Why Did the Chickens Go to Siargao?
Siargao Island, off the coast of Mindanao, Philippines (Source: Google Maps)
“Dadaaan po tayo dito sa ilalim (We’re going underneath),” he says, pointing at what I now realize is a cave mouth mostly submerged in water. “Sandali lang naman po (Only for a moment).”
Whaaat? Our boat is going under that low, jagged ceiling?! I press my shutter once and quickly duck as low as I can.
In a second or so, we are in total darkness. Jimboy says it’s going to be quick, so I try to keep as still and low as possible. Suddenly, I hear a pop, and in an instant, I am on the floor of the boat. “Nauntog ako (I bumped my head)!” I yell out to let everyone know my head has hit the ceiling. I stay put on the boat’s watery floor where the crew has earlier plugged a leak with a rag.
Once we surface into the light, I can see from the crew’s faces how frightened they are. “What happened, Ate (Big Sister), are you alright?” Jimboy says. “Didn’t you duck?”
“I did, but obviously, I didn’t duck low enough.”
They’re surely wondering if they’ve broken the neck of this old lady and will she survive it? I’m thinking the same thing as I try to pull myself back up onto my seat. My head still sits on my shoulders, but something hurts on one side of my upper back. I shudder to think of what might have happened to my scalp, even my skull, without the helmet I’m wearing. Trying to turn my neck in different directions, I feel no sharp pain anywhere, just some soreness. I decide it’s just twisted muscles and say, “I think I’m fine; but let’s see if I survive the day.”
Seeing that I’m apparently okay, the crew gets on with the boat tour.
Sohoton Cove Entrance, 2023. Clockwise, from top left: Map of Sohoton Cove; Jimboy our fun guide; me and my sisters Venus and Tess and our boatman,Tata, with the visitor center behind us; one of the islets we passed a few seconds before reaching the entrance. The bottom left photo is the one I snapped before our boat went under the tunnel. Even if it’s blurry, I kept it for the distinct memory it holds. (Top left photo from Google Maps; the rest by Odette Foronda)
Sohoton Cove
It’s not actually a cave we just entered, but some sort of natural tunnel four or five meters long. I learn that there’s no other way to enter Sohoton Cove but through this tunnel. During low tide, boats can pass without the passengers needing to duck; at high tide, the water usually drowns the tunnel altogether. The term cove is misleading for me. I’d call it a maze instead, a maze of pretty lagoons formed by islets that look like plant pots strewn on the coast of Bucas Grande Island.
About five minutes after that scary bump, we reach the Jellyfish Sanctuary. We are told that they are stingless and we could get into the water and touch them. I can see the creatures under the clear, turquoise water, which is really inviting, but I look at Jimboy and say no thanks, for how am I ever going to get back on the boat? He says not to worry, because they got us covered, so my sisters and I all jump in. I’m impressed by how Jimboy and Jeffrey later help us back onto the boat. One word for that special spot: otherworldly. I hope it’s not spoiled by tourism.
Moving on, our boat weaves its way into more lagoons. It slows down next to an islet where other boats are parked. I ask Jimboy what’s next. He says it’s the Hagukan Cave. What cave, where? I can’t see the cave mouth. He asks us if we are able to hold our breaths underwater for at least eight seconds. I know I can do that, but before he’s done describing the activity, I give him a stern look and say, “The answer is no!”
He grins and proceeds with his description anyway: Since the cave mouth is almost fully submerged, we are to hold our breaths while he and Jeffrey push us underwater until we clear the entrance. He says, “C’mon, Ate, we’ll help you; it’s beautiful inside! The rocks and the water glow.”
Hmm…. Then I say, “Just no!” He understands, of course, the fright I’ve just gone through, and because he’s familiar with my underwater camera, he offers to go in there and take photos for us. While Jimboy and Jeffrey plunge in, we three wimpy women sit on the boat with Tata and watch younger, braver souls disappear under the water with their guides. Those who emerge from the cave shriek and giggle.
Some of the main attractions in Sohoton Cove, 2023.Clockwise, from top left: Horseshoe rock formation; one of the many lagoons in the cove; my sisters and me at Jellyfish Sanctuary, with Tess briefly holding a stingless jellyfish. Bottom row: Inside luminescent Hagukan Sea Cave. (First two photos by Odette Foronda; the rest by Jimboy)
Next on the agenda is Magkukuob, another sea cave. It doesn’t look as claustrophobic as Hagukan, so we wade in, crouching, holding on to our guides, and closely following their instructions on where to place our feet to avoid some big, slippery rocks on the seafloor. Inside the cave, the water is chest-to-neck-deep and it’s dark, but the boys carry flashlights to show us the stalactites and stalagmites. The younger visitors don’t stop long to check out the shapes and instead clamber up to a hole overhead from where they will jump into the water. Only chickens like us will leave the cave the way we come in, and with much less effort this time. Jimboy and Jeffrey tell us to lie flat on our backs on the water; close our eyes, and keep very still. We do as told… but I’m thinking, what if the ceiling scrapes my nose? The two boys skillfully convey us, one by one, like stiff corpses out into the open, and we all make it out unscathed. Heavy sigh!
There are other lagoons and sea caves to explore, other cliffs to jump from, but my sisters and I are done. We paddle back to the cove entrance, my favorite head-bump tunnel. This time, we’re told to sit on the boat’s floor and to still duck anyway, just to be sure. We’re out in no time on the other side.
Magkukuob Cave, 2023. Clockwise, from top left: Most visitors exit the sea cave by climbing up to a hole on the rock several meters above the surface. A girl jumps off the cave opening and into the water. My sisters and me inside the cave. Another view of the cave’s interior, showing people climbing up the rock before diving into the water outside. We’re behind Jeffrey with the cave mouth to the right. (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Back at the visitor center, we nicely tip Jimboy, Jeffrey, and Tata, thank them, and say good-bye. JohnJohn awaits to take us to lunch before we head back to Siargao Island on a scenic two-hour boat ride. JohnJohn, our guide from Siargao, where we are based, looks after us during our four-day visit.
Scenes from the boat ride between the islands of Siargao and Bucas Grande Island, 2023. Middle photo is of Hidden Island where we stopped to take a swim. (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Siargao Island
Since I moved to Canada over 20 years ago, I have been visiting my family in the Philippines every two years or so. In recent years, my Philippines-based siblings and I have tried to see more of the country by going on short trips together. A cool way to catch up, too.
I tell a friend that my sisters and I have picked Siargao for our first post-Covid trip. He has never heard of Siargao. Google tells him it’s the Philippines’ surfing capital, and so he asks me why Siargao; do my sisters and I surf? No, none of us surf, of course. We’re Pinay seniors, and back in the day, surfing was not a thing in the Philippines. For us, beach fun meant watching for oncoming waves and jumping at the right time so as to keep our heads above the crest or else we’re swept underwater. I tell him we’re not even going to try to learn to surf in Siargao. We’ll simply enjoy the beaches our way, fill our lungs with the sweet Pacific breeze, and take in the beautiful views that the place is also famous for.
Apart from the day trip to Sohoton Cove, we tour Siargao Island and go on another boat trip to check out some of the many sandbars and islands nearby. I’m letting the photos below show why Siargao is not exclusively for sea-sport-loving creatures.
General Luna, May 2023. General Luna is the main town on the island of Siargao. I shot most of these photos on Cloud 9 where most of the surfing action takes place. At the time of our visit, it was not peak surfing season, so the waves were tame and surfing instructors were busy coaching learners. (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Around Siargao Island, 2023. Top row, from left: Maasin River, Mapupungko Rock, tide pool around Mapupungko Rock. Middle row: A pretty road bend, Taktak Falls, Alegria Beach. Bottom row: Paghungawan Marsh, a typical coconut-lined road, a coconut grove. (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Roadside scenes around Siargao Island (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Corregidor Island and Sandbars
A namesake of the better-known historic island off Manila Bay, Siargao’s Corregidor Island is also called Little Batanes by locals. You’ll understand why once you reach the island’s top after a short hike: the green carpet, wildflowers, refreshing 360-degree views of sea, sky, and nearby islands. It has a resort where you can stay overnight if you wish, a village with tiny houses and pretty gardens, fine sand, and clear waters.
I tell a friend that my sisters and I have picked Siargao for our first post-Covid trip. He has never heard of Siargao. Google tells him it’s the Philippines’ surfing capital.
Each day we go out with JohnJohn on a boat tour, we first drop by the market. He lets us buy the ingredients we’d like for lunch and keeps them in a cooler. For this day, he hands over the cooler to the kitchen at the resort on Corregidor and specifies our preferred recipes. We go out on a hike, buy young coconuts from a nice lady, walk further, and admire the views. Later, we take a dip and get off the water when lunch is ready. After lunch, we tell the crew we want more beach time, so they go take a nap. While the crowded party boats hang out around the sand bars, we have Corregidor’s fine beach to ourselves. Can it get any better than this?
Corregidor Island, 2023. Scenes from a hike up and around Corregidor Island. Bottom row: Our boatmen, Eusebio and his son Tope, our guide JohnJohn, my sisters Tess and Venus at lunch. Our lunch of shrimp sinigang (sour soup) and inihaw na pusit (grilled squid) with mounds of steaming white rice. Eusebio’s motorboat (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Sandbars around Siargao, 2023. Clockwise, from top: Daku Island, Guyam Island, swimmer’s view of the water at Secret Island, swimmer’s view at Naked Island (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Top and middle rows: Views of and from our lodging. Bottom row: Scenes from the market and an eggs-and-danggit (Sardinella fish) breakfast (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Back at the airport in Manila, Venus’ daughter is waiting to drive us home. She looks at our bellies and says, “Ania kadi ti kinkinnan yo (what did you eat)?” Turns out we can’t hide our eating sins, and we giggle in unison.
“Why, silly girl, we ate all the things! And mostly with our hands. Seafood galore, all freshly caught. Grilled, sinigang, danggit, mounds of steaming white rice, fresh buko (young coconut), mangoes, halo-halo (crushed ice dessert), cassava chips, the ultimate pan de coco (bread stuffed with sugared coconut) with pressed coffee…. Our bellies can go hang.”
Odette Foronda is a mother of four, grandma of two pretty teenage girls and cute twin three-year-old boys, based in Toronto. Now retired from years of working in the numbers field, she’ll travel as far as her Ilocano purse will allow. She has published 11 books of her travel photos and stories (https://www.blurb.com/user/odettef).
More articles from Odette Foronda
No comments: