Abaiang Atoll's sweep of palm-tree green from above
Island Hopping through Oceania - Sublime Abaiang Atoll
After almost two months island hopping through Oceania, we’d become accustomed to scuppered plans and last-minute schedule changes. So when our Air Kiribati flight to Marakei, one of Kiribati’s outer atolls, was cancelled due to ‘maintenance’ (meaning a broken plane), we swung into action to find an alternative. Abaiang Atoll, being the closest outer island to Tarawa, was at the top of our list.
Kiribati is spread over a vast area of the ocean
Kiribati spans over 3,000,000 km² of ocean. The Gilbert Islands (where we were), in the west of the country, are home to most of the population, which is spread across 16 atolls and islands. The Line Islands, which had the only other functional Air Kiribati plane, are roughly 3000km to the east.
That meant all internal flights within the Gilbert group were cancelled until the plane was fixed. And in a country so poorly connected to the outside world (with around seven international flights per week), there was no way to say how long that would be.
We had scheduled two weeks in Kiribati specifically so we could explore some of the outer islands, so if we couldn’t fly, we’d find a boat. Ferries run from South Tarawa to Abaiang, Maiana and Marakei Atolls with varying frequency. And fortuitously, Kiribati Seas, the ferry company, had just put their weekly schedule on Facebook for the first time in months.
Island hopping in Kiribati isn’t always easy
We still found it impossible to contact anyone to book tickets. After phoning countless numbers, we gave up. Instead, we decided to risk it and rock up the following day for the midday sailing in the hope of a last-minute spot on board. We had been warned that the ferries book up well in advance, but we had run out of options.
Thankfully, Richard, the owner of Dreamers Guesthouse, agreed to drive us; we would’ve struggled to find the ferry ourselves, tucked into a corner of the dusty port, behind stacked shipping containers and rusting oil drums in precarious towers. But more than that, he shaded the contours and provided some depth of knowledge regarding this isolated and little-known country.
Dreamers Guesthouse has a lovely veranda overlooking the ocean side of South Tarawa
Kiribati is a unique place to visit
Having been born in Kiribati during British colonial rule, Richard, whose parents were part of the British bureaucracy, was sailed home from the hospital in a traditional sailing canoe as a newborn. It was the same canoe that his father used to commute to work, before the causeways were built connecting South Tarawa’s many islets. Since those early days, Richard has watched the population explode, and the islands themselves expand outwards as more sand has accumulated against the causeways.
He pointed out where locals camp on the shore to escape their tightly packed, stiflingly windless, multigenerational homes, for a few weeks of ocean breeze, before they are moved on by the authorities. And he explained the ‘water lens’, a thin layer of fresh water that floats over the salt water within the ground of the atoll. A magical life-giving resource for the first discoverers of these seemingly waterless islands, and one that is under immense pressure on overcrowded and polluted South Tarawa.
Getting the ferry to Abaiang Atoll
Once we had said goodbye to Richard, we set about trying to procure tickets for the midday sailing to Abaiang. A man filling rusty oil drums with fuel told us to go to the ‘KIC’ offices. Thankfully, with limited English to answer our myriad questions about what that was and where to find it, he capitulated and called the office for us. Unfortunately, the lady on the phone didn’t fill us with confidence,
“The next boat with space is on Thursday”,
It was Friday.
Thankfully, there were seats on the Saturday sailing to Maiana. Richard had said we’d be fine to camp on the beach for a night, with the locals escaping town, while we waited for the next boat. So we had a backup, but we agreed to wait around anyway, just in case there was a no-show.
As the ticket clerk called out her list of names, each was answered by a group. They proceeded to clamber laboriously across the moored coastguard’s boat, to the smaller ferry leaden with supplies for the outer island, as we watched our chances of departure gradually slim. However, once the ferry seemed full to bursting, and we’d all but given up hope, we too were called forward to board.
On the ferry, the cooler outdoor seating was full. As a result, we were forced to sit in the sweltering metal box of the cabin, the walls so hot they radiated heat, and scalded our skin if we leaned back. We spent the journey with our heads stuck out the small sliding window, careful to avoid touching the hot-plate-esque walls as pools of sweat formed on the floor surrounding the other passengers trapped inside.
The views on journey to Abaiang Atoll were heavenly
The view as we sped north counteracted our discomfort by an order of magnitude. The shallow lagoon was so glassy that we could clearly see the shimmering shoals of fish below the surface. Flying fish, large and small, skittered away as the boat approached, with wings outstretched, gliding for tens of metres before again plunging beneath the mirror-like surface. Foot-long silver fish dolphin-jumped as one between us and the North Tarawa shore, before we slipped out of the lagoon and across the open ocean swells to Abaiang Atoll.
The tide was on the wane, and the waters swirled and churned over the shallow reef that marked our entry into Abaiang’s lagoon. Its arc of palm-tree-green stretched north to south, bracketing the lagoon’s eastern side. The western edge, where we entered, was discernible from a distance only by the infrequent islets clinging to the shallow reef that completes the circumference of the atoll.
The bulk of Abaiang's landmass runs along the eastern side of its glassy lagoon
Here, the lagoon – still shallow – is deeper than that of Tarawa, and we only had a few metres of it to wade through to reach the shore, where Nick was waiting to greet us. Nick and Lisa run KiriSwiss Homestay, a short distance south of the slipway.
KiriSwiss Homestay sits on the shore of Abaiang's lagoon
KiriSwiss Homestay is a welcoming place to stay on Abaiang Atoll
A Swiss man of giant proportions, Nick’s size was made all the starker by his arrival on the smallest motorcycle we’d seen on the islands. The smallest and the loudest. As Rico departed, clinging to Nick’s back, it was possible to follow the progress of his journey audibly, all the way to KiriSwiss. And when my turn came, the smell of fuel and the obvious trickle of petrol onto the sandy road implied imminent combustion.
Thankfully, we reached the Swiss-style cabin before all the fuel had drained from the tank, and without any stray sparks transforming us into a ball of flame. The fuel continued to pool in the sand as Nick showed us around the chalet. He and Lisa, his I-Kiribati wife (they met in Switzerland before moving back to Lisa’s native Abaiang), had the chalet shipped over from the Swiss Alps to live in while they built their beachfront main house.
Most people get around Abaiang Atoll by motorbike
The chalet was a little oasis of western-style comfort surrounded by traditional I-Kiribati open-sided buias. In the mornings, we would wake to the sound of the neighbours dehusking coconuts. The women sat straight-legged on the ground, separating the coconut meat from the shells just over our garden fence.
On Abaiang Atoll most people live in traditional open-sided houses, known locally as buias
For our meals, we crossed the dusty island road to Nick and Lisa’s beachfront property to eat on their verandah overlooking the aquamarine lagoon. Those meals were also a welcome western-style reprieve from the usual Pacific fare of rice and fish. And we feasted on cheesy pasta, pancakes and Nutella for breakfast, beef stew, even a Swiss fondue one evening, backlit with a balmy-orange tropical sunset. But always with a taste of Kiribati on the side, be it shellfish Lisa collected from the lagoon that afternoon, handmade fishcakes, or a big side of rice to go with the beef stew and potatoes.
With the lagoon on the doorstep and a constant stream of coffee, beer and great company supplied by Nick and Lisa throughout the day and night, it was difficult to tear ourselves away from the comfort of their verandah. But on Abaiang, tradition holds that new arrivals must appease the island spirits by making offerings at the island’s far northern and southern tips.
The verandah at KiriSwiss, overlooking Abaiang's lagoon, was a great place to while away the balmy days on the atoll
Learning to ride a motorcycle on Abaiang Atoll
So, on our second day, I received a rudimentary – but sufficient – tutorial from Nick on the art of motorcycle driving. After a few false starts, we sputtered our way north – Rico clinging nervously on the back – as I tried to avoid the giant puddles, fallen coconuts and myriad potholes that threatened to dislodge us from the bike at any moment.
Thankfully, we were never thrown into the dirt, but we did slither to a stop in a deep muddy puddle. Wading out in our flip-flops, pushing the bike up the steep, slimy banks, watched by a gaggle of locals, was a low point. Made lower by me repeatedly stalling the motorcycle while trying to make a quick getaway, much to those locals’ amusement.
But we did make it to the far north in the end, stopping en route to buy the ‘Irish cake’ tobacco that is the spirits’ favourite. We also made the obligatory stop at Kiribati’s oldest building, the 1917 Our Lady of the Rosary Church.
Our Lady of the Rosary Church, in Koinawa village, is the oldest building in Kiribati
Towering over the sleepy village of Koinawa, the crumbling colonial era relic is the tallest church in Kiribati, incongruous in this thatched buia village of 300. Inside, the walls were streaked green with algae from the leaking roof, lumps of plaster were strewn across the first-floor landing, and every other pane of glass was missing.
When we saw the stairway leading to the top of the tower – more steps missing than present – we chickened out and continued our slow progress northwards. At the island’s tip, where the road meets the ocean, is a small stone shrine. We reverently placed our Irish cake at its centre to appease the spirits, before stripping off and diving into the lagoon, safe in the knowledge that there was a greater power looking out for us as we plunged beneath the rippling waves.
Tobacco is traditionally left as an offering to the spirit at the northern tip of Abaiang Atoll
Taking a refreshing dip in Abaiang's aquamarine lagoon
Refreshed, we retraced our steps back to KiriSwiss – being an atoll, there are no loops or alternative routes, you can’t get lost, everything is on the same road – for a very late lunch. After hours of baking on the back of the bike, braced against the next sudden stop in the mud, or abrupt change of direction, Rico decided to give Abaiang’s southern spirits a pass. So, leaving him safely ensconced on KiriSwiss’s lagoon-side verandah, I struck out south.
Making offerings to the spirit of Southern Abaiang Atoll
Evening was approaching by the time I kangaroo-hopped the motorbike to a halting start. The sun was less intense, and the feeling of driving through a sauna slightly lessened. I just hoped I could make it back before dark – I didn’t relish the idea of navigating the fallen coconuts, muddy puddles and speeding locals in the pitch-black of a Pacific night.
Thankfully, the road south was in much better condition. I managed to zip along at 40 kilometres per hour for long stretches, as the island narrowed until I could see water on both sides, lapping against Abaiang’s pristine and deserted palm-fringed beach.
Stopping for a photo on the picturesque lagoonside road in southern Abaiang
It was a sublime ride. I felt alive, free, and incredibly privileged. Cruising on my motorbike, carefree, past timeless thatched maneabas, fish drying on racks in thatched buia villages, bronzed children playing by the roadside waving to the I-matang as he sped past, and endless swaying coconut palms, all the way to the southern tip of the atoll.
Abaiang's thatched maneabas are impressive structures, and the centre of each community
Jolted out of this picture-postcard world at a large warehouse on the beach, where people appeared to be squatting, I asked around for the shrine.
“Hi, I’m looking for the shrine,” I said to the first woman that crossed my path, obviously unsure why a random I-matang had shown up at this remote spot on a Sunday evening.
She clearly didn’t understand, so I tried “the place with the spirits?” instead.
Blank stare.
“To place the tobacco?” I was getting desperate.
She wandered off without further acknowledgement.
It started to become apparent that this wasn’t going to be the quick tobacco drop I had expected after visiting the north. I asked a few more people, and after getting the same blank stares, I finally found someone who spoke passable English,
“He will take you to the old man who does those things”, she said, gesturing towards a 20-something guy in a green vest top who had already given me the blank stare.
As I followed him, firstly through a small village of the ubiquitous open-sided thatched buias, then along narrow forest paths, he called out to people as we passed. They shouted back and pointed in different directions as we meandered around southern Abaiang, the sun dropping in the sky all the while. Eventually, we found ‘the old man’ in a derelict concrete building with three others, fallen roof tiles and grime spattering the floor.
Without acknowledging me, the old man slowly began walking into the forest.
“He will take you there,” said the guy in the green vest, the first words he’d said to me since we left the warehouse.
With that, I followed my new guide, the excruciatingly slow old man, through the forest until we stopped at the local Primary School. We sat for an interminably long time on the floor of a buia, where a lady in her mid-20s offered me a pink liquid to drink from a large tupperware. It later turned out she was one of the teachers, the buia was her house.
Eventually, and it was unclear what prompted the final departure, she asked if I needed to buy tobacco. Once I confirmed that I already had the necessary supplies to satisfy the spirits, we set off. A team of four now, the old man and I were joined by this lady and another. Speaking a modicum of English, they explained that they were trainee teachers at the primary school. Originally from South Tarawa, they had not yet made their offerings to the spirit, and the old man was taking the opportunity to do a batch job.
The designated location for the offerings was a point on the shoreline where two beaches meet, with some rocks visible just offshore. The sun was already low in the sky, casting a golden pall across the lagoon. With the leaves of the local tenon tree tucked behind ears and smeared across chests as protection against the ‘ghosts’, Tawua, Bertitia, Judy, and I faced out to sea.
Tawua took my block of tobacco, tearing chunks off as he spoke in I-Kiribati, before tossing some into the ocean. He tucked the rest into his breast pocket before solemnly pronouncing “you are known here now” in I-Kiribati (later translated by Judy) as we smeared sand from the beach on each other’s cheeks.
Making offerings of tobacco to the spirit of southern Abaiang
Abaiang Atoll is rich in tradition
Soon after leaving the beach, and as the sun dropped even further in the sky, we stopped for a ‘rest’. The old man perched on a coconut tree stump, the teachers and I, his attentive students, sat cross-legged in the grass, as he explained the story of the ‘ghosts’ as it was translated for me by Bertitia and Judy.
Just offshore from the beach where we performed the ceremony lie some rocks in the shallows. At low tide, these rocks form a bath shape. This is where Neinikuao, the ‘ghost’ at this end of Abaiang, takes her bath at dawn.
Visible from Na, the most northerly village on North Tarawa, the spirit there, Naiboka, once saw her performing her morning ritual. Besotted, he made the arduous journey across the ocean passage to meet this bathing beauty. According to Tawua, they hit it off and later had three spirit children with rhyming names: Neimai, Neikomai and Tenmai.
Story time over, we made the slow walk back into the village, stopping at the school en route so the teachers could show me their thatched-roofed, thatched-walled classrooms. By the time I re-straddled my motorbike, it was 6pm, and the sun was precariously low in the sky, bathing Abaiang’s thin strip of land in orange as I zoomed north, racing the setting sun.
Abaiang's Beach stretches the entire length of the island, here lit up in the golden evening light
I beat the sun, just, and tucked into another delicious home-cooked meal on the lagoon-side verandah at Nick and Lisa’s, before our final night at KiriSwiss. The following day, after another lazy morning on the deck, we trekked north to Terau Beach Bungalows, where we slept in a rustic overwater bungalow, feasted on fresh fish and met up in the evening with Lisa at a local kava bar.
Terau Beach Bungalows are rustic stilt huts with verandahs, over Abaiang's lagoon
Kava bars are popular on Abaiang Atoll
Kava is a drink made from the ground roots of a type of pepper plant. It’s a recent import to Kiribati from elsewhere in the Pacific. Still, it has become popular for its relaxant and euphoric effects.
We met Lisa at a kava bar in Tabero village, where patrons buy a washing-up bowl of kava at a time. The earthy-grey liquid is ladled into cups as you sit around the communal washing-up bowl. We got partway through the second bowl before bowing out.
With numb lips and tingling mouths (another effect of the kava), we headed to bed to get some rest before our morning departure back to Tarawa. We were filled with a warm feeling after four wonderful days on Abaiang Atoll, a feeling only partly attributable to the kava.
Floating in Abaiang's molten lagoon at sunset on our final night was sublime
This Leg
Days: 4
Flights: 0
Boats: 1
Islands: 2
Countries & Territories: 1
Total
Days: 60
Flights: 15
Boats: 23
Islands: 22
Countries & Territories: 8