CebPacked Coron

CEBU PACIFIC flew me safely – and most pleasantly – to Busuanga in Palawan, setting the mood for the best vacation I’ve had in years.

And vacationing a number of times every year I’ve been doing, year after year. No braggadocio there, simply to underscore the fun I’ve had this weekend past.

A commute by van that did not take long – I am completely mindless of time on vacations – to the Coron pier, a boat ride through a calm turquoise sea, passing by mountains looking like loaves of green, and then Balinsasayaw Resort.    

Natural as natural can ever get, the resort is. A large round pavilion with thatched roof and sawali ceiling multi-functioning as reception area, dining hall, videoke bar, lounger and what have you. Cottages – of thatch and sawali again – clinging at the hillside, amid trees and shrubs.  

All green and all serene, the chirping of cicadas, the murmur of the sea, most pleasant music to the ears. It helped too that power at the resort was available only from 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 a.m.

Balinsasayaw – named after the swiftlet, aye, the very birds whose nests are a delicacy – makes the best jump-off point to island adventure and exploration of Coron’s natural wonders.

Kayangan Lake, accessible through a steep – slippery when we were there because of early morning drizzle – climb apexing at a rock promontory opening to a vista of Coron’s iconic poster – leaf-framed against blue skies jungle-clad islands, inlets and pristine sea. And as steep a descent to the cool, crystal-clear waters of the lake.

Snorkel heaven is Siete Pecados, a group of seven islets established as a marine sanctuary, with its expanse of corals and all sorts of fish to swim with.

Nestled into mountain walls and accessible through jagged limestone cliffs, Barracuda Lake looked like the crater of a volcano. It resembles, albeit on a much smaller scale, Mount Pinatubo’s crater lake.

There is some uncanny feeling diving into the waters of Barracuda Lake. No, I it’s not about heaving encounters with the fish, but with it seeming a bottomless pit.

At the pocket white sand beach of Banul, a feast from the sea was our lunch of crabs, prawns, lobsters, grilled labahita. Doubly made fulfilling with the feast for the eyes of bikini bodies. “Oyni’ng bie!” The double visionary Deng Pangilinan just could not help it.

Failed miserably did I in my first scuba try. Barely had I submerged in four-foot waters, when it seeped through my goggles burning my eyes and nostrils – more excitedly than stupidly, I breathed through the nose. So I let Peter Alagos, Ashley Manabat, Eric Jimenez and Ric Gonzales did all the exploring of the Skeleton Wreck. Contenting myself in a floating contemplation of the heavenly bodies splashing, submerging, surfacing, swirling all around me – all in the briefest of bikinis. Nirvana, attained.

And that was only on our first full day in Coron.

Pitch black, through trails – not roads – we rode seemingly to nowhere, until we stopped where the trail ended. By the bank of a river where waited a catamaran fashioned out of two bancas for hulls joined by a platform where rows of wooden benches were fixed, powered by an outboard motor.

Seemingly far-away lights turned out to be the bar at the end of the pier of El Rio y Mar Resort, where awaited us a sumptuous buffet dinner at the beach, complete with cultural show and a serenading trio.

Room for the night – and the next two days – was a beachfront villa made of red cedar “imported from Canada.”

El Rio y Mar had all the creature comforts without sacrificing the island life – wi-fi confined at its business center, no television – again, the whispers of the mangroves behind its villas, the croak of the geckos, the ever present chirping cicadas is all that lull the guests to sound sleep.

Up 4 a.m. Saturday for a quick coffee, then onto the catamaran, the first rays of dawn breaking at the mangroves lining up the river, then yet another transfer to a van to take us to Calauit for a day with the animals.

Here, I counted the minutes, aye, hours through back-breaking, bronco-bucking ride of steep climbs and plummeting drops with our driver doing 4X4 on a rutted trail in a Toyota Coaster.

Aching joints find instant relief upon sight of Calauit after a short riverboat crossing.

Straight out of Africa: a tower of giraffes and a dazzle of zebras, ruminating, grazing in complete symbiosis with a herd of Calamian deer.

All native born, the African animals at Calauit are now, from the Kenyan stock imported in the 1970s to provide game for Bongbong Marcos’s safari jaunts  – yet another urban legend appended to the son of the Great Ferdinand.

No, Bongbong – young then, and Senator now – was never seen at Calauit, so our tour guide said.

Feeding the giraffes, touching cheeks with them, is one experience of a lifetime. The connection, an epiphany of sorts, of the blessed bonds among God’s creations. Heaven, touched.                       

A fitting end to that bone-breaking but all-too fulfilling day: a dip at El Rio’s pool, the warmth of the water enveloping the body, de-stressing the mind, taking away all the cares of the world…   

Cebu Pacific flew me safely back to chaotic Manila – but with the fondest memories of Coron. Enough to last, till my next flight with CebPac.

Read me next from Angkor Wat.