Islands of Palau

Oct0ber-November 1995

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Barbara Shaw

The warm breeze swept a delicate floral scent through the cool and shadowed limestone sea cave. Drips pittered on the earth floor and tick-tocked into the water. Carried on a slow current, a floating leaf passed the low stone arch where we paddled in.

Drawn by the light at the back of the cave, we climbed high up on the giant stones in the domed room. Opposite the entrance, we stood high above the water and gazed out through a green tangle of jungle trees, vines, and ferns crowding a window to the bright equatorial sky. Off in the distance, a power boat buzzed over the still turquoise sea.

Kayaking Palau, in the far southwest corner of Micronesia, we explored a number of such sea caves. One served as a seaplane hangar during the Japanese occupation. In another, clicking bats grew irate as we invaded their dark and secret home where wondrous cake frosting forms danced in the shifting beam of a flashlight. In a third, we found a rusted iron cannon.

The best kayaking in the Republic of Palau is among the ancient coral formations uplifted from the sea bed to the south of the large island of Babeldaob. These small islets are slowly rising as the Pacific Plate slips under the Philippine Sea. Over the millennia, tides and storms have undercut and shaped them to wondrous forms.

Known as the Rock Islands, or Chelbacheb ('EL-ba-'eb) in the Palauan language, they appear from the air like a scattering of green pebbles in the wide ocean. Down among them, deep bays, secret coves, curving arms of high overgrown land and soft beaches of coral and sand await the explorer.

 

The smallest of the Rock Islands appear to float like fantasy ships resting on the reef. The larger ones snake for miles among smaller outcroppings and sandy bays. Here meter-long endangered sea turtles glide like ghosts below the boat. Though Palauans come to picnic, fish, and play every weekend, out here you can always find solitude and a feeling of having discovered the prototype for Eden. Wonderful life abounds despite increasing environmental threats.

On one island hike, up a steep jungle track in search of the mysterious Jellyfish Lake, we came across an immature tropic bird, wary as it watched us pass. Undisturbed, dozens of species of exotic birds nest and play far from civilization. We heard them scream warnings across the water and call in sweet bell tones.

Later, as we slipped along the shore, something large and clumsy burst out of a tree, flapped in circles, then caught a branch with its feet and swung up-side-down. As it folded its wings we recognized a fruitbat the size of a heron. Out on the reef, herons the colour of rust stood still, spear-like beaks poised for fishing.

Below the salt, fish of more than 1500 varieties dart and glide, tropical jewels of such infinite variety and such vivid patterns and coloration that the visitor is dazzled. A few sharks and giant mantas cruise past. The luckiest among us may spot the rare dugong, feeding on eel grass. The endangered sea mammal is more closely related to an elephant than to a seal.

Gliding close to shore in kayaks, we looked down into gardens of brilliant corals, sponges, tube worms, anemones, and rose pink sea fans. We spotted all five varieties of local sea cucumber and a spineless sea urchin nearly as large as a football. Among the corals grazed bright blue and brilliant orange sea stars, and one example of the hated crown of thorns starfish that devours coral.

Our alert eyes scanned for the hundreds of other spectacular invertebrates that rake, suck, siphon, scrape, filter, and sting their appropriate meals in the crystalline water. But often, we'd see a creature as alien as anything from a far planet, such as the white meter long worm-like tubes that snaked from one vertical wall.

The underwater wonders have made Palau a dream destination for skin divers. Truly unsurpassed snorkeling awaits the kayaker along the many reefs and shadowy walls. For those who want to do it deeper, professional local dive shops cater to the SCUBA crowd.

But even experienced divers can only stay down so long and must seek out other amusements. Most do their above water exploration in big power boats that scare the wildlife and never get near the secret places. Kayaking is a great alternative.

Though their ancient ancestors arrived by canoe from New Guinea, the Philippines and beyond, few Palauans paddle now. For years, no one realized tourists might enjoy the simple pleasure.

Rental kayaks arrived for the first time in 1995, thanks to Eric and Mona Carlson. They went into business with two double and seven single open kayaks with comfortable canvas back rests. In addition to rentals, the Carlsons offer guided day and overnight trips of any length, with meals and all equipment supplied.

Mona, a native Palauan, says the best part of the overnight excursions is sleeping on a beach. "I really like laying out. The stars are so absolutely beautiful. You enjoy the sunset and sunrise every day. At dawn, the ocean is just like glass and the birds are singing to you."

We chose to begin with a day trip on our own and set off exploring supplied with full water bottles, lunch, cameras, and SPF 30 sunscreen, plus snorkel and mask. The day started early at the edge of a mangrove swamp, in the still inner sanctum of Neko Bay, which is almost surrounded by the crescent of the island of Koror and filled with little islands.

At once I felt like a child, awe-struck in wonderland, astonished at every turn by the scenes revealed. After wandering mapless most of the morning in a sunny labyrinth of solitude, we left the bay through a narrow gap and emerged "outside" with a view to the open sea. Beaches are few here, so we pulled up on the first one we saw.

Huge trees arched over the shallow water, shading a chamber roofed with green lace. Here we sat on the sand to eat our lunch. According to Palauan party custom, the guests carry off the leftover food. So we had some local treats with us from the night before. My favourites were ground tapioca dumplings, something like soft pasta balls, in a rich coconut milk sauce. The sliced boiled taro root was a bit dry. Tiny sugar bananas made a fine desert, along with a ripe papaya we shared.

In the forest above, some bird belched and roared like a sick cow but we never glimpsed it. While swallows, frigate birds, sooty terns, and fairy terns swooped before us we listened to the cooing of what might have been the colourful Palauan fruit dove. Whatever it was, it came with an accompaniment of cricket chirps, dings, weewops, smeeps, and other equally onomatopoetic calls of contenders for bird-of-the-month club, no doubt so special any "birder" back home would die to see them.

Scattered along the beach we found the weathered remains of young giant clam shells, the pearly turban-like trochus and dozens of fine snails including examples of cowries, egg-like white bubble shells, and an iridescent pink spider shell. Some sheltered shy hermit crabs inside. The law says NOTHING except food fish is to be taken from reefs or beaches in this area, an excellent conservation provision for a tiny nation of 17,000 struggling to preserve its natural heritage. So we reluctantly left each shell and piece of coral in its place.

Offshore, a Palauan family tossed their anchor onto sand. An elderly man and a younger one put on masks, snorkels, and fins and went off with their fishing spearguns while the woman sat in the boat with Palauan country music for company. We waved and set packing away the remains of our meal. That's when we noticed that the sky had gone black.

From first raindrop to full downpour we had just enough time to scope out the limestone overhangs at the edge of the beach, grab the daypack and crouch under cover, munching our raisins. The sky probably dumped an inch in ten minutes. Then it was over and the woman in the boat reappeared from under the front deck. We emerged dry from our shelter and set off for an afternoon of exploring.

Our second day of kayaking came a week later. This time, having studied the map, we decided to paddle away from the port at Malakal and explore large Risong Bay with its islands and many inlets. The goal was one of several small inland lakes. That gorgeous, clear, bright morning we rode out with the tidal current.

Entering the first inlet, the water glowed pale blue above a sandy bottom. But with vertical cliffs rising ten meters around us, we abandoned the notion of reaching the lake shown on the map. The next inlet was a similar spectacularly steep disappointment. The third try appeared at first to present the same situation -- sheer walls all around.
Drawing up to the base of the wall, we glanced left and spotted an opening, very narrow and unseen until that moment. Snaking through the passageway, we looked down into a field of pink sea fans. Trees and vines met above us, forming a tunnel that led into a hidden lagoon the size of a ball field. The tranquil quiet of a jungle paradise drew us in. Below, colourful fish darted, and, above, butterflies danced in the hot sunshine.

First off, we tied our boats to a vine and went snorkeling. The water was still and clear. When we moved very slowly, we could watch the fish skitter around the coral heads without the usual distortion of undulating patterns of brilliant light refracted by surface waves. A great variety of corals thrived in the cove, and in some areas the sandy bottom sprouted sponges.

There, in the hidden sanctum, I was to realize just how a place can entrance us to heightened awareness. In the state of grace, brought on by escaping from civilized routine to the place where man was born, we can feel mystery and know Creation in a new way. In the serenity of an undisturbed natural environment, true wildness can permeate the psyche and pry open the hushed mind.

Moving weightless and warm, slowly over a large knoll of branched brown coral, peer down at its intricate complexity. Let your eyes focus nearer, then farther, until you can see the small brown fish hovering just above the saghorn coral's surface.

The more you look, the more fish you see, almost invisible so well are they camouflaged. They look like an aura around the coral head, matching it perfectly. Thousands upon thousands of fingerling rest motionless. Look away and they vanish. Look closer and they materialize, so still you imagine they might slip back into dreamtime.

Now, dry off, and lay back. Trust your untied boat to find the way. Close your eyes. Listen into the distance, to the chorus. A rare blend of music sweeps you into a tropical world a long, long way from the truths you count on. Out here, they're singing every day. And have been, these past millennia, in celebration of pure joy. Out here, they sing with eternal vitality that pulses like the heartbeat of God.

Float free, attending to the grand symphonic gathering. The frogs are playing their songs more beautifully than ever before in all of time, because every one of them senses the presence of a listener. Every bird knows you are near, every cricket, every tree peeper.

Peace alternates with violence. As soon as we paddled out of the secret cove and into the big bay a squall hit, driving buckets of horizontal rain before a ripping wind. Fortunately for us, as we passed an anchored yacht, the people aboard invited us to tie our kayaks to the transom and climb up to join them. Feeling lucky and safe, we huddled under the canvas canopy and shared barbecued fish, cold beer, and good stories until the weather lightened up a bit.

"So," queried the captain of the crew, hoisting a cold one, "if a Typhoon is winds over 100 kilometers per hour, when do you get a Tropical Depression?"

"Winds over 60?"

"Way off. It's when the islanders run out of beer."

We learned our hosts had sailed out of Los Angeles, via Samoa and New Guinea, to be there. Incredibly easy by comparison, our journey to Palau seemed long enough.

 

Access

From Honolulu, catch Continental Micronesia's seven hour flight to Guam. Continue another three hours southwest to Palau, with a brief stopover on Yap. Or, fly direct to Palau from Manila. You arrive exhausted and jet lagged. But as soon as you see the gorgeous blue water and emerald green land, you're ready to go.

Palau's only town is Koror, with about 10,000 people who nearly all speak English. They use American money, having only in 1994 become independent under a "Compact of Free Association." Palauan postage stamps are colourfully collectable. Letters take a week to ten days to North America.

January through April is the dry season and the best but busiest time to visit. You will need reservations during those months. Camping is fine out in the Rock Islands. Hotel and restaurant prices are a little bit lower than back home. The best, reasonably priced hotel on the water is the Marina ($65 double). Most mid-priced hotels are in busy Koror and convenient to shopping, eating, and bars. These are clean and modern, lack views, and range in price from $40 to $75, double. Asian and American restaurants serve dinners in the $5 to $15 range (US). For fancy accommodations, try the Airai View starting at $120, or the Palau Pacific Resort where John F. Kennedy, Jr. entertained Darryl Hannah. If you have to ask, you can't afford it. Add ten percent tax to all room prices.

Groceries and most products cost a bit more than back home. Shops are well stocked with popular brands from both sides of the Pacific. Bring high SPF sunscreens, as the locals are dark and don't need them. Medical care is reasonably priced and fine except for difficult cases which go to Guam. No malaria here, but check with your clinic about suggested vaccinations. Passport required. Thirty day visas available on arrival.

It's hot and humid, day and night, but most buildings are air conditioned. Hiking sandals, cool cotton clothing, sun glasses, and hats are mandatory outdoors. Light colours reflect more sun. Nylon shorts dry fast and are ideal for kayaking. Short shorts are unacceptable in town.

 

Palau Info

Palau's area code is 680. Consult your long distance operator for bargain hours.

FAX numbers for making plans -- Visitor's bureau: 488-1453
D.W. Motel: 488-1725, has rental cars for $35/day
VIP Hotel: 488-1429
Marina: 488-1070
West Plaza: (4 locations, one with ocean views) 488-2136
Airai View Hotel: 587-4385
Palau Pacific Resort: 488-1606
Local taxis are cheap and available with a phone call: 488-1519
Kayak rentals: $30/day single, $50 double. Call the Carlsons at 488-1694.
SCUBA diving: $65 per day through half a dozen dive boat operators. Sam's Dive Tours: 488-1720. Rates highest on environmental awareness.