Tablas

An early start next day to catch the 6am pump boat to Tablas island. Learning from the woeful looks and tossed cookies of the previous day’s travelling companions, I opted to sit on the roof again. This allowed me to keep my breakfast down and watch the sun crawl lazily into the sky. That mischievous charm of the Filipinos’ came to the fore once again – as the boat prepared to depart, one of the elderly gentlemen sat behind, loudly asked his companion (in English) what time the boat was arriving in Boracay. Not at all worried, having checked at the port about twenty times already, I turned round smiling to find three of them stifling giggles, eyeing me expectantly. We all cracked up laughing and for the rest of the journey, my new-found friends questioned me about my travels in the Philippines and we discussed the merits of the various islands. As the journey progressed, I found myself fascinated by the thick oily texture of the water…there seemed to be no pattern to the rising swells and deepening troughs and yet, somehow, our skipper seemed to guide us effortlessly through the path of least resistance. The spray remained at arm’s length throughout the journey and I could understand why the Filipinos are regarded amongst the world’s finest sailors. Once at Santa Fe, I caught the jeepney to Looc– a 23km journey over bumpy roads, winding through hilly passes and terraced rice fields. Looc, just inland from my day’s objective, the Looc Marine Sanctuary, turned out to be a thriving little market town. Accommodation was plentiful and I settled on the big, airy Marduke Hotel, purely on the basis that it had air-conditioning and I was sweating like a mare in foal. Stood in the shade, quaffing a much-needed bottle of Sprite, I was accosted by a dodgy looking character wearing shades and an LA Lakers basketball top. His English was excellent and I soon warmed to his affable, Del-boy character. He offered to guide me round the local sights and sort out the requisite boat and pass for the marine sanctuary…his banter was good, his price even better and I decided to take him on. An hour later, after a refreshing shower, Johnny Calowad came back to take me for breakfast (burger!) at a local restaurant. After sating my hunger, we chugged down to the pier in his funky-looking tricycle and boarded a rickety-looking pump boat out to the moored raft at the marine sanctuary. I spent an absorbing hour swimming around the protected reef – marvelling at giant orange and blue starfish; avoiding death-star sized sea-urchins and flirting with shoals of parrot fish and other, brightly-coloured species of every size and shape. The piece-de-resistance, however, was the giant clam bed. Clams the size of my head (yes, it is possible!) and of every shape and colour imaginable covered an area about the size of a football field…very surreal and very enticing. I kept wishing I was wearing scuba rather than my snorkel…I would have loved to have been able to stay down on the seabed and study them in more detail. Eventually, we chugged pack to the pier and juddered back to the Marduke – mindful of the saying about mad dogs, Englishmen and the midday sun. I retreated into the air-conditioned cocoon of my room and used the time to work on the computer in preparation for the relative civilisation of Romblon and the internet café the following day. Around 4pm, Johnny returned to escort me down to Roda Beach – a tranquil and serene spot, bordered by mangroves and crystal-clear water. As the sun sank, the crickets, birds and other inhabitants of the nearby swamp filled the air with a truly tropical symphony…once again, I felt like I’d discovered paradise. Sinking a San Miguel, Johnny and I chatted about his family – three children under 6 years old. He had coached league soccer for the province for several years, but had recently given up the commitment to spend more time with his children. He was very eager, still, to give something back to his community and had taken up coaching the local schoolchildren on Sundays instead. We moved on to the matter of the plundered natural resources of the Philippines…a subject he was passionate and well-informed about. He was demonstrably proud of his own town’s decision to protect the reef and clam beds…we both agreed that, as the beauty of the natural habitat is one of the Philippines biggest attractions, it was truly in the best interests of the populace and the administration to protect it. I explained to him that in the UK the few remaining areas of outstanding natural beauty were well-protected (for the most part), but unfortunately over-visited by the knowledgeable and unappreciated by the rest. The chances of finding a place like Roda, unspoilt and deserted in my home country are close to zero…having the place to ourselves was a gift worth appreciating. Then Johnny said something that really touched me…he confessed to not having watched and appreciated a sunset for two years…and then he thanked me for reminding him that the world was a beautiful place. I know how easy it can be to get mired in the mundane existence of daily life and I was glad that my visitor’s perspective had temporarily broken the spell for him. Still, without his local knowledge and eagerness to help, I may never have discovered the place and been able to share in its enchanting power. As he dropped me off at a restaurant, I was sad to see him go – I felt, again, like I had found the real Philippines and made a connection with someone whose life bears so very little resemblance to mine.