Palawan: A dose of adventure amid nature’s beauty
July 13, 2001 | 12:00am
Before it even began, this trip promised a taste of wonder and a dose of adventure. After all, going to Palawan two days after the Abu Sayyaf kidnapped 20 people there was not exactly a prudent thing to do. But, Ira, my 15-year-old son – who normally worries if I come home late or travel on my own – was unusually confident about my safety. He figured the authorities would be on guard like they’d never been before and that the kidnappers were not likely to go back. My parents were not so confident and called from New York to warn me that I "may not just be entering the lion’s den," I might be "walking right into his mouth!"
My mother’s choice of words was not inappropriate. Palawan and its extraordinary variety of wildlife had long been a source of fascination for me. Passing by on my way back from Mapun (Cagayan de Tawi-Tawi) last August and having no time to go anywhere only served to whet my desire to go back. Not surprisingly, I was not about to let the Abu Sayyaf stop me from going back – most especially since I was going to El Nido.
Although I went to the town itself twice, I stayed in one of the outlaying islands: heart-shaped Matinlok, an isle whose shape destined it to become a shrine honoring the Virgin Mary. Aerial photographs of the island show a heart whose cleavage divides what appears to be a Madonna and Child on the right and the face of Jesus Christ on the left. Other natural phenomenon that depicts a heart on the island – such as the mouth of a well and a chunk of coral – underscores the theme that led to the establishment of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Prayer Center by Marian devotees known as the Movement of Mary. We went to celebrate her feast day, May 31, with a fluvial parade that brought pilgrims for a day of prayer and contemplation.
The rest of the year, Matinlok Island is a nature sanctuary. Its towering cliffs are home to a variety of birds, some of which give the town its name. Their nests – a prized delicacy that fetches as much as P100,000 a kilo – are made into Nido soup. Throughout the day, the birds provide a symphony of song that breaks the serenity that pervades the shrine even when hundreds of pilgrims are crowded into its narrow confines. Along the channel that separates Matinlok from Tapiutan Island, the birds often present an aerial ballet as they hover over schools of fish before quickly diving into the water for a catch.
Matinlok rises from its surrounding waters with a phalanx of dark forbidding cliffs whose facade is relieved by tiny scallops of white sand that would be natural private beaches if swimming were allowed on the island. That prohibition is especially appropriate as it would be unseeming because of the presence of the shrine and because these small beaches are probably nesting grounds for turtles. While we were there, some fishermen caught a green turtle, which they intended to have the Department of Environment and Natural Resources tag. The children with us oohed and aahed over it, totally entranced. Yet, they had no second thoughts about letting it go with only photographs to capture their serendipitous encounter in the wild with a creature in danger of extinction. Watching them say goodbye, I could not help but feel that their attitude augurs well for the worldwide effort to save the marine turtle.
Two days later, we managed to do some sightseeing. In a spur of the moment, the male members of our party – Tom Barnes, Noli Gabilo and Tam Urao – invited me to join them for a visit to Secret Beach. Shielded by the restless waters and unyielding cliffs, it is a haven within a sanctuary.
As we left, I thought I was doomed to wait on board the banca because the hidden cove could be reached only by swimming underwater through a small opening and I do not know how to swim. When we got there, Tom quickly wrapped his camera in two layers of plastic before diving in with Tam. Noli, being a professional photographer, would take no chances with his equipment and climbed on to a ledge above the entrance to take pictures of the cove from the unique vantage point it offered.
Trying to be content with dangling my feet from the stern of the banca, I watched in fascination as schools of yellow and blue fish rushed out of the cove as the guys swam inside. To while away the time, I watched crabs dart across the sides of the cliff. Every now and then the waves would push the boat toward the entrance and I would catch a tantalizing glimpse of the tiny white beach at the back of the cove. As it approached noon, the sun shined on it, causing the sand to shimmer in the otherwise shaded cove.
That may have been it. I am not quite sure what came over me but I got an overwhelming urge to go into the cove. Not even the prospect of having to swim in depths of 20 feet could temper my urge to go in. I’d never been particularly adventurous, but I could not resist the temptation to go. Taking a hint from the crabs, I asked the boatman to check if it was possible to inch one’s way sideways to the mouth of the cove. As he demonstrated how it could be done safely, Tam swam out. Seeing my determination, they tightened the rope that held the boat to make it taut enough for me to use it as a guide. Then, they brought the boat close enough to the cliff for me to grab on to an overhang and establish a foothold. As I made my way to the entrance – slowly and gingerly – the boatman called out places where I could put my feet. When I got there I grabbed hold of the rope and plunged in. As I struggled to find my bearings, an incoming wave pushed me inward faster than I expected and the boatman shouted for me to be careful not to bang my head on the rocks.
The price for that little adventure was a pinhead-sized blister and an inch-long cut on my right foot. This was a small price to pay for the discoveries I made in at Secret Beach. The water was so clear I stood in amazement as a tiny iridescent blue fish explored my legs and toes. Seemingly unused to people intruding into its home, it showed no fear as it took tiny nips as it swam up and down my legs. Amazingly, when I went back to the same place to see a spider crab Tam had found some time later, it came to renew our acquaintance. It was a communion with nature I felt blessed to have experienced.
Yet, this was one time I was glad I did not swim. For instead of looking down at the corals and the life they held, I looked up at the cliffs that embraced the cove. Walking on the beach that had beckoned me, I realized it was not really white but salt and pepperish, with tiny black specks that obviously came from chips of the surrounding rocks. It seemed like I was at the bottom of a large well, with the sky a distant blue dome. The walls of the surrounding black rocks were dry and sharp.
It seemed impossible to find life in such a desolate place. Yet, plants and animals stubbornly asserted their right to live there. I was surprised to see begonias in bloom in what seemed such an inhospitable environment. When I saw a honeycomb clinging precariously over a small ledge, I wondered if its flowers were enough of an attraction for bees to set up house.
I wish I had more time there, but we couldn’t stay very long because the children needed to use the boat. So I took one long look at the cove then went back the way I came in. I was filled with a sense of something I couldn’t put my finger on. Whatever it was, it made working my way through the rope such a breeze that I wondered what other pleasures I had denied myself in the past because I did not know how to swim. If I had the time, I’m sure I would have learned to swim that day.
As we returned to the shrine I was glad that I have not let whatever qualms I had to gain a foothold on my normally cautious self because the cove had unveiled a secret about me. I had an untapped taste for adventure. That little caper of mine opened a door to self-discovery. I relished the thought of touching base with unexplored depths in me. It must be true that life begins at 40.
On board the ship coming home, I had time to reflect. I realized I had given in to temptation because for those brief moments when I took the plunge I had ceased to be what I really am: a single mom of three kids. I know that if any of my children came home with a story like this, I’d hit the roof. Even now, I shudder at the thought of the risks, the unthinkable possibilities...to them.
So this story has to be just something between you and me...at least until I get all of us to a swimming instructor – pronto. - Bona Elisa R. Andrada (Third Prize, Travel Now Contest)
My mother’s choice of words was not inappropriate. Palawan and its extraordinary variety of wildlife had long been a source of fascination for me. Passing by on my way back from Mapun (Cagayan de Tawi-Tawi) last August and having no time to go anywhere only served to whet my desire to go back. Not surprisingly, I was not about to let the Abu Sayyaf stop me from going back – most especially since I was going to El Nido.
Although I went to the town itself twice, I stayed in one of the outlaying islands: heart-shaped Matinlok, an isle whose shape destined it to become a shrine honoring the Virgin Mary. Aerial photographs of the island show a heart whose cleavage divides what appears to be a Madonna and Child on the right and the face of Jesus Christ on the left. Other natural phenomenon that depicts a heart on the island – such as the mouth of a well and a chunk of coral – underscores the theme that led to the establishment of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Prayer Center by Marian devotees known as the Movement of Mary. We went to celebrate her feast day, May 31, with a fluvial parade that brought pilgrims for a day of prayer and contemplation.
The rest of the year, Matinlok Island is a nature sanctuary. Its towering cliffs are home to a variety of birds, some of which give the town its name. Their nests – a prized delicacy that fetches as much as P100,000 a kilo – are made into Nido soup. Throughout the day, the birds provide a symphony of song that breaks the serenity that pervades the shrine even when hundreds of pilgrims are crowded into its narrow confines. Along the channel that separates Matinlok from Tapiutan Island, the birds often present an aerial ballet as they hover over schools of fish before quickly diving into the water for a catch.
Matinlok rises from its surrounding waters with a phalanx of dark forbidding cliffs whose facade is relieved by tiny scallops of white sand that would be natural private beaches if swimming were allowed on the island. That prohibition is especially appropriate as it would be unseeming because of the presence of the shrine and because these small beaches are probably nesting grounds for turtles. While we were there, some fishermen caught a green turtle, which they intended to have the Department of Environment and Natural Resources tag. The children with us oohed and aahed over it, totally entranced. Yet, they had no second thoughts about letting it go with only photographs to capture their serendipitous encounter in the wild with a creature in danger of extinction. Watching them say goodbye, I could not help but feel that their attitude augurs well for the worldwide effort to save the marine turtle.
Two days later, we managed to do some sightseeing. In a spur of the moment, the male members of our party – Tom Barnes, Noli Gabilo and Tam Urao – invited me to join them for a visit to Secret Beach. Shielded by the restless waters and unyielding cliffs, it is a haven within a sanctuary.
As we left, I thought I was doomed to wait on board the banca because the hidden cove could be reached only by swimming underwater through a small opening and I do not know how to swim. When we got there, Tom quickly wrapped his camera in two layers of plastic before diving in with Tam. Noli, being a professional photographer, would take no chances with his equipment and climbed on to a ledge above the entrance to take pictures of the cove from the unique vantage point it offered.
Trying to be content with dangling my feet from the stern of the banca, I watched in fascination as schools of yellow and blue fish rushed out of the cove as the guys swam inside. To while away the time, I watched crabs dart across the sides of the cliff. Every now and then the waves would push the boat toward the entrance and I would catch a tantalizing glimpse of the tiny white beach at the back of the cove. As it approached noon, the sun shined on it, causing the sand to shimmer in the otherwise shaded cove.
That may have been it. I am not quite sure what came over me but I got an overwhelming urge to go into the cove. Not even the prospect of having to swim in depths of 20 feet could temper my urge to go in. I’d never been particularly adventurous, but I could not resist the temptation to go. Taking a hint from the crabs, I asked the boatman to check if it was possible to inch one’s way sideways to the mouth of the cove. As he demonstrated how it could be done safely, Tam swam out. Seeing my determination, they tightened the rope that held the boat to make it taut enough for me to use it as a guide. Then, they brought the boat close enough to the cliff for me to grab on to an overhang and establish a foothold. As I made my way to the entrance – slowly and gingerly – the boatman called out places where I could put my feet. When I got there I grabbed hold of the rope and plunged in. As I struggled to find my bearings, an incoming wave pushed me inward faster than I expected and the boatman shouted for me to be careful not to bang my head on the rocks.
The price for that little adventure was a pinhead-sized blister and an inch-long cut on my right foot. This was a small price to pay for the discoveries I made in at Secret Beach. The water was so clear I stood in amazement as a tiny iridescent blue fish explored my legs and toes. Seemingly unused to people intruding into its home, it showed no fear as it took tiny nips as it swam up and down my legs. Amazingly, when I went back to the same place to see a spider crab Tam had found some time later, it came to renew our acquaintance. It was a communion with nature I felt blessed to have experienced.
Yet, this was one time I was glad I did not swim. For instead of looking down at the corals and the life they held, I looked up at the cliffs that embraced the cove. Walking on the beach that had beckoned me, I realized it was not really white but salt and pepperish, with tiny black specks that obviously came from chips of the surrounding rocks. It seemed like I was at the bottom of a large well, with the sky a distant blue dome. The walls of the surrounding black rocks were dry and sharp.
It seemed impossible to find life in such a desolate place. Yet, plants and animals stubbornly asserted their right to live there. I was surprised to see begonias in bloom in what seemed such an inhospitable environment. When I saw a honeycomb clinging precariously over a small ledge, I wondered if its flowers were enough of an attraction for bees to set up house.
I wish I had more time there, but we couldn’t stay very long because the children needed to use the boat. So I took one long look at the cove then went back the way I came in. I was filled with a sense of something I couldn’t put my finger on. Whatever it was, it made working my way through the rope such a breeze that I wondered what other pleasures I had denied myself in the past because I did not know how to swim. If I had the time, I’m sure I would have learned to swim that day.
As we returned to the shrine I was glad that I have not let whatever qualms I had to gain a foothold on my normally cautious self because the cove had unveiled a secret about me. I had an untapped taste for adventure. That little caper of mine opened a door to self-discovery. I relished the thought of touching base with unexplored depths in me. It must be true that life begins at 40.
On board the ship coming home, I had time to reflect. I realized I had given in to temptation because for those brief moments when I took the plunge I had ceased to be what I really am: a single mom of three kids. I know that if any of my children came home with a story like this, I’d hit the roof. Even now, I shudder at the thought of the risks, the unthinkable possibilities...to them.
So this story has to be just something between you and me...at least until I get all of us to a swimming instructor – pronto. - Bona Elisa R. Andrada (Third Prize, Travel Now Contest)
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