Traversing Palawan’s untainted shores

by Aaron Joel Santos

I’m in the Philippines, sitting at a six-person dining room table made of bamboo. It’s the kind of table found all across Southeast Asia, but this one is special. This one is unconvincingly strapped to the top of an old bus speeding down an unpaved highway on the island of Palawan.

Apparently, this is how one gets around, dodging wayward branches and low-hanging power lines.

Thirty minutes ago I was stranded with two friends at an intersection in the middle of nowhere. In a town somewhat humorously named Salvacion. Now we’re watching storm clouds creep across the horizon as the road unfurls before us like a roll of film over the undulating landscape.

The Philippines is a staggeringly beautiful country, still largely untouched and unrefined. And Palawan is considered its last frontier.

It’s hard to believe the island is only an hour’s flight from Manila, and ultimately just a few hours away from home in Viet Nam. It feels like another world, and entrance costs nothing more than a cheap ticket on Cebu Pacific’s new Ha Noi-Manila route.

Though our journey begins with a desire to island hop in Honda Bay’s flawless waters and visit Sabang’s famous subterranean river, we soon learn that it’s the modes of transport, the gaps between destinations that set Palawan apart.

After two brief plane rides, a hop on an inter-airport shuttle and a short tricycle ride, we arrive at St Lourdes Wharf to explore Honda Bay. We are roughly 12km from the city of Puerto Princesa, where most flights to Palawan touch down and where we’ll stay the night at the charming if rustic Casa Linda Inn (US$20).

For less than $25, we hire a pumpboat, or bangka, and are cruising on the bay by lunch time.

The roaring recycled motor chugs away. The boat driver shows a toothless smile and introduces himself as Potato. The mainland fades behind us. Islands appear.

Potato points down and through the crystal blue expanse. It’s probably 4m deep and we can see straight to the bottom, like through a rippling windowpane. Colourful coral and sea aenemones rock and sway. Pebbles roll. Basketball-sized jellyfish bloat and float.

We drop anchor off several islands. We swim through starfish and sand dollars, snorkel and wade and end the day watching the tides reconfigure Snake Island, so named for its winding, ever-changing coastline.

We sip San Miguel beers and eat grilled honey-pork.

The sky is bright and large above us. The stretching serpent-like shore slivers back and forth.

Heart of Darkness

The next morning we travel to the town of Sabang to visit the world’s longest subterranean river. It’s a bumpy three-hour ride from Puerto Princesa and one of Palawan’s most prized attractions, often dubbed a journey to the centre of the earth.

It is.

We put our bags in one of the many beachside bungalows ($15) and are on our way.

The river flows through a cave system for over 8km before dumping into the East Sea. Outside on the island, dense, mountainous forests surround the cave. The natural reserve is home to monitor lizards, monkeys and other woods-dwelling creatures. On the inside, bats and birds flutter in the darkness.

We sit aboard a small creaky vessel with helmets and lifejackets and a car battery-powered searchlight. The cave’s water is black and still and every sound echoes. There’s the faint smell of damp history and bat droppings. Structures rise and fall, and the ceiling leaks from far above.

As I sit bobbing in the opaque waters, the stillness and quiet creep strangely over me. For the thing that has struck me most about the Philippines is the open kindness and talkative nature of its people. For a country that has known occupation and violence in the not-so-distant past, Filipinos are extremely open and welcoming to foreign travellers. Their warmth is infectious.

And so perhaps it’s this contrast that makes the cave feel so much darker. The light that seems to shine on every other part of the country is obviously absent here, underground.

It seems odd that in one of the most friendly, open and beautiful countries in Southeast Asia, we’ve holed ourselves away inside a cave. As we drift further along, the darkness weighs heavily. It’s a stunning, almost meditative journey through the underground passage, but we’re thankful that it spans only a few kilometers.

On our way back out, we watch as the cave’s mouth grows larger and larger. Its giant stalactite teeth lead us back into the day.

Air between stations

And so here we are, atop an old bus, careening around curves on a gravel road heading toward El Nido on the northern tip of Palawan. Only an hour ago we were huddled sardine-like into one of the Philippines’ most treasured transportation devices, the jeepney, as we left Sabang behind. The jeepney is basically a jeep and old soup can hybrid. More carnival ride than reliable vehicle.

Along these endlessly winding roads, men, women and children strike up conversations with us. They talk about their homes and families as we sit piled and squished by one another. They’re proud of their country, and the pride is contagious.

Though we had no hard plans after Sabang, we’ve decided to spend a little more time on the island. It’s the kind of place that’s difficult to leave.

Thankfully, Thailand this is not. The bays are uncrowded and unmarred, the prices still quite reasonable. The islands belong to you and, occasionally, a mere handful of others.

At times, here, I’m struck by the oddly intimate possibility that I have found the oft-sought and elusive Away-From-It-All.

Palawan may even be able to retain this sense of idyllic isolation. No matter how relatively close it is to other Southeast Asia countries, it’s far enough away to discourage most casual wanderers. You have to want to come.

But once here, in the late afternoons when the storm clouds finally roll in, even they have thick silver linings.

Travel Tips : Make sure to bring enough cash, most establishments are not accepting credit cards

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