Things to Do in Palikir in March

Nan Madol is the reason most travelers make the long journey to Pohnpei, and March ranks among the better months to see it. This megalithic city, built on ninety-two artificial islets of stacked basalt columns along the southeast coast, served as the ceremonial and political seat of the Saudeleur dynasty for roughly four centuries. Getting there involves a drive to the village area near Temwen, then either a boat ride through tidal canals or a rugged foot trail through jungle and over sharp coral rock, depending on the tide. At high tide you can kayak directly through the waterways between the islets. This is the way to experience the scale of the place, the dark volcanic stone rising out of jade-green water with mangrove roots threading through the foundations. At low tide you wade. This gives closer access to interior structures but means wet shoes and careful footing on slippery basalt. March's relatively lower rainfall leaves the trails to access points a bit less swamped than they would be by May. The heat remains the same punishing 30 degrees Celsius (86 degrees Fahrenheit) it always is. Go early in the morning when the stone is still cool enough to touch and light slants through the mangroves at low angles. A local guide is not just recommended but effectively required, both for navigation through unmarked trails and for permissions to cross private land on the approach. Budget half a day minimum.

Manta Road is a narrow channel inside Pohnpei's barrier reef where resident manta rays feed on plankton carried by tidal currents. January through April marks mating season, and March in particular tends to bring clusters of mantas close enough to the surface that their dorsal fins sometimes break the waterline. The catch: the channel runs currents up to seven knots, which the mantas love and human swimmers respect. The standard approach is to enter the water during the last hour of the outgoing tide, a few days either side of the full moon, when the current is manageable and the mantas are actively feeding. Visibility here is paradoxical. The clearest water often coincides with fewer mantas, because they congregate when the water is thick with the plankton they are eating. Accept the trade-off. The channel sits inside a marine protected area, and you will need a permit arranged through your dive operator. Beyond Manta Road, the barrier reef itself offers wall dives with soft coral, reef sharks, and the occasional eagle ray. March visibility at the outer reef averages around 30 metres (100 feet).

Ant Atoll sits about 15 kilometres (9 miles) southwest of Pohnpei across open ocean, and reaching it is half the experience. The boat ride takes roughly an hour depending on sea state, and March, being in the drier window, gives you marginally better odds of calm enough conditions for the crossing than the wetter months that follow. The atoll itself is a UNESCO biosphere reserve with an intact ring of coral reef enclosing a lagoon of absurd clarity. Drift snorkeling the channel into the atoll puts you alongside grey reef sharks, spotted eagle rays, and barracuda moving through water so transparent you can see the sandy bottom 20 metres (65 feet) below. The islets inside the atoll are uninhabited, fringed with white sand and coconut palms, and the silence after the boat engine cuts is the kind of quiet most people have never heard. The practical reality is that boat trips to Ant Atoll depend on minimum group sizes and favourable wind, so they do not run every day even in the best conditions. If you have limited time, make this your priority and build the rest of your itinerary around whatever day the boat goes.

Sokehs Ridge is the volcanic spine that dominates the northwest coast of Pohnpei, and hiking it gives you the best high-ground perspective on the island and the lagoon beyond. The trail starts near Kolonia and follows an old route up through dense tropical vegetation, past Japanese World War II gun emplacements and concrete earthworks still half-swallowed by the jungle. The southern stretch of the ridge is mostly flat and relatively easy walking. But the route steepens as you approach Sokehs Rock itself, a sheer volcanic plug with over 100 metres (330 feet) of exposed basalt face. Most hikers stop at the ridge viewpoints rather than attempting the rock, which requires scrambling on deteriorating fixed ropes and should only be considered in dry conditions with experienced guidance. March mornings, before the afternoon heat and the daily rain, are the window. Start by seven in the morning and you will have the trail largely to yourself, with the humidity still tolerable enough that the steep sections do not completely wreck you. Carry at least two litres (half a gallon) of water per person. The views from the ridgeline, looking out over the barrier reef and the deep blue of the open Pacific, are worth every drop of sweat.

Pohnpei's interior is some of the densest, wettest tropical rainforest in the Pacific, and March gives you just enough breaks in the rain to enjoy walking through it. Kepirohi Waterfall, on the island's south side, drops into a pool cool enough to make you gasp after the 30 degree Celsius (86 degree Fahrenheit) hike in, and the mist from the cascade keeps the surrounding ferns and moss in a permanent state of dripping green so intense it almost looks artificial. Liduduhniap Falls, a twin cascade deeper in the interior, requires a longer approach through mud and root-tangled trails. But the payoff is standing beneath a waterfall with no one else around, hearing nothing but falling water and the occasional call of a Pohnpei lorikeet in the canopy overhead. The trails are muddy year-round, but March mud is manageable rather than the ankle-deep morass of August. Wear shoes you are willing to destroy, not sandals, and bring a dry bag for your camera. The forest floor smells like wet earth and decaying leaves and frangipani, and the light filtering through the canopy is green-gold even on overcast days.

Sakau is the centre of Pohnpeian social life in the way that nothing else comes close to. The drink, pounded from the root of the pepper plant on a flat basalt stone, tastes like muddy licorice cut with numbness, and your lips and tongue will go soft and tingly within minutes of the first coconut-shell cup. The ceremony takes place in a nahs, a traditional open-sided meeting house with a raised platform where titled chiefs sit, and the etiquette is specific: you accept the cup with both hands, you drink in a single go, and you do not refuse. For visitors, the experience is less about the drink itself and more about the social fabric it holds together. March evenings, after the day's heat breaks around five or six in the afternoon, are when most informal sakau sessions happen. The sound is the rhythmic pounding of the stone, the smell is wet earth and crushed pepper root, and the mood shifts from formal to warm as the cups circulate. This is not a performance for tourists. It is daily life, and being invited into it is a privilege that requires genuine respect for the protocols.