Saturday February 13, 2010

Nagtabon, Palawan

To set the stage, I’m sitting on the front verandah of my perfect little bungalow on my perfect beach. Coconut trees towering overhead. Beautiful white sand. Waves crashing on the shore. A bowl of rice and a complete fish on a plate for breakfast – served to me on my verandah with the usual starving puppy begging for scraps. I was glad the starving puppy was there. There was no way I could have eaten the fish by myself. It was too big to begin with, and it was a bit much for breakfast – way too flavorful and challenging. I ate most of the fish, but what I couldn’t eat, I tossed to the eager puppy. I don’t think the poor thing will survive, but it will at least have a good day today with a full stomach.

By the time I had finished breakfast in Puerto Princesa, I still hadn’t decided where I was going to go on the motorcycle. At the last minute, I spotted a tiny road on my map that cut off to the left and went to the coast at a place called Nagtabon. I remembered seeing on another map that there might be some kind of bungalows at Nagtabon. And it was a place I’d never been to. That suited me. I was feeling that I didn’t want to join the herds at Sabang, Port Barton, and El Nido. I wanted to find some small places where I’d never been.

I packed up my stuff, slathered on some sunscreen, and then hit the road. I had a full tank of gas from the day before, and I was told I could I get about 125-150 kilometers on a tank. I believe a tank holds just over 3 liters. It was instantly clear that I wouldn’t be able to strap anything onto the motorcycle. It just wasn’t big enough. And I quickly discovered that it didn’t matter. Wearing the backpack was no problem at all. I only put on the shoulder straps and left the waist belt off. Then the pack was just resting on the seat and I used the shoulder straps to keep it from falling over. I didn’t have to bear the weight at all, and it was perfectly comfortable.

Getting out of Puerto Princesa was a breeze. The roads are marked in English with accurate signs. And I had already done this route on my bicycle, so I didn’t even have to look at my map. I just rode down Rizal and then turned left at the National Highway. Traffic was very heavy and I had to go quite slowly. I felt like some kind of bad-ass adventurer on my motorcycle. Of course, I’m sure I didn’t look like one. The motorcycle is more scooter than motorcycle. And I was wearing a tiny plastic helmet – more like a lid than a helmet. Not exactly looking cool. Still, I felt like a soundtrack was in order.

I found it fascinating to drive the motorcycle along a highway that I’d already ridden my bike on. I recognized every landmark. I remembered everything – where I stopped to take a picture, where I stopped to have a drink, where I stopped just to stop. And once I got out of Puerto Princesa and started climbing the mountains, I was surprised that I’d ridden my bike there. It seemed far steeper on the motorcycle – much steeper than I remembered. And I was so hot on the motorcycle, I can’t imagine how hot I must have been on the bicycle. Looking back now, I can’t believe I rode a bicycle over that same route.

I was in no hurry at all, and every time I saw a road that looked interesting, I turned onto it and followed it for a while to see where it went. One such road led to the jumping off point for boat tours to Honda Bay and the resorts out there. I had trouble finding the road to Nagtabon and I rode quite a ways past it before I realized my error. I drove back and then after asking a bunch of people, I found the road that I was looking for. This one wasn’t marked.

The road began nicely paved, but quickly turned into one of the worst roads I’ve ever been on – extremely rough and rocky. I’m sure I could have (and would have) done it on my bicycle, but it wouldn’t have been pleasant. I came to a fork in the road and I chose the wrong direction. After five or six kilometers, I realized my error and turned around. It took a lot of concentration and a lot of physical effort to keep that motorcycle upright on those rocks. I was surprised at how hard it was and at how slowly I had to go. I almost never could get the thing out of first gear. In second gear, it never would have made it up the hills.

I had second thoughts about going down this road. I thought the chances were good that there would be nothing at the end of it and I’d just have to turn around. But I kept on, and in the end, I was very glad that I did. At the very end, the road went up a very steep hill. It was almost impossible to climb it. The rocks were so large that the motorcycle jumped from place to place and I had to keep gunning the engine to keep from falling over. Then I crested the hill, and I was rewarded with just the barest glimpse of tropical paradise – turquoise waters and bright white sand far below – a picture-perfect beach in a harbor ringed by tall “verdant” hills.

The road down to Nagtabon was the worst part yet. I began to doubt that I’d be able to make it back up again. I parked my bike at the bottom, shouldered my backpack and walked out onto the beach. It was so beautiful. Immediately on my left, I saw a few bungalows that looked promising, but I went past them and walked the length of the beach. The sun was brutally hot and the sand burned my feet. It was midday and the beach was deserted. The local people were too smart to be out there at that time. They were all lounging under the trees outside their little shacks. I walked the whole length of the beach and saw nothing but shacks and then one tiny shop at the end. They sold bottles of water and Sprite and Coke and the usual assortment of thousand-year-old cookies, candies, and packets of laundry detergent and cigarettes.

It was clear that this beach was not like the beaches at Sabang and Port Barton and El Nido. No restaurants. No banana pancakes. No other foreigners in fact. I decided it was perfect for me in my present mood, and I walked back to see if those bungalows were in fact for rent. I talked to the caretakers – a friendly woman and man, and they said that they had two cottages that they could rent. They were expensive at 900 pesos, but I decided to stay. For 900 pesos in Puerto Princesa I got the whole deal – hot running water, air conditioning, a mini-fridge, telephone, electricity, and a TV. For 900 pesos in Nagbaton, I got a bed and a garbage can of water. However, I also got tropical paradise and a view that simply can’t be beat. So it’s not a bad deal.

Not long after I moved into my bungalow, a couple showed up on their motorcycle. They had come just to spend a couple hours on the beach. Then later on, three young men from Germany showed up on their motorcycles. These three were friendly, and we spent much of the afternoon and evening together. They weren’t too keen on staying here, as they were in search of cold beer. But they had no choice in the end, and they decided to stay. They had come from Sabang and Port Barton, and they said that both places were really crowded and that they had some trouble finding a place to stay. Certainly all the best places were already taken. That made me feel good about my decision to stay here, and during the night I decided to stay for another day and a night.

Food turned out to be not a problem at all. The caretaker of this place made me and the German boys some rice and vegetables and sauce. And then this morning she offered to make me some breakfast – the fish and rice and coffee. And now here I am with a whole day ahead of me to do nothing but swim and read. Not bad at all.

Tags: bike, Palawan Motorbike Trip, Port Barton, Puerto Princesa