A long layover, tiredness and a Japanese map almost lead to disaster in Guam…
A layover in Guam
Around the world, there are some places we never spend time in by choice. Nonetheless, we’re forced to tackle them through inconveniently long layovers between connecting flights. Guam is most definitely one of these spots – any flights to Pacific destinations that don’t connect through Fiji, Honolulu or Auckland will generally go through Guam.
There is, however, one great little spot in which to while away the hours in Guam. Alas, it comes with a rather significant catch. One that nearly left me stuck there long after my connecting flight had departed…
Renting a car in Guam
I stepped off the plane from Palau at around 5.30am, tired as hell and faintly delirious. I’d made no plans, but given that my flight out was at 8.35pm, I wasn’t going to just sit and fester in the airport. A rental car, I surmised, would do just as well as a hotel – I could always find a quiet spot, throw the seat back for a couple of hours and catch some kip. And when I was feeling less space cadety, I could have a little explore.
Driving around Guam with a Japanese map
Knowing nothing about the island or what I could do, I asked the chap at the car hire firm for a map. “Ah,” he replied. “We’ve only got one in Japanese. Will that do?”
Well, at least it had the major road marked on it, even if the trumpeted attractions would remain a mystery. I decided to go by road signs, dipping into old Spanish forts, World War II sites and scenic lookouts before pulling over for a much-needed sleep in a tsunami evacuation area.
I awoke to find an ox beside the car, doing what an ox tends to do after a particularly fibrous meal. It was also tipping down with rain. But I’d remembered a lesson from Palau; if it’s raining in one part of the country, it’ll probably be bright sunshine in another. I’d head north. Only one road went all the way to the top, and the ever-so-helpful Japanese script indicated that something was at the top of it.
Ritidian Point Wildlife Refuge
After many, many potholes and strict warnings not to deviate either side or I’d be trespassing on an air force base, I discovered that it was the Ritidian Point Wildlife Refuge. It’s a beach on Federal land that’s been set aside for turtles laying eggs. It’s a properly pretty white sand affair though – perfect for a sunbake and a snorkel.
Better still, there’s a little track branching off from the main car park that’s best described as three wheel drive – you can just about get down it in a conventional vehicle, but you probably don’t want to tell the hire car company that you’ve done it. It has little pseudo-parking bays cut into the forest, so you can essentially get your own site, own stretch of beach and own collection of butterflies whirling around your head.
A couple hours’ extra kip, a swim and a wallow on the sand with a good book; it’s the sort of layover I can deal with quite happily.
The point where things went wrong…
At 4.30pm, I reluctantly headed back in the direction of the airport and got to the entrance gate. It was bolted shut. A sign next to it told me what I really needed to know early; the gate closes at 4pm. I searched around for a phone number to call. I could only find one on a portaloo. Then I looked at my phone – emergency signal only. I’d no choice but to phone the police and tell them that they’d got an idiot tourist on the loose.
The voice on the other end seemed greatly amused. “Oh dear – you’ve got a problem. They’ve all gone home.” He tried the right number. “No-one answering, but I can give you it if you like?”
He tried putting me through directly, but the phone rang. And rang. And rang. No-one was going to get me out of there. I’d have to abandon the hire car, walk a few miles and hitch.
Unless…
Escaping the wildlife refuge
I eyed up the metal posts guarding the extremely rough rubble by the side of the road. There was probably just enough space to squeeze between them, and just enough room on the rubble to make it a very dangerous single lane track. A five-wheel drive track, I’d call it. A five-wheel drive track that almost certainly constitutes trespassing on US military land.
After numerous attempts, I inched the car through the metal posts. What followed was a terrifying cacophony of screechy wheel noises, engine pain, suspension heart attacks and horrible scraping sounds on the undercarriage. Little by little, I managed to nurse it through,
A tip for you: If you think you’ve damaged your rental car, drive through as many muddy puddles as you can and get it properly filthy. The mud doesn’t half hide the scrapes, and the man in charge of returns will possibly sign it off as fine before anyone notices…
More Pacific Islands travel
For considerably less stressful outings in Guam, here’s a selection of tours and experiences.
Other Pacific Islands travel stories on Planet Whitley include:
- Visiting Robert Louis Stevenson’s grave in Samoa.
- Why I don’t want to go back to Palau.
- Is Muri in the Cook Islands the perfect holiday town?
- Learning the story of the Pacific Islanders at Te Ara on Rarotonga.
- Cruising on the lagoon in Aitutaki.
- What to do in Noumea, New Caledonia.
Disclosure: This story contains affiliate links. Buy anything through them, and I get a small commission.
