Things to Do in Tarawa in June

The Battle of Tarawa in November 1943 was one of the bloodiest amphibious assaults in Pacific War history. Betio islet still carries the scars. Japanese bunkers built from reinforced concrete and coconut logs sit half-buried in coral sand along the ocean shore. Their gun slits still point seaward. Rusting coastal defense guns, some with barrels still intact, line the seawall where tide pools now collect small reef fish. June's lower humidity and steady trade wind make walking Betio's perimeter bearable in morning hours. The wet season turns a two-hour walk into an endurance exercise. Start at the western tip near the old Japanese command post before seven in the morning. Light is low enough that coral-crusted tank turrets and half-submerged landing craft offshore cast long shadows. The coral rubble underfoot crunches like broken pottery. The quiet is striking given what happened here. Allow at least three hours to walk the full perimeter and lagoon side.

Tarawa's lagoon is one of the Pacific's overlooked bonefishing grounds. June's conditions happen to be close to ideal. Southeast trades push water across shallow flats on the lagoon side of North Tarawa's uninhabited islets. Reduced rainfall means visibility in the shallows runs better than in wet months. You wade knee-deep across sand flats stretching hundreds of metres toward the reef edge. Scan for the nervous silver flash of bonefish tailing in water warm enough to feel like bathwater around your calves. The fish here see almost no angling pressure. They're not the giants you'd find in Christmas Island's flats to the south. The numbers can be notable. The crossing from South Tarawa to North Tarawa flats by local boat takes roughly forty minutes. It's part of the experience. Thread between coral heads in water shifting from deep blue to pale green depending on the bottom.

At low tide, the reef flat on South Tarawa's ocean side exposes a world most visitors to other Pacific islands never see up close. You walk out across living coral in ankle-deep water that's been heated by the sun to something close to body temperature, stepping around sea urchins, giant clams with electric-blue mantles, and small octopuses that change colour as they retreat into crevices. The reef edge, where the flat drops into deep ocean, is where the snorkeling becomes extraordinary. June's calmer ocean swells compared to the windier months of July and August mean the increase across the reef edge tends to be more manageable, though you still need to time your entry to the tidal cycle. The water clarity on a good day lets you see the reef wall dropping away beneath you, with blacktip reef sharks patrolling the current line and schools of surgeonfish moving in formation. The smell of salt and sun-warmed coral stays on your skin for hours afterward.

Crossing to North Tarawa by boat is like stepping back several decades. The islets are connected by shallow wading paths that only work at low tide, the villages run on coconut and fish economies that haven't changed in generations, and the maneaba, the open-sided meeting house at the centre of every village, remains the true seat of community authority. June's drier conditions make the boat crossing and the walking between villages considerably more pleasant than wet-season visits when rain squalls can pin you under a palm-thatch shelter for hours. In the maneaba, the pandanus-mat floor is cool under your legs as elders share stories, and someone will produce a coconut shell of fresh toddy, the mildly sweet sap tapped from the crown of a coconut palm that morning. By evening the sap has started to ferment slightly, developing a tang that grows on you. The generosity is extraordinary and genuine, which makes it important to bring appropriate gifts: tobacco, sugar, flour, and tea are appreciated and expected.

The Tarawa lagoon in late afternoon is one of the most quietly spectacular seascapes in the Pacific. The water turns from turquoise to molten copper as the sun drops, and the silhouettes of outrigger canoes returning from fishing runs cut across the light. June's trade winds are steady enough to sail a traditional te wa outrigger canoe if you can find someone willing to take you out, and calm enough that a kayak on the lagoon side stays manageable even for inexperienced paddlers. Launching from the shore near Bairiki or Bikenibeu puts you on the lagoon with the low palm-fringed horizon in every direction, the water so shallow in places you can see your shadow on the sandy bottom three metres down. The air cools noticeably once you're on the water, and the sound of the reef breaking on the ocean side carries as a constant low rumble. Paddle toward the small uninhabited islets in the lagoon for the best light.