[ WP ] You find yourself stranded on a deserted island

When my life raft washed up on the island, I had recognized the place. Henderson Island, UNESCO world heritage site. Shit. This was bad. 
 
 Fortunately I had equipped my life-raft kit with a hatchet, bow saw, knife, and thousand foot spool of para-cord. A flint and striker, and the inflatable de-salinator were also a bonus. Thank you r/Survival. 
 
 Deflating the life raft, I scrambled up the cliffs dragging it with me, thanking God that r/survival had also suggested that I include shoes in the go bag. Maybe the EPIRB had activated. Maybe I'd be rescued soon. 
 
 Even now, I fantasized some boats might be looking for me. I knew that the Pitcairn Islanders were known to travel here 1-3 times a year. At the worst, I would wait that long. Rescue might be tomorrow, or another day. In any case, I needed to stay visible. I weighted my deflated life raft down and began to think. 
 
 Food would be the first order of business. I was a voracious reader, and the solo Pacific crossing had been a dream of mine. I had read everything there was to know about the island group. There should be coconuts here -- and they would be located near the beaches. 
 
 A month later, and I was living r/survivals dream -- although it was pretty shitty at times. Imagine no internet, and no amusing cat pictures close to hand. On the other hand, the resolution on the night sky was amazing. 
 
 For protein, I roasted fish, and rats. There certainly was no shortage of rats, and I reasoned that the UN would than me. Small deadfalls baited with coconuts provided me with a steady supply of protein. 
 
 Roast rat is n't that bad, but I would have stabbed for some hot sauce. I knew the many birds on the island were edible, but I did n't want to damage endangered populations unless absolutely necessary. 
 
 To alleviate my boredom, I had constructed a hut of sorts near the northwest beach. In my hut, I set up a spring-pole lathe of sorts, and would spend my spare time turning curios when it rained. There was fruit on this island if you knew where to look, but the interior was treacherous. 
 
 After the third month I made my greatest discovery -- a small clay deposit. With a single minded focus, I made all the pots I could, and fired them in the hot coals of a giant beach fire. I had read Crusoe. Pottery is one of the essential crafts. With these, I could extract resin from barks. With resin I could make waterproof glues. With glues, I could build boats. 
 
 With great care I began to sample and test the various tree species on the island. Using a crude balance, I would test their ability to absorb water by balancing them against varying quantities of sand. The hard woods that absorbed the most moisture would be my pegs. The less absorbent hardwoods were framing timbers, and the most flexible woods were to become planking. My carefully coiled bucksaw blade sprang to life and I went to work. 
 
 For every felled tree, I planted two. The UN was going to hate me. Then again by this time I'm pretty sure I had trapped and eaten almost every Polynesian rat on the island. 
 
 My ship was to be a longboat -- approximately fifteen feet in length. If Bligh could do it, why not me? I turned each trunnel on my pole lathe, securing. Things still took time though. My experience building stitch and glue vessels was n't too helpful, except for giving me a good idea of build order. However I made steady progress on the hull. 
 
 Sails were a whole other problem. I had carefully protected my life raft as it could be used in a last ditch effort. However there are very few suitable textiles on any uninhabited island. Eventually I managed to weave a serviceable lug sail from tree leaves -- like the ancient Polynesians would have done. After a good two months of solid work however, I finished a lug sail, and made my first victory lap around the cliffs of Henderson Island. In the following weeks I would use the Emancipation Proclamation for fishing deeper waters, longingly looking to the east. Somewhere in the East was America. I was probably dead there now. 
 
 Navigation was a harder problem. Soon the trade winds would shift west. Furthermore I did n't have an accurate protractor. I sat in my hut for days -- and gave up hope. You can sail in circles forever till you starve or die of thirst, or sink. There was a reason seafaring was dangerous before proper navigation tools. There no angle trisector theorem, and a missed degree of latitude could mean the difference between life and death. To divide a 90 degree quadrant into 1 degree segments, I could n't use just my compass. Depressed, I gave up. I would die here -- not of hunger or thirst, but maybe from injury or illness. 
 
 I spent days in my hut, only venturing forth to gather food. Fortunately on one such walk, the solution presented itself. There was a flower. I could n't tell you what species. The blossom had six triangular petals, arranged in a circle -- sixty degrees. Needless to say, I dropped everything I had and returned to the beach. In a fervor of geometry, I drew a circle in the sand, and inscribed six equilateral triangles within the circle, all having a vertex at the center like the petals of a flower. More triangles. I laughed and laughed. 
 
 I would need to sail approximately 140 miles southwest to reach Pitcairn. With some math, I had determined out the chip-and-log method of finding sailing speed and determined my longboat could manage five knots. 
 
 Making preparations, I gathered dried fish, fruit, and coconuts. I burnt a message into a plank in my hut. `` I was here. If you find this place, you are welcome to use any of it. Good luck. Built a longboat, and left. Do n't bother the birds -- ate most of the rats. Planted more coconut trees. Give my apologies to the UN, and my regards to Reddit. Heading off to either Pitcairn or Davy Jones' Locker.'' 
 
 I built wooden chests, to stock my turned curios in. I'd probably need to sell these to get home to the States. Plane tickets are expensive. I had two chests full of wooden cups, plates, and bowls. Presciently, I had signed and dated them all. Knowing how the media treats sudden celebrities, I could easily set up a Kickstarter or Go Fund Me to get there. 
 
 When the trade winds shifted, I left, heading southwest. Through rowing and sailing, I averaged five knots. Twenty five days after leaving Henderson, I saw low clouds on the horizon, the telltale sign of an island. I tacked back and forth to it. 
 
 Eventually some men in a longboat came out and demanded to know what the hell I was doing out in the South Pacific in such a tiny vessel. I jokingly answered that I was the Ghost of Captain Bligh. 
 
 The NZ government ate it up. I'd been buried back home. The girlfriend had gone on with her life. Pictures of the Emancipation Proclamation made international headlines. Conservationists threw a fit. 
 
 Instant internet celebrity is weird. I got some endorsement deals, got to show Alton Brown how to cook rat, did some spokesperson work for the World Wildlife Foundation, and gave seminars on boat building. The Emancipation Proclamation was donated to some sailing museum. Various survival shows threw money at me as if I was a really expensive stripper. 
 
 The AMA on Reddit was epic. 
 
 

