Robinson Crusoe Island is actually part of the Juan Fernández
archipelago, a group of three tiny islands: Isla Más a Tierra, Isla
Santa Clara, and Isla Más Afuera. In 1968, the Chilean government
renamed all three to promote tourism. Maps and brochures now list
them as
Robinson Crusoe,
Santa Clara, and Alejandro Selkirk
islands, but locals still refer to them by their Spanish names.
Only Robinson Crusoe is inhabited, with a population of about 600
residents, 10 or so cars, and a handful of dogs and chickens.
Selkirk actually only lived on Robinson Crusoe (rather than on his
namesake island, Alejandro Selkirk, as one would think). But this
is only one of many confounding historical details. Although Defoe
based his book on Selkirk's life, which was written about in
British publications after his rescue, Crusoe is actually set in
the
Caribbean, not the
South Pacific. Defoe also invented the
character of Friday; Selkirk was alone. And in the book, Crusoe and
Friday were stranded for 28 years. Selkirk was picked up by a ship
after just four years on the island. Nevertheless,
Chile has
renamed the island Robinson Crusoe, a central street is called
Daniel Defoe (also the name of a
hosteria and a bar), and
the local library displays a large collection of Crusoe editions in
various languages.
Our wooden boat slowly chugs its way along the western shore of the
island, edging past sheer rock cliffs. I wonder if Selkirk ran up
and down these peaks, his bare feet leathery and tough, looking for
any sign of a ship on the horizon. My companions don't speak much
English, and I don't know much Spanish, yet we still manage to
communicate to a degree. They open up a compartment and show me the
day's haul of scuttling
langostas (lobsters) and wriggling
eels. The island is famous for its langosta, a spiny lobster that
once grew up to three feet long in these waters. Like most of us,
Selkirk probably thought a langosta looked creepy and disgusting.
Until he tasted one, anyway.