On islands, climate change is conspicuous.

In continental places, the concept is sometimes dismissed as political, a hoax; on tiny landmasses surrounded by ocean and reef, the impact of rising seas and coral bleaching is difficult to overlook.

Though the Cook Islands’ contribution to climate change is infinitesimal, in recent years residents have bent themselves toward mitigating its consequences.

In most cities, rubbish gets whisked away by trucks, never to be seen again by the people who disposed of it. But on tiny islands like ours, the consequences of wasteful habits are more apparent. On outer islands, there’s no landfill. On Rarotonga, there’s one.

In the Cook Islands, conservation is not a newfangled idea imported by visiting scientists.

Throughout the country, the relationship between people and natural resources remains strong. Most outer islands don’t have a supermarket; some get a cargo ship twice a year. Certain villages and islands still honour the ancient practice of ra’ui, or restricting access to a resource or area for as long as it takes natural processes to achieve restored health. Setting and lifting a ra’ui remains the prerogative of chiefs.

When Alex Olah, a young builder from the west side of Rarotonga, sailed on a traditional canoe to North America in 2012, his perspective expanded in two important ways.

He swelled with pride in knowing he is descended from the world’s greatest seafarers, people who studied and deeply understood the rhythms of land, sea, and sky. The other thing he became aware of, to his chagrin, was the great damage human activity had done to the ocean.