Hanga Roa

Fifteen figures line up, turned away from the water. A tidal wave knocked them over and they were raised again in the 1990s.

The hillside where the figures were cut still holds 397 unfinished ones in place. The largest reaches 21 metres and lies where it could not be freed.

Stone houses cling to a crater rim and bird man figures are carved into the rock. A contest gave the year's leadership to whoever brought back the first egg.

One of the few white sand beaches on the island has palms planted behind it. Seven figures line its edge and swimmers look back at them.

Only this group stands inland yet looks out to sea. They were aligned so that the sun sets straight in front of them at the equinox.

Water gathered in a crater 1.6 kilometres across has turned to marsh. Reeds cover it, so the water shows only in separate patches.

A lava tube ends in two openings that look straight out to sea. Getting in means crawling, and nobody goes without a torch.

One perfectly round stone sits inside a low wall. A compass held against it swings, and the island calls the stone its navel.

It is within walking distance of the village and faces the sunset, so people gather in the evening. One figure has its eyes restored, which changes how it looks.

The red stone set on the heads of the figures was cut here and several lie about unused. A fingernail raises dust from rock this soft.

A small museum named for a German priest who spent his life on the island. It holds a moai eye of coral and obsidian dug up at Anakena, a female moai and rongorongo tablet replicas. Many visitors first learn here that the statues once had eyes.

A small sandy cove east of Anakena, enclosed by red volcanic cliffs. Crushed red stone in the sand gives it a pink tint. There are no facilities, and rocks occasionally drop from the cliff, so nobody spreads a towel directly beneath it.

A south-coast platform just beyond where the runway stops, its wall of huge tightly fitted blocks recalling Inca masonry. The moai that stood on it all lie face down. Being close to Hanga Roa, it suits a first-afternoon visit.

Banana and avocado trees grow in each opening where the lava tube roof has collapsed, hence its nickname. Islanders once lived and farmed here. Further in the floor is rough and dark, so a torch is needed.

For two weeks in early February the whole island splits into two sides and competes. The highlights are haka pei, sliding down a hill on banana trunks, and an endurance race across a crater lake. Flights and beds sell out well ahead of the festival weeks.

The island's highest point at 507 m, where the horizon surrounds you on every side. The grassy route starts near Ahu Akivi, on foot or on horseback. The slopes offer no shade, gusts are fierce, so a hat needs a chin strap.

The village's central church, where wood carvings mix saints with birdman motifs. Sunday Mass is sung in Rapa Nui and Spanish. Villagers come to it with flowers in their hair.

A shallow, rock-ringed beach beside the small Hanga Roa harbour. Sea turtles often come right in to graze on seaweed. Rules ban touching or feeding them, so keep a few metres back.

A south-coast platform whose moai lie where they fell. Tradition holds that Hotu Matu'a, the first king to reach the island, is buried here. Boat-shaped stone house foundations and old ovens are scattered around it.

Little sediment or plankton makes the water exceptionally clear. The sunken moai replica off Hanga Roa and the waters around the Motu Nui islets are the signature dives. The sea runs cool, so rent a thick wetsuit.

Canoes, tuna, octopus and turtles carved into flat basalt on the north coast. So many boats appear that the name means rock of the canoes. The lines show best when low sun throws shadows into them.

In village venues, island troupes perform in feathers and bark cloth, dancing and singing. Hip-shaking dances alternate with warrior cries, and the finale pulls audience members onstage. A front-row seat almost guarantees a call-up.