Dive into island beauty
Exploring Coron in the Philippines
That the Philippines has the second highest number of airports in the world is not a surprising fact when one considers it has 7,107 islands, of which one in 10 has an airport.
Coron, a municipality on the island of Busuanga, has one small airport, making it a short and easy trip to and from Manila. But the fact that the town has no beaches means the place has become a haven for more adventurous tourists looking to take advantage of the excellent diving and island hopping on offer, rather than tourists who like lying around drinking pricey drinks in the sun.
I was excited at first when I saw my flight to Busuanga airport would be on a small twin-engine turboprop plane, its propellers dripping in the rain. However, my excitement soured when the non-stop turbulence made the whole 50-minute journey a bumpy roller-coaster ride.
On one hand, I was worried that the rainy weather would never stop and it would ruin my tropical holiday; on the other hand, the sudden drops made me worry for my life!
Rural island
The end of the roller coaster came when we arrived at the Francisco B. Reyes airport, which was as small and shabby as a train station you would find in the more rural areas of China.
There was no public transportation at the airport, only private vans that take tourists and locals on the 40-minute trip into town. Rain had made the narrow dirt roads extremely muddy, and the van I took was forced to slowly negotiate several cattle guards.
Most of Busuanga is rural and fully covered by thick tropical plants. Some of the land has been given over to farming and small communities with nothing more than a single sari-sari (small shop) hugging the rough dirt road.
On the way to the town, I saw many simple, utilitarian huts used as local dwellings scattered around the farms and jungle. The huts were made of wood and bamboo, with roofs of palm thatch – cool and breezy in hot weather and easily repaired if damaged by typhoons, which happens a lot during the raining season. I was in luck. The second day after I arrived it was bright and sunny after almost two weeks of constant rain. I took a proper look at the town – colorful motorized tricycles blasting music at high volume as they roared through the streets, impressive hotels and simple backpacking lodges sitting side by side with shops selling meat, cashews, snorkeling equipment and local handicrafts. The locals almost always had broad smiles on their face and did not hassle me into buying anything, even though their economy depends on tourism more than fishing and mining nowadays. There are more than two dozen Japanese WWII ships lying at the bottom of the sea around Busuanga that were sunk by US naval forces in 1944. They have created a distinctive and surreal world of coral, and of course, have attracted hundreds of different kinds of fish. I could not resist the call of the underwater beauty and I decided to try scuba diving for the first time.
Under the sea
Dozens of diving agents have
the e main streets of Coro on for tourists to choose from. I finally decided to go for rom. I finally a dive experience with an instructor from South Africa.
After a brief training session in some shallows near the shore, we sailed to the Lusong gunboat, a US vessel sunk during the battles which raged in the region decad extremely excited d about wearing a wetsuit and putting on the heavy breathing apparatus until my head went below the water.
With all of my through the narrrow regulator, and as my body descended to three, four, five meters below the surface, I became overcome with a fear of drowning. The cool water and darkness swallowed all my excitement, and my eardrums started too hurt badly as if they something were drilling into them.
Seeing my distress, my instructor helped d me to the surface and went over the basic skills with me again including how to equalize tthe pressure inside my ears. I I began to feel more comfortable and the amazing landscape of f the tropic coral reef opened to me.
With only the sound of my breathing in my ears and surrounded by schoools of fish, I felt like a stranger in n a strange land trying not to disturb the locals. Fortunately, the fish seemed unfazed by me a and were often unwilling to even n move out of our way until we e almost touched them.
The silence be belied a vivid and energetic world: Frantic shrimp scuttled past me e, dangerous lionfish moved th and stared at us
hung out in their anemone homes just like in Finding Nemo.
Like plants in some alien forest, the shapes and colors of the coral were totally exotic, resembling tubes, eyes, worms, tumors and brains. They clung to almost every part of the wreck inside and out. The wreck formed a metal puzzle in a blossoming coral garden. It was beautiful, but it requires a lot of courage to explore the deepest end of the mysterious darkness.
As a newbie, I was only allowed to dive to a maximum of 12 meters, however once I felt totally comfortable with the whole environment, time and space became meaningless along with gravity. Floating inside the water and viewing the rolling underwater scenery made a 50-minute dive feel like five minutes.
We continued our dive by heading to an isolated lagoon warmed by volcanic springs, where we had to climb over a big rock while carrying 20 kilograms of gear.
The moment I saw the crystal-clear lake surrounded by steep mountains covered in green, all my tiredness was washed away.
Monkey cries mixed with birdcalls echoed over the glittering water. A local girl was sitting on a rock under a natural arch while dipping her feet dangling in the lake and singing like a mermaid. I applauded her and she gave me a shy smile. From the confidence in her face when she sang, I knew she enjoyed having an audience.
Local rhythms
Filipinos are famous for their love of singing. When I was on the boat going from island to island, the crew would sing pop songs from the 1990s and even dance when they were not busy.
One of the young sailors wore his earphones the entire time. Just before he dropped anchor near an island, he was joyfully swinging and twisting on the narrow outriggers of the traditional bangka boat.
Churches are another place where I often saw locals singing. Even in this small town, there were a few large churches and many smaller places for believers to gather. While walking on the streets at dusk, I often heard beautiful choruses drifting from the windows of these churches.
More than 80 percent of Filipinos are Roman Catholic, but one local told me that most people in Coron are Methodists and there is also a small Muslim population. Every hotel room comes with both English and Tagalog bibles in addition to 365 Days of Christ. On the TV, dozens of channels show church services of all kinds and Bible study sessions. Religion also deeply influences national and local politics.
I was stuck in the airport on the last day of my trip because heavy rain delayed all flights indefinitely. I asked two local men seated around a plastic table if I could sit down to eat, and the older of the two men, a bright-
eyed 70-something asked whether I was Korean.
After learning I was Chinese, he immediately made fun of how Chinese sounds and laughed very hard. I felt a little offended but tried to be polite. He kept talking with me in a thick local accent, which was not easy to understand. Surprisingly, he told me he was a local Methodist pastor and the other man a bishop.
During our 20-minute chat he told me conspiracy theories about the death of one of the founders of his breakaway Methodist sect, who he claimed had been strangled to death by US gun runners in the course of a intra-Methodist sectarian conflict, explained the history of the leper colony on Cuilion Island where he is pastor, spoke of Japanese gold which he claimed was buried in the hills of Coron and booby-trapped with high explosives, described “ancient human bones” he had found in a cave and believed to be the remnants of Chinese explorers because they “were too tall to be Filipinos,” and to top it all off he said that if I came back to Coron he would show me the best spots to see UFOs. When mentioning the Chinese explorers, he made fun of the Chinese language again. I forgave him once again. How could I get angry at an old man who has been living on an isolated island for his whole life and had experienced such bizarre stories? For me, Coron is not a place only for leisure but for exploration. I have made up my mind that I will head back again to this mysterious place soon and maybe find this pastor to show me buried gold and UFOs.
Rules of thumb:
1. There are only three airlines that operate at the Francisco B. Reyes airport and the last one flies to Manila at 4:20 pm. Flights are frequently delayed or canceled due to unpredictable rain.
2. Tourists can rent private boats from the locals at the dock. Most of them are part of the local ship association and the prices are publicly listed.