Two days have passed since I wrote about visiting Lourdes and Jessa on the Hollywood Jetty. The first day was spent on my bike exploring the area around Guiuan. My main reason for doing this was to see the large abandoned American airport near the town. I had been informed that it was very near the town and to get there, I just had to follow the road that led inland from the Hollywood Jetty.

I stopped to ask directions once along the way to make sure that I was heading in the right direction. The man assured me that the airport was just ahead. It’s a good thing I stopped, because he told me that the runway was surrounded by barbed wire. However, joggers and other exercise types had cut through the barbed wire to gain access to the runway. Without that knowledge, I probably would have turned back at the barbed wire. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to try to get past it.

The break in the barbed wire was right next to the road. The fence wasn’t cut through completely, so I had to bend over and lay my bike practically on its side to wriggle through the gap. The barbed wire caught on my clothing and skin and I worried for a moment that it would puncture one of my tires. Fitting, I suppose, that I had to wriggle through barbed wire to see this remnant of World War II.

The runway was in excellent condition, especially when you consider its age. I’m assuming that it has been maintained and that the surface has been redone. There’s no other way to explain its pristine condition. It was far smoother than any road I’ve ridden on, and unlike when I’m on the roads, I didn’t have to worry at all about running into a pothole.

I don’t know how long standard runways are, but this one struck me as longer than the average. From one end of it, I couldn’t even see the other end. It was exactly like looking down a very wide highway – one that stretched to the horizon and beyond. On my return through the airport, I measured the runway and it came to exactly 2.11 kilometers. I can’t imagine what kind of plane needs over 2 kilometers of runway to get up off the ground.

I found a much larger break in the barbed wire at the far end of the runway, and I continued riding my bike through the countryside. I noticed a large domed weather station on a nearby hill and briefly entertained the thought of seeing if I could climb to the top of it for a view. I decided to give it a miss. I can’t imagine that they would have allowed me, and my knee was hurting so badly that I didn’t want to ride up the steep hill for no reason at all.

A brochure I have mentions huge hangars and other buildings at the airport, but I saw none of those. I did pass through some residential areas on the far side of the airport, and these did strike me as vaguely military. It could have been where American military personnel were housed during the war. I still haven’t been able to get any information about the plane carrying an atomic bomb having left from Guiuan. I’ve asked everyone about it, but no one knows anything. I went to a couple of Internet cafes, but the computers were so poorly maintained and the Internet connection so slow that I could barely get on the Internet. I eventually managed to get a bit of information on the nearby island of Calicoan, but that is all. Facebook and such things did not load at all.

After visiting the airport, I rode back into town for a meal and then cycled out of the other side of town. I had no idea what lay in that direction. I’d gotten some vague ideas that the fisheries bureau lay out there as well as a dock or port with public bangkas going to Hononhom Island. There were also supposed to be some nice resorts.

I did find all of these things as well as some very nice sections of scenic and shady road with glimpses of the water to my left. At the fisheries bureau, I was told that it was a simple matter to get a permit to visit Pearl Island. I just had to let them know when I was going and they’d give me a permit at no charge. I asked about getting a boat to the island and for a moment it looked like they’d be able to hook me up. Then our arrangements faded away to nothing again. The woman said that there was a boat that I could hire. I asked where it was, and she said, “Nearby.” She waved a hand off towards Guiuan. I smiled and echoed, “Nearby?” Then I asked her if she could be a bit more specific. Where exactly was nearby? She just repeated that it was nearby. I also asked who owned the boat and how I could contact this person. She said that the owner was a friend of a friend of a relation of someone at the fisheries bureau. That was just as helpful as telling me it was nearby, and our negotiations broke down at that point. I wasn’t that concerned because it appeared that this boat would cost 1,500 pesos to rent. She tossed off this figure as if it was so cheap it was barely worth mentioning. This happens a lot here – people will mention a high figure with the air that it is nothing at all. I’m not sure where this habit comes from. It’s a safe guess, for example, that this woman wouldn’t pay 1,500 pesos to rent a boat for the day. That’s the equivalent of a full week’s salary for most people here. So where does this idea come from that 1,000 pesos a night for a hotel is cheap and 1,500 pesos to rent a boat is nothing at all?

I might still have rented the boat at that figure if the arrangements could be made easily and if the boat could take me to a few different spots. But we were still stuck at “nearby” when it came to the boat’s location and “someone” as the boat’s owner. I got the impression that even if I manaqed to fight through the confusing mists of “nearby” and “someone” that the arrangements would be very complex, vague, time consuming, and unsatisfactory.

The trip out there certainly wasn’t a waste of time. It was a beautiful ride and I saw a lot of pretty villages situated down by the water. I also stopped at a nice resort hotel and had a cold beer on their outdoor patio overlooking the water.

That evening, I did some research into Calicoan Island and decided it would be worth my while to spend a day cycling out there to check it out. One woman I spoke with (a clerk at a bakery) described the island as breathtaking. That was good enough for me, and I organized my gear for a day trip out there. I considered packing up completely and spending the night on Calicoan Island, but I guessed that the resorts would be extremely expensive. And I had no interest in camping if I could cycle back to this hotel in Guiuan easily.

The road to Calicoan starts right at the intersection beside my hotel, and after stocking up with water and getting my bike out of the locked room, I set off. My right knee was still giving me a lot of trouble. I thought some easy days would start to heal it, but so far that hasn’t been true. I have no idea what is wrong. I’d only be guessing if I tried to figure it out. (Torn ligament? Worn out cartilage? Infection? Arthritis?) However, it was still possible to pedal the bike despite the pain. I just hoped I wasn’t doing more and more damage by continuing on.

Calicoan Island is about 18 kilometers long and perhaps a kilometer wide for most of its length. It is separted from the mainland by a narrow stretch of water. A bridge goes over this water connecting the two. On my main map, this gap can’t be made out, so it doesn’t look like an island at all. It simply looks like an extension of the peninsula. There are also no roads marked on my map. Therefore, when I first came here, I didn’t know it was an island and I didn’t know it was possible to go out there. I certainly didn’t know that it was being developed as a tourist destination specifically for surfers. All this I found out (slowly) when I got here.

Many people were swimming in the water directly beneath me on the bridge as I rode over. The water was flowing slowly through the gap and there were some nice swimming holes here and there. The water was clear and blue and inviting.

Just on the other side of the bridge, I turned left onto a side road into a small village. I followed this road all to the way to the far end of the village hoping it would lead me to the ocean at the coast. I was lucky in this and I found myself at a beautiful spot with huge waves crashing into a coral shelf. I rolled my bike along the rocky beach as far as I could in order to get a close view of the waves. I don’t know anything about surfing, but my guess was that it would be too dangerous to surf there. The waves appeared large enough, but it was far too shallow and rocky to be safe. Some teenage boys were on the beach and in the water, and one of the boys warned me that I should be careful and that I shouldn’t go too far along the beach. He said that the tides were very strong here and at high tide, it was easy to get cut off. I could find myself in a cove along the shore completely unable to get out again. Judging from what I saw later and the shallowness of the shore here, I could imagine him being right.

I had hoped there would be a road going along the coast around the island, but there was only one road and it went straight up the middle. Tht meant that as pleasant as the scenery was, there were no views of the coast. I could sense the coast out there to my left and to my right offering spectacular views, but in keeping with the general style of the Guiuan area, the views were cut off by land and buildings.

Whenever I came across a side road heading to either side, I turned my bike down it. I was rewarded with beautiful stretches of coastline with massive waves crashing down all around. One place in particular was impressive. The sandy beach stretched for a kilometer or two on both sides and was completely deserted. I had the entire beach to myself. From a tourism development point of view, the beach wasn’t ideal, perhaps. The shoreline of sand was a bit steep, and at low tide (which it was when I visited) the water was fairly shallow and not that great for swimming. What made up for this was the scenery and the freight train waves crashing steadily offshore.

A beach I stumbled across later on was even more impressive. It was not quite as long, but at either end the land rose up in rocky cliffs. The huge waves crashed into these cliffs sending spray high into the air. A local man showed me a road and path that led all the way to the end of the beach and to the edges of this cliff area. I had to carry my bike down a short stretch of steep trail in order to keep it safe. But then I was free to walk around with my camera and take some pictures. The cliffs were made of extremely sharp limestone or coral rock. It would be impossible to move around barefoot. Even with sandals, I had to be extremely careful. One slip could easily result in terrible cuts to your feet and legs. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if you tripped and fell full length. The pain I feel in my knee now would be nothing compared to the damage a fall on those razor-sharp rocks would do.

I worked my way as close as I dared to the cliff edge and took some pictures and some video. It was the kind of place that could easily feature in one of those “caught on camera” disaster video shows. I can see a tourist getting a bit too close to the edge and being hit by a freakishly large wave and sucked over the cliff and out to sea. It’s particularly dangerous, as I found out, when you are taking pictures. It’s easy to get complacent as you look through the camera’s viewfinder. More than once I found that the wave I was carefully filming was a monster and the water came quite close to me. I watched the wave through my camera’s viewfinder and it was like watching it on TV, totally forgetting that this was a real wave coming straight for me and it might be wise to back up and get out of there.

Throughout the day, I came across a series of small, beautiful coves, each one completely deserted. I parked my bike on the sand and had these bits of paradise all to myself. I’ve never been one to simply sit on the sand at a beach, so these beaches suited me perfectly. The waves offered endless entertainment as they rose up out of the ocean and thundered down.

About two-thirds down the length of the island, I came across the main surfing area. This section of the island is highly developed with the odd but typical result that it is the least attractive. Big chunks of the coast had been taken over by large resorts, and they’d all built high walls along the road cutting off all views. The most luxurious of these appeared to be a placed called Surf Camp. I’d heard the name mentioned while in Guiuan, and with such a name, I imagined a renegade kind of place – a laid back haunt of surfing souls. Nothing could be further from the truth (at least from the outside). It looked to be a full-on resort with high walls cutting it off from the outside world. They charged 25 pesos entrance fee, but I never did find out what one got for 25 pesos since they wouldn’t let me take my bike inside. I was told I could leave it outside by the gate and they would watch it, but there was no way I was going to do that. Besides, through the open gate, I could see manicured lawns and gardens and cement ponds with children running about. It looked to be a place for typical family tourism, Filipino style. There were so many beautiful beaches and coves completely open to me on my bike that I didn’t need to see the beach of Surf Camp.

The road continued past this resort area and I followed it. A few kilometers on, I came to the end of the island at the town of Sululang. There was no accommodation in Sululang, but it was large enough to offer shops and restaurants and that sort of thing. It was also the transportation hub of the island, and vans, buses, and jeepneys left from there. Just beyond Sululang there were a number of beach resorts along the southern tip. These also catered to the large groups of Filipinos that make up the bulk of tourism here. There were no bungalows lined up along the shore or anyting like that – things that would appeal to the average backpacker from the West. Overall, Calicoan Island would be a good place to visit if you were a dedicated surfer and you knew that it was the right time to find big waves. I assume that the surfing was good at the ABCD surf area (where Surf Camp was located). Why else would it exist? I’m considering going back to check it out.

I was a bit tired and my knee was in a lot of pain by the end of all this exploring, but my ride back to Guiuan passed pleasantly enough. The sky had clouded over a bit and the sun wasn’t very strong. I’d made sure to bring plenty of water with me, and I drank all the time. I’d also managed to have a bit of lunch. There was a fast-food joint right across the road from Surf Camp. When I didn’t make it through the gates into the surfer’s paradise, I stopped at this restaurant for some rice and barbecue and a cold, cold beer.

By the time I made it back to my hotel, I’d covered just over 60 kilometers. It was a great day even if I didn’t do any surfing.

 

 

Tags: bike, Calicoan Island, Philippines Bike Trip 2013, South Coast of Samar, Surf Camp