As far as national tourist board catchphrases go, this may not be the most imaginative but it hits the nail right on the head. Both being big fans of the Philippines after a great trip to Bohol a couple of years ago, Palawan had been on our hit list for some time. Billed as the last frontier of the island nation, an adventurer’s paradise, unspoiled by the ravages of commercial tourism, this long, skinny island about 400km long and 80km wide, did not disappoint.
We landed in Puerto Princesa, smack bang in the centre and optimistically headed south, paying no heed to the cautionary words of the Lonely Planet that the going would be tough with no real infrastructure to speak of.
One day later we were back.
Four hours on a minibus had got us 70km to Narra, where we planned to hike and see some waterfalls. The heavens opened and with the falls still an hour away by motorized tricycle on very bumpy dirt roads veiled with dark clouds, we just made it to the nearest hotel by nightfall. Twice our budget but the only place for miles, it ended up being quite a find. The sole guests (and only about the twentieth in the last year according to the guestbook), we had the run of the pool and the private mangrove. On the downside, it was still raining, there was very little to eat in the restaurant and the rooms were full of bugs having been unused for quite some time. The next morning we faced reality and more black clouds in the south and hopped on a minibus back to Puerto, the north and the promise of more sunshine and marginally easier passage.
We were sidetracked in Puerto for a couple of days with the discovery of a lone kite school. A beautiful, calm lagoon, shallow waters and nobody else on the water it was the perfect spot for me to tackle the sport with none of the dangers regularly faced by the debutante kitesurfer in Shanghai (overhead wires, rocks, rogue fishing nets and bamboo poles sticking out at random in the water).
The first afternoon was a washout with the weather flipping from glorious sunshine to treacherous rainy squalls but the following day proved more fruitful after a bit of a false start; there being no wind in the morning we decided not to waste the entire day waiting and booked ourselves on a bus to El Nido, the northernmost point of Palawan. Of course, the wind arrived with the bus and though we did stick to our guns and climb aboard, we came to our senses when the engine conked at the main bus station 20 minutes down the road, and took it as a sign not to spend the next 6 hours on a cramped and sweaty bus when the sun was out and the wind was a-blowing. Much to the amusement of my instructor and our other newfound kitesurfing friends, Italians Monica and Aquil, we were back on the beach in no time and after 4 hours of patient instruction I was managing the kite and body dragging up and down wind.
So we had another night in Puerto where we wandered along the seafront then up to the main street for some food (and where we saw some local kids playing an unusual sport that involves what looks like a badminton net, a large hackysack and some very flexible leg work) and an early morning start to catch the 7am bus to El Nido.
The Road to El Nido
We crammed ourselves in to the tiny 11-seater mini bus bound for El Nido and prepared to get cozy with our fellow passengers, of whom there were 15 (you do the math!). In spite of the cramped conditions the journey was not too bad – 200km over 6 hours. The first half is fairly smooth on a new road dodging the ever-present collection of jeepneys, motorbikes, scooters, trikes, buffalo and cart. After a place called Roxas, approximately midway, things started to deteriorate with the road only partially complete on both sides, and dirt tracks connecting the random sections of concrete, it became more like a game of chicken with the aforementioned assortment of vehicles traveling in both directions and on either side of the road. There was always something interesting to see out of the window though, from a religious procession following what looked like Big Bird to lush green rice fields or views of the sea and fishing boats sparkling through the dense jungle all around.
We arrived in El Nido around lunchtime and set out to find a room. After more than an hour of hauling our heavy rucksacks from end to end of the small town where every inch of the beach front is taken up by some form of guesthouse of restaurant, though none of them with any vacancies, we eventually found a great, tranquil little place called Makulay, a few minutes walk around the headland on the next beach with a room for $8 a night.
El Nido used to be just a small fishing village and though it remains a small village the emphasis has started to shift from fishing to tourism. With just one main street the shop fronts alternate between guesthouses, tour agencies and restaurants, but there is still no ATM and electricity only runs from 6pm to 3am. A bummer if you’re after a fresh fruit smoothie or a cappuccino for breakfast! It's a nice place to pass a few days but the real reason for bein g here is what lies out to sea and the collection of jagged limestone islands that rear majestically out of the waters, known as the Bacuit Archipelago...
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