Don’t touch the butanding

DONSOL, Sorsogon — After a light breakfast, we went to the Butanding (the local term for whale shark) Registration Office to sign up and watch a video on the do’s and don’ts of interacting with these gentle giants, the number one rule being, “Do not touch the butanding.”

Our banca could fit eight people and thanks to my friend Maurita who organized this excursion (a birthday treat to her son), she turned it into a floating snack bar. (Mothers, you can’t discipline them, can you?)

We were accompanied by Omar Nepomuceno, our senior BIO (butanding information officer) and Florante, another BIO, plus a navigator and two boatmen. The boatmen were experts in spotting butanding. They look for large shadows beneath the surface of the water or sometimes, a dorsal fin skimming the surface.

Omar warned us not to get too excited. He also told the kids (all experienced divers) to get geared up, meaning rubber fins secured, snorkeling mask worn around the neck, and to sit themselves at the fringe of the banca so that they could jump out when the cue was given at lightning speed. Omar also established a protocol in the jumping sequence: from right to left, one diver at a time, and avoid making a big splash. I could feel my heartbeat accelerating.

Barely 10 minutes out to sea, the boatmen shouted “Butanding!” Florante jumped first and verified the location — he quickly pointed his finger down at the exact spot and Omar hollered to the rest of our group, “Jump!”

I was stomping my feet, so proud to see how serious the kids followed Omar’s instructions — one, two, three, they jumped and disappeared below. Before I could catch my breath, I heard my friend shout, “They’re over there!” They were already a few meters away from the boat and were forming a swimming pattern around a huge dark object in the water. I screamed, “Oh, my goodness! I saw its back!” Clapping and shouting, I pulled my friend to the other side of the boat where we could watch the kids swim casually around this enormous thing.

After a few minutes, they surfaced and, almost simultaneously, I saw them pull out their snorkels, spit, and let out a big whooping cry, cheering and laughing and giving a thumbs-up sign at us as they swam back to the boat.

“How was it, how was it?” I eagerly asked Mauritz. The birthday celebrant grinned and let out an excited cry, “Oh, wow! This is the best birthday gift, Tita; I can go home now.” His sister, Katrina, disagreed: “No way, Kuya, let’s swim again.”

By the third encounter, we knew that this was a good day to be out to sea. The butanding were converging in the same perimeter looking for plankton to eat. Plankton made the water look murky, aside from the fact that it rained the previous night. Katrina dunked her mask into the salty water. I learned that rubbing toothpaste on the diving mask made it easier to keep it clear underwater and maintain visibility. By now, the kids knew the routine and Omar and Florante could pretty well relax, confident that our group could handle themselves properly.

And that was when Omar turned to me: “What about you, Ma’am?”

Oops. Um, gulp… My mind was racing with dread. “I don’t swim,” came my embarrassing reply. Omar smiled, “That’s no problem. Just hold on to my hand and I’ll take you to where the butanding are and leave the swimming to me.” Sounded safe, right?

Before I could process the idea, Florante hollered, “Butanding!” Quickly, the kids were in the water again and Omar stayed at the edge of the banca waiting for me to jump. “Wait! I must go down slowly, slowly.” Omar must have sensed that I was going to chicken out because I felt a gentle tug and I begun to move in the water. I hung on to Omar’s arms using them as my floaters. “Look down, look down,” Omar signaled to me.

Where? I could not see anything; just green, blurred green, all around. All of a sudden, there it was. Out of nowhere, it appeared right below me! Jumping jelly beans! I was dumbfounded. I saw one eye moving from side to side, its flat head and its incredible size. It was huge as a boat na! Maybe a ship and it was entirely covered with polka dots! I was frozen to the spot and completely forgot to breathe through my mouth so I took in water and had to pull my head up, take off the mask and breathe. Adrenaline was pumping through my body and I could not believe the excitement that consumed me.

The butanding humbled me. We were clearly invading his turf and there he was peacefully swimming, unmindful of all these intruders. He was so graceful that I swore he wasn’t moving. A school of tiny fish was swimming underneath his massive stomach and he was content to be the parasol, if not their sun-blocking roof.

Question: Do fish get sunburned?

Climbing back to the banca, I screamed with delight. “You must try it Maurita, they’re so cute!” Huh? How can one as colossal as an elephant be cute?

The second time I tried floating on Omar’s arm, I panicked. The butanding was so close that my legs were in danger of touching it. Instinctively, I folded my legs and popped my head above the water. With a pained look, I gasped: “Omar, the butanding was too close, were my legs touching him?” Omar laughed, “Not at all, Ma’am, he was several feet away.” Whew!

We continued to spot more whale sharks and we had about eight encounters that day. It could have been more but there were other groups out to sea. I was again pleased to see that the boatmen had their own code of conduct and this was followed strictly. If one party spotted a butanding first, the other boats were not to crowd this particular butanding anymore. The idea was not to frighten them away or freak them out.

Finally, after more encounters spaced close to each other, the kids were exhausted and were ready to head back to shore. “Okay, why not one last encounter and we can then pack up?” suggested Omar.

That’s when I turned to my friend and with a steely voice gave her an ultimatum: “This is your last and only chance. You must swim with the butanding!” That did it. My friend donned the diving mask and I could not resist the temptation to record this incredible moment on video. Maurita jumped and followed the kids to rendezvous with the butanding. Yes!

Climbing back to the banca, Maurita let out a thunderous cheer and proudly declared, “I saw it, polka dots and all!” Good job, friend!

We headed back to the hotel, happy, tired and totally awed by this gentle mammal.

The first chance I got, I immediately related the experience to my grandson who could not believe my story. “Nonna, you swam with the whale sharks? Whoa! That’s cool.”

I could not resist the banter. “Gab, what do you say I pack one butanding and courier him to you?” I heard him clap and laugh out loud, “Nonna, he won’t fit in my room.” “Well then, I’ll get a baby butanding,” I persisted. My grandson was obviously enjoying himself. He replied, “He’ll wet my room and I have to clean up the mess.” (Grandmothers, you have to humor them, don’t you?)

Someday, my grandson would experience the thrill of exploring Poseidon’s kingdom. There hasn’t been a more glorious time to quote, “Bless the beast (and the butanding) and the children,” and truly mean it.

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Donsol is a seaside town in the province of Sorsogon in the Bicol region, about 550 kms south of Manila. It keeps its simple, rural and bucolic way of life despite the steady stream of out-of-town visitors from the big city and the world. Herein lies its charm — rustic and uncomplicated. It would be a shame to see that disappear with progress or greed.

The best months to go to Donsol are from January to May when the butanding are known to stay in the area because of the abundance of their staple food, plankton. Each encounter can be as short as a few seconds or may stretch to as long as a full hour.

BIO Omar told us of one encounter where one butanding seemed so amused with the human visitors that he simply stayed afloat in one spot, making the swimmers paddle and paddle trying hard to keep up with his smooth glide.

There has never been any account of the butanding being aggressive or confrontational. At most, they have been observed to change course and swim deeper down to the ocean floor to steer clear of swimmers. But that should not embolden swimmers to disrupt their natural and physical dynamics with other marine life. The least disruption or stress we give them, the more adaptable they may become to the concept of swimming/interacting with humans.

There is, however, one concern. One visitor confessed to me that some BIOs become so comfortable with the butanding that they disregard the rules and encourage some swimmers to touch the butanding. Don’t. There are still a lot of things we need to know about this gargantuan fish and, harmless as they seem, you still wouldn’t want to be the first accident. Let’s not take any chances and let them remain placid, shy and friendly.

* * *

Fuel for 13-hour drive to Donsol: P2,000 to P4,000 depending on the make of the car.

Accommodations: Woodland Hotel (from P2,000/night). Air-conditioned rooms slightly higher. Pack your own rubber slippers, Lysol and mosquito spray, shampoo/conditioner and bath soap.

Meals: Home-cooked meals in a cafeteria setting, below P100 and up. (Try laing, Bicol Express, fresh catch and have it grilled.)

Boat hire: P2,700 (Don’t forget to tip the crew; they do a fantastic job.)

Souvenirs: Tee shirts (P180)

Swimming with the butanding: Priceless!