The motorboat pulled away from the beach not long after dawn. Derek Bickerton stood on the pale pink sand, a shopping bag beside him packed with a blanket, a camera, a water bottle, and a loaf of bread. Through the clear blue-green shallows he could see neon flashes of color as tropical fish glided along the reef. Behind him lay a grove of coconut palms and a mangrove swamp. He was now completely alone, some 300 miles due east of the Philippines. It was June 1978.
He had a day and a half in which to establish that the little island of Ngemelis was safe for some two dozen people to inhabit. If all went well, they would be arriving in a few months. I nearly got washed out over the reef in a riptide, but apart from that it was rather fun, Bickerton recalls now, amid the books and ...
