Henderson Island, Pitcairn Island Group
Perhaps it was the notion of gazing distantly upon an uninhabited location so remote, so infrequently visited, so far from any other inhabited island – or perhaps it was our Expedition Leader’s mellifluous tones gently coaxing us from our slumber – or perhaps it was the fact that due to the steady eastward direction of the National Geographic Endeavour across a vast swath of the South Pacific, precipitating a steady stream of hourly clock advances, our sleeping schedules were out of whack. Whatever the notion or cause, many of us were on deck early to view our vessel closing the final miles to Henderson Island. It was well worth it; the sunrise was simply stunning - breathtaking. A tropical, multi-textured and dynamic cloudy canvas was brush-stroked in ever-brightening shades of red, orange, chartreuse, and flamingo. It was a backdrop like few others – an ever-changing interplay of cloud and color that seemed to stretch as high as the sky and as wide as the sea. In the near distance Henderson Island stood like a cut of 2x4 wood laid flat upon a stony-blue sea, its edges hard and defined, and its flat-topped relief clear and bold.
Henderson Island, a 31-square km elevated limestone island 169 km east-northeast of Pitcairn, is the largest of the Pitcairn group. The island measures 5 km by 10 km and is flanked by 15-meter high coral cliffs on the west, south, and east sides. The interior of the island is a flat coral plateau about 30 meters high, but the dense undergrowth, prickly vines, and sharp coral rocks make it almost impenetrable. Geologists believe that Henderson was uplifted after a volcanic eruption on Pitcairn over a million years ago which tilted the Earth’s crust slightly with its weight.
Sometime between 1200 and 1500 AD Henderson was inhabited by Polynesians who died out or sailed away prior to the arrival of Europeans. Discovered by Europeans in 1818, it was first visited by the Pitcairners in 1851. There was talk of constructing an emergency runway on Henderson to support air services between South America and the South Pacific but this was rejected, and in 1988 the island was declared a World Heritage Site, the first South Pacific locale to be added to UNESCO’s prestigious list.
Our vessel approached the island from the south, protected from the northerly swells. The plan was to cruise Henderson’s coastline from south to north along the western shore. This would give the staff ample opportunity to view the wave and swell action from the ship, and discuss any and all expedition options as conditions revealed. At the island’s northern end, site of the traditional landing location, sizeable breakers precluded the chance at even making a landing attempt. The decision was made to look again at a small stretch of beach on the island’s northwest corner, first viewed on our transit up the west coast. After careful assessment of the conditions and an extensive scouting operation, the decision was made to make an attempt with guests. Zodiacs were gunned through one of two natural cuts in the reef and then spun around on the reef flat by the “catching” party, after which a short walk across the reef brought everyone safely to an idyllic sandy beach. Walks were essentially confined to the beach and surrounding low slopes of the island’s precipitous, dense foliage-covered rise. The day was sunny and warm with a few gentle breezes, and as such, most of us were enamored with just spending some time on an uninhabited South Seas isle. Of note was the fact that three of Henderson Island’s four endemic bird species were spotted upon the plateau up from the beach, and the fourth one’s call was heard.
During lunch the ship repositioned to the central west coastline for an afternoon Zodiac cruise. This was an inspired activity put forth by the National Geographic Endeavour team. The coast was rugged, and guarded by sheer 15-meter cliffs. All Zodiacs approached carefully, as the swells were of a magnitude that mandated conservative driving. Limestone is a fairly weak rock, readily subject to the erosive forces of water and time. Tunnels and channels created long ago by fresh water run-off and then scoured more deeply by the sea, created the raw template upon which a waterworks show of sight and sound was orchestrated. As each rolling long-period swell crashed into the cliff base, it would force and compress great volumes of water into confined tunnels and small holes. The result was a spectacle to behold – the coastline was immediately transformed into a long line of artillery-strength water canons, each one blasting spray mountainously into the air. The auditory impact of this spectacular meeting of land and sea was no less impressive than the visual impact. Each blast of water was accompanied by a sound akin to the over-amplified bellows of a close-quarter blue whale. While other sounds were low-pitch, pipe organ-strong moans emanating deep within small caves whose fractured walls acted as resonance speakers for the groaning echoes.
Perhaps it was the notion of gazing distantly upon an uninhabited location so remote, so infrequently visited, so far from any other inhabited island – or perhaps it was our Expedition Leader’s mellifluous tones gently coaxing us from our slumber – or perhaps it was the fact that due to the steady eastward direction of the National Geographic Endeavour across a vast swath of the South Pacific, precipitating a steady stream of hourly clock advances, our sleeping schedules were out of whack. Whatever the notion or cause, many of us were on deck early to view our vessel closing the final miles to Henderson Island. It was well worth it; the sunrise was simply stunning - breathtaking. A tropical, multi-textured and dynamic cloudy canvas was brush-stroked in ever-brightening shades of red, orange, chartreuse, and flamingo. It was a backdrop like few others – an ever-changing interplay of cloud and color that seemed to stretch as high as the sky and as wide as the sea. In the near distance Henderson Island stood like a cut of 2x4 wood laid flat upon a stony-blue sea, its edges hard and defined, and its flat-topped relief clear and bold.
Henderson Island, a 31-square km elevated limestone island 169 km east-northeast of Pitcairn, is the largest of the Pitcairn group. The island measures 5 km by 10 km and is flanked by 15-meter high coral cliffs on the west, south, and east sides. The interior of the island is a flat coral plateau about 30 meters high, but the dense undergrowth, prickly vines, and sharp coral rocks make it almost impenetrable. Geologists believe that Henderson was uplifted after a volcanic eruption on Pitcairn over a million years ago which tilted the Earth’s crust slightly with its weight.
Sometime between 1200 and 1500 AD Henderson was inhabited by Polynesians who died out or sailed away prior to the arrival of Europeans. Discovered by Europeans in 1818, it was first visited by the Pitcairners in 1851. There was talk of constructing an emergency runway on Henderson to support air services between South America and the South Pacific but this was rejected, and in 1988 the island was declared a World Heritage Site, the first South Pacific locale to be added to UNESCO’s prestigious list.
Our vessel approached the island from the south, protected from the northerly swells. The plan was to cruise Henderson’s coastline from south to north along the western shore. This would give the staff ample opportunity to view the wave and swell action from the ship, and discuss any and all expedition options as conditions revealed. At the island’s northern end, site of the traditional landing location, sizeable breakers precluded the chance at even making a landing attempt. The decision was made to look again at a small stretch of beach on the island’s northwest corner, first viewed on our transit up the west coast. After careful assessment of the conditions and an extensive scouting operation, the decision was made to make an attempt with guests. Zodiacs were gunned through one of two natural cuts in the reef and then spun around on the reef flat by the “catching” party, after which a short walk across the reef brought everyone safely to an idyllic sandy beach. Walks were essentially confined to the beach and surrounding low slopes of the island’s precipitous, dense foliage-covered rise. The day was sunny and warm with a few gentle breezes, and as such, most of us were enamored with just spending some time on an uninhabited South Seas isle. Of note was the fact that three of Henderson Island’s four endemic bird species were spotted upon the plateau up from the beach, and the fourth one’s call was heard.
During lunch the ship repositioned to the central west coastline for an afternoon Zodiac cruise. This was an inspired activity put forth by the National Geographic Endeavour team. The coast was rugged, and guarded by sheer 15-meter cliffs. All Zodiacs approached carefully, as the swells were of a magnitude that mandated conservative driving. Limestone is a fairly weak rock, readily subject to the erosive forces of water and time. Tunnels and channels created long ago by fresh water run-off and then scoured more deeply by the sea, created the raw template upon which a waterworks show of sight and sound was orchestrated. As each rolling long-period swell crashed into the cliff base, it would force and compress great volumes of water into confined tunnels and small holes. The result was a spectacle to behold – the coastline was immediately transformed into a long line of artillery-strength water canons, each one blasting spray mountainously into the air. The auditory impact of this spectacular meeting of land and sea was no less impressive than the visual impact. Each blast of water was accompanied by a sound akin to the over-amplified bellows of a close-quarter blue whale. While other sounds were low-pitch, pipe organ-strong moans emanating deep within small caves whose fractured walls acted as resonance speakers for the groaning echoes.
