Thursday April 5, 2011, 9:00 a.m.

Jasmin by the Sea, Camiguin, Philippines

Jasmin by the Sea rents motorcycles for 350 pesos a day. They are identical to the bikes that were for rent on Palawan. I’ve heard them called underbones, and they are somewhere in between a motorcycle and a scooter. They look like a motorbike and you have to change gears. However, there is no clutch. You simply depress the pedal to jump up a gear when the engine gets to the right RPM. They’re very easy to drive, but it takes me some time to get used to them after driving my scooter in Taiwan so much. The scooter is much simpler in that the only control is the hand throttle. You don’t have to change gears at all. And that means you never use your feet. Both the front and the rear brakes are operated with hand levers. On the motorcycle I rented, one brake is operated with a hand lever and the other is operated with a foot pedal. I could do all this, obviously, but it didn’t come instinctively. I had to think all the time about what to do. It seemed a big pain after the ease of my scooter. I don’t know what advantage there is to a motorbike like this. Does it give more dependable power or something? I can’t see that because my 150cc scooter in Taiwan has a lot more acceleration and power than this motorbike.

They had a few bikes to choose from, and the largest one suited me best. I pulled together my gear for the day, slapped on a ton of sunscreen, and hit the road. When you rent a motorcycle here, they always give it to you without gas. So the first thing you have to do is find gas. In other places in the Philippines, you see gas on display in 1-liter Coke bottles. I hadn’t seen that here, and I had to do a bit of searching and asking before I found a place that sold gas. They had it hidden in the back of their store. I bought 3 liters of gas and that about filled up the tank. I knew there was a gas station or two in Mambajao, but I didn’t think my empty gas tank would get me there.

I drove north just to see what there was to see. The first part of the day was pleasant enough, though I didn’t have any great adventures. I guess just driving here is an adventure. It’s a beautiful place. I make fun of travel books that always use the word “verdant” in the first two pages. It’s the most over-used literary word. However, verdant certainly applies to Camiguin. It’s probably the greenest place I have ever seen. There are so many plants growing everywhere, and the green is a super-vibrant green. There are also plants with yellow leaves and there are flowers of all colors. It is a jungle and riot of vegetation. And for a place with such a small population, there seem to be people everywhere. It feels heavily populated. I passed through lots of little villages and they followed a similar pattern with a sari-sari store, a basketball court, and a school and then a bunch of homes. On a bicycle or my scooter, I probably would have stopped everywhere and checked out a lot more. I found it harder to stop the motorcycle. I was going too fast and I had to think so much about downshifting and all of that. I was thinking so much about the driving, that I found it hard to stop and explore. Still, I stopped a few times and took a picture or two of the coastline.

My first major stop was at a tourist attraction called the Stations of the Cross. This is a very Catholic country, and the people of Camiguin had built a series of 15 sets of statues illustrating the path that Jesus took from being condemned to death, to being crucified on the cross, and then rising from the dead. They were near-life size statues, and they were arranged on a steep path climbing up Camiguin’s Old Volcano. I assume the idea was that in climbing up this path, you experienced a small physical hardship running in parallel to the hardship of Jesus as he carried the cross. I was climbing the path not for the hardship but for the views, and I got a lovely view of the coast and the nearby hills. Even that short climb, however, made me realize what climbing here would be like, and I started to doubt the wisdom of climbing Hibok-Hibok volcano with Jess as I was planning.

From the last station of the cross (with Jesus risen from the dead and triumphantly pointing out over the world), I had a nice view of the sunken cemetery. Many years ago, an earthquake combined with an eruption had caused an entire portion of the island to slip into the sea. There was a cemetery on this land, and the local population had erected a large cross on a raft of some kind and kept it floating above where the cemetery is located. It is a popular spot for snorkeling. I found out later that Jess had gone snorkeling there as he and Maya drove a motorcycle around the island. He said there wasn’t very much to see. He could barely make out one cross on the ocean floor, and there were very few fish. I didn’t stop at all there. I just looked at the cross floating on the water.

My next major stop was at the remains of a very old Catholic church. I’m not sure when it was built, but it was certainly hundreds and hundreds of years ago. It was destroyed in 1871 by another earthquake and eruption that wiped out the entire town built around the church. The foundations of the church were massive structures of stone and had been left to gather moss and tree roots and now tourists. It was a beautiful spot with green lawns between the stone columns and the ocean in the distance.

The great adventure of the day was still to come, and that was visiting Tuasan Falls. Waterfalls are odd things in the life of a tourist. They are almost always promoted as tourist attractions, and as a tourist you dutifully trudge out to see the local waterfall. I always feel weird about that because they’re just waterfalls. They’re just like sunsets. Everyone feels this pressure to take pictures of beautiful sunsets, but they are hardly uncommon or even meaningful. You get a beautiful picture, but everyone gets that beautiful picture. Yet, I am often surprised at the beauty of waterfalls. And Tuasan Falls was one of those falls. I still have, nearly 24 hours later, a kind of glow coursing through my body from the beauty of the place.

Getting to Tuasan Falls wasn’t easy, and that isolation and remoteness had something to do with how beautiful the falls ended up seeming. There were large signs on the main road that pointed the way to Tuasan Falls. I turned down the main road. The sign said that the falls were 5.6 kilometers inland. Another sign appeared at a crossroads pointing in the direction to follow. Then the signs disappeared completely. The road got smaller and smaller. The cement paving disappeared and the road disintegrated into a rocky trail. Still I continued. There was no other direction to go. The falls had to be in that direction. I was a little puzzled in that I understood you could drive to the falls. They must have been talking about other falls, because there is no way you could drive to these falls. I eventually got to a point where it was impossible to reasonably go forward. The way was far too steep and rocky even for my motorbike. As I drove, civilization had also slowly disappeared and I found myself surrounded by trees, mountains, and the occasional wooden hut or house. I was reluctant to ask for help or directions, because I thought that might saddle me with a local guide that I wouldn’t be able to get rid of. I got lucky, and I spoke to a woman who indicated that the falls were around there and that I had to continue on foot. I asked if it was okay to leave my motorcycle parked outside her house, and she said it was okay. Then I had no idea which way to go. I was going to keep going straight up the rocky trail, but a man pointed me down a side trail. It was lucky he was there or I would never have found the falls. It wasn’t obvious in any way that you had to go that way. The man asked if I wanted a guide and I said no. I hoped I wouldn’t need one.

I followed this wide path through some yards where people were chopping firewood and feeding animals and just hanging out. In a place with something like 90% unemployment, people do a lot of hanging out. They work for themselves as farmers, fishermen, and doing odd jobs. And there is lots of time to gather in the shade with friends and talk. The concept of a 9-6 office existence like mine in Taipei is very foreign.

The wide path ended at a two-story wooden structure. It looked like at one point it might have been some kind of entrance gate for the falls. If so, one probably would have had to pay a fee of some kind. The building just sat there rotting now, and a path went off on either side of it. I chose the left side and kept walking. By then, I was growing more confident because I could see the outline of a large valley growing around me. And where there is a valley, there is a river, and where a river, a waterfall. I soon began to hear a river and the path itself became more and more defined and eventually began to follow the river’s edge. I was very pleased with this path. It was very wild and unclear. It often disappeared altogether and I had to scramble over the boulders at the edge of the river and then find it again. It wasn’t easy going. I slipped many times, and twice I fell hard enough to cut my legs a little bit on the rocks. I doubted many times that I was heading in the right direction, but I had no choice but to keep following the river and see what happened. The amount of water in the river didn’t seem large enough to produce a waterfall of any grandeur, but that can be deceptive.

I passed along sections of the river valley that were quite deep and I had to scramble over large landslides. Up above me, tons of earth and rocks and trees were ready to let go and come crashing down. The chances of anyone standing on the path when it did come down were slim, but it was not a place you’d like to hang out. The rocks got larger and larger and the way forward more difficult until I began to hear the thunder of a waterfall and I knew I was getting close. One more turn, and there it was. In terms of height and water volume and all of that, I’m sure it is one of the baby waterfalls of the world. However, it was a beautiful spot. The entire river was narrowed to a trough perhaps three feet across and then flung out into space. The water hit the pool at its base with great violence. It generated a thunderous noise and large waves that flowed outward from the froth and plume where it hit. I was soaked with sweat, incredibly hot and covered in mud and goo. It was the work of a minute to put down my pack, strip off my t-shirt, and get into that pool. It wasn’t deep enough to jump or dive into it. In fact, I had to leave my sandals on to make my way over the sharp rocks and then slowly edge my way into the water. Once in, it was paradise. I tried several times to swim right under the falling water, but it was impossible. The waves coming out threw me back. Perhaps with more effort I could have gotten there, but I thought it was too dangerous. I had no idea what was there and the force of the water could easily hold me under if there was some kind of weird flow of water going on. I could also imagine the force of the river up above dislodging stones and sending them down with the water. All the rocks around me at the base of the falls had almost certainly come down from the river in just that way. Any of them would have mean instant death. However, even a small stone falling from that height would be very bad. Statistically, I was quite safe. The chances of a rock coming over at that exact time were slim. But how many times can you trust to statistics? I felt I’d been bucking the odds just riding a motorcycle up that rocky trail. And then I was dicing with a broken ankle or a bad cut as I made my way over the rocks, and I was challenging the cliffs above me to break away at just that moment. The rain falls heavily on this island, and rock and mudslides would not be that uncommon. At some point, statistics can’t protect you anymore. It didn’t matter anyway. It was nearly impossible to fight the flow and get right to the base of the falls. Even if I did, I think the flow would just toss me out again in half a second.

I stayed for quite a long time at these falls simply paddling around in the pool, climbing around the edges and getting hot and then jumping back in again. I was in the middle of nowhere on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere and I had the whole place to myself. It’s a rare thing and I savored every moment of it.

Waterfalls have a big impact on mood, I find. Is it the elemental nature of water? Is it the hypnotic fall of the water? You can watch the falls forever and see new patterns of flow everywhere, how the water breaks up and falls apart as it falls, how some water clings to the rock face as if afraid and slides down slowly, how some is thrown out into the air and crashes down, how some dissolves into mist and rain that soaks everything in sight. It is cool and rich and luxurious. Then the refreshed traveler packs up and leaves. The mist of water in the air goes first, then the sound is gone, and within minutes you are in sweltering airless heat once again. The cool paradise of the falls seems unreal so quickly, as if anything so perfect couldn’t possibly exist. And I guess that is why waterfalls are offered up again and again as tourist attractions. Something in humans is drawn to them.

I lost the trail several times going back, but I saw enough familiar landmarks to find my way each time, and soon I was climbing up out of the river valley toward the ruined building where my little adventure had begun. My motorcycle was waiting for me where I had left it, and, to a chorus of hellos and waving hands, I started it and drove out down the road.

That was pretty much the end of my adventures for the day, but I still had a complete circuit around the island on the motorcycle to look forward to. My trip to Tuasan Falls had taken me about a third of the way. My plan was to continue around the island in the same direction and complete the last two thirds. I passed far more villages and people than I expected. I also saw quite a few more bungalows and resorts along the coast. I don’t think they see much business, but they keep running for the odd tourist who wants to get away from the busier north coast where the main attractions are. There were lots of things to explore along the way, but it was getting late and I wanted to get back before it got dark. I don’t know if all motorcycles are as uncomfortable, but this one was very hard on my butt and I don’t think I could have driven it much longer. Perhaps it is just too small for me and a larger bike would be more comfortable. I don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to ride it much longer than two hours at a time. After that, the pain in my butt is too great.

The ride back to Mambajao seemed to take forever. It was a beautiful ride, but I was ready for it to be over. I was also riding directly into the sun by then and it was hard to see where I was going. Traffic got heavier, too, and I had to be on my toes. I knew that I wasn’t comfortable enough with the controls to respond instinctively if there was an emergency of some kind – and this road bristled with possible emergency situations. Animals were everywhere, and anything from a stray puppy or piglet to a full-size water buffalo could dart out into the road. Children played on the road rolling old tires along with sticks to see who could make them go the fastest. Tricycles pulled all kinds of crazy stunts as they competed for passengers – turning on a dime, sprinting across the road, making sudden stops and turns. I couldn’t let my mind wander for an instant, and I was ready to be home and off the bike.

I got back to Jasmin by the Sea without incident. A quick shower and I was at the restaurant to have a cold beer. I was too worn out to write, but I had my Kindle and I read for a while. Partway through my meal, Jess and Maya showed up. They had also rented a motorbike and gone around the island. They had gone to different places than I had, and we exchanged stories from the day.

Tags: Camiguin Trip, scooter, Taiwan, Tuasan Falls