APO ISLAND ADVENTURE : Swept away

A visit TO Apo Island came highly recommended: spectacular coral gardens and marine life were the main attractions. Thus, on a recent trip to Dumaguete and Bais, my friend Jenny and I headed straight for the island.

From the city proper, we hopped on a jeepney heading for Zamboanguita, the northeast tip of Negros Oriental. We found our cozy little spot in the jeepney among 20 other passengers, managing to stand out among the locals without intending to. To make sure we would not miss our stop in Malatapay, I talked to my seatmate, a mother traveling with her three toddlers. Before I knew it, the entire jeepney was part of the conversation. Tagalog and Visayan words were exchanged but not necessarily understood, although we were assured that they would tell us when to get off, and that the fare would cost P14.

As we rode along, the rain started to pour. We wondered whether we should still proceed, but before we could arrive at a decision, the rain stopped by the next town. At this point, the jeepney had swelled to about 50 passengers. Kids were asked to sit on their moms’ laps. Some sat on a makeshift wooden stool in the center of the jeepney, while about ten or so people held on for dear life at the rear of the vehicle.

half an hour later we were told to get off: we had reached Malatapay. Our new-found friends pointed towards the coast and told us to walk in that direction. Fruit and vegetable stands and eateries lined the path leading to the coast.

An association of bangkeros charges a fixed rate of P850 for eight hours’ rental of a motorized outrigger boat carrying up to five passengers. As island travel goes, this seemed to be one of those necessary passages.

It was almost noon and the waters were choppy. It didn’t help that the wind was blowing and it was almost full moon. Although we wore life vests, my friend Jenny was terribly frightened: she doesn’t swim. The 30-minute boat ride felt like such a long voyage in such a small boat. All we could see around us was water; our island destination stood quite a distance away.

The boatman told me to hold on with both hands. Jenny was already gripping her seat as hard as her fingers would let her. We talked about anything and everything to distract our minds from what seemed like a not so amusing octopus ride at the high school fair.

As Apo Island loomed bigger, our fears were relieved. Our reward was a stunning island in full glory. Massive rock formations in black granite were phenomenal, its deep tones the perfect contrast to the bright blue of the ocean on this very sunny day. In lighter hues, the edges of the isle seemed like abstract sculptures embedded with detailed texture.

Divers from all over the world have fallen in love with Apo. We encountered
Japanese and American divers, but European nationals are also frequent guests. Many boldly claim there is nowhere in the Philippines, maybe even in the rest of Asia, like Apo Island, 72 hectares of volcanic rock situated in the Mindanao Sea in the municipality 2of Dauin, Negros Oriental. It is home to some 700 people, simple folk dependent on fishing for their livelihood. The island’s thriving community is said to be only a century old.

Tourism has,however, made a dent on the local lifestyle. Little kids greet visitors–especially foreigners –and follow them around the island, hoping for tips or some sort of gift. Even the dogs follow visitors around, accustomed to foreigners giving them food.

The main attraction is the 600 hectares of beautiful, diverse and scientifically unique coral reef surrounding Apo Island. Initially a project of Silliman University, the island was established as a marine sanctuary in the late 70s. The responsibility of caring for the sanctuary has been turned over to the island’s residents. An entrance fee of P10 is charged for Filipinos, P20 for foreigners, and P5 for students. Divers pay P150 for diving in the sanctuary and P75 outside the sanctuary, while snorkeling goes for P25 inside and P10 outside the sanctuary. To protect the corals and marine life, only 15 people are allowed to dive and eight people are allowed to snorkel at any given time.

Snorkeling and diving equipment are available at Paul’s Diving School, which also offers accommodations from $12 to $25. Basic accommo-dations may be had for as low as P200 per night in cottages rented from the locals.

Getting to the sanctuary requires a stroll which offers a glimpse of island life, walking past houses with kids waving "hello" and men having haircuts al fresco. Fishermen were busy stitching their nets.

On this Tuesday afternoon, we had the sanctuary all to ourselves. Walking gingerly down the rocks with the water barely reaching my knees, rich marine life could already be seen. A few meters away from shore and the technicolor fantasy began. Fish of every kind swam my way, overwhelming in its variety of color and texture.

As we snorkeled, Jenny kept a tight grip on my arm. Luck was on her side as she managed to see a clown fish emerge from an anemone, as Nemo did in the famed cartoon. The strong currents made it impossible to venture further, the waves pushing us back. We took it as the cue to leave the sanctuary.

Experienced divers head to Mamsa point, famed for its school of jacks, napoleon, turtles, big snappers, tuna and a host of coral fishes. Divers have logged sightings of star puffer fish, butterfly fish, Mamsa (giant trevallis), angel fish, giant trigger fish, bump head napoleons, dog fishes, cuttle fish, the deadly stone fish, yellow fin barracudas and varieties of clown fish.

Rinsing off the seawater from our bodies turned out to be a sight that the community at large–even the pigs and chickens–found amusing. We then proceeded to do the tourist bit, taking souvenir photos of this paradise. Enterprising women deemed it an opportune time to try to sell us shirts and sarongs, insisting we buy at least one item from each one of them. We managed not to be swayed by their aggressive sales pitches, only buying that which we truly wanted.

As the waters grew rough, the bangkero advised us to head back to Malatapay. The ride back was wet and wild. Jenny faced Apo Island, while I decided to face Malatapay. Minutes into the journey, she begged Apo to shrink from her sight so it would mean we were nearing our destination. Throwing my cares to the wind, I remained unaffected by the wind and waves, cheerfully singing happy tunes and watching the waves roll by. As the boat rode wave after wave, I shrieked with glee pretending I was a surfer.

I marveled at the power and majesty of the deep blue sea. I was reminded of how tiny and insignificant human beings are in the grand scheme of things. I was finally going with the flow. Becoming one with the sea, I finally succumbed and surrendered to the deep blue.