“Iorana, welcome Manutara and thank you for coming to Rapa Nui” are the first lines of a song written by Parapina Araki when the legendary seaplane, coming from east to west, descended over Vinapu and alighted on the sandy strip at Mataveri. Manutara is the Easter Island seagull which each year in springtime nests on the islets in front of the Rano Kau volcano. But this song of welcome was not for a bird—it was for a Catalina seaplane that would bring about a transformative moment in Easter Island’s history: permanent aerial connection with the mainland.
The Song of Welcome: Iorana Manutara
The arrival of the seaplane Manutara, which had connected the city of La Serena with Easter Island in 19 and a half hours of flight over the ocean, carrying enough fuel for 24 hours of flight and provisions for 15 days just in case, was an extraordinary logistical success. The commander of the ship was Horacio Barrientos, chief of the Quintero Air Force base. However, the true architect behind this historic flight was Captain of Bandada Roberto Parragué Singer, who had first visited the island as a seaman aboard the naval ship “Baquedano” in 1933 and 1935.
Parragué joined the Air Force with a clear mission: to make the first civilian flight to Rapa Nui a reality. He meticulously projected and coordinated every detail of this historic expedition. Parapina Araki’s song captured exactly what that moment meant: not merely the arrival of an airplane, but the ceremonial welcome to a new era for the island.
Building the Airstrip: Community Effort and Vision
Parragué had entrusted the task of preparing a 400-meter airstrip to islanders including Alberto Huke, Simón, Emilio and Napoleón Paoa, the Pakarati brothers, and Domingo Paté, among others. There was no machinery available for such a monumental task, yet they were not lacking in enthusiasm and vision for connecting their island with the world.
The compacting of the terrain for the airstrip was the job of thirty volunteer women under the direction of Juan Edmunds, an employee of the Williamson Balfour ranch company. Alfredo Tuki recalls with admiration: “Among them were Graciela Paté, Parapina Araki, Emilia Tuki-Kaituoe, Magdalena Hito and many more. During several years they removed rocks, carrying them in their skirts because there were no wheelbarrows. They made holes in the future airstrip and buried small rocks in them to make it firmer. There were also enormous rocks and the men had to break them up with sledge hammers, hoes and wedges and haul them away in ox carts. Some women on horseback herded animals over the strip, so that the running sheep, cattle and horses would compact the ground.”
This community effort was fundamental to the project. These Rapanui elders, working without official recognition for years, prepared the airstrip that would change the destiny of the island. The connection would ultimately link Rapa Nui with Vinapu and beyond, reaching toward the continent. Regrettably, to this date, there has been no official recognition of these visionary Rapanui who put so much effort into this infrastructure project.
The 1951 Journey and Its Historic Legacy
It was January 20th, 1951. The entire town was waiting for the arrival of the Manutara, a Catalina seaplane, with a curanto feast and traditional floral necklaces for the nine crew members. At 1:30 p.m., Captain Roberto Parragué-Singer shouted at the top of his voice: “The Island, the Island!” with the indescribable emotion of realizing his great dream of uniting continental Chile with its island territory. As the crew approached, they could see dozens of islanders running euphorically towards the hills to watch this noisy bird—the likes of which they had never seen before—pass over their heads.
Yet after the beautiful song of welcome, the skies opened and a torrential rain began, leaving the plane mired deep in the mud of the airstrip. To free it, they had to tie it up and pull with horses, oxen, ropes and the help of the entire community to drag it to the Air Force guest house. This first obstacle did not diminish the enthusiasm: the mission had been successful.
The successful arrival of the Manutara was followed, paradoxically, by a total failure in the return. Due to the poor condition of the airstrip, the plane attempted to take off from the sea, but damaged one of its wings in the attempt. It had to be disassembled and taken on the naval transport Pinto back to the Quintero base for repairs. This initial trip of the Manutara to Easter Island served as inspiration and experience for an Australian airman, who two months later, in another Catalina seaplane, flew from Australia to Chile with a stop on Rapa Nui. This opened possibilities and led to the construction of a 2-kilometer permanent airstrip at Mataveri, which would eventually become the international airport we know today.
Eight years later, in January of 1959, Parragué dared to make a second flight to Rapa Nui and back, but without obtaining prior permission, which cost him his career in the Chilean Air Force. Later, with his own Catalina seaplane, which he named “Manutara II”, he flew again to Rapa Nui in 1961 and 1963, extending his route to Tahiti in 1965. The Chilean National Congress, in recognition of his merits, awarded him the rank of Air Force General. In his statements to the press in 1965, Parragué expressed a profound reflection on the cost of his dedication: “One flight cost me my retirement and another now means a promotion.”
Recognition and Lasting Legacy
The flight of the Manutara was one of the great events in recent history for the Islanders. In gratitude, they gave to the city of La Serena one of their most precious treasures: a Moai of almost 4 meters in height, which is today prominently displayed in the Archaeological Museum of that city. This offering was not merely a gift, but an expression of gratitude for Roberto Parragué’s vision—a man who dared to dream that Rapa Nui could be connected to the world.
The Manutara was far more than just a seaplane. It was the symbol of a connection that transformed the island forever. Parapina Araki understood this well when she wrote that song of welcome: “Iorana, welcome Manutara and thank you for coming to Rapa Nui.” That song continues to echo through the history of the island as a testament to a moment when the entire community united to make the impossible possible.
Frequently Asked Questions About the Manutara
When did the Manutara arrive at Rapa Nui?
The legendary Manutara seaplane arrived at Rapa Nui on January 20, 1951, connecting the island with La Serena, Chile, for the first time in a 19-and-a-half-hour flight.
Who was the captain of the Manutara?
The pilot and captain was Roberto Parragué Singer, who had a clear vision of connecting Rapa Nui with Chile. The commander of the ship was Horacio Barrientos, chief of the Quintero Air Force base.
How long did it take to build the landing airstrip?
The preparation of the 400-meter airstrip was an effort that took several years. Thirty volunteer women worked under the direction of Juan Edmunds to compact the terrain, using traditional methods without modern machinery.
What happened to the Manutara after its first journey?
When attempting to take off from the sea due to the poor condition of the airstrip, the Manutara suffered damage to one of its wings. It was disassembled and transported to Quintero for repairs. This journey inspired other aviators to continue connecting Rapa Nui with the world.
What happened to Roberto Parragué after the first flight?
Roberto Parragué continued flying to Rapa Nui without official authorization in 1959, which cost him his retirement from the Chilean Air Force. Later, with his own seaplane named “Manutara II”, he made additional flights to the island in 1961, 1963, and to Tahiti in 1965. The Chilean National Congress awarded him the rank of Air Force General in recognition of his achievements.
