“Next!”, said the invisible voice from the dark hole in front of me. Never has such a single word sent a chill so cold down my spine as that word. My heart started pounding. I never expected the entrance to be this…. SMALL!!!.
As I angled myself to fit in the 3-meter (?) long “diamond tunnel” — aptly named because of its diamond-shaped “mouth”, the words of John E. Gillett, a British caver and author of the book Of Caves and Caving: A Way and a Life, reverberated in my head:
“What is caving? Caving is fun. Caving is in the darkness. Caving is illuminating. Caving is dangerous. Caving is a minority sport for idiots. Caving is a muddy pastime. Caving warms you up. Caving gives you hypothermia. Caving is a sport for the individual. Caving is for everyone. Caving is exploration. Caving refreshes the soul. Caving is a way of life.”
Snapping out of my reverie, I silently slithered my way, “reverse crawling” into the pitch-black void of the unknown. Although more difficult, I opted to enter this claustrophobic hole feet first because the coward in me couldn’t bear the thought of possibly making eye-to-eye contact with one of Lower Langun’s residents, which moments ago we saw a couple lounging about in one of the cave’s mini chambers.
Once through the hole and on level ground, I shone my headlamp around the cave, suddenly dwarfed by its vastness, oblivious of the voice instructing me where to step on to avoid the slippery rocks. I waddled awkwardly until I got to a safe corner where I could pause and catch my breath. Now, it’s my turn to say “Next!”.
Langun-Gobingob Cave, Calbiga, Samar
The Langun-Gobingob Cave in Calbiga, Samar is a magnificent natural wonder that captivates adventurers and spelunkers from around the world. As the largest cave system in the Philippines and one of the largest in Southeast Asia, Langun-Gobingob Cave boasts impressive dimensions and features that inspire awe and wonder. This subterranean marvel spans an expansive area of 2,968 hectares, encompassing a labyrinthine network of chambers, passageways, and underground rivers. The cave’s immense size and intricate formations, including stalactites, stalagmites, and flowstones, create a surreal landscape that transports visitors to another world.
“What is caving? Caving is fun. Caving is in the darkness. Caving is illuminating. Caving is dangerous. Caving is a minority sport for idiots. Caving is a muddy pastime. Caving warms you up. Caving gives you hypothermia. Caving is a sport for the individual. Caving is for everyone. Caving is exploration. Caving refreshes the soul. Caving is a way of life.”
John E. Gillett, in Of Caves and Caving: A Way and a Life
The journey into Langun-Gobingob Cave is a thrilling adventure filled with challenges and discoveries. Equipped with helmets, headlamps, and a sense of adventure, we embarked on an exploration of the cave’s hidden depths, guided by experienced cave guides from Trexplore Adventures who helped us navigate the labyrinthine passages with skill and expertise. Inside the cave, one can only wonder at the diverse array of geological phenomena, from towering rock formations to shimmering underground rivers. The Cathedral Room, a massive chamber adorned with intricate formations that resemble the vaulted ceilings of a grand cathedral, is a highlight of the cave exploration — and our “campsite” for our first night inside.
Deeper into the cave, we encountered narrow passageways, a mini lake, and hidden waterfalls, each revealing new wonders and challenges to overcome. The Gobingob Chamber, a vast expanse of darkness that stretches as far as the eye can see, represents the culmination of the cave exploration, offering a glimpse into the true magnitude of Langun-Gobingob Cave.
Emerging from the depths of the cave, adventurers are filled with a sense of awe and wonder at the beauty and majesty of the natural world. Langun-Gobingob Cave is not just a cave; it is a testament to the power of nature and the enduring spirit of exploration that drives us to seek out the wonders of the world around us.
Mount Cagua (pronounced as Ka-wah, according to our guides), located in the quiet town of Gonzaga, is the only active stratovolcano in the province of Cagayan, and is known also for its stunning landscapes and rich biodiversity. Rising to an elevation of approximately 1,158 meters above sea level (MASL), it offers breathtaking views of the main caldera, a partial view of the twin sulfur vents or fumaroles, and parts of the northern coast of Cagayan.
The volcano is part of the Babuyan or Cagayan Volcanic Arc and is characterized by two prominent “craters” with several sulfuric fumaroles. The main caldera is 1.5 kilometers in diameter, with walls reaching as high as 60 meters.
NOTE 1: The locals here mistakenly call the main caldera as “Crater 1” and the twin sulfur vents as “Crater 2”.
NOTE 2: Fumaroles are openings in the earth’s surface that emit steam and volcanic gases, such as sulfur dioxide and carbon dioxide. They can occur as holes, cracks, or fissures near active volcanoes or in areas where magma has risen into the earth’s crust without erupting.
While hiking Mount Cagua, adventurers can marvel at its diverse flora and fauna, including endemic trees (“tibbug”) and bird (“bil-billit”) species. The hike to Mount Cagua consists five legs, each commencing at designated pit stops or stations.
Station 1: Sulyap sa Cagua. The station name literally means a peek at Cagua, where you can already see the steam trails from the two prominent craters. This is the jump-off point and is a short leg of about 20- to 30-minute walk. The trail begins gently enough, winding its way through corn fields and culminates in the shade of a “tibbug” tree.
Station 2: “Tibbug” Woods. “Tibbug” is an Ilocano term for what the Tagalogs call “tibig” or sacking tree, a type of flowering plant of the Moraceae family, which can grow up to nine meters high. From here, it’s about an hour-and-a-half trek on a slightly ascending trail through tall trees and occasional rocky terrain. You’ll know when you are almost at the end of the trail when you encounter a steady incline of rugged slopes. The 15-minute mini ascent left me winded!
Making a quick stop to listen to the sound of birds.
Station 3: “Bil-billit” Sanctuary. Here, you’ll be greeted by a cacophony of bird calls! The “noise” is just enchanting! This area of the mountain is a sanctuary to 121 species of indigenous birds, which includes more than 16 endangered species of the Philippine hawk eagle owl (Bubo Philippinensis), furtive flycatcher (Fliceduladisposita), and Rafus hornbill or “kalaw” (Buceroshydrocorax). According to our guides, you can hear the “kalaw” cawing as if doing a time-check every 10am or 11am. By the way, “Bil-billit” in Ilocano means birds.
From Station 3, the trek becomes a little more strenuous, with the terrain becoming more rugged and steep. Ours was made more laborious by the early morning drizzle, which made the trail slippery.
Station 4: “Alimanawan” Red Zone. This section of the trail is characterized by thick under brushes and extremely rugged terrain. But more than the trail, the hour-long steady uphill climb, and the thinning air, this part of the trek is made doubly taxing by, one word: “Limatik”, hence the “Red Zone” in the station name. The nagging fear of encountering these bloodsuckers will keep you on your toes. With each step, you will feel the air grow thinner and start to breathe in the unmistakable scent of sulfur permeating the air (if you have any pulmonary issues, it is best to wear a mask).
The Red Zone finishes in a grassy flatland where you can finally see the summit and the main caldera. The trek to the summit is more relaxed from here, navigated through a narrow and winding footpath. Finally seeing the steam vents reinforced in me a sense of curiosity and wonder… and a tiny bit of fear: “What if Mount Cagua decides to wake up right there and then?”, which I just brushed off, the elation of summitting this mountain eclipsed the fear.
Mount Cagua Summit. At 1,158 MASL, Mount Cagua summit offers a bird’s eye view of Cagayan’s northern coast, with glimpses of Santa Teresita’s long stretch of coastline and the Babuyan Channel.
Descending from the summit to the main caldera can be very tough for an inexperienced trekker. The terrain is almost vertical that you have to rely on ropes to safely go down. At times, climbers may need to use both hands and feet to navigate the descent due to the very rugged nature of the terrain. Please proceed with extreme caution and be mindful of the trail conditions during the descent from the summit to the main crater.
With cautious steps, we descended into the main caldera, the heat of the steam radiating against my skin and the pungent smell of sulfur soaking my lungs. The ground beneath me felt alive, vibrating with the energy of the volcano’s restless heart. It was a humbling experience, a reminder of the immense power that lay dormant beneath the earth’s surface. The caldera was a sight unlike anything I had ever seen, simultaneously beautiful and terrifying in its intensity.
Sulfur crystals or deposits found around the crater.
Main Caldera. Several vents and fumaroles that emit steam and gases dot the entirety of the caldera of Mount Cagua, indicating volcanic activity. A prominent “mud pot” where one can see actual mud boiling is one of the highlights of the caldera. Boiling mud is a mixture of water, gases, and volcanic ash or other sediments that boils at the surface due to the intense heat from underground volcanic activity. This mixture often forms in areas where water interacts with hot rocks or magma beneath the earth’s surface. This boiling action has created mud pools, bubbling mud pots, or small mud vents in the caldera. While most of the larger “mud pots” are marked and/or sealed off, there are still several vents that remain hidden so walking around the area should be limited to marked footpaths only to avoid any untoward incidents.
It’s important to note that due to the volcano’s active status, the conditions around the caldera can change over time, influenced by various volcanic processes such as eruptions, gas emissions, and volcanic tremors.
Twin Sulfur Fumaroles. An 800-meter trek from the caldera through dense vegetation leads to the twin sulfur vents or fumaroles. Here, the ground vibration is more pronounced and the hissing sound of the vented steam much louder. A sulfuric river (although dried up when we visited) runs along the trail leading to the caldera.
While this is the best spot to take those “dramatic” shots, extra care should always be exercised, as loose rocks abound.
Mount Cagua Waterfalls or Bagsang (or Sangbay) Falls. From the secondary crater, the waterfalls is a good ten- to fifteen-minute walk and is considered as the tallest waterfalls discovered in Gonzaga. The short trek to the falls is highlighted by moss-covered rocks, fallen trees, and various plant species, and culminates in a challenging rappel down a cliff to reach the base.
The trip to Bagsang Falls proves to be a refreshing detour at this juncture of the hike. Trekkers can take advantage of the cool waters to soothe tired muscles.
Station 5: Bunkhouse. The final station of the half-day trek through Mount Cagua is the Bagsang base camp or bunkhouse. It’s just a 30-minute trek from the waterfalls.
From the bunkhouse, the return trek is a much shorter hike as it skips the entire “Red Zone”; a mere 10-minute walk will already take you to the the trail head of Station 4, and from there, you can just follow the same path you’ve initially taken until you reach the jump-off station.
This adventure was made possible by Napapagna under Eldridge Bandas.
Take Away: A Journey into the Heart of Mount Cagua
Mount Cagua is a “friendly volcano” to the locals, having erupted only twice in recorded history. Although still considered an active volcano, it has been dormant since its last eruption in 1907.
Trekking through the rugged terrain of Mount Cagua was not just a physical journey; it was a transformative experience that would leave an indelible mark on one’s soul.
As I reflect on the adventure, I am reminded of the awe-inspiring beauty of nature and the profound connection it fosters between the human spirit and the natural world. Each leg of the trek unfolded like a chapter in a story, revealing new wonders and challenges along the way. From the gentle ascent through corn fields at Sulyap sa Cagua to the enchanting cacophony of bird calls at the “Bil-billit” Sanctuary, every step brought us closer to the heart of the mountain and deeper into its embrace.
Deeper into the mountain, the terrain became more rugged and steep, the air grew thinner, and the scent of sulfur permeated the atmosphere, testing our endurance. The descent from the summit to the main caldera demanded courage and caution as we navigated the treacherous terrain with ropes as our lifeline. But amidst the physical challenges and moments of uncertainty, there was a profound sense of wonder and awe that pervaded the journey. Standing at the summit, gazing out at the panoramic vista of Cagayan’s northern coast, I felt a profound connection to the earth and a deep appreciation for the beauty that surrounded me.
Descending into the main caldera, I was humbled by the raw power and beauty of nature, as steam vents and fumaroles dotted the landscape, reminding me of the volcano’s restless heart. The sight of boiling mud and sulfur deposits served as a potent reminder of the dynamic forces at play beneath the earth’s surface, a reminder of the delicate balance between creation and destruction. As we made our way to the twin sulfur vents and Mount Cagua Waterfalls, I was struck by the resilience of life that thrived in the midst of adversity. Moss-covered rocks, fallen trees, and vibrant plant species adorned the landscape, a testament to nature’s ability to adapt and flourish in even the harshest of environments.
On our way back to civilization, I felt a sense of gratitude for the opportunity to witness the beauty of Mount Cagua and to experience the transformative power of nature. In the end, the journey was not just about reaching the summit or conquering physical challenges; it was about embracing the journey itself and allowing it to change me in ways I could never have imagined. As I bid farewell to Mount Cagua, I carried with me memories of its beauty and a renewed sense of wonder for the world around me.
The Biniray Festival in the island of Romblon has been on my bucket list for some time as I seek authentic and enriching experiences in celebrating the feast of the Sto. Niño. However, my recent visit to this cultural extravaganza left me deeply disappointed, not due to the festival itself, but rather the glaring inadequacy of ferry services to accommodate the influx of eager attendees.
Romblon’s picturesque landscapes and the promise of the Biniray Festival drew me in with high expectations. Sadly, those expectations were met with frustration as the lack of available ferry trips proved to be a substantial roadblock to the overall enjoyment of the event. The festival, which should have been a seamless celebration of culture, became marred by the logistical nightmare of getting to and from the island.
The limited ferry schedule left many tourists, myself included, stranded for days, forcing us to rethink our plans and miss out on some of the province’s key offerings. It is disheartening to witness such an oversight, particularly when the success of the Biniray Festival relies heavily on attracting and accommodating visitors. The enthusiasm to immerse oneself in the local traditions is dampened when the journey itself becomes a cumbersome ordeal.
This disappointment extends beyond personal inconvenience; it reflects a broader concern for the tourism industry in Romblon. A festival that has the potential to showcase the beauty and warmth of the region is overshadowed by the inadequacies of its transportation infrastructure. Addressing this issue is not just about convenience; it is about safeguarding the reputation of Romblon as a tourist-friendly destination and ensuring the sustained interest of visitors.
My disappointment in the lack of ferry trips during the Biniray Festival is not merely an isolated incident but a reflection of a broader challenge that needs urgent attention. Rectifying the ferry service shortcomings is crucial not only for the satisfaction of festival attendees but also for the long-term prosperity of Romblon’s tourism industry. It is my hope that authorities recognize the urgency of this matter and take swift measures to ensure that future festival-goers can fully enjoy the magic of Biniray without the hindrance of inadequate transportation options.
P.S. If not for the kindness of San Agustin Port Manager Randy Madamo, Balisa Beach Resort owner Jojo Maestro, Romblon Port staff Roger Madrona, the “ate” at the terminal fee window, and members of the Coast Guard, we wouldn’t have made it out of Romblon, Romblon in time for our next destination.
Until a more efficient transportation system is in place and unless you have arranged private transportation to and from Romblon, I wouldn’t recommend going during the annual Biniray Fiesta. Sad. But true.
Ah, Christmas – that magical time of year when everything feels a bit happier, cozier, and lighter. Where the world sparkles a little brighter. It’s not just about the parties and the gifts, but more about the warm fuzzies that wrap around you like a comfy blanket.
Y’see, for me, Christmas isn’t just a date on the calendar; it’s a feeling, an emotion that sneaks up on you. You suddenly catch the scent of bibingka and puto bumbong in the air, the twinkling lights that make your inner Grinch crack a smile, and those familiar tunes that play on repeat (never mind if it’s just Jose Marie Chan 😁). It’s like the world’s in on this secret to spread joy, and it’s contagious!
But hey, it’s not all tinsel and mistletoe. Amidst the chaos of holiday shopping and the race to find the perfect gift, Christmas reflections kick in. It’s a time for nostalgia, reminiscing about childhood memories of waiting for Santa and the excitement that bubbled up on Christmas morning. As we grow older, those memories become cherished treasures, and the traditions we carry forward become our way of reliving those magical moments.
And let’s not forget the heart of Christmas – the people. It’s about coming together, whether it’s family, friends, or even those random acts of kindness that seem to surface more during this season. There’s something about the holiday spirit that nudges us to be a bit kinder, a bit more generous, and a lot more compassionate.
Sure, there might be stress, burnt liempo in the backyard grill, and the occasional holiday mishaps, but isn’t that what makes it real and, well, memorable? Because in the end, Christmas isn’t about perfection; it’s about the imperfect, beautiful chaos that brings us closer and reminds us of the good stuff – love, togetherness, and the joy of giving (and receiving, let’s be real!).
So, here’s to the laughter, the warmth, the ridiculous sweaters and themed OOTDs, and the overflowing plates of food (spaghetti, anyone?). Christmas reflections? They’re about finding the magic in the ordinary and making the most wonderful time of the year, well, truly wonderful.
So, cheers to a happy and meaningful Christmas 2023, everyone!
The year 2023 was a busy year for me, travel wise. I found myself navigating extended road trips, mostly to revisit some of my favorite #PHdestinations and #PHfestivals. It was also an opportunity to explore and discover inter-island routes that were once off-limits. While interconnection between islands and towns and provinces is more convenient now, it does not come without a price. Picture this: your favorite secluded beach spot transforming overnight with swanky resorts, cafes, and posh bars. It’s off-putting at times, especially when you are looking forward to some quiet #metime. It’s a bit of a shake-up that tinkered with the original vibe, the very essence that charmed tourists in from the get-go. Well, that’s #gentrification for you.
Gentrification’s like that new kid on the block, bringing change to neighborhoods, and it’s had a serious impact on local tourism vibes. See, when a place gets gentrified, the culture shifts. The cool little joints, the mom-and-pop shops, they might struggle against these newer, fancier places. That change? It could take away what made the spot so special for travelers – that authentic, local feel.
But hey, it’s not all bad! Gentrification can spruce things up. Better streets, safer vibes, and cooler hangout spots – all of that jazz can attract new visitors. Plus, new events and trendy spots might pop up, making the place more exciting for tourists.
Still, finding the sweet spot’s the key. We gotta keep the local flavor while welcoming in the new stuff. Supporting local artists, keeping the old-school charm, and making sure everyone gets a piece of the pie – that’s the goal.
At the end of the day, gentrification’s a mixed bag for local tourism. It brings new energy and shiny things but risks losing the heart and soul that made a place special. It’s all about finding that balance, so the spot keeps its charm while evolving to be even cooler for visitors and locals alike.
Although discovered and explored way back in 1991, Sulpan Cave in San Jorge, Samar remained under the radar of many travel enthusiasts except for some really adventurous explorers. The underground river that runs through it supplies the waters of the 7-tiered Pinipisakan Falls, a wonder in its own right.
Exploring the 6km+ Sulpan Cave is a more than 5-hour affair, which entails a lot of swimming against the river current. Expect to get really, really wet!
Jumpoff point for the trek to the campsite.
Getting ready for the swim. Pinipisakan calls.
Success!
Pinipisakan Falls from another angle.
The climb was made more difficult by the rushing waters.
Tier 1 completed!
Tier 1 completed
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Entrance to Sulpan Cave.
At the mouth of Sulpan Cave.
A wide grin despite the cold.
Did someone say eerie?
Inside the many chambers of Sulpan Cave.
On the return leg, we did some canyoneering at Blanca Aurora River.
Take 5.
For a hassle-free Sulpan caving and Pinipisakan Falls adventure, contact Trexplore PH.
Surely, many of us have, by now, heard how travelling is not only about seeing new places but in seeing old, familiar places with new eyes. That is the subtle beauty of travel. It allows us to bring fresh perspective to an old haunt — a beach, a mountain lodge, a waterfall, and in this missive, a secluded island in the northernmost part of Luzon, Camiguin Norte. Also referred to as Camiguin de Babuyanes, it is one of five major islands that make up the Babuyan Group of Islands — the others being Calayan, Babuyan Claro, Dalupiri and Fuga. To be here again and “rediscover” this place with new friends filled me with much anticipation.
We left Calayan Island on a chartered boat amid a slight 5AM drizzle. The sea was slightly restless but we cared little as we swapped stories of how Calayan Island captivated our wanderlust. The 6-hour voyage came by quickly and as the sun began to take its position in the sky to announce midday, the imposing figure of Dakel a Balai began to loom in the horizon! Dakel a Balai (or Balay) is an Ilocano term that means “big house”; and that, is what this mountain is to the locals.
Dakel a Balai
Too bad, we’re only staying in Camiguin Norte for the night; thus, we didn’t have time for a trek, even a short one. So we just contented ourselves watching its magnificence.
As our boat headed for Balatubat port, we couldn’t contain our excitement and asked — nay, cajoled — our boatman to make a not-so-quick stop at this beautiful island where we saw children playing in its clear, blue waters.
Not a minute wasted after docking at Balatubat Port, we headed for Kgd. Gina Ballestereros’ Lance Homestay, our dig for the night. After a quick meal, we negotiated with a local fisherman to rent his boat for beach hopping. We weren’t disappointed!
Naguilian Beach
Mangiti-ngitit Beach
Pamuctan Island
We definitely saved the best for last!
Our trip may be short, but for my friends, whose visit here was their first, it was a truly memorable experience and they couldn’t wait to return… and for me, their satisfaction was uplifting.
I can’t remember exactly when I did finally chalk my 81st. At the time, I wasn’t really keeping tab of the places I have been to, so long as I get to find a story to tell or a moment to capture and photograph. This #81PH fad was still unheard of.
I have already published a few articles about travel, yet some remain to still see the light of day — mostly because I ran out of steam. I think writer’s block is as real as sunrise. I still have a lot of travel stories to tell, but I can’t seem to find the same drive or energy as I had. Also, my patience has waned a lot that I cannot seem to go past the whole process of tedious manuscript revisions. After a few drafts, I simply find myself abandoning the task.
However, I have yet to satisfy my thirst for capturing beautiful photographs, which fuels my itch to travel. Photos have always been a big thing for me and after about a quarter-century of travelling, I have amassed upwards of 125,000 pictures and counting! Looking through them one day, they reminded me of the special moments captured in each one of the albums. Apart from words, photos in themselves truly are stories waiting to be told. I can look at one and weave together the story behind it. That’s what always made them special. And as I reminisce with some photos, I came to the realization that I have — forgive me for this oft-used term — “conquered” all 81 provinces of the Philippines!
Hurrah? Not really. I may have been to all 81 (or is it 83 now?) provinces but I haven’t completely seen the whole country, much less capture a singular picture of it. I must concede, much is yet to be discovered — sights to see, adventures to explore, cultures to experience. Y’see, travel spins us around in two directions at once — while it shows us sights and stories that we usually ignore in our day-to-day lives, it also allows us to discover parts of ourselves that we do not otherwise recognize. In being in a different place, with different people, we bring ourselves to uncharted states of mind and reflections.
Reflections. Well, I’m still trying to work that one out; thus, saving it for another time. Cheers!
When choosing a destination, I usually go for places that haven’t succumbed to commercialism yet. And when I travel, I always make it a point to try local delicacies or cuisine — I eat like the locals. Contrary to what you may have read about Batanes, dining out at PhP200 to PhP300 per dish, serving two to three people is not that expensive.
Ivatan cuisine have been influenced by the climate of the province – often times, exposed to high risks of agricultural disruption, they adopted strategies that ensured their survival. Due to the frequency of typhoons and drought, they planted root crops that were more resilient to the destructive forces of the environment; these include yam, sweet potato, taro, garlic, ginger, and onion.
Casa Napoli’s Mattaw Pizza is a must-try. It features smoke-dried ‘arayu’ (dorado) strips soaked in olive oil. ‘Mataw’ is the Ivatan term for fishermen who catch dorados specifically.
Jino’s best-selling pizza: Jinno’s House Special.
Octagon Resort’s chocolate cake with strawberry frosting is a good meal-ender.
Uved is a staple food for Ivatan’s. It’s a concoction of shredded banana pith, ground meat (or fish) and salted to taste. Formed into balls, uved can be made into a soup or steamed or fried.
Pork Luniz at Pension Ivatan
Coconut crabs
Why Batanes?
Batanes gave me the opportunity to discover different values and means to get by in life. Amid the exotic scenery is a way of life that has survived time.
Anchored in faith.
The Ivatans of today are considered to be the Christianized surviving group of the ancient people who once inhabited all the islands of Luzon and Taiwan.
Apart from the Jewish people, of course, I have never encountered any other group of people who take the “Sabbath” more seriously than the Ivatans. A good half of every Sunday is spent attending mass and having a relaxing lunch with family — at home or by the beach, picnic style. Commercial establishments are closed and open only in the afternoon.
Steadfast in the face of raging storms.
Also unique to the Ivatans are their limestone houses patterned after the Spaniards and adapted to stand the onslaughts of the notorious Batanes typhoons. Ivatan stone houses — typically windowless cube structures with walls as thick as one meter with thatched roof made of cogon grass.
The more famous of these vernacular houses is the House of Dakay, built in 1887.
Two of Batanes’ most iconic symbols: the vernacular house (this one is the oldest house in the town of Uyugan in Batan Island) and the Japan-style bicycle.
Beacons of hope amid hardships.
The Batanes landscape won’t be complete without another of its iconic symbols — the lighthouses.
Stewards of nature’s bounty — above…
Batanes is the only province in the Philippines declared in its entirety as a protected land- and seascape area.
… and below.
The first time I visited Batanes, I wasn’t planning to go diving — actually, I didn’t even know that SCUBA diving is offered there. I’m glad I did!
The dry season may have robbed these waterfalls of their magnificent cascades, but it has exposed their hidden beauty — those mind-boggling rock formations!
Bulingan Falls: “French fries”, anyone?
Located in Lamitan, Basilan, Bulingan Falls…
Mahayahay Falls: Raw beauty
Just by the roadside, Mahayahay Falls in…
Merloquet Falls:
Perhaps the most visited of the three, Merloquet Falls in Brgy. , Zamboanga City…
Seeing with real eyes will make you realize the real lies....
I am.
So the first thing to be understood is that the mind is an indirect process. Senses are direct: I can touch you with my hand, but I cannot touch you with my mind. I can see you through my eyes, but I cannot see you through my mind. The mind is enclosed within me and there is no bridge from the mind to reach you directly. If the mind wants to reach you directly, some medium will be needed. If the mind wants to see you, it will see through the eyes. To touch you, it will touch through the hands. A medium, an agency, a mediator, will be needed. Mind needs a mediator.
Gallery
Taking a dip at the hotel pool despite the chilly mountain breeze of Banaue…
The War Fish's Lair 
No Way Home: A “Biniray” Aftermath
January 17, 2024 Leave a comment
The Biniray Festival in the island of Romblon has been on my bucket list for some time as I seek authentic and enriching experiences in celebrating the feast of the Sto. Niño. However, my recent visit to this cultural extravaganza left me deeply disappointed, not due to the festival itself, but rather the glaring inadequacy of ferry services to accommodate the influx of eager attendees.
Romblon’s picturesque landscapes and the promise of the Biniray Festival drew me in with high expectations. Sadly, those expectations were met with frustration as the lack of available ferry trips proved to be a substantial roadblock to the overall enjoyment of the event. The festival, which should have been a seamless celebration of culture, became marred by the logistical nightmare of getting to and from the island.
The limited ferry schedule left many tourists, myself included, stranded for days, forcing us to rethink our plans and miss out on some of the province’s key offerings. It is disheartening to witness such an oversight, particularly when the success of the Biniray Festival relies heavily on attracting and accommodating visitors. The enthusiasm to immerse oneself in the local traditions is dampened when the journey itself becomes a cumbersome ordeal.
This disappointment extends beyond personal inconvenience; it reflects a broader concern for the tourism industry in Romblon. A festival that has the potential to showcase the beauty and warmth of the region is overshadowed by the inadequacies of its transportation infrastructure. Addressing this issue is not just about convenience; it is about safeguarding the reputation of Romblon as a tourist-friendly destination and ensuring the sustained interest of visitors.
My disappointment in the lack of ferry trips during the Biniray Festival is not merely an isolated incident but a reflection of a broader challenge that needs urgent attention. Rectifying the ferry service shortcomings is crucial not only for the satisfaction of festival attendees but also for the long-term prosperity of Romblon’s tourism industry. It is my hope that authorities recognize the urgency of this matter and take swift measures to ensure that future festival-goers can fully enjoy the magic of Biniray without the hindrance of inadequate transportation options.
P.S. If not for the kindness of San Agustin Port Manager Randy Madamo, Balisa Beach Resort owner Jojo Maestro, Romblon Port staff Roger Madrona, the “ate” at the terminal fee window, and members of the Coast Guard, we wouldn’t have made it out of Romblon, Romblon in time for our next destination.
Until a more efficient transportation system is in place and unless you have arranged private transportation to and from Romblon, I wouldn’t recommend going during the annual Biniray Fiesta. Sad. But true.
Share this:
Filed under Commentary, Festivals, Thoughts, Travel Tagged with Biniray2024, commentary, festivals, Philipines, Romblon, thoughts, transportation, travel