Swimming with guno in Medellin

Mid-way through the week, tropical storm Dindo was taking its toll in northern Luzon but from the westside shorelines of Medellin, Cebu, traces of its heavy winds and downpour could be clearly felt and seen.

And so to embark on a more or less 30-minute ride to Gibitngil Island along waves that would spit on our faces as they thumped on the boat’s façade every now and then was first of all an early quiz of valor. But for the team, there was no turning back now. Our lunch was packed ready; the girls were in their bikini outfits and the boys? Well, they were probably all set and geared up if those who were in bikini outfits needed help along the way.

Yet actually, I wasn’t there just to laze around in fun. On the other side of my consciousness was a mission to accomplish. My goal? To find a school of guno, the tropical silverside fish, that used to be very endemic to the shallow coastal waters of our place in Daanlungsod but whose presence has now become quite slippery as an eel. I remember that as a kid, I used to enjoy the breathtaking scenery of a huge school of guno along our calm shorelines. But now, where have all they gone? That, I had to find out.

Meanwhile, thanks God our boat kissed the sand beds of FUNtastic Island with everyone aboard safe and sound. As of yet, the seawaters were still warring under strong breeze that blew from the north. Dark skies hung in huge chunks. But in spite of the unaccommodating weather, there before our very eyes flashed the beauty of the island. If you’re a traveler and have been to Palawan, you can easily mistake those limestone cliff formations of Gibitngil to those that are in Coron. And I should not miss to say that in the face of this entire bad weather impediment, the waters remained unquestionably crystal clear in its most literal sense. Promise!

More than just the crystal clear waters though, the sight of Gibitngil’s seabed teeming underneath in a kingdom of aquatic life was the consummate consolation of all. Born of the seemingly premeditated connivance of whimsical nature and responsible man, one cannot help but be lured by a fiesta of fish colors in the company of these local dwellers: labayan, ibis, tambu-balay, banghutin and danggit.

I even saw what I thought was a sergeant majorfish and a squirrelfish that are both common in the reefs of Hawaii. And sprouting among the seaweeds was some heap of bunga’g saang, a favorite garnish to tinuwa. All this amid a ground of a virgin seabed lying in a sea with rock formations in the middle of it and with neon cottages that mushroom on those rock formations. Over all, it was awe-inspiring!

But where have all the guno gone?

It only took a slight boost of the weather for them to take the scene. For after an hour, when the clouds had vanished and when the winds had stabilized, I witnessed, after having been lost in my memory for almost 10 years, a spectacle of a school of guno. There in the shallow waters of Gibitngil, they swayed together with the calm currents.

And for a while, I thought this FUNtastic Island ought to be treasured. It has to be treasured in such a way that the balance between local tourism and nature preservation is well maintained. I was able to talk with the mini-resort’s caretaker and was delighted to know that all sorts of fishing within those areas are strictly prohibited. And that’s a good thing. That way, more people like me get the chance to take sight of what the island can best offer.

On the other hand, there are little things in life that can already mean happiness. And reuniting with the scene of a school of guno after 10 years may for some be rubbish but for someone whose whole life been witnessed by the sea, the sight of them is a gift. Promise!