Things to Do in Yaren in January

Anibare Bay, on Nauru's east coast, has the island's widest and most accessible stretch of reef flat. January's warm, nutrient-rich water draws schools of parrotfish and butterflyfish right up to the shallows. The bay itself is a long, curving pocket of white sand backed by coconut palms. The water inside the reef is calm enough for snorkeling even when rain squalls darken the horizon offshore. Mornings before 10 AM tend to offer the clearest visibility. By afternoon, runoff from rain clouds muddies the near-shore water. The coral here is a mix of staghorn and plate coral, much of it recovered remarkably since the island's worst bleaching years. You will hear the strange crackling sound of healthy reef, snapping shrimp, parrotfish teeth grinding coral, the moment you put your head under. Bring your own gear. Rental options on the island are unreliable at best.

The mined-out interior of Nauru, locally called Topside, is one of the strangest landscapes on earth. January's overcast skies make it survivable on foot. Decades of phosphate extraction stripped the island's central plateau down to bare coral limestone, leaving behind a forest of jagged pinnacles that rise 3 to 5 metres (10 to 16 feet) from cracked, white ground. Walking through it feels post-apocalyptic. The silence is total except for the rustle of the casuarina trees that have started reclaiming the edges. The smell is dry mineral dust cut with the vegetable sweetness of the scrub regrowth. In January, rain pools in the depressions between pinnacles. The reflected sky in those shallow pools creates an eerie mirror effect. Go in the early morning when the cloud cover is thickest. This is a 2 to 3 hour walk over uneven ground. Sturdy closed-toe shoes are non-negotiable. Bring at least 2 litres (0.5 gallons) of water even on cloudy days.

Command Ridge, near the island's highest point at roughly 65 metres (213 feet) above sea level, holds the remains of Japanese fortifications from World War II. Gun emplacements, bunker ruins, and rusted artillery pieces half-swallowed by pandanus roots still stand. The Japanese occupied Nauru from 1942 to 1945. The physical evidence is still here, oxidizing quietly in the tropical air. January's cloud cover makes the uphill walk less punishing than it would be in the drier months. The rain-wet metal of the old gun placements has a particular iron-and-rust smell. It sharpens the historical weight of the place. The views from the ridge on clear mornings take in the entire western coastline, the airstrip, and the reef line stretching out to deep blue. Allow 90 minutes for the walk up and back. Watch your footing on the coral track. Rain makes it slippery.

Buada Lagoon is Nauru's only inland body of water, a shallow, brackish lake fringed by dense tropical vegetation in the Buada district, just inland from Yaren. The lagoon sits in a natural depression surrounded by pandanus, coconut palms, and tomano trees, and the air around it smells different from the rest of the island: damp earth, rotting leaves, and the faintly sweet scent of frangipani. In January, the lagoon fills higher than usual from the rains, and the surrounding vegetation goes intensely green. Frigatebirds wheel overhead, and if you sit quietly at the lagoon's edge in the early morning, you will likely see white terns and noddies coming in to drink. The full circuit around the lagoon takes about 45 minutes on foot over a muddy track that January rains turn slippery in places. The humidity down in the basin is noticeably thicker than on the coast. It clings to your skin like a second layer.

Nauru's single coastal road circles the entire island in roughly 19 km (12 miles), and cycling it is the best way to understand how small and how strange this country is. On a bicycle, the full loop takes about 90 minutes at a comfortable pace, passing through all fourteen districts from Yaren's government buildings past the phosphate cantilevers at Aiwo, along the quiet western shore where the reef flat stretches out wide and shallow, up to Anibare Bay's beach on the east side. In January, the trick is to start at first light, around 6 AM, before the heat builds and before the afternoon rains roll in. The road is flat and paved the whole way. But January puddles collect in potholes, and the occasional downpour can soak you to the skin in seconds. The smell of the coast shifts as you ride: salt spray and diesel near the port at Aiwo, then clean ocean air along the northern stretch, then cooking smoke from the homes clustered in Meneng. You will pass the entire population of the country in an hour and a half.

Nauru's reef drops off into deep ocean within 1 km (0.6 miles) of shore, one of the steepest continental shelf drops in the Pacific, and January's wet-season currents push yellowfin tuna, wahoo, and mahi-mahi closer to the island. Local fishermen head out in small boats from the boat harbour near Yaren at dawn, and the fishing is excellent for its accessibility: you are in 1,000-metre (3,280-foot) deep water within minutes of leaving the reef channel. The fight of a yellowfin tuna on a handline in open Pacific swells is physically intense, the salt spray, the diesel smell of the outboard, the sudden heavy pull when a fish strikes, and the catch goes straight to the table. January seas can be rough, though, and trips get cancelled when the swells exceed 2 metres (6.5 feet), which happens several times a month during the wet season.