The "Amihan," a northeast wind that blows from mid-December to mid-April in the Philippines, was howling. Massive rollers hammered the Overcomer, an oversized banca boat bound from El Nido, Palawan, to Coron Town, Busuanga. Screams rang through the air with each deluge and the crew worked the hand pumps.
These boats are built light and habitually overloaded. Crossings can be sketchy, as the record of sinkings confirms. The “Overcomer” was licensed for 40 passengers but carrying 52 today. I was allowed aboard as a so-called "chance passenger" for a few extra bucks by the unconcerned port captain in El Nido.
After a nerve-wracking 11-hour journey, we docked in Coron Town in the dark with a collective sigh of relief. Onshore, a kid grabbed one end of my kayak bag and pulled me to a nearby guesthouse perched on stilts over the water. Sleep came fast.
I awoke to a panoramic view of Coron Island across the strait and started to assemble my Feathercraft collapsible kayak on the deck. As usual, a crowd formed. Fascinated kids gawked, and an animated discussion about what I assumed was my sanity erupted as the kayak took shape.
Once assembled, the challenge was loading my gear. The kayak lay two metres below the surface of the dock. With some acrobatics, everything found its place, and I clambered down the stilts one last time, slipped into the cockpit, and set out.
The Calamanian Islands are legendary for a Second World War battle in which the U.S. Fast Carrier Task Force sunk three Japanese warships and damaged half a dozen others, creating a modern-day mecca for wreck divers. Busuanga, Culion and Coron Islands are the largest, with dozens of smaller islands completing the group.
The wind was whistling. Each time I lifted the paddle from the water, it felt like its force would rip it from my hands. I charted a course downwind, knowing full well that there was no chance of making headway in the opposite direction. The lee of Busuanga Island prevented waves from building up, so I slipped behind the protection of several small islands.
Spotting a banca emerging from the mangroves, I entered the narrow, sheltered Ryukan Channel, popping out the other end at Apo Island. Beaching next to Majika's Island Resort, Majika herself appeared and invited me to hang my hammock in front, enjoy a shower and join her for dinner. Filipinos are super friendly. I was welcomed as family, enjoying a night of food, beverages and billiards.
The next day, I paddled deep into the safe waters of Busuanga Bay. It’s long and narrow, shielded by high hills on both - what is known as a ‘hurricane hole.’ Expensive yachts rested at anchor, upscale resorts lined the shores, and the remains of a Jimmy Buffett-style flying boat sat neglected in the sand. Back at the mouth, the wind had subsided, so I shot over to nearby Calumbuyan Island, where Chris, the caretaker, treated me as a royal guest.
Northward along the coast of Busuanga Island, I entered the Busuanga River, grateful the crocodiles were gone and feeling a little like Kurtz heading alone into the unknown. The tide turned, and so did I, using its energy to pull me back to the mouth of the river. Pointing aimlessly south, I spotted the golden sands of Pass Island and bee-lined to the beach. The reward for a long day was a postcard-perfect beach and superb sunset.
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