Stranded On Santa Astarta - Exclusive

The church was still there. The bell was still ringing, despite the fact that we had tied its clapper with a rope on our last day. The spring still flowed. And the penguins—they were fine.

If you are reading this because you typed the phrase “stranded on Santa Astarta” into a search engine, you are likely in one of three situations: you are a geography enthusiast, a writer of dystopian fiction, or—like me—you are currently out of drinking water, sharing a beach with penguins and a profound sense of regret. This article is for all of you. Here is everything I learned during my 47 days . The Enigma of Santa Astarta Let’s first establish where—and what—Santa Astarta is. Unlike its more famous cousin, the Chilean archipelago of Juan Fernández (of Robinson Crusoe fame), Santa Astarta is a phantom. It appears on exactly three pre-1920s Spanish naval charts and one corrupted satellite image from 2018. stranded on santa astarta

Geologists would later theorize that Santa Astarta sits on a network of hollow lava tubes that act as a resonance chamber for deep-ocean infrasound. Elías had a different theory: “The tunnels under the church are not for storage. They are for escape. Something lives down there.” The church was still there

Do not sleep in the nave. The bell rings spontaneously. Elías, a superstitious man, refused to enter the church after the first night. He slept in a cave by the beach. I don't blame him. 2. Water: The Devil’s Tears Freshwater is scarce. There is one spring, located halfway up the volcano’s caldera, trickling out of a fissure the Spanish called La Fuente Amarga (The Bitter Source). The water is high in sulfur and tastes like licking a battery, but it won’t kill you. To collect it, you must climb a 200-foot scree slope that shifts under your weight. Petra fell twice. On the third attempt, we lashed ourselves together using rope from the ship’s wreckage. 3. Food: The Penguin Compromise Greater Astarta has a colony of 10,000 Southern Rockhopper penguins. They are adorable, loud, and—if you are starving—technically edible. We survived for three weeks on a diet of limpets (tiny shellfish clinging to the volcanic rocks), wild celery (which grows in the island's marshy center), and one unfortunate cormorant that flew into our stone-throwing range. And the penguins—they were fine