Back on the Road

Thursday 6 April 2000 

After almost two months back home, Pippa was well into her second trimester and we were now itching to be back on the road again.  Her morning sickness was subsiding and we had had all the necessary tests to assure us that so far things were going well.  Despite exclamations of horror from friends and family (and our midwife!), we saw no reason to postpone or even cancel our trip; being pregnant would just add a little more spice to our travels.  Besides, of all the destinations we could have chosen for this next leg of our trip, where better than the peace, quiet and tranquility of a few islands in and around the Pacific? 

Land of the Sleeping Lady

Saturday 8 April – Saturday 15 April 2000

The region of Micronesia is a collection of over 2,100 islands scattered across the North Pacific between Hawaii and the Philippines.  They cover an ocean expanse the size of the USA but their total land mass is less than Rhode Island, the smallest US state.  Our flight from Honolulu was an 'island hopper', stopping at several mini-land masses on our way to Kosrae, our first destination.  On the flight, we began to appreciate how vast the Pacific really is, a massive expanse of deep blue water stretching as far as the eye can see with only the occasional sighting of land.  Some are just small specks that disappear and reappear with the tides, others are still growing through volcanic flows or coral build up, and most are uninhabited.  At Majuro, in the Marshall Islands, we stopped for an hour and disembarked to stretch our legs.  We were surrounded by sea.  The water’s edge was within a stone’s throw of the airport building and as we sat under the vicious heat of the sun, discarding the various layers we had had on since leaving home, we listened to the coconut palms rustling in the breeze and the waves beating along the shoreline.  Had we just arrived in paradise? 

Kosrae is the easternmost of the Caroline Islands and the second largest island in the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM).  At 110 square kilometres (42 square miles), it is hard to imagine it being considered as 'big', and the unhurried pace of life here together with the minimal economic development only reinforced the feeling of having arrived in a backwater as soon as we stepped off the plane.  The airport terminal was nothing but a shack and judging by the motley collection of locals who had gathered purely to watch the plane arrive (and then take off again), it appeared that this was about as much activity as you would see anywhere on the island.

Kosrae itself is volcanic and, because of its profile is often called the 'Island of the Sleeping Lady' (you do have to use your imagination a bit).  The island is extremely mountainous, with a lush interior of mostly uncharted rain forests and a coastline of sandy beaches and mangroves.  Kosrae is renowned for its citrus fruits and as we waited at the airport for a taxi to take us to our hotel, we spotted a makeshift stall selling what looked like green tangerines.  They were indeed tangerines; seedless, sweet and probably the best we had ever tasted.  In fact, so good were they that if there is such as thing as Vitamin C overdose, we possibly came close to it over the course of the following few days!

As we had flown almost half-way around the world, crossing in the process the International Date Line, we knew we’d be battling with jet lag for the first few days we arrived in Micronesia so had chosen Kosrae as a quiet, unspoilt place to relax for a couple of days before the 'real' travelling across Micronesia began.  In the event, we found it so quiet and relaxing that our scheduled three-day layover expanded to nearly a week. 

We awoke the morning after we had arrived at 04.00am.  Wide awake and refreshed, we sat outside our thatched roof hut watching the sky grow lighter as the sun rose behind us, and listening to the waves crash on the beach a few yards in front of us past the screen of coconut, pandanus and mangrove trees.  Crabs scurried across the sandy earth, disappearing into holes.  Well-fed cats snoozed lazily on our front porch and the air was warm, despite a strong breeze that carried with it the fresh, humid smell of the tropics.  Hours later, it was breakfast time and we were rewarded with a feast of fresh fruits together with a multitude of other options ranging from pancakes to eggs.  We were obviously not going to go hungry whilst we were here!

It was a Sunday, and we knew what that meant.  The list of 'DOs and DON’Ts on a Sunday', published by the local tourism officials, was printed up in all the guide books as well as being displayed prominently at the hotel.  Religion is an integral part of people’s everyday lives on this tranquil island so, in addition to all stores and businesses being closed on Sunday, recreational activities are also frowned upon.  Women are expected to wear a dress and men a pair of long trousers and a shirt.  No alcoholic beverages could be consumed (even at the tourist resorts) and no snorkeling, water-skiing, scuba-diving, fishing or even collecting of seashells was allowed anywhere on the island. 

Upon discovering that Kosraens are also particularly noted for their sensational choral singing, we decided that this called for the Full Monty Church Experience, so dressed up appropriately and set off on foot along the dirt road to our nearest local church.  Each village has a blue and white Congregational church situated in a prominent location so we kept walking until we found one, comforted that we were heading in the right direction by the number of cars, vans and trucks that passed us along the bumpy road, laden with men, women and children of all ages, all dressed up in their Sunday best and clutching well-thumbed copies of the bible.  As we arrived in the village and spotted the church, it was a little past 10.00am.  Everyone had already taken their seats and the preacher was well into his oration for the day.  We were a little anxious, having been warned that services began punctually and tardiness would be frowned upon, but nevertheless decided to creep in, trying to keep our heads down and hopefully pass unnoticed.  As soon as we had taken our seats, we realised that all eyes were on us and the priest was welcoming us heartily to their church.  People passed copies of their bible to us so we could follow the sermon and there were smiles all round.

It was a wonderful feeling to be part of this weekly gathering and while neither of us is particularly religious ourselves, we were pleased to have taken the trouble to make it to a Sunday service.  The singing was out of this world:  harmonious, rhythmic and melodious.  Sometimes the women would sing a solo, then the men would respond.  Other times, everybody would sing together but in different pitches so it sounded as if everyone was singing their own version of the song but blending so perfectly that the result was among the most beautiful, spiritual sounds either of us had ever heard.

The next few days passed lazily.  Eric did a couple of days' diving and even completed his first night dive, while Pippa bobbed leisurely on the surface with a snorkel, wishing she were down below enjoying the new and exotic delights of the Pacific Ocean with him.  We ate to our heart’s content and slept off our jet lag.  By the third day, we were rested enough to decide on a hike into the forest to uncover the ancient site of the Menka ruins, home of Sinlaku, goddess of the breadfruit.  Of course, we knew nothing at all about breadfruit goddesses and their dwellings, but it sounded exciting!  Unlike the more accessible Lelu ruins in the main town, the Menka ruins were still, for the most part, hidden beneath undergrowth and although there are around a hundred old stone foundations (evidence of ancient dwellings in centuries gone by), it was more the hour-long trek through the forest that appealed to us as we set off with our guide keeping a close eye on the rain clouds that were gathering above us.

As we set off into the forest, the rain began to fall heavily.  We sheltered under palm trees but when there was no sign of it abating, decided to continue anyway, using huge banana leaves as protection from the rain.  These elephant-sized umbrellas proved to be exceptionally effective at keeping the water off, but we were nevertheless to be thwarted by the downpour when it came to traversing the river.  Within the space of just 15 minutes, this river had turned from a gently flowing stream into a raging torrent and the current had become so strong that it became impossible for us to cross.  And so we were forced to retrace our steps, trudging back through thick mud and waterlogged undergrowth.  It was still fun though, finding out about the local flora (of which there is enough to keep a botanist happy for weeks) and learning about the medicinal properties of different plants used in the treatment of various illnesses ranging from a simple tummy ache to high fevers and even childbirth.

On another day, we took a canoe ride out through the mangrove swamps into Lelu harbour, chasing sting rays and taking in the island scenery from the water.  A continuous supply of tangerines kept up our energy under the fierce heat of the sun but we still labored to keep up with Rose, our cook from the hotel who had come out to keep us company and make sure we didn’t get lost or swept away by the tide.  Not only could she bake the ultimate peanut butter cookies of all time, but she was also a powerhouse paddler who made us feel grossly inadequate.  Later we learned she'd been a member of the FSM's Olympic rowing team, but by then the damage had been done.

A couple of days before we were due to leave, we asked Katrina, one of the owners of the Kosrae Village Resort where we were staying, if there was any way we could get to the opposite side of the island that was inaccessible by road.  Kosrae has a road that circles about two thirds of the island but we could tell from the map that there were villages on the other side that were presumably only accessible by water.  Always willing to help arrange anything that was possible on the island, she found us a guide who agreed to take us over there in his boat and find us somewhere in the village to stay overnight.

The boat ride to Walung was the highlight of our entire stay in Kosrae.  Weaving our way through thick mangrove swamps in an outrigger canoe, we felt as if we were in the depths of a jungle and saw some of the oldest and largest mangrove trees in all Micronesia.  The muddy, murky water lapped against the side of the boat and our eyes scanned the still surface of the water, half-expecting a crocodile to appear any moment (none did).  At times, the water became so shallow we had to push our way through the silt with paddles, trying to steer clear of the long, spindly roots of the mangroves that protruded from the water.  Spotting a coconut crab (a local delicacy), our guide stopped to catch it with his paddle; his family would be well fed that evening.

Walung was Kosrae’s most traditional village and as unspoiled as you can find.  With no electricity, no stores and no roads, it made for a secluded, quiet spot, lined with white sandy beaches that stretched intermittently for a couple of miles.  Just inland, steep craggy cliffs formed a green backdrop to this extraordinarily scenic part of the island.  We spent the night in a decaying mansion, built by an American in years gone by.  Considered to be 'luxury accommodation', perhaps because it had a bathroom complete with sink, bathtub and toilet (none of which had functioned for years) it was hardly the rural 'live with the locals' experience we had envisaged but at low tide, we walked across the numerous tidal channels along the coastline to the main part of the village and watched the young boys playing basketball as the sun went down.  Fishermen had paddled out beyond the reef and their wooden canoes bobbed on the surface of the water, casting a shadows across the water now bathed in a fiery red glow.  Dinner that evening was rice and freshly caught fish, finished off with fresh papaya.  The next morning, before returning to our hotel, we braved the waves and swam out past the coral reef to with our snorkels and spent a few hours watching black-tipped sharks patrolling the area and scouting for food.  Kosrae was as tranquil as they come, but we seemed to have stepped back even further in time during our brief stay in Walung.

On our last morning in Kosrae, we finally went to see the sights of Lelu island.  Lelu is the main town in Kosrae and stands on a separate island, connected to Kosrae by a causeway.  The ruins are situated right in the centre of town and date back to the 13th or 14th century AD.  They cover about a third of the island and while many of them were hidden by thick tropical vegetation, they are large and encompassing with thick, high walls, some as much as 6 metres (20 feet) or more.  There are dwelling compounds of some of the high chiefs, two royal burial mounds and even old pounding stones used in food preparation can be seen with a clear indentation on their smooth surfaces.  Ancient coral and rock walkways run through the ruins giving a sense of what this ancient city must have looked like in its heyday.  Some of the walls still have the five-sided hexagonal basalt logs from which they were constructed, thought to have been floated here on rafts and stacked in a log-cabin style formation.  And we could still see the network of canals that brought ocean-going canoe traffic through the city, an impressive architectural feat.

And so our visit to Kosrae came to an end.  We were well fed, relaxed and ready for our adventures around the rest of the Pacific to begin.

Sources:  Most of the above photos are courtesy of Kosrae Village Resort.