Every day of lost revenue mattered desperately—the money barely covered rent and wages.
Once again, the Pacific islands of Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands find themselves at the mercy of forces far larger than any human preparation can fully answer. Super Typhoon Bavi, carrying winds of nearly 290 kilometers per hour and waves that could rise eleven meters, made landfall on Sunday — the eleventh major cyclone to strike US territory in a single decade, a figure that exceeds the entire recorded history of the prior fifty-seven years. Behind the immediate destruction lies a quieter, more unsettling story: warming seas and a strengthening El Niño are not merely shaping this storm, but reshaping what these islands must learn to call ordinary life.
- Bavi arrived with winds screaming at 290km/h and gusts peaking at 350km/h, prompting the US National Weather Service to warn of catastrophic damage and eleven-meter walls of water crashing ashore.
- Rota took the direct hit while Saipan recorded gusts above 161km/h — many residents already without power after Super Typhoon Sinlaku killed 17 people and caused $1.5 billion in damage just three months prior.
- Guam's five evacuation shelters, built to hold roughly 1,700 of the island's most vulnerable residents, began filling rapidly — one reaching capacity by Sunday afternoon, forcing officials to redirect evacuees elsewhere.
- Ordinary lives hung in the balance: a restaurant owner spent $500 on plywood to protect a business barely covering its costs, while a stranded Japanese tourist sheltered in her hotel and said simply, 'I am scared.'
- Scientists warn this is no anomaly — eleven category 4–5 cyclones in ten years surpasses the entire prior 57-year record, with warmer seas and El Niño conditions poised to make such storms increasingly routine for these islands.
Super Typhoon Bavi descended on Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands on Sunday with winds near 290 kilometers per hour and gusts reaching 350 — a storm the US National Weather Service described as capable of catastrophic destruction, accompanied by waves as tall as eleven meters. The islands had barely drawn breath since Super Typhoon Sinlaku struck in April, killing seventeen people and causing roughly 1.5 billion dollars in damage.
Rota, the southernmost inhabited island in the Northern Marianas, bore the direct assault. Its mayor's office warned residents that conditions would deteriorate so rapidly that venturing outside would become dangerous, and reports of major damage were already arriving even as the storm continued. On Saipan to the north, gusts exceeded 161 kilometers per hour and power outages were widespread — a grim echo of what Sinlaku had already taken from the region.
On Guam, home to around 170,000 people, five evacuation centers opened in schools across the island. With combined capacity for roughly 1,700 residents, they were intended for the most vulnerable — and by Sunday afternoon, one had already filled. Among those bracing for the storm was Pinky Cubacub, a 55-year-old restaurant owner who spent $500 on plywood to protect a business that had only recently opened and left nothing for herself after expenses. A 25-year-old Japanese tourist, her flight home cancelled, sheltered in her hotel and told reporters she was scared.
What Bavi represents beyond its immediate violence is perhaps the more sobering story. It is the eleventh category four or five cyclone to strike US territory in just ten years — more than the entire total from the fifty-seven years before that. Scientists point to El Niño warming and rising sea surface temperatures drawing greater atmospheric moisture into each storm. For the people of these islands, what was once exceptional is becoming something closer to the rhythm of their lives.
Super Typhoon Bavi arrived at the islands on Sunday with winds screaming at nearly 290 kilometers per hour and gusts that peaked at 350 kilometers per hour—a storm so violent that the US National Weather Service warned it would bring catastrophic damage and waves as tall as eleven-meter walls of water. The tempest was bearing down on Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands, a chain of Pacific territories that had already endured one devastating cyclone just three months earlier.
Rota, the southernmost inhabited island in the Northern Mariana Islands and situated about fifty kilometers northeast of Guam, took the direct assault. The mayor's office had issued an urgent advisory telling residents to brace for destructive winds and to understand that conditions would deteriorate so rapidly that stepping outside would become unsafe. A spokesperson for the mayor reported to news agencies that residents were already reporting major damage, even as the storm continued to pound the island. On Saipan, the larger island to the north, wind gusts exceeding 161 kilometers per hour were recorded at the airport, and many residents were already without electricity—a consequence of Super Typhoon Sinlaku, which had struck the same region in April, killed seventeen people, and inflicted roughly 1.5 billion dollars in damage.
Guam, home to about 170,000 people and ordinarily known as a sun-soaked tourist destination, had opened five evacuation centers in its schools. These shelters could accommodate around 1,700 people total, and they were meant primarily for the most vulnerable residents. By Sunday afternoon, one center had already filled to capacity, forcing officials to redirect newcomers elsewhere. The National Weather Service forecast that winds would remain at typhoon strength until early Monday afternoon, and would not drop below tropical storm force until after midnight.
The human toll was already visible in the scramble to prepare. Pinky Cubacub, a fifty-five-year-old restaurant owner in Guam, had spent five hundred dollars on plywood to board up her windows. She had only recently opened the business, and every day of lost revenue mattered desperately—the money she was making barely covered rent, utilities, staff wages, and supplies, with nothing left for herself. Miku Sakurai, a twenty-five-year-old tourist from Japan, had watched her return flight to Tokyo get cancelled and resigned herself to sheltering in her hotel as the storm arrived. "I am scared," she told a news agency.
What made Bavi's arrival particularly striking was not just its immediate ferocity but what it represented in a longer pattern. This was the eleventh category four or five tropical cyclone to strike US territory in the past decade—more than the entire total recorded in the fifty-seven years before that. Scientists pointed to two converging forces: a strong El Niño event, a periodic warming of Pacific surface waters that alters global weather patterns, was expected to push more storms toward higher intensities. And beneath that, warmer sea surface temperatures were drawing more moisture into the atmosphere, essentially supercharging the storms themselves. The western Pacific region had always been prone to tropical cyclones, but the frequency and power of the most dangerous ones were shifting in ways that suggested the islands' residents should prepare for this to become routine rather than exceptional.
Notable Quotes
I cannot afford to lose so many days. It hurts. Because I just started, whatever we're making right now is just for rent, utilities, and my people, and supplies. I don't even pay myself yet.— Pinky Cubacub, restaurant owner in Guam
We are hanging in there. We are experiencing heavy winds and flooding. Some people had reported major damages.— Spokesperson for Rota's mayor
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does this storm matter more than any other typhoon that hits that region?
Because it's the eleventh major cyclone in ten years—more than happened in the fifty-seven years before. That's not a natural rhythm anymore. That's a pattern breaking.
And the people there—they've already been through this recently?
Three months ago, Sinlaku killed seventeen people and cost 1.5 billion dollars. Many residents still don't have power. Now they're boarding up windows again, moving to shelters again, wondering if their businesses will survive.
Is there something about the location that makes it especially vulnerable?
Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands sit in the western Pacific, which has always been cyclone-prone. But they're US territory with relatively small populations—about 170,000 on Guam. The infrastructure and resources to recover aren't infinite.
What's actually changing in the atmosphere that's making these storms worse?
Warmer ocean surfaces pull more moisture into the air. That moisture is fuel. El Niño is warming the Pacific right now, which means more storms are reaching the highest intensities instead of staying moderate.
So this isn't just bad luck?
No. This is what climate change looks like in real time—not as an abstract future threat, but as a woman spending five hundred dollars to board up a restaurant she just opened, and a tourist stuck in a hotel waiting for the wind to stop.