Draped across a remote corner of the Pacific, the islands of Palau offer marvels both above and below the water. And what better way to explore them than aboard a luxury catamaran?

Photographs by Christopher P. Hill

Ngatpang Waterfall in the jungly heart of Babeldaob Island.

CHILDREN OF PALAU, I TAKE THIS PLEDGE AS YOUR GUEST, TO PRESERVE AND PROTECT YOUR BEAUTIFUL AND UNIQUE ISLAND HOME.

So reads the first line of the Palau Pledge, a declaration that is stamped into the passports of all arriving visitors to the Roman Tmetuchl International Airport on Babeldaob Island. Adjusting my glasses, I scanned the rest of the page:

I VOW TO TREAD LIGHTLY, ACT KINDLY AND EXPLORE MINDFULLY. I SHALL NOT HARM WHAT DOES NOT HARM ME. THE ONLY FOOTPRINTS I SHALL LEAVE ARE THOSE THAT WILL WASH AWAY.

It all sounded entirely reasonable.

“Please sign at the bottom, sir,” instructed the immigration officer. I did. “ Welcome to Palau,” she beamed.

A tiny Pacific island nation at the western edge of Micronesia, Palau became the world’s first country to write environment protection into its immigration policies when it instituted this pledge in 2017. Back then, tourist numbers had increased to around 150,000 a year, a staggering amount considering Palau has just 18,000 inhabitants. Not for the first time, the government devised a novel—if largely symbolic—response to help safeguard the islands’ fragile ecosystems.

Environment management is nothing new to Palau. For countless centuries, islanders practiced sustainability through a system called bul, whereby chiefly councils placed moratoriums on fishing certain areas of the reef during spawning and feeding periods, as a way to give them time to recover. It’s a legacy that has been embraced by 21st-century Palau. Former president Tommy Remengesau Jr., who governed the country for most of the last two decades, has long been a passionate advocate for the environment. In the early aughts he championed the establishment of a Protected Areas Network to conserve swaths of forested land and coastal waters. He then invited his neighbors—Guam, the Northern Mariana Islands, the Federated States of Micronesia, and the Marshall Islands—to follow suit. They all accepted his Micronesian Challenge, which set goals for protecting 30 percent and 20 percent of near-shore marine and terrestrial resources, respectively, by 2020. (The program was a success, and has been extended to 2030).

Perhaps more impressively, in 2015 Remengesau signed into law one of the largest marine reserves on the planet. The 500,000-square-kilometer sanctuary—about the size of Thailand—covers 80 percent of the nation’s maritime territory, fully protecting its tuna-rich seas from fishing and drilling. This presents a compelling contradiction: Palau, a seemingly provincial island backwater, is in fact more enlightened than many larger, richer nations, at least when it comes to conservation.

I would be exploring these waters as one of the first guests aboard the newly relocated Four Seasons Explorer. A three-deck luxury catamaran, the boat—scratch that: “floating resort,” as I’m often corrected—was built in a Western Australian shipyard in 2002 for cruising in the Maldives, where it served as a sister operation to Four Seasons’ Kuda Huraa and Landaa Giraavaru resorts. Now, after 20 years of service in the Indian Ocean, the vessel has swapped one tropical island chain for another. It’s quite literally an exercise in testing the waters ahead of the construction of a Four Seasons resort (by the same owner) on Palau’s most populous island, Koror. Expected to debut in 2025, it will be the country’s first upscale international hotel.

Until then, the Four Seasons Explorer has made visiting these far-flung islands—all 340 or so of them—that much more compelling. Refitted in Singapore while en route to the Pacific, the boat feels brand new. There are 10 smartly appointed state-rooms on the main deck, plus the Explorer Suite at the front, which stretches the width of the boat and comes with its own sun deck. Meals are served either on the aft dining terrace or in the air-conditioned restaurant, which connects to a lounge with an open bar, plush sofas, and shelves of books and board games. But the Explorer’s ace in the hole is its aft-deck watersports center, filled with diving equipment, stand-up paddleboards, and kayaks. There’s also a pair of Zodiacs and, by the time you read this, two new-built dive boats, which trail the catamaran like ducklings as it moves around the islands.

Some of Palau’s best-known dive sites are found in the Rock Islands, one of the first stops on my three-night cruise. This mini-archipelago provides the country with its most iconic postcard image: a surreal jumble of jungle-tufted limestone islets, some sculpted into arches and mushrooms by the tide. We spent one morning exploring a cloistered turquoise bay, by paddleboard, snorkel, or scuba tank. A sea turtle was spotted. And then another. Down below, vivid coral gardens teemed with giant clams and Napoleon wrasse and any number of Palau’s 1,300 different fish species.

Overlooking the northeast coast of Babeldaob Island and the Four Seasons Explorer’s dining room. — *Left to right:* Overlooking the northeast coast of Babeldaob Island; the Four Seasons Explorer’s dining room.

At another anchorage, we jumped in the Zodiacs for a tour of the “Milky Way.” The lagoon was as placid as cream, its aquamarine waters colored by the white clay on the shallow seabed. Óscar de Borja Aguilar Abril, the Explorer’s marine biologist, instructed us to dive in and scoop up handfuls of the mud, and then apply it to our skin. The calcium-rich goop was therapeutic, he said. Soon, we were all looking like we ordered the body mask at a fancy spa.

While Óscar is Spanish, most of the boat’s 25 staff and crew are from the Maldives, including the chef—which explains the presence of mas huni (a quintessential Maldivian tuna dish spiked with chili and coconut) on the breakfast menu. All have spent years with Four Seasons, and it shows in the attentive yet never intrusive service. The longer-term plan is to train up Palauans to replace them. Cruise director Abdul Latheef told me that three female recruits had already completed a 12-month apprenticeship at Four Seasons’ long-running hospitality training program in the Maldives. They include the ever-smiling and presciently named Dee-light Patrick, who had escorted me from the airport to the marina at Koror.

In between dives, our days were peppered by massages on the sun deck, beautifully plated food, and lectures about the islands’ abundant marine life, which Óscar described as an “underwater Serengeti.” But Palau’s attractions are not confined to the sea.

Stand-up paddling through a limestone arch in the Rock Islands and lagoon water. — *Left to right:* Stand-up paddling through a limestone arch in the Rock Islands; lagoon water.

An excursion with a local birder revealed a kaleidoscope of avian colors as well, from jewel-hued Palau fruit doves (the national bird) to the yellow-billed Micronesian megapode, which builds great mounds of sand and vegetation during nesting season. At the village of Airai, we visited Palau’s oldest bai, or traditional meeting house. Every village in Palau used to have one of these lofty A-frame structures, elaborately ornamented with ancient motifs and roofed with a thatch of palm leaves. Airai’s is one of the last to have survived into modern times. A dance group was there to welcome us: five ladies turned out in grass skirts and bras of woven pandanus leaves, their hair bound by bouquets of ti leaves and orchids. Accompanied by ringing chants, the grace and synchronicity of their movements was spellbinding.

How, then, to reconcile this Gauguin-esque setting with the haunting war memorials of Peleliu, some 60 kilometers to the southwest? For three months in 1944, Japanese and American soldiers fought over this tiny coralline island during what was among the bloodiest campaigns of the Pacific War. More than 12,000 perished. Though a quilt of palm and pandanus now conceals the scars of that battle, rusting tanks and scraps of downed airplanes provide poignant reminders of its ferocity. Near the old airfield stand the ruins of the Japanese command center. Overgrown with vines and strangler figs, it looked from a distance like a lost jungle temple. Closer inspection revealed bomb craters and bullet marks. In the rubble, I spotted a prayer stick inscribed with flowing kanji characters. A remembrance left behind by a Japanese visitor. I couldn’t read the words, but the sentiment required no translation.

Traditional dancers in the village of Airai and The traditional bai house at Airai village. — *Left to right:* Traditional dancers in the village of Airai; The traditional bai house at Airai village.

Exploring Peleliu Island and Choatey, a Maldivian member of the crew. — *Left to right:* Exploring Peleliu Island; Choatey, a Maldivian member of the crew.

A memorial to the U.S. Army’s 81st Infantry Division near Orange Beach on Peleliu Island and on approach to Peleliu. — *Left to right:* A memorial to the U.S. Army’s 81st Infantry Division near Orange Beach on Peleliu Island; on approach to Peleliu.

“My name is Fonzarelli Alexander Shickich, but you can call me Fonzie,” said our guide for the day on Babeldaob, Palau’s largest island. By way of explanation, he added, “Happy Days was my mom’s favorite TV show.”

While successive waves of colonizers—Spain, Germany, Japan—all left their mark on these islands, the freshest imprint is that of the Americans, who administered Palau as a part of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands from the end of World War II to independence in 1994. English remains an official language, and the U.S. dollar is the official currency. The television programs that Fonzie grew up on were transmitted from Hawai’i.

With his tied-back hair, breezy demeanor, and lean frame toned by a lifetime of surfing and skateboarding, Fonzie exuded his own brand of Pacific island cool as he showed us around the island. Our first stop was Ngerulmud, Palau’s miniscule capital. Established in 2006 when the seat of government was moved here from neighboring Koror, it’s considered something of a boondoggle: a hilltop complex of domed and columned neoclassical buildings modeled on the United States Capitol in Washington, D.C. Aesthetically and fiscally, it’s wildly out of place, a US$45 million vanity project paid for by a Taiwanese loan after Palau became one of only a handful of countries to establish formal diplomatic relations with Taipei. And no one actually lives here; parliamentarians, judges, and government officials all commute from Koror, a 40-minute drive away (a bridge connects the two islands). This technically makes Ngerulmud the world’s smallest national capital by population. Apart from a couple of groundskeepers tending the lawn, there didn’t seem to be another soul around. Standing in the portico of the great-domed legislative building, Fonzie rapped on one of the Doric columns. It sounded hollow. “Fiberglass,” he said with a conspiratorial wink.

Dee-light Patrick, one of Four Seasons’ Palauan staff and a Maldives-style breakfast of mas huni. — *Left to right:* Dee-light Patrick, one of Four Seasons’ Palauan staff; a Maldives-style breakfast of mas huni.

The asphalt road around Babeldaob was completed shortly after Ngerulmud, this time by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. It too was empty. But while people were thin on the ground (half the size of Singapore, the island has just 6,000 residents), nature was thick. The road ran through the largest remaining stands of tropical lowland rain forest in the Pacific, a lush green drapery of tropical evergreens and palm trees that occasionally parted to reveal farm plots of cassava or taro, a local staple.

Next up was the Badrulchau monoliths, a group of ancient stone pillars that sprout from a grassy glade near the island’s northern tip. Archeologists estimate the site to be 1,800 years old. Little else is known about it. According to oral tradition, the stones were placed here by demigods at the dawn of the universe, as the supports for an enormous bai meant to hold thousands of people.

Fonzie is full of myths like these. Another one concerned Uab, an insatiable child from the southern island of Angaur who quickly grew to be a giant, gobbling up everything he could get his hands on. Fearing for their survival, the villagers built a fire around him as he slept. Uab leaped up in pain and tumbled headlong into the sea, where his body broke into hundreds of pieces, creating Palau’s scattered islands. It’s a story that has taught countless generations of Palauans about the virtues of resource management.

Later, after a short hike into the jungle, we cooled our feet in the pool at the base of the Ngatpang Waterfall. This was our lunch stop too; crew from the Four Seasons Explorer had already set up a picnic spot on the mossy bank, where we feasted on bento boxes full of spring rolls, potato salad, and pesto chicken. Then it was time to go. True to my Palau Pledge, I treaded lightly all the way back to the car.

The Four Seasons Explorer at anchor among the Rock Islands. — The *Four Seasons Explorer* at anchor among the Rock Islands.

Charting Your Course

GETTING THERE

A twice-weekly service by Alii Palau Airlines now connects Palau directly to Singapore, a five-hour flight away. The airline is brand new, but flights are operated by Bhutan’s Drukair. Another option is flying China Airlines via Taipei.

BOAT BASICS

Nightly rates aboard the Four Seasons Explorer Palau start from US$2,800, based on double occupancy. This includes three daily meals, up to three dives per day, non-motorized water sports, and guided excursions.

This article originally appeared in the December 2023/February 2024 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Passage to Palau”).

An Unforgettable Cruise through Palau

Stay inspired with our DestinAsian newsletters