The world’s best islands
An idyllic archipelago in the Philippines
The plane dips its wings to the right and the cabin fills with sunlight and a postcard-perfect image of curved, whitesand beaches, aquamarine waters and tiny, mountainous limestone islands.
It’s not Thailand’s Phang Nga Bay, it’s not Vietnam’s Halong Bay. This is the Palawan’s Bacuit Archipelago, on the far western edge of the Philippines, where the country tips into the South China Sea.
At first, it’s what I can’t see that is the surprise. No coach tours. No high-rise hotels. And, best of all, no pollution.
Obviously, these three factors help explain why Palawan is currently topping the ‘world’s best islands’ lists.
Until last year, getting to El Nido required fortitude: an hour’s flight from Manila to the province capital, Puerto Princesa, then a shared minibus or private car along the long, narrow island to El Nido. With the traffic crawling, it takes up to five hours to travel 240 kilometres to El Nido on a road so deeply potholed, it’s like riding a mechanical bull.
With the Philippines’ pin-up island Boracay closed recently for infrastructure upgrades, Palawan enjoyed a brief flare of warmth in the tourism spotlight. So that corroded road is now being remade into a smooth, albeit slimline highway, while at the same time, the tiny, privately owned El Nido airport is open for business, running direct flights from Manila.
You may miss the mango juice stands and scenic village on the drive up from the island’s capital, Puerto Princesa, but the views from the twin-turboprop aircraft as they circle over the beautiful archipelago are ample compensation.
Tourists in Palawan are an odd mix of bedfellows – backpackers doing beach parties and dodgy digs, and high-end beachcombers staying in remote island retreats that don’t give change from PGK2500 a night.
Whatever their budget, everyone’s coming for the same thing: the crystal-clear waters and laid-back vibe of this dreamy outpost, and the peace and natural beauty that can be explored by liveaboard boats, or on day tours from ramshackle El Nido town.
Mostly, the 45 islands are uninhabited, except for four island resorts.
Don’t let the haphazard town’s uncomplicated open-air bars and simple restaurants fool you: the island of Palawan has banned single-use plastics, which means no plastic bags and no disposable water bottles can be taken out on its island-hopping day tours.
Still, El Nido is slow-moving to the point of comatose. To observe a traffic jam in Palawan, we head down to the town beach of El Nido in the early morning, where dozens of bancas – long, slow-moving outriggers – jostle for parking space as their guests wade into the waist-deep water to climb aboard for the day trips that depart here every day.
There are four set day tours that weave their routes throughout the 45 islands of the archipelago: prosaically, they’re known as Tour A, Tour B, Tour C and Tour D. Each tour has a limited capacity, to avoid overcrowding at its beauty spots.
Tours A and D are the most popular for their stops at the Big, Small and Cadlao lagoons, and this morning, both tours are booked out.
Our banca, the grandly named Nathan Gabreiel, sets its course for Tour C, which includes a snorkelling stop on Dilumacad Island, swimming off Matinloc Island, and the chance to explore the clandestine-sounding Secret Beach and Hidden Beach.
So, as the turquoise-coloured outrigger sets off from the shore with just a handful of us on board, we take with us our reusable water bottles and a sense of exploration. The boat supplies snorkelling masks and coral shoes, and even though it’s currently high season, which runs from December to March, we spy just a handful of other bancas, the crews waving as we photograph each other.
We skirt the inner islands of the archipelago before heading out to the horizon for a snorkelling stop at Dilumacad Island, nicknamed Helicopter Island for its undulating profile. Mostly, the 45 islands are uninhabited, except for the four island resorts scattered among them, which includes the thatch-roof huts of Miniloc and the five-star Pangalusian Island eco-resort.
There’s Snake Island, with its long tail of sand exposed at low tide, and the tranquil waters of Cadlao Lagoon. The largest of the islands and the closest to El Nido, it’s visible from our hotel, the newly opened El Nido Resort.
At lunchtime, we sail towards a broad swathe of white sand known to visitors as Star Beach, where about a dozen bancas are lined up. To protect the coral in the shallow waters, they’re moored offshore, and once again we’re wading in waist-high water to the beach.
But how to get the food off the boat – and, ultimately, into our bellies? The ingenious staff have a plan: a small floating pontoon, about the size of a dining table, appears from somewhere on the boat, and is tossed into the water, where it floats. Five minutes later, it’s laden with mountains of mussels, platters of prawns, fresh fish and the country’s national dish, a garlicky pork adobo.
The centrepiece of this floating table is a festive array of tropical fruit, with the words ‘EL NIDO’ cut into a watermelon. It must be something about the sea air, because our small group devours the lot, with white rice and bread on the side.
The waters are rich with sea turtles and manta rays, though I’m always strikingly unlucky when it comes to spotting dugongs. As we motor past spiked limestone cliffs, tiny swifts dart in and out, building the nests that gave El Nido (‘the nest’) its name.
It’s easy to point out Matinloc Island, topped by a Christian shrine, which we climb to for panoramic views, while Hidden Beach lives up to its name – to get into the concealed white-sand beach, we swim through a narrow opening between tall, limestone shards, to reveal their sheltered treasure, a calm lagoon where kayaks are waiting for us.
The close of day is the only other time El Nido experiences a traffic jam – as the outriggers come home to rest, and we
scramble overboard for the final time.
Back on the mainland, dinner is a feast of garlicky crabs from the bay, and a dish of
ginataang tilapia, local tilapia fish and spinach cooked in coconut milk at the upmarket Lio Estate, to the north of the main town.
Little bars open their doors to entice travellers in for a cold San Miguel pilsner or even a bottle of the locally brewed Palaweno craft beer, and chilled beats carry across the sea from beanbag bars set at the water’s edge.
We are not alone: we are part of an audience. As one, we gather and face west, to witness the setting of the sun over the islands of this rare and remarkable archipelago.