staggering 15000) no wood, arguments over Moai design set the people to desecrating each others sacred sites by toppling Moai. A peruvian slave operation in 1862 snaffled over a thousand slaves to work in guano mines digging and being treated like shit. Most died in transit or working, the few who returned brought smallpox and wiped out most of the island.

Recovering to now 2700 locals, chileans and lost travellers it is a friendly and close knit community. Lan Chile also crates in three flights of tourists a week, greeted by hotel running locals bidding for arrivals. Staying with Martin and Anita was great, and after spending a day making a easter island short film they got a promotional variation for seducing visitors at the airport. Keep a lookout for it.

Its filled with stories, legends and interesting people. Selling micro moai carved out of local rock is the thriving industry, shops, hotels and good eating. Knowing some spanish is handy I know 'hola' and 'poco espanol (little spanish I think) the rest described with points, pictures of fish and power adaptors and misunderstood english. Tomato sandwiches are easy and a staple dietary item, point and click shopping. I felt like a japanese tourist.

Legend has it that the kingship of easter island was decided by an annual race. The chiefs of the different clans would go or send a representative (more oft the case - what they call 'management') to climb down the cliffs from orongo, swim shark infested waters across to an island, scale the island cliffs and retrieve the first egg from a bird that nests there once a year place the egg in a headband then descend, swim and climb back. The clan chief whose racer returned with egg intact then became king for a year. The annointed king was then shaved completely bare, kept in isolation and fed a unique diet - not allowed to cut fingernails, toenails, hair or bathe for a year. His clan however enjoyed high level status island for the duration. I doubt he was much of a paparazzi victim.

The bird quest features highly in easter island symbology, carved into the rocks around orongo. A perhaps less explored theory is that is that of disgruntled island youth and dedicated primitive graffiti saying "Get an albatross up ya!" chipped quietly under the cover of darkness.

Later that night, resturants dont open till around 9 or 10pm a delicious meal of freshly caught tuna - sashimi style, at extortionate tourist prices. Some wine, some local beers then slumber. A normal mosquito has a sadistic sense of humour doing a few high whine ear buzzes before finding a nice place to pierce. Easter Island mosquitos attack in stealth mode, lulling you into a totally false sense of security, and then a rude midnight wakeup covered in hundreds of insanely itchy lumps.

A planned sunrise mission with ambitions to film sunrise and the Moai became like so many sunrise missions - a breakneck race to catch the last glimmers of color before sun breaks horizon. With amazing views and stunning clouds it was a journey worth the effort, roll starting the car for the journey back. With John, my American companion next to me we drove back, windows down arms lollling lazily out the window. Free roaming cattle had left their share of damage on the road, and at pace we hit a fresh one. It made a unique squelch and sprayed into the air - its trajectory directly onto Johns arm. As a doctor he must be used to being ultra clean - scrubbing up for operations, this layer of shit caused him great concern almost to the point of a definable rage. I was in hysterics he didn't see the funny side.

Anakena beach whiled away days, swimming under the gaze of ancient Moai in crystal clear waters, and deliberating when the coconuts are likely to fall while kicking back under the palm trees looking up at them. Fresh food, a cold beer and hardly anyone in sight. Nice.

Life is very different here, the world seems far away. Laid back, sunblessed beautiful and with mystery all of its own make Easter Island an addictive destination.