Lost in the Philippines
By Joel Katz
When my girlfriend and I explored the limestone islands of the stunning Bacuit Archipelago, in the Philippines, we ended up in our own goofy version of 'Lost'.
Just a forty-five minute flight south of Manila, El Nido is a gateway to the Bacuit Archipelago which boasts a never-ending flotilla of enormous limestone pinnacles jutting out of the tropical blue-green sea.
Every bit as stunning as Thailand’s Phi Phi Island or Vietnam’s Ha Long Bay, it’s located on the northern tip of the island of Palawan, about seven hours drive from the main port city of Puerto Princessa.
My girlfriend and I arrived in the charming town of El Nido yesterday, and are keen to check out the surrounding island-dotted archipelago. Waking up early, the aroma of frying banana pancakes wafts through our window, and we make our way down to our hotel’s lobby to sign up for one of the four island-hopping day trips on offer.
We finally secure our masks and fins, after a furious skirmish with a very blonde German family, and head down to a little weather-beaten outrigger boat, or Bangka, bobbing up and down in the cerulean blue sea. We’ve decided on Tour A, which takes us to nearby Miniloc Island, with its three tropical lagoons, and the white sand beaches of Simizu and Entulala Islands.
For under US$20 you can arrange these day trips at any hotel or tour operator in town.
With prominent buck-teeth nibbling at the air, our friendly tour guide, No-No, welcomes us on board, and signals for the boat-driver, Yes-Yes, to spark up the engine. A bunch of local kids do back flips off the boat’s bamboo outrigger poles as we head out of El Nido Harbour, into the maze of lush islands ahead.
After a short trip, we arrive at Miniloc Island, entering a large limestone opening that leads into the aptly named Small Lagoon - the perfect hideout for the ‘Pirate of the Caribbean’s’ Captain Jack Sparrow and Co.
Jumping into the water, we form a watery conga-line and snorkel through a series of rocky nooks and crannies into another azure pool, called Secret Lagoon. The visibility is great, and we spot lots of brightly coloured tropical fish and scattered coral.
After exploring the lagoons and several spectacular caves inside the Karst formations, we swim back to the boat, and scramble aboard, ready to motor off to our next stop-off.
But our tour guide seems skittish, and we soon discover why. Our boatman can’t get the rusty old outboard motor started.
“Little problem – Fix soon”, he explains diplomatically.
My girlfriend – who’s Australian-Filipino – looks concerned.
She gives me a more accurate translation of the increasingly heated conversation between No-No and the boatman.
“The engine’s completely screwed’, she explains dryly.
After a few more desperate attempts to fire up the engine, our guide explains that the bangka’s kaput. He waves over a nearby island-hopping resort catamaran anchored in the lagoon: it pulls up next to us and we tumble aboard.
Squashing ourselves between some reluctant Japanese tourists, we sink into the soft padded seating, and notice that this new vessel is much spiffier than our battered old outrigger. But our elation is short-lived: we feel as welcome as a severe case of heat stroke.
Our new Cat sets sail, leaving our broken old boat far behind bouncing around in the waves.
As the resort Cat zigzags through the network of islands, our new guide explains how the surrounding Karst structures are formed. Like the hands of a master sculptor, the rainwater shapes the natural obelisks into fantastic shapes, scooping out their insides and turning them into lumpy limestone versions of Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral.
Deep within these Karst cathedrals live little birds, called ‘swiftlets’, who sacrifice their nests-‘Los Nidos’ in Spanish – to the bird nest soup trade. Made of bird saliva, these sticky nests end up in thousands of Chinese eateries, ensuring the customers enjoy balanced Qi and baby-bottom soft skin.
Ahead of us lies the pretty Entulala Island. We cruise into a little sandy cove enclosed by a steep Karst cliff wall, and wade toward the shore. No-No builds a fire on the beach and starts grilling long silvery milk fish on a pile of glowing embers.
While we wait for lunch we strap on snorkel masks and plunge into the warm sea. A few turtles poke their heads out of the water momentarily, and then quickly disappear, and we’re all in fine spirits until the Dutch guy almost backstrokes into a startled, and very poisonous, sea snake.
Back on the beach, the resort boat passengers scoff down their gourmet sandwiches. A few shots are snapped; they gather up their beach towels and fluorescent Crocs, and make their way to the shoreline where their boat’s waiting.
Chaos ensues: dashing down to the water’s edge we stand alongside the German family and the Dutch couple and watch in disbelief as the resort guests motor off, casually sipping icy cans of Pepsi as they abandon us to our unknown fate.
“They leave now. Continue tour. We wait for another boat. Come soon! Come soon!” No-No assures us.
We spend the rest of the day entertaining ourselves by playing coconut soccer and beachcombing.
My girlfriend and I talk to a friendly Dutch couple about the array of terrific cafes and restaurants back in El Nido town, and decide to join them later for dinner.
Maybe we’ll eat pancetta pizza at the Artcafe, an airy Spanish Colonial style eatery, or some tasty organic food from the Alternative, a cafe where you can enjoy ocean views from comfy billowy pods suspended above the beach.
But one thing is for sure: we’ll finish things off with a mouth-watering chocolate crepe at a tiny café called The Coffee Shop; then trundle down to Sea Slugs, a popular beach bar, for some cold beers and live music.
We take a nap under a grove of swaying palm trees, and wake up sun-dazed and worried. It’s been about six hours since the resort guys left, and it’s getting dark.
We feel like a less attractive version of the cast of the TV show ‘Lost’; but without catering.
As the sun drops towards the horizon, the sky lights up like a flaming dome, flicks of fiery red caramelising the wispy edges of the fairy floss clouds – then darkness falls.
Still no rescue boat!!!
Suddenly we spot a tiny light approaching and soon see Yes-Yes, waving happily as he pilots our beaten up outrigger towards the shore.
Back on board we’re cold and wet but overjoyed that we’ll soon be back in El Nido. Yes-Yes sparks up the motor: the ignition sparks, coughs, splutters and dies.
A mist descends over us as we sit huddled in our lifeless boat – but just as we lose all hope the white resort Cat slides out of the fog, like a kindly mythical sea dragon. The captain hooks a rope to our bow and they start towing us back to the mainland.
Looking back at our island paradise, we see three giant Monitor Lizards slithering out of a cave, sniffing and nuzzling a stack of coconuts we had left on the sand.
Skipping along the waves, my girlfriend pokes me in the kidneys, muttering, “I told you we should have taken Tour B!!”
But I’m not so sure.
By Joel Katz
When my girlfriend and I explored the limestone islands of the stunning Bacuit Archipelago, in the Philippines, we ended up in our own goofy version of 'Lost'.
Just a forty-five minute flight south of Manila, El Nido is a gateway to the Bacuit Archipelago which boasts a never-ending flotilla of enormous limestone pinnacles jutting out of the tropical blue-green sea.
Every bit as stunning as Thailand’s Phi Phi Island or Vietnam’s Ha Long Bay, it’s located on the northern tip of the island of Palawan, about seven hours drive from the main port city of Puerto Princessa.
My girlfriend and I arrived in the charming town of El Nido yesterday, and are keen to check out the surrounding island-dotted archipelago. Waking up early, the aroma of frying banana pancakes wafts through our window, and we make our way down to our hotel’s lobby to sign up for one of the four island-hopping day trips on offer.
We finally secure our masks and fins, after a furious skirmish with a very blonde German family, and head down to a little weather-beaten outrigger boat, or Bangka, bobbing up and down in the cerulean blue sea. We’ve decided on Tour A, which takes us to nearby Miniloc Island, with its three tropical lagoons, and the white sand beaches of Simizu and Entulala Islands.
For under US$20 you can arrange these day trips at any hotel or tour operator in town.
With prominent buck-teeth nibbling at the air, our friendly tour guide, No-No, welcomes us on board, and signals for the boat-driver, Yes-Yes, to spark up the engine. A bunch of local kids do back flips off the boat’s bamboo outrigger poles as we head out of El Nido Harbour, into the maze of lush islands ahead.
After a short trip, we arrive at Miniloc Island, entering a large limestone opening that leads into the aptly named Small Lagoon - the perfect hideout for the ‘Pirate of the Caribbean’s’ Captain Jack Sparrow and Co.
Jumping into the water, we form a watery conga-line and snorkel through a series of rocky nooks and crannies into another azure pool, called Secret Lagoon. The visibility is great, and we spot lots of brightly coloured tropical fish and scattered coral.
After exploring the lagoons and several spectacular caves inside the Karst formations, we swim back to the boat, and scramble aboard, ready to motor off to our next stop-off.
But our tour guide seems skittish, and we soon discover why. Our boatman can’t get the rusty old outboard motor started.
“Little problem – Fix soon”, he explains diplomatically.
My girlfriend – who’s Australian-Filipino – looks concerned.
She gives me a more accurate translation of the increasingly heated conversation between No-No and the boatman.
“The engine’s completely screwed’, she explains dryly.
After a few more desperate attempts to fire up the engine, our guide explains that the bangka’s kaput. He waves over a nearby island-hopping resort catamaran anchored in the lagoon: it pulls up next to us and we tumble aboard.
Squashing ourselves between some reluctant Japanese tourists, we sink into the soft padded seating, and notice that this new vessel is much spiffier than our battered old outrigger. But our elation is short-lived: we feel as welcome as a severe case of heat stroke.
Our new Cat sets sail, leaving our broken old boat far behind bouncing around in the waves.
As the resort Cat zigzags through the network of islands, our new guide explains how the surrounding Karst structures are formed. Like the hands of a master sculptor, the rainwater shapes the natural obelisks into fantastic shapes, scooping out their insides and turning them into lumpy limestone versions of Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral.
Deep within these Karst cathedrals live little birds, called ‘swiftlets’, who sacrifice their nests-‘Los Nidos’ in Spanish – to the bird nest soup trade. Made of bird saliva, these sticky nests end up in thousands of Chinese eateries, ensuring the customers enjoy balanced Qi and baby-bottom soft skin.
Ahead of us lies the pretty Entulala Island. We cruise into a little sandy cove enclosed by a steep Karst cliff wall, and wade toward the shore. No-No builds a fire on the beach and starts grilling long silvery milk fish on a pile of glowing embers.
While we wait for lunch we strap on snorkel masks and plunge into the warm sea. A few turtles poke their heads out of the water momentarily, and then quickly disappear, and we’re all in fine spirits until the Dutch guy almost backstrokes into a startled, and very poisonous, sea snake.
Back on the beach, the resort boat passengers scoff down their gourmet sandwiches. A few shots are snapped; they gather up their beach towels and fluorescent Crocs, and make their way to the shoreline where their boat’s waiting.
Chaos ensues: dashing down to the water’s edge we stand alongside the German family and the Dutch couple and watch in disbelief as the resort guests motor off, casually sipping icy cans of Pepsi as they abandon us to our unknown fate.
“They leave now. Continue tour. We wait for another boat. Come soon! Come soon!” No-No assures us.
We spend the rest of the day entertaining ourselves by playing coconut soccer and beachcombing.
My girlfriend and I talk to a friendly Dutch couple about the array of terrific cafes and restaurants back in El Nido town, and decide to join them later for dinner.
Maybe we’ll eat pancetta pizza at the Artcafe, an airy Spanish Colonial style eatery, or some tasty organic food from the Alternative, a cafe where you can enjoy ocean views from comfy billowy pods suspended above the beach.
But one thing is for sure: we’ll finish things off with a mouth-watering chocolate crepe at a tiny café called The Coffee Shop; then trundle down to Sea Slugs, a popular beach bar, for some cold beers and live music.
We take a nap under a grove of swaying palm trees, and wake up sun-dazed and worried. It’s been about six hours since the resort guys left, and it’s getting dark.
We feel like a less attractive version of the cast of the TV show ‘Lost’; but without catering.
As the sun drops towards the horizon, the sky lights up like a flaming dome, flicks of fiery red caramelising the wispy edges of the fairy floss clouds – then darkness falls.
Still no rescue boat!!!
Suddenly we spot a tiny light approaching and soon see Yes-Yes, waving happily as he pilots our beaten up outrigger towards the shore.
Back on board we’re cold and wet but overjoyed that we’ll soon be back in El Nido. Yes-Yes sparks up the motor: the ignition sparks, coughs, splutters and dies.
A mist descends over us as we sit huddled in our lifeless boat – but just as we lose all hope the white resort Cat slides out of the fog, like a kindly mythical sea dragon. The captain hooks a rope to our bow and they start towing us back to the mainland.
Looking back at our island paradise, we see three giant Monitor Lizards slithering out of a cave, sniffing and nuzzling a stack of coconuts we had left on the sand.
Skipping along the waves, my girlfriend pokes me in the kidneys, muttering, “I told you we should have taken Tour B!!”
But I’m not so sure.
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