by Emily Greenberg

Journal reporter

She came to camp and convene with the orcas once a year for the past 17 years, but she never thought she would stay.

Yet that’s exactly what environmental archaeologist Candace Gossen did, choosing San Juan Island as the place to decompress from her latest adventure, and to plan the next one—or did the island chose her?

Half a world away from the place in which she’s dedicated her life’s work, San Juan has been a constant reminder that her job there is not yet complete.

For over 12 years Gossen has been digging in the dirt on Easter Island, a southern hemispheric province of Chile, unearthing its rich history. She’s uncovered an untold story of the native Rapa Nui people, and developed a strong desire to help restore harmony to their intrinsic culture.

The driving force to remain on San Juan came during her visit in May of this year, when she connected with the Whale Museum. She was invited to return in August to discuss her work on Easter Island.

Currently commissioned to help write the energy plan for the San Juan Islands Conservation District, Gossen keeps the Chilean province in mind.

“I get to work here on this island that could be self-sustainable. I could bring that plan back to Easter Island, “ she said. “It’s a very injured place.”

As the story is often told, the Rapa Nui people, Polynesian in descent and the first to inhabit Easter Island, destroyed their environment. It’s said they cut down all of their trees for agriculture, multiplied too quickly and over-exhausted their resources, until there were no trees left at all. Words like “eco-cide” are often used, placing blame on the inhabitants, not the environment.

More than 1,000 giant, ancient statues known as Moai were constructed by the Rapa Nui people out of volcanic rock. As legend has it, the island’s trees were cut down to make movers for the Moai, and transport hundreds of statues throughout the island.

“But that’s not the real truth,” Gossen said.

Through a series of lake cores (the process of extracting sediments from extensive depths) and scientific analysis, Gossen found that between the years of 1390 and 1505 there was an extreme cold and dry event that lasted for 115 years. According to the archeologist, these conditions were unfavorable to the island’s trees, and aided in their disappearance. She also said that the trees were the largest palms on the planet with six foot  diameters and 80 feet tall, but were full of sugarwater, not hardwood, so using them to transport the Moai was unlikely.

In an excavation project launched in spring of 2014, Gossen and her team found planting pits–indicating that the Rapa Nui were trying to rebuild the failing ecosystem and save the palms. Evidence also points to “lithic mulch” watering systems, where volcanic rocks were placed strategically around plants to heat up from the sun and create moisture.

“This shows adaptation and innovation, not collapse,” she said. “There was a climate event that caused the change, and they were trying to adapt to it.”

The failing with the Rapa Nui culture is that their stories were not passed down to successive generations and, as a consequence, were lost. In the 1800s, out of only a few thousand remaining Rapa Nui people, 1,400 were stolen by slave ships, including all of the medicine people and the last king, according to Gossen. By demand of the Tahitian King to return the Rapa Nui slaves, months later only 15 remained alive, but with their return and the onset of colonization came disease.

With no one left to tell the true story of the disappearing trees, Gossen feels she must continue to uncover the truth–and take on the role of storyteller.

Thousands of miles away in Friday Harbor, she is writing grant requests in hope of returning to the southern hemisphere in 2015, and brainstorming ways to entice philanthropists to invest in the practical application of a sustainable energy plan on Easter Island.

She would like to core a lake on San Juan Island one day, as she sees similarities geographically, historically and perhaps the same climate patterns as on Easter Island.

In the front yard of her rental house stands a Monkey-Puzzle tree, the national tree of Chile. She wonders if it’s a sign that Easter Island is a part of her, and if her work there will truly ever be finished–a daily reminder, perhaps, of the place that needs her voice.

For more info, visit www.blackcoyotemedicine.org.