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cut into itswhitewashed steel walls.
Many structures have rainwater
cisterns. Though precipitation
averages 35 inches annually, li le is
retained because the island sits on
porous carbonatic rock with only
a dusting of topsoil; thus, severe
droughts are common. A handful
of wells provides supplemental water, but
it remains a carefully guarded commodity.
Chewing gum is wildly popular on Kiriti-
mati. Kaiteie, who is always chomping a wad,
explains, “It keeps us from feeling thirsty so
we don’t have to drink water.” Islanders sub-
sist primarily on seafood, along with some
local produce, like cucumbers, cabbage and
breadfruit. Everything else is imported, usu-
ally on cargo ships that arrive every three or
four months.
By far the largest industry on the island is
the production of dried coconut pulp, called
copra. Kiritimati is pancake-flat, suitable for
cultivating sprawling palmplantations. While
scouting by truck for kayak put-ins along the
lagoon’s low-lying eastern margins, we skirt
adozenmiles
of coconut-ladenpalms arranged inorderly groves. But the topog-
raphy also puts Kiritimati in the crosshairs. If climate-change
predictions pan out, rising sea levels will inundate the island.
Then again, this process could take centuries. Kaiteie, who has
four young children, fears a different apocalypse. He remarks, “If
a tsunami ever came, we’d all be lost. Everything. Gone.”
THE PHRASE IS “SLEIGHRIDE,” ELGAS TELLSME, AND IT
refers towhatwill occur if I hook, say, one of the bigPacific bluefin
tuna that prowl Kiritimati. “The thrill is ge ing towed around by
amonster fish,” he says. It’s also the peril. An adult bluefin (or any
big-game species) candrag a kayaker around for hours—out to sea
or, worse, intoKiritimati’s bone-crushing coral reef.While I ponder
this, trolling the Cecile Peninsula, Kiritimati’swesternmost point,
there’s a powerful tug onmy line. I clutch the rod and, in a blink,
my kayak spins 180 degrees and nearly barrel-rolls. Just then, the
rod recoils toward my face and the line goes slack. A silhoue e
seems to hover about 30 feet below and then vanishes. A giant
trevally? I can’t be certain. In the fog of war, things get hazy.
CONTINUED ON PAGE 148
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CATCH AND RELEASE
Above, relaxing
after a long day of fishing; right, Elgas
sends back an undersize giant trevally
88
MAY 2012
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