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Coral Fields and
Chocolate
Hills
Ride the banana boats, spot the spinner
dolphins and dive
off the remote islands of the
Philippines
With
a whoosh and a 40 kg weight on my shoulders, I suddenly
sank
below the surface. Water enclosed me from all sides and panic
gripped
me momentar ily as I kept dropping. I felt like screaming
but
no sound emerged and every thing was eerily quiet.
A
second later, my feet touched the ocean floor of soft white sand,
and
I felt slightly better.
Incredible
Island-Hopping
I
was a bit unstable and swayed around as if drunk, pushed around
by
the strong currents of the ocean, but what I saw took my breath
away.
It is another matter that my breath was already at the mercy
of
a tank of air fed from somewhere above, but you get the drift.
All
around me was an incredibly blue water while the sun was a
blurred
ball of brightness over my head. A few rocky corals in bright
colours
lay behind me but I was surrounded by schools of fish in
brilliant
hues. They swam near and around me, curious, but darted
away
when I lifted my hands to touch them.
I
was just a few hundred feet off the coast of the remote island of
Boracay
in the Philippines, helmet-diving (with the help of a 40 kilo
helmet
fed with air from a pipe), but it felt like I was miles away
from humanity. There was no sound except for
the gentle bubbling
from
the air pipe and my own breathing.
As
I got acclimatised to my surroundings, I took out a tiny wad of
fish
food from a pouch and I was suddenly very popular: hundreds of
fish
-yellow, white, black, blue, purple, striped, splotched -materialised
and
tried to pluck it out of my hands, tickling me with their nib bling.
It
was gone in a jiffy. They hung around, in anticipation of more
treats,
and swam away after a few seconds only to re turn when
the
feed came out.
I
could have done this for hours but my time under water was fast
drawing
to a close and I reluctantly resur faced on to the pontoon
from
which I had dived. The out side felt like an assault and I wanted
to
savour the experience for a few more moments, so I sat on the edge
of
the pontoon, feet dangling over the water. It had been an
overwhelming
experience, one I was unlikely to forget in a hurry.
A
week in the Philippines seemed like a very short time, what with
over
7,000 islands to choose from, but I was trying to make the best
use
of it. Island-hopping was the only way to do it and I was already
besieged
by many sights, sounds and experiences. Apart from
helmet-diving,
I had trekked to a handful of coves on Crystal Island,
had
parasailed and done rides on the banana boat and water scooter.
And
as I headed back to shore, I experienced the best sight yet:
the
sun was setting and doing it with astonishing drama and panache.
The
horizon was cloudless and the sea was fast turning into a quivering
mass
of deep orange-gold, while the sun was a large plate of crimson
and
moving rather rapidly.
A
few bancas (indigenous Filipino boats), their slender outriggers
stretched
out, crisscrossed in front of the sinking sun. It was a
picture-postcard
moment. I stood on the beach, surrounded by
scores
of people, all watching the spectacle in near silence, broken
only
by the sound of the waves. It was almost hypnotic. All too
soon,
the sun disappeared in a glorious splash of colours and I felt
like
applauding.
But
the sun's disappearance was just what the Boracay beach seemed
to be waiting for.The entire stretch turned
into a party zone with
bright
lights, cosy seating areas lit by romantic, flickering lights and
lovely
music wafting from everywhere. Bands belted out vintage
classics
and contemporary chart toppers but for some reason the
Eagles'
Hotel California seemed to be the hot pick of the evening:
I
heard at least three versions in 90 minutes. There was laughter
and
loud talk, fun and gaiety everywhere, and it is with these sounds
ringing
in my ears that I retired for the night.
Underwater
Paradise
The
next morning, after two brief plane rides, I was in Coron in
North
Palawan, another cluster of islands. A gently sputtering, tiny
boat
pushed off from the shore and in a few minutes we were all
alone
in the midst of an incredible looking sea, a collage of cobalt,
aquamarine
blue and emerald green.The seemingly calm surface
was
broken by little islands and rock formations of limestone covered
in
thick foliage. The colour of the sea was mesmerising but there
was
something more stunning in store for me underwater.
After
cruising around for some time to see a clutch of quaintly shaped
islands
scattered around, even a hidden lagoon accessed only by
swimming
through an arch, the boat docked in a secluded bay,
with
the water lightly lapping against the sides. I stepped off the
boat
and floated on the almost still waters, face down with a snorkel.
It
was sunny and the scene below was clear and spectacular.
Below
me was a vast arrangement of colourful corals -fan, finger,
mushroom,
cabbage, maze, needle, pillar and many I didn't recognise.
Amidst
these swam a plethora of fish, some in large schools, others
in
small groups and individually, in imagination-defying colours.
When
the sun got too hot and began burning the back, we headed
to
a secluded little beach with powdery white sand and sat down for
a
Filipino picnic lunch of rice, piquant eggplant curry, fried fish,
prawns,
rice and syrupy pineapple slices. Tired and satiated, and
the
sun beating down mercilessly, it was good to lay down, lulled
by
the sound of the waves. The serenity was occasionally broken
by
the animated shouts of a couple of children in the next cove
who
were clearly excited about being in the water.
When
the heat showed signs of abating, we headed to the island
of
Kayagan. A steep climb up 250 steps and down a similar number
took
us to a basin within which lay a spectacular lake. It was protected
by
tall limestone promontories and lovely green trees all around;
a
wooden boardwalk ran for at least half of the lake's perimeter on
which
people rested after swimming, snorkelling, or just absorbing
the
scene in front.The water was crystal-clear and below was fabulous
underwater
scenery. I could see rocky formations, cliffs, craggy
valleys
and incredible topography. I had never snorkelled in a lake
before
and it was an unbelievable experience.
Yodas of Bohol
I
thought my experiences in Coron would be difficult to beat, but
I
soon disabused of the notion. Two more flights took me to Bohol,
another
island. By now, I had gotten used to stunning beaches and
surreal
sunrises. I waded out to a little boat in the dull light of dawn
and
we headed out to sea. An hour of cruising the open seas, by
which
time the sun was truly out, yielded results. In the distance
we
saw the surface of the water constantly being broken by blobs
and
we raced towards it.
Within
minutes we were in the middle of an enormous bunch of
playful
spinner dolphins. They seemed happy to see us and swam
alongside
the boat, gracefully arching out of the water and sinking
back
in. Some were quite the performers -they crisscrossed in front
of
the boat, swam under and emerged on the other side, jumped,
frolicked
and executed flips in the air. There were at least a hundred
of
them in batches of three and four, and took turns in swimming
around
us. After nearly an hour of this, they swam away and we
headed
back to the shore, a bit deflated after the show.
But
there was more in Bohol. I encountered the mysterious and
soulful-looking
tarsier, a fist-sized primate that can turn its head
180
degrees and rumoured to be the inspiration for the character
of
Yoda from Star Wars.
I
also saw the strange chocolate hills, a group of mounds that were
currently
lush green but took their name from the fact that they turn
a
deep brown during summer. I cycled on a zipline too, suspended
high
up in the air. And by the end of the day I was more overwhelmed
than
tired. It was almost anticlimactic to step into Manila's crowded
airport.
I felt my stay had gone in the blink of an eye and yet my
head
was reeling from all the experiences. From walking on the
ocean
floor to being suspended in air, I was astonished at the range
of
experiences. And yet, it was the calming, aqua marine blue of
the
sea that was the over arching memory. The siren call of the sea
had
me in its grip once again.
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Anita Rao-Kashi
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ET27MAR16
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