CEBU, Philippines - We set out early from Calbayog, packing our bags at the dead of night to prepare for a long journey up north to Allen and then to Lavezares, a small town at the northern tip of Samar which was purportedly our jump-off point to Biri, an even smaller municipality off the coast of Samar.
The original plan was to set out at 3AM on a rather perilous but steady drive through the winding roads that would take us farther from Calbayog where our pick-up which was crusted with mud and drenched with rain water following the afternoon’s intrepid shower, would vanish into the pitch black darkness of the road that is winding through valleys and coastal towns. It was, for the lack of a better word, an adventure.
With the storm showing no signs of abating, we decided to spend the night in Calbayog only to leave at the very first signs of daylight. That way, there was only the earthy smell of rain that had just come to a full stop, and a faint blanket of sunlight enough to give us a clearer view of the road leading to Lavezares.
I personally had never heard of Biri Island before and the first time a friend sent me a photo of the island, the automatic expressions was, ‘Holy Moley! Where on earth is this?!” It took quite a while for me to become fully convinced of two things: one, that something like it existed beyond the world of CG or Computer Generate Graphics; and two, that something like it can be found in the Philippines.
With the clouds giving way to a clear cerulean sky and the intense power of the sun by the time we had reached Lavesarez, we made our way through the town’s rustic surroundings to a quaint port right at the edge of their Public Market where we met our guide who, like many in Biri and Lavesarez, was part Waray, part Bicolano.
We were to take a 45-minute ride in a narrow boat with frail outriggers and cross from Lavesarez to Biri. Our guide, a man in his mid thirties with a crop of messy hair and rugged stubbles on his chin from a beard that was hastily shaved off, said that we were either lucky or we simply chose the right time to visit the rock formation. He scratched an enormous beer belly and chuckled before saying that with the storm over, the sea was kinder this time around. We heaved a sigh of relief at his reassurance knowing that we didn’t have to deal with the fear of having our tiny outrigger boat overturned in mid-sea.
The engine at the back of our outrigger sputtered to a stop as several men pulled the boat and tied the rope around the curved trunk of a coconut tree conveniently bending towards the glassy water. Finally, we were in Biri, a small town that got its name from the Spanish word “barrer”, an order barked by the capitan of the Spanish galleon when he wanted the deck cleaned and ready for berthing to prepare for their trip from Capul to Manila. The island used to be a stop-over station for Spanish galleons before going to Manila from the Visayas.
Slinging our backpacks on our shoulders, we hopped onto a set of motorbikes (habal-habal) and cruised the rough and beaten paths of the small coastal town to the edge of a young mangrove forest carpeted with sea grass.
Biri Island is just one of a cluster of 18 other small islands off the northern coast of Samar known altogether as the Balicuatro Islands. Being the final frontier off the north of Samar, the island is set almost strategically between Luzon and Samar—both of which are divided only by the San Bernardino Strait where the currents can be ferocious and the tides overwhelming.
We stood at the edge of the mangrove forest waiting for our guide to lead us across. It was midday and the tide was low. As we made our way through the rocky path and the scalding sea water that rose only up to our ankles, we caught sight of two of the five rock formations at Biri—Magasang and Magsapad.
Magasang rose like an immense piece picked by an enormous hand from another world and set down where it was. With the shore of Magasang as our vantage point, it radiated with rocks and stones that eventually created still pools of water mirroring the sky. It was a scene straight out from Narnia and the only thing that was missing was Aslan.
Magasang’s rocky face curled out from the edge of the shore like a giant, slate wave frozen in place. With the heat of the sun beating against our backs, we trudged to the rightmost part of the island where a natural coralline staircase spiralled to the highest point of the rock formation revealing a sweeping view of the smooth rocks scattered towards the main land striated with still streamlets of water that were remnants of when the tide was high.
With Magasang already leaving us awestruck, we hurled the best of our expectations to the sea as our guide, amused at our reaction, told us that the best was yet to be seen in Magsapad.
Unlike Magasang, Magsapad, which slightly leaned towards the Pacific Ocean, was capped with a lush carpet of the greenest grass. The climb was steeper and more perilous and upon reaching the summit and catching our breaths right at the edge of the enormous rock formation, we took in the majesty of the rock formations and marvelled at how mother nature clearly took her time when it came to the Biri Rock formations.
All five islets—Magasang, Magsapad, Macadlaw, Puhunan, and Caranas—had been carved through the worst of nature’s adversities. Directly facing the Pacific Ocean, the islands had been perfected over the centuries through fierce storms and blasting winds that would mercilessly whip these rock formations when the weather was anything but stable. The waves crashing against Biri are also a force to reckon with, the area being a favourite among seasoned surfers especially during October when the tides can be ferocious. At storm season, one can almost feel the ocean’s life force pulsating against the steady façade of the islets like a master sculptor hard at work smoothening out his life’s work.
With the absence of anything but nature, Biri is a step closer to serenity. Until today, it is one of Northern Samar’s best kept secrets.
As we made our way back almost hesitantly leaving an entirely different world behind us, our guide tells us that legend has it that the five islets are guarded by an unseen being. We may never truly know if such part of the lore is true but for the most part, we left, taking many captivated glances back as the rock formations faded into the background and as the tide started to rise, and we knew for a moment that we had become enchanted.