Fanning Island Visit

Billy Brick Visits Fanning Island by Wayne Dixon As many explorers present and past, Billy Brick was always looking for somewhere else to be. Billy would tire of being just another brick in the wall and imagined better opportunities elsewhere. Like early Polynesians, he viewed the distant horizons and imagined the possibilities beyond. These ancient Polynesians would load up their gear and head for the next island wherever it might be. Researchers believe that some of these adventurers landed on Fanning Island before it was called that, based on artifacts found there. Originally from the Marquesas, they did not stay long before they headed for Hawaii. Captain Edmund Fanning gave the island its name in 1789. He is honored on a brass tablet we saw attached to a tower of rocks near the entrance to Fanning Island’s blue lagoon. Other later arrivals were listed in order of their appearance including Henry English and William Greig. We arrived October 2013 in search of adventures of our own. Fanning Island is different from the nine other islands we would visit. It is a coral atoll near the equator. It surrounds a lagoon that once was a volcano, part of a chain that now forms the Line Islands, some five hundred miles south of Hawaii. We left our ship early after breakfast and were transported zodiac style to a rickety pier and greeted by the local choir raising money for their church. There was a bucket for donations and buckets elsewhere around the island for contributions for other causes. Being a retired teacher, I brought our donations in the form of school supplies, some of which had been a small part of my career. There was no electricity on the island, no paved roads, no drinking fountains, and no personal facilities other than the sea. The natives lived in relative isolation from the rest of the world except for occasional visits from cruise ships. They were prepared for our arrival with crafts and performances, and of course, money buckets. I had dreamed of such a place years ago during a winter of discontent. Where could I make more of a difference than where I was? I imagined in the dark of night a bright island with eager learners awaiting me. Now confronted with reality it became a different matter. The school was a large open-air shelter with some smaller sheds round-about. A bell rang and children emerged from everywhere, and they ran in every direction, some with papers falling from their composition books as they went home. We visited the empty quarters and saw on the walls evidence of their teachers’ diligence. They were in good hands. As we left the school area I noticed gloriosa daisies growing in profusion. My grandmother used to grow these black-eyed susans, but I’ve never been able to cultivate them with any success. I also spied some lantana bushes growing in the wild. What were they doing here, all this way from my home? I had planted several in my front yard before we left, just days ago. I wondered how they were doing now at home, a word that strangely resonated in this isolated place. We hurried back to the pier through the coconut trees, pausing only to take a photo here and there. We were hungry and thirsty and needed to use the ship facilities. We hastily picked up a piece of coral for our collection on our way. And who is this Billy Brick? That would be me, a brick from another wall.