It was a lovely day. The sun's out. The sky's bright and clear. The sea was calm. What could possibly go wrong?
The boat ride from Sta. Fe in Tablas to Carabao Island doesn't take more than an hour. This I know too well because I've taken the same trip a year ago when I went to San Jose with a friend. The only difference was we took a passenger pump boat which was way bigger than we had this time. But otherwise, it was the same route and it was also summer.
After 12 months, I was back again in Looc Fish Sanctuary. This time with colleagues from Manila. Except for a few interesting species of fish that lurked under the floating raft and the view of stranded ship in the distance, nothing much has changed.
No, we can't make it. Yes, we can.
I was chanting these lines in my head on our way to Looc aboard a knotty motorcycle. Our driver understood how crucial it was for us to reach Looc before 4:30PM and so he went full throttle but his motorcycle could only do so much. Apparently, it wasn't meant for long-distance travel. He changed the vehicle into a more road-fit one, allowing us to keep up with the rest of the team whose motorcycles were kilometers ahead of us. Err - no, that wasn't exactly the case. They actually pulled over and waited for us to make sure we were all right. Then they let us go first, and after a few seconds we were at the tail end again.
With the rate we were going, I didn't think that we could reach Looc before the sanctuary closed for the day. But somehow we did. We arrived in town a few minutes past four. I told my travel mates to hurry since the sanctuary was about to close. Chop, chop, people! After throwing our stuff carelessly in a vacant room at Angelique Inn, we sprinted towards the port. The guys, who are called BayWatchers (watchers of the sanctuary), at the registration office told us we almost didn't make it. They were closing much earlier that day because there was an advice from their boss. I heaved a sigh of relief.
After paying 100 pesos (entrance fee), a Baywatch officer ushered us to a boat at the far end of the port. It's a big boat, one that can carry at most 15 people.The transfer to the sanctuary took less than 10 minutes.
Dodging the risk of getting mainstream as far as creating my top 15 blog list is concerned, I initially crossed a few outstanding travel sites off my poll. A rather unfair move because most of those blogs deserve a spot in the Top 15 but they've been at the top of the totem pole for quite some time now so excluding them from my list won't even hurt their standing. But I still ended up adding them to the list. I had to!
Most blogs in my list are considered as the underdogs - blogs that are quite unheard of but feature interesting travel stories and insights. In a sea of travel sites, blogs that capture both the heart and imagination can be sparse. When you find one, you consider it a gem, so you bookmark it and subscribe to their feeds. I'm hoping readers to discover these outstanding travel blogs.
Without further ado, here's my personal Top Travel Blogs for 2013.
HAVING WOKEN UP QUITE EARLY the day before, getting up right after the break of dawn the next day had become a relatively easy affair for most of us. No one whined as we packed our stuff and hit the shower one by one (two toilets for the eight of us, no hot water). Jarold, the jeepney that took us to San Fernando two days ago, was going to fetch us from the resort and transport us to the town of Magdiwang where we would be taking a ferry bound for Tablas - our next destination.
It's Day 4 of our Romblon Backpacking Trip and it was going to be a long day. A two-hour jeepney ride to the port of Magdiwang, another 3 hours aboard a ferry to Tablas and almost two hours on motorcycle to Looc. We were hoping to be in Looc before 4pm.
Bags packed, fresh from the shower, we left our small rooms and waited for breakfast by the river. We savored the fresh air and observed the country's cleanest river where the water was as clear as ever.
"THAT LEDGE DOESN'T LOOK high enough," I thought to myself while looking at the 35-40 feet diving platform where young boys jumped off bravely, doing various stunts mid-air before hitting the water below. From afar, at least where I was standing that time, it didn't look scarily high but once I got to the top, with the clear water a few feet below, I found myself weak in the knees. Confidence extinguished by the height of the diving ledge, I could only look down. I knew right there and then that I needed more guts to do it. I wasn't as brave as I thought I was. The river fairies must have been laughing their heads off at the sight of this scrawny little man too eager to jump but too scared to even let himself fall off.
THE SUN WAS HALF-HIDDEN BEHIND a bank of grey clouds when we emerged from the ankle-deep stream to find a small clearing before us with the intimidating panorama of Mt. Guiting-Guiting in the distance. The famous mountain refused to reveal herself to us, always veiled in mist and fog which never quite left her. Like an elusive but proud maiden, she only let herself be glimpsed and admired from afar.
Precariously perched atop a crowded jeepney on a beautiful Saturday morning, we traversed our way from the sleepy town of Cantingas to the scenic village of Espana in Sibuyan, Romblon toploading style.
[Local teenager helping my friends to get on top]
Getting to the roof of the vehicle already full to the brim, so to speak, was no mean feat as we had to scramble our way up, dodging passengers whose heads and arms peeked outside the window and ultimately settling our butts in on the hard metal, sharing cramped space with local passengers, bags and sacks of fruits and vegetables. When the engine started to rev up, we anticipated a bumpy yet exhilarating ride while holding on for our dear lives.