The previous night, I’d fallen asleep to the sounds of breaking waves and the monsoon wind passing through the palms. I came to with a start, wondering what had woken me…I was later to discover that my early-morning visitor was a local lizard, often given to rousing lazy humans with his pre-dawn bark. On another occasion, I might have rolled over to go back to sleep. However, the view from my balcony was stunning – even in the grey light before sun-up. Perched no more than 30ft from the island’s eastern shore line, I had a perfect view across the sound to see the sun rising behind Romblon’s northern mountains. I sat there wishing I had my bag with my camera…but I suppose it’s one sunrise I’ll have to keep for myself.
After a wash and brush-up, I wondered back down the path to the living area of Tony and Violet’s little kingdom. Every species of fruit and timber imaginable stretched away in all directions from the shore…scratching chickens and gobbling turkeys wandered freely amongst the plants, affording themselves of the rich cornucopia of insect life that seemed to thrive in this garden paradise. Tony greeted me with a cup of coffee and insisted on taking me on a tour of his domain. This involved a steady, and increasingly sweaty, climb up through plantations of mahogany, mango, gemlia, hibiscus, coconut and banana palms…and a succession of other species, too diverse to remember. As we walked, Tony explained that when he and Violet had first arrived, the hillside was barren grassland, prone to burning flat during every dry season. Despite the locals’ best attempts to tell them nothing would grow there, they persisted – constructing dams to fill the water table and using fast-growing trees to provide the shade cover necessary to despatch the unwanted ground cover. They must have done something right as the place is now a veritable Garden of Eden. The views from the top of the hill are amazing…enough to make a man give up a way of life to make a fresh start. As we headed back down to a breakfast of fresh, green coconut, Tony explained his current project of cleaning the reefs and using the dead corals to help form beaches that would prevent the erosion of the foreshore. He didn’t deny there was a dual purpose in beautifying his surroundings…but one can forgive such when the result is so beneficial. I liked Tony and admired his work immensely…I was sad to leave in order to catch the boat to Sibuyan – and his offer to stay for as long as I wanted was extremely appealing. However, I had an appointment with a mountain which I wasn’t prepared to give up.
Before heading back to Romblon, I went to meet a Swiss-French guy, Pedro, who had recently set up a dive shop on the island. It was his reef that Rodel was aiming to get protected and he proved to be knowledgeable and passionate about marine conservation. A very cool, laid-back kind of guy, I found yet another reason for wanting to stay on Lugbung – not least, to practice my recently acquired diving skills. However, I eventually headed back to Romblon with Sinando at about 9am. First port of call was the Romblon Plaza Hotel where, thanks to Virgie, I was able to grab a shower to wash away the detritus of my early morning exertions. I then wondered down to David’s computer shop and got my laptop reconfigured for wireless use on their network. This meant I was able to drink ‘the coldest beer in the Philippines’ at Jak’s whilst e-mailing a few people and updating the blog. Eventually, at half-twelve, I headed down to the pier to catch the pumpboat to Sibuyan. The sea was calm, the sky blue and the sun shining…schools of dolphins raced along at the prow of the boat, as we cut through the waves towards the mist-shrouded peak of Mt. Guiting-Guiting. This arduous peak had been my inspiration for heading into the Romblon province in the first place…I was really looking forward to donning the boots and ‘hoying myself up her’ – as a good friend of mine would say.
Arriving in Anbulong port, I took the first tricycle I could find to head for Vickie’s Place in Magdiwang. The Lonely Planet and virtually everyone who knew Sibuyan highly recommended her hospitality, and particularly her cooking. With a certain resignation, I had submitted to the awful prospect of being overfed…again! Vickie herself was very welcoming – and her three daughters proved to be equally friendly. The eldest, Grace, spoke remarkably good English and she really struck me as a bright cookie. As I showed her some of the photos from my previous travels, the conversation touched on the problems of religion, environmental destruction and the terrible brain-drain affecting the medical and nursing professions in her country. She was polite and intelligent and, for a sixteen year-old, she seemed ridiculously well-informed. In the future, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find her working as a doctor or perhaps doing a PhD in ecology and conservation.
Vickie arranged for a friend to take me to the Mt. Guiting-Guiting National Park Office to arrange guides and permits to climb the mountain. Hurtling down the roads on the back of his Yamaha, I again felt the exhilaration of being far-removed from the cloying strictures of rules and regulations that so often get in the way of having fun. Admittedly, riding on the back of a motorbike on the roads in the UK is not something I’d recommend with leathers and a helmet. However, with only the occasional tricycle or Jeepney to scoot around and the odd stupid dog or chicken to dodge, Filipino roads are a much safer (if bumpier) experience.
Before heading into the park, we made a slight detour to Lambingan Falls – a beautiful cascade of crystal clear mountain waters falling into a deep swimming hole, where I spent a pleasant half hour cooling off from the afternoon heat and harassing the local river fauna. I had brought along my mask and snorkel in case there was anything worth checking out…and took an exploratory dive with just the mask to have a look around. Of course, having gotten so used to swimming underwater with a mask and being able to breath, I managed to take in nice lungful of water mid-dive. I surfaced, coughing and spluttering – much to the mirth of the local kids sat higher up the fall. I gave an embarrassed grin before rushing off to get my snorkel to prevent any repeat performance.
Eventually, we headed down the shady trail into the National Park. The deeper we went into the virgin rainforest, the darker and cooler it became. Towering trees, laden with fruit of every description closed in around the narrowing track and the background noise of insects and amphibians overcame even the steady roar of the motorbike’s four-stroke. We came, unexpectedly into a clearing dotted with smart-looking huts and picnic benches…all looking ominously deserted. Unfortunately, it seemed, the curse of the public holidays had struck once again…the offices were closed. As I later found out, it seems the funding for the preservation and upkeep of the National Park had dried up. The European Commission had taken umbrage at the lack of research resulting from their substantial financial contributions. It must have been particularly galling to discover that the local mandarin, supposedly administering the funds to develop a sustainable concern, was pocketing the cash whilst directing the illegal logging operations that are destroying the island’s unique habitat. Now that the funding had ceased, Romblon Province could only afford to employ one ranger in the park – who, not unreasonably, had taken advantage of all the public holidays to spend time with his family. More concerning than one European’s sudden inability to climb a mountain, is the scale of illegal logging that now appears to be going on in the Cajidiocan Barangay on the far side of the mountain. If it isn’t stopped soon, another of the world’s great natural resources will be destroyed. Something that doesn’t seem to matter to the rich few controlling the purse strings and the politics.
As we headed back into town, it began to dawn on me that my major reason for travelling through Romblon had suddenly disappeared. It requires a minimum of 3 days to scale Mt. Guiting-Guiting - and the major ferry service between Magdiwang and Luzon Island (home of Manila) was offline after a sunken ship last year…I had cut it too fine and could not afford the extra day required for fear of missing my flight to Vietnam. In simple terms, I was going to have to find something else to do for a few days before catching a ferry back north from Romblon Town. After dinner (a delicious piece of marinaded blue marlin, with rice and stir-fried vegetables), I took a stroll down to the beach to consider my options. Realising I had to be back in Romblon for the ferry anyway, it made sense to return there and see some more of the island and its surroundings. I felt very strongly that I would return to Sibuyan some day and spend some real time exploring the forest and (hopefully) climbing the mountain – I didn’t want to hang around for a day or two within sight of the mountain, unable to scale its great peak. Still frustrated by the state of affairs at the National Park, it eventually occurred to me that there was a practical way in which I could contribute to the ecological restoration of the islands. Why not take up Tony on his kind offer in Lugbung…and in return, get stuck into the restoration and reclamation projects he had initiated? The more I thought about it, the more sense it made and I quickly came up with a plan, including some diving on Pedro’s soon-to-be marine sanctuary.
As I sat on the sand, listening to CRW’s ‘I Feel Love’ and the gentle background swish of the surf, I had the pleasure of witnessing a pyrotechnic display of lightening over the sea. It dawned on me that, although Guiting-Guiting had been my objective, I had met some special people and seen some beautiful sights on my tour of Romblon. Is it true that travelling isn’t just about the destinations? I think so…
I’ve always been a planner – it’s in my nature – but I was fast overcoming my disappointment, because the journey to the objective had been every bit as fulfilling as climbing it might have been. I felt like I’d seen and done so much just getting there that I was beginning to appreciate my travels as a continuous journey, rather than a series of destinations. In much the same way, I don’t begrudge the time I spend writing the blog or returning all of your many e-mails…sharing it with you all is as much a part of the experience as being here. While I have appreciated the solitude and peace that comes from travelling alone, I don’t think I’d enjoy myself half as much if I didn’t have someone to tell about it.
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