Surf’s up in Puraran
October 14, 2001 | 12:00am
Puraran, Catanduanes has seen better days, they say. It was in the ’90s when tourist visits to this surfers paradise peaked.
Cecilia, who owns one of the two resorts in the area, says there was a time when surfers from all over the world would come to Puraran Bay in search of the perfect waves to surf Majestics – a right-handed reef break that on good days broke into a hollow tube.
Majestics gained unprecedented popularity when it appeared in a surfing magazine in the late ’80s. Cecilia soon found herself coordinating with a foreign partner who brought international surfers to Puraran. But like most breaks, there were good days and bad ones too.
Puraran Bay sits at the east of the island of Catanduanes in Southern Luzon. The island province, also known as "Land of the Howling Wind," lies directly in the way of most tropical storms from the Pacific.
Cecilia has rebuilt her cottages twice in the last 10 years, but it was the great storm of 1998 that cost her practically everything that she had put up over the years. But she did not lose hope and reconstructed the resort. Today, some surfers continue to trickle in the hopes of catching that great wave.
Lured by that hope, my favorite Australian surfer-buddy and I headed for Catanduanes in midsummer. We opted to take the scenic route and caught a glimpse of small towns coming to life at daybreak. Pururan’s slow, sure pace is a contrast to Manila’s hurried beat. Commencing with a 12-hour bus trip from Cubao on board the Cagsawa Bus Lines to the pier in the town of Tobaco, Albay, the ride afforded good legroom but lousy stops, with even lousier restrooms. From the Tabaco pier, it was a four-hour ferry ride to Virac, the province’s port of entry. For less than a hundred pesos, we got air-conditioned seats and a host of interesting people to talk to. The shy but perhaps bored college girl in the row in front of us politely asked to borrow one of the magazines we had brought along.
In Virac, we asked for directions and were pointed to a bus that commutes to the north of the island, passing through the town of Gigmoto where barangay Puraran is. It was almost noon when we got on the roof of the bus and found our spot among sacks of rice, boxes of gin, soda and huge tires. The ride took over an hour, and despite the stifling heat and our indescribable hunger, we found delight in the scent and sights of the seaside. Through frequent ducks to avoid the buntings, and frantic fumbling for something to hold on to during hard bumps, we rode through the dirt road by the coast and around hills, where children chased after the bus in merriment while farmers toiled uninterrupted on the fields. The bus had to make numerous stops to fill its engine with water, while we suffered from thirst.
"Malayo pa ho ba?" I frequently asked the boys who I was sure were not older than I. They replied we would be in barangay Puraran in about an hour and it would be only a few kilometers’ walk downhill to the beach. True enough, an hour later we were dropped off and began our descent to what would be our home for the next few days.
Puting Baybay Resort is a family affair. Cecilia and her husband manage it, while their daughters cook and prepare the meals. The second and third floors of the three-storey concrete building were under construction when we arrived, while the ground floor served as the dining area. Three wooden huts with nipa-thatched roofs stood perpendicular to the beach. The huts have airy rooms with two huge windows, a cement-floor bathroom, running water, a non-flushing toilet, and a porch lined with long bamboo benches. Clean beds, electric fans and mosquito nets were provided.
Soon after we arrived delicious steamed fresh fish and vegetables were served. It was the first of many delicious meals to come. Our daily expenses ran up to P350 a day per person – room and bed for P150, and all meals for P200. We were advised not to drink water from the tap; boiled water was available in the dining room and bottled water could be bought from the numerous stores that dotted the main street.
Three Japanese surfers were staying in the hut next to ours, while another Japanese tourist occupied the hut closest to the beach. Majestics thundered quietly in the afternoon sun, and when the tide came in, all the surfers were on their way, only to return at nightfall.
On decent days, the surfers settled for two- to three-foot waves; dreamier ones are harder to come by during the summer months. Even if very few surfers take the trouble to visit the bay, with Siargao and La Union becoming the surfing destinations of choice. There are good things going for Majestics, local surfers readily share the information with friendly tourists. We learned that in the month of September the waves are the most consistent, albeit the weather becomes less predictable and can leave guests stranded on the island.
While Majestics may seem like Puraran’s main draw, there’s more to it than the riding the waves. For the wandering soul it is a restful stop, with a view that is itself a spectacle – rolling hills of green, fine not quite white or orange sand, deep blue water that mirrors the sky, and a reef where waves crash in a line and the sea changes color. The seclusion inspires peace as much as the rural folk‘s way of living, and all urgency is seemingly washed away by the coming and going of the tide and the westward retreat of shadows. For the professed beach-lover, Puraran is a must-experience. When the tide is high, the waters are perfect for swimming and snorkeling, although the current can get strong around the reef even surfers are discouraged from taking too many risks. Puraran is truly a testament to the cliché – all the best things in life are found on the road less traveled.
Cecilia, who owns one of the two resorts in the area, says there was a time when surfers from all over the world would come to Puraran Bay in search of the perfect waves to surf Majestics – a right-handed reef break that on good days broke into a hollow tube.
Majestics gained unprecedented popularity when it appeared in a surfing magazine in the late ’80s. Cecilia soon found herself coordinating with a foreign partner who brought international surfers to Puraran. But like most breaks, there were good days and bad ones too.
Puraran Bay sits at the east of the island of Catanduanes in Southern Luzon. The island province, also known as "Land of the Howling Wind," lies directly in the way of most tropical storms from the Pacific.
Cecilia has rebuilt her cottages twice in the last 10 years, but it was the great storm of 1998 that cost her practically everything that she had put up over the years. But she did not lose hope and reconstructed the resort. Today, some surfers continue to trickle in the hopes of catching that great wave.
Lured by that hope, my favorite Australian surfer-buddy and I headed for Catanduanes in midsummer. We opted to take the scenic route and caught a glimpse of small towns coming to life at daybreak. Pururan’s slow, sure pace is a contrast to Manila’s hurried beat. Commencing with a 12-hour bus trip from Cubao on board the Cagsawa Bus Lines to the pier in the town of Tobaco, Albay, the ride afforded good legroom but lousy stops, with even lousier restrooms. From the Tabaco pier, it was a four-hour ferry ride to Virac, the province’s port of entry. For less than a hundred pesos, we got air-conditioned seats and a host of interesting people to talk to. The shy but perhaps bored college girl in the row in front of us politely asked to borrow one of the magazines we had brought along.
In Virac, we asked for directions and were pointed to a bus that commutes to the north of the island, passing through the town of Gigmoto where barangay Puraran is. It was almost noon when we got on the roof of the bus and found our spot among sacks of rice, boxes of gin, soda and huge tires. The ride took over an hour, and despite the stifling heat and our indescribable hunger, we found delight in the scent and sights of the seaside. Through frequent ducks to avoid the buntings, and frantic fumbling for something to hold on to during hard bumps, we rode through the dirt road by the coast and around hills, where children chased after the bus in merriment while farmers toiled uninterrupted on the fields. The bus had to make numerous stops to fill its engine with water, while we suffered from thirst.
"Malayo pa ho ba?" I frequently asked the boys who I was sure were not older than I. They replied we would be in barangay Puraran in about an hour and it would be only a few kilometers’ walk downhill to the beach. True enough, an hour later we were dropped off and began our descent to what would be our home for the next few days.
Puting Baybay Resort is a family affair. Cecilia and her husband manage it, while their daughters cook and prepare the meals. The second and third floors of the three-storey concrete building were under construction when we arrived, while the ground floor served as the dining area. Three wooden huts with nipa-thatched roofs stood perpendicular to the beach. The huts have airy rooms with two huge windows, a cement-floor bathroom, running water, a non-flushing toilet, and a porch lined with long bamboo benches. Clean beds, electric fans and mosquito nets were provided.
Soon after we arrived delicious steamed fresh fish and vegetables were served. It was the first of many delicious meals to come. Our daily expenses ran up to P350 a day per person – room and bed for P150, and all meals for P200. We were advised not to drink water from the tap; boiled water was available in the dining room and bottled water could be bought from the numerous stores that dotted the main street.
Three Japanese surfers were staying in the hut next to ours, while another Japanese tourist occupied the hut closest to the beach. Majestics thundered quietly in the afternoon sun, and when the tide came in, all the surfers were on their way, only to return at nightfall.
On decent days, the surfers settled for two- to three-foot waves; dreamier ones are harder to come by during the summer months. Even if very few surfers take the trouble to visit the bay, with Siargao and La Union becoming the surfing destinations of choice. There are good things going for Majestics, local surfers readily share the information with friendly tourists. We learned that in the month of September the waves are the most consistent, albeit the weather becomes less predictable and can leave guests stranded on the island.
While Majestics may seem like Puraran’s main draw, there’s more to it than the riding the waves. For the wandering soul it is a restful stop, with a view that is itself a spectacle – rolling hills of green, fine not quite white or orange sand, deep blue water that mirrors the sky, and a reef where waves crash in a line and the sea changes color. The seclusion inspires peace as much as the rural folk‘s way of living, and all urgency is seemingly washed away by the coming and going of the tide and the westward retreat of shadows. For the professed beach-lover, Puraran is a must-experience. When the tide is high, the waters are perfect for swimming and snorkeling, although the current can get strong around the reef even surfers are discouraged from taking too many risks. Puraran is truly a testament to the cliché – all the best things in life are found on the road less traveled.
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