Two years after World War II, six explorers journeyed to Peru. Upon reaching that country's coastline, they set about creating a raft, mostly using local balsa wood. The idea for the raft's shape and size had been researched prior to the trip; the group had drawn from Peruvian legends, mixed with reports from long-dead Spanish conquistadors, to create a plan. Upon completion, the dingy little craft was dubbed Kon-Tiki. One member of the group, a researcher and writer who would later chronicle his journey in a book, was named Thor Heyerdahl. He hoped that the raft might support the theory that ancient and not-so-ancient South American peoples had enjoyed significant contact with the populations of Polynesia.

This was precisely the course planned by Heyerdahl and his friends. Boarding the Kon-Tiki, they pushed off into the vast Pacific, and as the Peruvian coastline disappeared behind them, they realized that they had entered another world--and their only protection against death was the little vessel they'd constructed with their own hands.

Thus, across 7,000 kilometers (4,300 miles) of deep ocean and endless sky, the Kon-Tiki made its way west. One hundred and one days after "setting sail" from Peru, the somewhat delicate little craft smashed into an atoll of the Tuamotu chain.

THE GREAT RAFT

The adventure had bolstered the aforementioned theories, proving that, without too much difficulty, South American peoples, using materials readily at hand and their own water-craft designs, could have made pan-oceanic journeys from the mainland to Polynesian islands.

So we are left with the task of following in Heyerdahl's footsteps. Let us plan our own Kon-Tiki.

First, we shall have to decide whether we want to make the journey via yacht, or actually construct our own balsa version of the Kon-Tiki. The latter, of course, is far more dangerous, but, as proven by several others since Heyerdahl's voyage, it can be done by those with the motivation to actually see it through. For those of us who are more interested in retracing his steps than recreating the conditions under which he conducted his trip, let us assume that we all want to take a yacht. Fine. But before anyone heads out into the open sea on a yacht, he or she should, of course, become more than familiar with the basics of sailing and all that it entails. Translation: we need sailing lessons.

Sailing lessons, just like sailboats, aren't cheap. If the reader has a friend who owns a yacht and knows how to use it, we'd suggest buddying up to him or her and making it a team thing. If, like us, the reader isn't so lucky, then we'll all have to settle for the lessons. Some people swear that learning to sail--to cruise off into the sunset--changes their lives forever. Real, in-depth sailing classes (in which one earns the certifications necessary to confidently perform pan-oceanic journeys via yacht) typically run between $4,000 and $6,000 and take a few weeks to several months, depending on the supplier.

CLICK TO ENLARGE

Buying a yacht can cost one several tens of thousands of dollars to multiple millions, depending on how formidable one's bank account happens to be. Even renting one will run several thousand dollars per week. In the yacht's defense, some of these vessels are like small houses. They have everything you need to live, and live comfortably. Kitchen. Bedroom(s). Dining area. Entertainment area. Deck. Of course, depending on how much you pay, the amenity list has the capacity to expand into impressive proportions. The point here is that many people end up actually living on their yachts, thus certainly justifying the high price a purchase might demand. If one happens to be extremely wealthy, of course, this discussion is null and void.

If, after researching prices, the reader is, instead, abruptly set on building a little balsa wood raft, we at Adventure Journey certainly understand.

Let's say that, somehow, whether through purchase or some other, perhaps cleverer means, we have been successful in obtaining a yacht and earning the prerequisite certifications. The next step is to make our way to Callao, the most important port city of Peru. From Callao, we must complete the long open-water journey to the Tuamotu island chain. Most of the time, we'll be surrounded by nothing but a vast expanse of dark blue water under a vast expanse of light blue sky. Finally, we'll spot land--the French Polynesian Tuatomus, an island chain spread out across a swathe of the Pacific the size of Western Europe and inhabited by less than 15,000 people.

You'll pass Pukapuka island, then sail past Futahina and Fungatao island, before catching sight of Takume. Just six kilmoters (four miles) south of Takume lies the island of Raroia, where the original Kon-Tiki went aground.

Raroia is the real deal when it comes to South Pacific islands. There are no buildings of note, no amenities. About 180 people live here; most are pearl farmers or fishermen. From outside the atoll (which is 43 kilometers [27 miles] long and 14 kilometers [seven miles] wide at its widest point), we'll want to make our way through the one navigable channel into the central lagoon. The only settlement on Raroia is named Garumaova, so we'll want to make our way there.

Heyerdahl's footsteps retraced.

Just 740 kilometers (460 miles) to the southwest lies Tahiti, but we reckon the real adventure is to be found in the atolls of Tuamotu. We'll stick to the sands of Raroia.

MORE FOOTSTEPS:

IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF GENGHIS KHAN
IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF SIDDHARTHA GAUTAMA
IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF THOR HEYERDAHL
IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF JUAN BAUTISTA DE ANZA
IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF LT. HENRY LIDGBIRD BALL

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