Andrea Vance

Mrs Turpen is probably Pitcairn Island’s oldest resident. She lives on Tedside, by the Western Harbour and has regular visitors, bringing her bananas, papaya and guavas, as she suns herself on the hillside.

It’s a lonely life, on possibly the world’s remotest inhabited island. She’s the sole survivor of a group of five, left there by passing sailors more than 70 years ago.

No-one knows exactly how old she is, but it’s somewhere between 80 and 100.

Mrs T is one of the island’s favourite daughters. She’s a

Gala´ pagos tortoise.

Next in age are sisters Royal and

Mavis. They are sixth generation descendants of the

HMS Bounty mutineers sought sanctuary on the island.

Pitcairn is still mourning the loss of their brother Len, who died on November 1, aged 93.

On the day we meet, Royal zooms up on a quad bike with a naughty giggle. At 91 and with a tiny frame, her daughters disapprove of her riding on the island’s muddy tracks.

But Royal sneaks out and ‘‘borrows’’ the quad to visit 83-year-old Mavis.

They sit together on the verandah, Mavis skilfully weaving palm fronds and swatting mosquitos with a fan. Her daughter Meralda brings out whettle [food]: coconut scones and lemonade.

At 60, Meralda is one of island’s ‘‘young ones’’ and guardian of Pitcairn’s unique culture: teaching the Pitkern language in its only school, reviving the art of tapa cloth making, and keeping alive cooking traditions.

She can point to where her father planted the island’s only po¯ hutukawa. The Bounty’s bell is displayed in her garden (she once had to hide it from a persistent collector). And her e’ei (tapa beater) was handed down from the Tahitian women who settled with the Bounty mutineers.

Pitkerners cling fast to their heritage – they wear their HMS Bounty T-shirts daily and