Sunrise Beach curves along the eastern rim of Nanuya Lailai, facing the open channel between islands rather than the sheltered lagoon. The sand here is almost white, ground coral mixed with fine volcanic grit, and it stretches in a gentle arc between pandanus thickets. A handful of bungalows sit back from the water, but foot traffic is light—most visitors gravitate to the island's western side, where the resorts cluster and the sunset views draw crowds.
“It's Nanuya Lailai's sunrise-facing shore, offering morning light and solitude away from the island's better-known western beaches.”
Palm trees framing a sunset shore
The water is absurdly clear, the kind of transparency that makes depth hard to judge. You'll wade out fifty yards and still see your toes, the sand rippling beneath you in perfect corrugation. Small reef fish—damselfish, wrasse, juvenile parrotfish—dart around your ankles. By mid-morning, the sun sits directly overhead and the water loses its pink-gold tint, turning instead to a pale turquoise that seems almost artificial. Hermit crabs process across the beach in wobbly lines, their commandeered shells clicking softly.
There are no beach bars here, no volleyball nets or guided snorkel tours. You'll bring your own water, your own towel, and claim a patch of shade under a coconut palm. The only sounds are wavelets lapping the sand and the occasional thunk of a falling coconut. By late afternoon, when the sun swings west, the beach falls into shadow and the temperature drops a few merciful degrees. You'll have watched the light change for hours, and somehow the day will have disappeared.
