In search of elusive dolphins
August 17, 2003 | 12:00am
It’s a small price to pay, to make the day-long road trip to Bais, Negros Oriental from Cebu City, if one were assured the dolphins would come out that day. You’re lucky if you chance upon those friendly fins on those random days they decide to surface and indulge over-eager city-dwellers. I wish I had such luck. Maybe then I could have had a better story to tell, anything better than confessing that two distant dorsal fins accounted for my whole dolphin-watching experience.
And what about those whales? I haven’t even begun to describe how gypped I felt after scouring the high seas with high hopes, craning my neck and straining my eyeballs for a modicum of marine life. It wasn’t to be. All I found were miles and miles of seawater, its surface hardly broken by the unexpected acrobatics of a creature that supposedly defies physics.
Amazingly though, I can still say a trip to Bais is worth it. They say there are days when the dolphins come out in hundreds, appeasing the starved curiosity of children and old folk alike. There is something so calming about their presence, especially when you see them in the wild, and not circus-trained in some theme-park show. Somewhere in the middle of the sea that separates the province of Cebu from Negros, they’ll come to you. In genial packs, they’ll sidle up to the oars of the outrigger, riding the waves alongside the moving motor, their shiny gray exterior bobbing up and down in fluid movement with the lapping tide. When they decide to raise their heads and squeak their welcome, the delight of seeing them up-close is as infectious as the chorus of their resounding squeals.
What’s amazing about the experience is that not everything has to do with dolphins. Another highlight of the trip is a sandbar that sticks out in the middle of the vast blue saline yonder. Mounds of sand seem to appear out of nowhere, a perfect spot to laze around and soak up the quintessential beach tan. Little huts for rent stand to the side, a testament to the Filipino’s entrepreneurial initiative that emerges in the most unexpected of places.
There is an image I have that is particularly unforgettable about that sandbar. A group of girls were playing volleyball on the highest mound when rain started to fall. As the downpour became heavier, the tides rose, submerging most of the sandbar. Soon enough, the girls were ankle-deep in seawater. Still, they continued their volleyball game, and the last image I had of them was a drenched group playing a game in the middle of the sea before our boat pulled away from that Pacific oasis.
Getting to Bais is no problem, especially if you make a side-trip to Dumaguete City. You can either fly in or take the fastcraft from various destinations, but the best trips are always the ones spent on the road. I traveled three hours by car to the southern tip of Cebu, from where barges leave twice a day for Dumaguete. The Bais harbor is over an hour away by car from the quaint little coastal city. The locals say it’s best to head out in the early morning, when the dolphins are most likely to come out. That way, you can spend the other half of the day lolling by the sandbar or just cruising through the open waters.
Still I wish there were more modern methods of charting out the dolphins’ movements. That way, fewer people would be left disappointed by their non-appearance. My little brother reasoned out that a big whale at the bottom of the sea made the waves so big that the dolphins didn’t want to come out. For the rest of us, we perplex ourselves over the unavailability of nautical instruments that ensure our trip isn’t made in vain. Until then, it all depends on how lucky you are.
(The author loves traveling and sharing highlights of her trips to adventure-thirsty tourists. Check out more of these travel tales at www.lakbay.net/traveltales. By the way, she also loves to get a tan and is still bitter over not seeing those dolphins.)
And what about those whales? I haven’t even begun to describe how gypped I felt after scouring the high seas with high hopes, craning my neck and straining my eyeballs for a modicum of marine life. It wasn’t to be. All I found were miles and miles of seawater, its surface hardly broken by the unexpected acrobatics of a creature that supposedly defies physics.
Amazingly though, I can still say a trip to Bais is worth it. They say there are days when the dolphins come out in hundreds, appeasing the starved curiosity of children and old folk alike. There is something so calming about their presence, especially when you see them in the wild, and not circus-trained in some theme-park show. Somewhere in the middle of the sea that separates the province of Cebu from Negros, they’ll come to you. In genial packs, they’ll sidle up to the oars of the outrigger, riding the waves alongside the moving motor, their shiny gray exterior bobbing up and down in fluid movement with the lapping tide. When they decide to raise their heads and squeak their welcome, the delight of seeing them up-close is as infectious as the chorus of their resounding squeals.
What’s amazing about the experience is that not everything has to do with dolphins. Another highlight of the trip is a sandbar that sticks out in the middle of the vast blue saline yonder. Mounds of sand seem to appear out of nowhere, a perfect spot to laze around and soak up the quintessential beach tan. Little huts for rent stand to the side, a testament to the Filipino’s entrepreneurial initiative that emerges in the most unexpected of places.
There is an image I have that is particularly unforgettable about that sandbar. A group of girls were playing volleyball on the highest mound when rain started to fall. As the downpour became heavier, the tides rose, submerging most of the sandbar. Soon enough, the girls were ankle-deep in seawater. Still, they continued their volleyball game, and the last image I had of them was a drenched group playing a game in the middle of the sea before our boat pulled away from that Pacific oasis.
Getting to Bais is no problem, especially if you make a side-trip to Dumaguete City. You can either fly in or take the fastcraft from various destinations, but the best trips are always the ones spent on the road. I traveled three hours by car to the southern tip of Cebu, from where barges leave twice a day for Dumaguete. The Bais harbor is over an hour away by car from the quaint little coastal city. The locals say it’s best to head out in the early morning, when the dolphins are most likely to come out. That way, you can spend the other half of the day lolling by the sandbar or just cruising through the open waters.
Still I wish there were more modern methods of charting out the dolphins’ movements. That way, fewer people would be left disappointed by their non-appearance. My little brother reasoned out that a big whale at the bottom of the sea made the waves so big that the dolphins didn’t want to come out. For the rest of us, we perplex ourselves over the unavailability of nautical instruments that ensure our trip isn’t made in vain. Until then, it all depends on how lucky you are.
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