Exploits in the Philippines

Exploits in the Philippines
Jo Winter
Awarded the Goldsmith Exploration Award
The Philippines had long been a distant dream. The myriad of islands,
reports of fabulous coral, clear water and smiley friendly people, all seemed
to make it well worth learning how to cope with the threat of typhoons.
We rejoined Brother Wind in Miri, Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo, on 2
January. As usual there was a host of jobs to do before we could depart.
Miri is a busy scruffy town which serves the Sarawak offshore oil industry.
It has no yachtie facilities, except for a very basic marina miles from
anywhere. Bicycles are a must to access the mass of local skills there if
one can find them. After much angst Giles had the seized starter motor
removed and repaired, the alternator rewound and the diodes replaced,.
A stainless steel fabricator was found to adapt our new auto-helm ram,
canvas was repaired and the outboard was taken to pieces. Above all,
after many days the minefield of getting the ram and a new Rocna anchor
Philipines
Brother Wind
45ft Island Packet
Malaysia
Indonesia
Indonesia
PNG
through customs without paying inordinate import duties was eventually
negotiated. We used a double act of fury (Giles) and sycophancy (me); the
latter was to ensure that any loss of face was expiated.
Eventually we bid farewell to the few yachties there, and headed in
torrential rain for a fast trip to Labuan Island, 110nm north-east lying off
the coast of Brunei. It has duty free status and so is excellent for restocking
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Exploits in the Philippines
Brother Wind
45ft Island Packet
PHILIPPINES
MALAYSIA
Br
Sarawak
un
ei
our sadly empty booze locker!
We have never managed to avoid committing ourselves to deadlines,
which perhaps is why we crack on faster than many yachts, but always
have unfinished business. This time we needed to get to Kota Kinabalu to
meet up with Richard and Sally Marsh (RCC). The Marshes were swiftly
indoctrinated to scruffy food stalls in the Malaysian market for a delicious
meal that evening. The next day we renegotiated the passage inside Gaya
Island, the scene of our very ignominious grounding in 2012, and with a
mixed forecast we set sail.
We had an uncomfortable couple of days sailing north, beating into
lumpy seas and rain. Motor sailing in squally conditions and ever bigger
seas made progress slow. The Marshes must have started to have a few
doubts about their tropical sailing adventure. Even after this endurance
test was over, the rain srill did not let up, and a very soggy inland trip to
visit a long house reinforced Borneo’s wet reputation. Kudat was our last
port in Malaysia for refuelling and port clearance, before setting off to the
Philippines.
We headed northwards to Palawan Island, the south-west extremity of
the Philippine archipelago and a long thin island which lies in line with the
north-east monsoon. Instinctively we might have chosen the protection of
the west coast, but it is much harder to find shelter from the swell from
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Jo Winter
the South China Sea
than from the northeast wind. The east
coast has many more
bays and harbours, and
so is perfect for one day
hops.
At last the weather
redeemed itself, as
we sailed through the
islands north of Borneo
and across the 30 mile
Sally and Richard Marsh, Giles visiting a longhouse
wide Balabac Strait that
separates the islands of Malaysia from the Philippines. We moved as if by
magic into a kinder, drier climate.
Many of these islands provide shelter for the stateless ‘sea gypsies’,
who are some of the poorest people. They have no access to any food
except fish and coconut. We encountered some who looked very thin
in Balambangan Island, the last of the Malaysian islands. They looked
hungry, and we exchanged food for shells. We were warned not to swim
because of crocodiles.
Next day saw us in our first Philippine anchorage, Balabac island’s
Clarendon bay, where we were immediately besieged by boats asking
for rice, food, soap
and sugar. Ashore we
walked through the
very traditional village
of stilt houses built of
bamboo, pandanis and
nippah palm, while
shy
people
stared
out at us from their
homes. Only the brave
few tried to talk to us.
One delightful chap
abandoned his buffalo
Typicalvillage, Balbac
in order to walk us back to his house where he scaled a coconut palm and
dropped coconuts down to us. He was thrilled to come out in the dinghy
to see Brother Wind.
The islands at the bottom end of Palawan deserve a lot more time than
we had for them, with their transparent water and golden sand. Moving
north did not disappoint us, and we stopped to give the Marshes a near
desert island experience, except for locals busily unloading seaweed to
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Exploits in the Philippines
dry for the markets at
Puerta Princessa and
beyond.
The
traditional
‘spider boats’ or bangkas
as they are known,
make Philippine waters
unmistakable. These
narrow hulled boats
are stabilized by large
bamboo
outriggers
tri-maran style. The
A family bangka
bent bamboo supports
give them their elegant ‘spider’ look, as well as natural buoyancy and the
design is replicated for all sizes of boats, right up to quite large ferries.
We closed the coast
of Palawan, sailing
between sandy cays
into Rio Tuba, a small
commercial port where
nickel is mined and
exported. We were
desperate to get pesos,
the local currency.
Landing at the stilted
water
village,
we
were amused by an
enormous sow kept in a
Town street in Rio Tuba
pen above the river. The bamboo slatted floor neatly solved the mucking
out problem. The rough main street of earth and crude lumps of coral was
lined with scruffy little
shacks, and led to the
only smart building in
town - the Pawn Shop
and Money Exchange.
Here they changed our
money into thousands
of Philippine pesos.
We bought delicious
and cheap yellowfin
tuna, a sim card,
and topped up with
fruit and veg. We
The Pawnshop, Rio Tuba
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Jo Winter
immediately felt the impact of being in a non-Muslim country; women in
T-shirts and shorts, and little girls having as much fun as the boys.
We progressed northwards up the east coast of Palawan, setting off just
before daybreak each day to get a few hours behind us before the sun
generated the inevitable strong north-easterly wind. Night sailing is not
recommended. There are large unlit fishing platforms and the bangkas
can be out in all conditions without lights.
Puerta Princessa is the capital of Palawan and sits in an enormous
natural harbour about half way up
the island. In one arm of the bay
the Albanico Yacht Club, set up
by ex-pat British yachtie John and
his Filipino wife Cissy, provides a
haven for yachts.
We had so far seen no other
yachts cruising at all, a trend that
continued throughout this trip, but
in Puerta Princessa about 20 boats
Unlit fishing trap
swung to anchor or mooring. The
Yacht Club provides a very relaxed set up, where many yachties while
away the time watching their boats in the bay, enjoying a sundowner with
the ever convivial John, and probably deciding they didn’t really need to
go to sea at all!
The Yacht Club is a 20 minute bumpy ride from the centre of town,
and gave us our first taste of public transport Philippine style - the motor
tricycle. It’s a motor bike with a side-car attached but designed for two
or three small slim hipped Filipinos and not rather long, large Brits, who
have to stoop to sit.
Our arrival for Chinese New Year coincided with a public holiday,
which meant port clearance would have to wait until Monday. Meanwhile,
daughter Flora and boyfriend Dan arrived from Hong Kong, just ahead of
a threatened typhoon which delayed our planned trip to the other side of
Palawan to visit the world’s longest underground river.
The eerily beautiful river goes at least 20 miles underground from the
west coast of Palawan. It is home to thousands and millions of bats, mostly
sleeping, and an array of gorgeously coloured stalactites and stalagmites,
painted and shaped by the mineral drips that percolate through the
mountains above. It was a memorable though lengthy experience.
North from Puerta Princessa, we explored reef strewn anchorages,
where eyeball navigation is essential: Hunda Bay, much rated by the
tourist guides; the lush mangroves of North Verde island, with a stunning
view of the green mountains of Palawan; and further north still, where the
mangrove gives way to coral in Green Island Bay, and the islands become
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Exploits in the Philippines
coral fringed sandy cays,
interspersed with a
myriad of reefs.
Our first resort was
amongst the islands
of Green Island Bay,
with access back to
the mainland at Roxas
where buses plied their
way to Puerta Princessa.
Good snorkelling at
Reef Island, and an
Sky at Palawan
excellent dinner, was
followed the next day by a surreal evening anchored at Flat Island, home
to many fruit bats. As dusk fell tens of thousands of huge bats rose from
the mangroves and languorously flew over us towards the mainland. It
was an unforgettable sight, and lovely to share it with the Marshes, Flora
and Dan, before they both left in the subsequent two days.
Our luck vanished along with the crew. We had had two very able
electricians on board, but where were they when we needed them? As we
weighed anchor, Giles announced he could smell a sulphurous battery,
which meant over charging.
We headed off to Green Island, the furthest of the islands, and poor
Giles buried himself in the morass of alternator, regulator and isolator
conundrums. After a lot of hair tearing, we finally thought we had a
solution by simply disconnecting the starter battery from the charging
system. But next morning when we were set to leave, we realised that the
house batteries were not charging either. Another agonising day was spent
blowing fuses both electrical and human, until eventually the regulator
was bypassed and the isolator discarded, with a temporary solution of
manually connecting and disconnecting the alternator.
Palawan curves eastwards at this point to the island of Dumeran, where
a narrow channel provides a short cut northwards through sandbanks and
reefs. As we approached a little island midway, where we intended to stop
for the night, we reached our first pearl buoys. Mile upon mile of black
buoys in rows, all linked together with thick floating lines, and lying
right across our track! We circuited around them, moving away from our
destination, and eventually found a break where we could cut back to not
only a beautiful desert island, but another yacht, the first one we had seen
cruising since we left Miri a month and 700 miles earlier.
The wind continued to blow north-easterly, which had necessitated a
lot of motor-sailing, but next day the wind was fair and we had a good sail,
although marred by continually having to spot and avoid rows of pearl
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Jo Winter
buoys. No sooner had
we cleared one farm
than the next buoys
would appear, with
scant consideration for
safe passage in between,
frequently pushing us
uncomfortably close to
reefs.
It proved lucky that
we had dropped our
crew in Roxas, as our
Fishing village, Icambanauan Island
planned landing at
unprotected Tay Tay was impossible with 35 kts of wind and a lee shore.
Instead we found beautiful protection at Icambanauan Island, which we
discovered is home to the world’s only white squirrel. North of Tay Tay
we anchored in Silanga Bay, and after a forage ashore to find very few
available stores, but the cheapest ever epoxy glue, we decided to take the
allegedly navigable Tanguinau channel, which would save us several miles
and give some protection from the north-easterly monsoon.
My only information was a waypoint of a rock mid-channel, so we
cautiously set off, with the flood tide giving us an extra knot. Inevitably
I suppose, there was a sickening crunch, and we juddered to an abrupt
stop. Luckily we bounced off, thanks to our long keel, and after a quick
reassessment we carried on rather more cautiously. Only when we got to
the waypoint we had been given did we realise that in fact it marked the
far end of a rocky reef a quarter mile long. A lesson in both giving and
receiving waypoints.
We chose most of our anchorages solely by studying the charts and the
wind, with no other information, so it was not unusual to find that what
looks possible on paper
is not so good in reality.
Unusually, having
navigated the channel,
we were turned away
from our proposed
anchoring spot, and
so had to venture into
a wide, exposed, reefstrewn bay with 25
knots of wind whistling
into it and dusk not far
off. We sailed four miles
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Exploits in the Philippines
north to Bati island, hoping to find shelter there, but we couldn’t get close
enough in, and everywhere was uncomfortably choppy. From the chart
another island two miles further on looked as though it would have good
protection. Imagine therefore our dismay when we were nearing it to see
the dreaded pearl buoys in serried ranks as far as the fading light would
allow us to see!
We tacked around and headed towards an unpromising resort island,
and then horrors - more buoys, only these ones were orange ‘keep off our
island’ buoys. To our relief in the by now gloomy light, a speed boat came
roaring out from the resort waving cheerfully at us and telling us to follow
them. Through the barrier of buoys we went, into the lee of the land, and
picked up a lovely mooring buoy just as the sun dropped into the sea. We
could have hugged them!! Welcome to Flower Island!
We should have gone ashore that evening for a meal, but were exhausted,
so next morning we went for a walk to the top of their lighthouse and to
thank them all. If only we had stayed longer. From here we were heading
north from Palawan to the islands that make up the Calamian group. We
spent a couple of days battling against 30 - 40kt winds and big seas while
we missed endless beautiful islands that would have been untenable in
that weather.
Eventually a couple of days later found us on the south west of Culion
Island, where another channel lured us in like a magnet. Undaunted,
though arguably stupid, we did another off the cuff short-cut inside Galoc
island. The channel narrowed to a boats length at one point. The sun was
well up and for once there was no wind, so the water was like a mirror
reflecting yellow and making reef spotting only possible close to. I had to
stand high up on the boom wearing polaroid glasses to guide us through,
but it did save us seven miles.
Culion town has a fascinating history. It was set up by the Americans
in 1904 as a leper colony and became the largest colony on earth. The
initial reluctance by lepers to come changed once they realised how
sympathetically it was run, as a proper thriving and productive community.
Marriage between lepers, although originally prohibited, was later
allowed, but the heartache was that ensuing children had to be separated
from their parents to avoid infection. It proved a ground breaking project
where new techniques were tried, and leprosy was stemmed and finally
eliminated in 1987.
Coron, just north of Culion, is the capital of Busuanga, the largest island
in the Calamian Island group. In spite of being quite a busy port, there is
a liberal scattering of unmarked reefs on the approach. We anchored off
the town, delighted to find another yacht - Russian - and were briefly
delighted by the hub-bub and noise of the motor-tricycles. Diesel, laundry
and provisioning were all available. Coron and Culion were badly hit by
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Jo Winter
super typhoon Hayan
in December 2013,
and we listened in awe
to some of the stories.
It is also the hub of a
very busy diving area,
and one of the worst
effects of the aftermath
has been the decline in
visitor numbers.
The high limestone
karst of Coron Island
gives it spectacular
Freshwater lake Coron island
freshwater lakes perched high in its peaks, and we walked up the welltrodden tourist path to the lower of the lakes to swim and snorkel in
fresh water. We had managed gingerly to cross a rocky bar into a fabulous
small lagoon where Brother Wind was wrapped around by rocky cliffs and
suspended over deep transparent water.
Coron had not truly bared its teeth at us until early on the morning
of our departure when we were assiduously following the track on our
navigation program, but still managed to hit a reef. We were stuck fast
and set about launching the dinghy to lay a kedge. With the wash from
passing boats and a small rise in the tide, however, we were able to reverse
off without having to resort to more dramatic tactics.
We should have decided the gods were against us at that point, but we
didn’t take the hint. Our course lay south-east for 170nm to the south
end of Panay island in the Visaya Group. We had expected that the ever
present north-easterly monsoon might actually help us for once, instead of
which we had 36 hours of pretty good torture, bashing into 35 kts of wind
and steep confused seas, while we were locked into a ‘high’.
We
had
an
uncomfortable roller
coaster
sail,
and
gradually the wind
moved back to the
north-east, while we
kept as much canvas
up as we could, worried
that we might not arrive
with enough daylight
to make the anchorage
at the bottom end of
Panay Island. To add to
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Exploits in the Philippines
this boisterous sail, we were continually checking our bilge, as the leaking
shaft seal had got worse, and the electric bilge pump kept fusing.
We took a day off, made friends with the locals, and went to see a fine
Baroque coral church. Our next leg was just 30nm north-east along the
Panay Strait which separates Panay and Negros Islands. It is quite a busy
shipping lane with strong tides as well as an accelerated wind speed owing
to the funnelling effects. As usual we made an early start before dawn
to try to beat the wind and to get a couple of hours motoring done in
calm conditions. We were hardly out of the bay, and had just manoeuvred
around a slow fishing boat, when all our lights went out.
A scramble for torches followed, and we grabbed the helm, as Freddie
Furuno the auto pilot was also out of action. Giles went below and turned
on a light switch to see if everything had blown, a blinding white flash and
a loud bang ensued as a bulb exploded, then silence. It seemed an eternity
before an affirmative ‘yes I am alright’ came.
The whole boat stank with the smell of electrical burning and melted
plastic. Closer inspection revealed that the main breaker switch had
melted and exploded. The metal working parts were scattered around the
cabin floor. All other electric breakers were turned off, and we heaved a
sigh of relief. We were not on fire, but what on earth had happened?
We were fairly well rehearsed with coping without either electrics
or electronics. Luckily, although the 12v charger had blown up, it had
protected the laptop. All our instruments were wiped out, but I keep a
couple of GPS USB buttons, which live in the oven in case of a lightning
strike, along with a spare netbook and an ancient hand held GPS.
I knew that there were no immediate hazards on our course, so we carried
on motor-sailing until daybreak. Once we could see, Giles went through
the 20 or so fused switches on our instrument panel, and we realised that
everything that had been turned on had blown. This included all our nav
lights, our B&G Network, which was GPS, echo sounder, wind and log,
the new Furuno autohelm, fridge, and the inverter, which wasn’t even
turned on, as well as the lap top charger.
The bay of Santa Ana, on the west coast of Guemeras Island, which
lies between Panay and Negros, was as easy as one could hope for with no
echo sounder. With lovely clear water and the sun high, we made a careful
entrance, staying close to the reef that we could see. While I was making
up a lead line, Giles started playing with the electronics. He found that
the B&G GPS had taken the hit from the power surge, and we worked
out that by-passing it with the Daisy chain, we might get some life out
of the other instruments. Miraculously our depth sounder sprang into
life, and as we moved through the system unplugging and re-plugging,
we managed to get all the instrumentation except the GPS back. Our
spare GPS was unaffected, as it runs on a different circuit, so at least our
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Jo Winter
navigation instruments were back in business. We would certainly have
struggled without the echo sounder. The rest of the day was spent working
out what other electrics we might be able to save, and trying to understand
what exactly the cause of our blow-out was.
Iloilo, the capital of Panay, seemed the obvious place to head for, to see
if we could replace some fuses, light bulbs and so on. Perhaps the shallow
bar of 2.5 metres at the entrance to the river might have been less worrying
without the echo sounder, but it was a huge relief to have it. We carried
on a mile upstream amongst the busy working port, and eventually with
nowhere else to go, asked the Coastguards if we could moor up alongside
them. They were a bit perplexed, but proved charming, and when we
explained that we had an electrical problem, they dug out their lovely
electrician, who came to have a look at our melt down.
He explained that the switch had somehow crossed the contacts,
effectively short circuiting the battery, alternator and inverter, which
seemed to be the cause of our big bang. We had replaced the battery switch
in Malaysia in 2012, when we had a black out, and Giles had brought out a
spare, as he had worried about the ‘made in China’ label on it.
We spent two days tied up alongside the Coastguards, trying to find
various bits and pieces to enable us to become a well found yacht again.
Simple things like 12 volt light bulbs for the navigation lights proved
very hard to find. We were luckier with fuses, and highly relieved when
we found in amongst the complexity of our brand new autohelm a little 4
amp fuse had blown.
Iloilo had once been the capital of the Philippines, and our quest for
old Spanish houses in one of the suburbs was intriguing to say the least.
Whilst looking for one particular mansion, we walked cautiously into an
amazing dilapidated Palladian house, sadly besieged by noisy roads. We
climbed up the grand steps, underneath a balcony, (which looked about to
shed its balustrade onto us), and into the hall. As we stood there gawping,
a wild haired Miss Faversham character, clothed in a transparent négligée
appeared at the top of the stairs and demanded what we wanted.
As it turned out, the mansion we were looking for and which we did
eventually find was equally fascinating. We insisted to the guards at the
gate that they should ask if we could look around and the owner duly gave
us a tour of the house. Her father had entertained many political guests
there, including the infamous Imelda Marcos. Both of these houses in
the decaying colonial opulence of Jaro suburb gave us a real sense of an
affluent past which is hard to detect in the present day Philippines.
Brother Wind was turned back into a workshop while Giles buried
himself in wiring, so I decided to make myself scarce by tracking down
five of the Baroque churches on the island, travelling on local buses and
jeepneys (communal jeeps).
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Exploits in the Philippines
We were rather sad to say farewell to our band of coastguard neighbours.
They had not been out of harbour in three months, so we felt it unlikely
that they would have many of the skills we might need in an emergency.
We carried 2.5 knots of fair tide for a while, heading north from
Iloilo through the many islands and reefs to some beautiful anchorages.
Once again we saw the damage caused by super typhoon Hayan, both in
the Gigantes islands and to the west coast of Leyte, where we saw the
devastation that had happened to some of these eternally cheerful people.
The market in Isabel on Leyte Island still had no roof and houses were
still being rebuilt. Two large cargo boats had sunk in the harbour; a huge
crane was on its side, while a vast roofless warehouse, part of a copper
smelting processor, looked out of action. It had been a major employer in
the area, so to add to the other devastation there was no work either.
The locals were astonished to see us when we went ashore, but extremely
friendly, and we spent as much money with them as we could manage. Next
morning when we were weighing anchor early, a small bangka paddled
out to see us with some necklaces to sell. I duly bought some, and listened
to his story of the typhoon, which had flattened his house, and how he had
had to crawl through
the rubble to rescue
his six month old
baby. I didn’t quibble
at his price, which was
very cheap, and he in
turn gave me an extra
necklace. Presumably
I had paid too much this from a man who
had nothing.
It is 30nm to cross
Leyte Street
the stretch of water that separates Leyte from Cebu, where we had arranged
to leave Brother Wind for ten days in Port Carmen at the Pinoy boatyard
while we went to Hong Kong. Port Carmen is as tricky an entrance as
you could wish for. We managed to negotiate the initial approach, but
having been warned by friends in the yard about how many yachts end
up drying out on the reef, we called Zeke who sent one of his workers in
a little bangka to guide us in. We still didn’t realise what we were heading
for. It turned out to be a very narrow inlet with stone walls and mooring
lines strung right across the dock. These were carefully negotiated and we
ended up squashed in between an American and a French boat.
Apart from the dirt from the next boat which was being sanded down
and the dust from the nearby dirt road, it appeared to be a good facility,
and had the first yachts we had seen since those at anchor in Puerta
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Jo Winter
Princessa 750 miles ago!
Our main concern was that someone would check our bilges and pump
us out twice a day, as our shaft seal was dripping incessantly, and we had
planned to be away for ten days. We were going to Hong Kong to stay with
our daughter Flora, and to make contacts and visit some of the places that
will be in the next edition of South East Asia Cruising Guide.
We returned to Cebu, with a day in hand before friends Jon and Ros
MacKenzie arrived for a week.
A short 25nm hop and fair wind across to the Comotes islands the next
day should have been a perfect shake down for them, except that poor Jon
was sick throughout; an endurance test for him that made us feel hugely
guilty. We tucked out of the swell between Pacijan and Poros Islands. The
Philippines have a reputation for loud music, which we had so far only
experienced once. Now it blasted across the mile of water that separated
us from San Francisco town, finally subsiding at 0400.
We sailed 20nm south from the Comotes next day, to the reefs and
islands to the north of Bohol Island. Jon was given the helm and our
electric shock watch, the combination of which kept him feeling happy. We
anchored off the island of Bilangbilangan, an isolated fishing community
perched on the edge of the reef. Before long a boat appeared offering fish
and clams for sale. They were delicious barbecued under the stars.
In spite of a steady barometer, and unable to receive emails, a feeling of
change about the weather prompted me to send daughter Flora a text in
Hong Kong, asking her to check out the Philippine typhoon alerts. Back
bounced the reply that we had a typhoon heading our way. A recce ashore
to find out more about it at the island of Jao where we had anchored, gave
almost as many opinions as answers, except for confirmation that we were
in its path.
By the next morning, the local boats had come in from fishing and the
bangka ferry anchored near us as they could not run to Cebu that day. Our
position did not seem ideal as a typhoon hole, but we were in a shallow
channel with plenty of reefs around to break the swell and well protected
from any long fetch. The holding was gritty mud which seemed excellent.
A foray ashore while waiting for Typhoon Caloy to land revealed a more
populated island than we had realised. There were rice paddies, roaming
pigs, buffalo, goats and the inevitable dogs. Back at the little shop, we
agreed with the bright owner, Cirila, that if the typhoon went through
overnight, as forecast, then we would try to get to the town of Taliban on
Bohol Island next day and go to see the much acclaimed Chocolate Hills.
By now we were getting typhoon warning emails from www.
typhoon2000, so we set about typhoon preparations. We took the bimini
off, checked everything on deck, and let out more chain and more snubber
line. Although Caloy had been upgraded to a level 2, the wind strength
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Exploits in the Philippines
forecast was only 50kts,
with 75kt gusts.
Typhoon
Caloy
finally hit during the
night, mostly in the
form of torrential rain
which went on for
hours. We guessed the
wind was about 50kts.
By morning, the grey
Chocolate Hills, Bohol
cool day that greeted us seemed good enough for some land travel.
As we did not want to move Brother Wind, Cirila’s brother collected us
in his bangka, and ferried us the mile or so to Taliban on Bohol Island,
where we picked up a local minivan to take us to the renowned Chocolate
Hills, with their uniquely symmetrical dome like shape. The other unique
inhabitant of the island is a tiny marsupial called a tarsier, with huge eyes
and a long skinny tail.
Bohol is a beautiful island, less mountainous than a lot of the Philippines,
with well organised farming; rice paddies, banana plantations, coconut
groves and large mango trees, as well as pigs, goats, buffalo and of course
the Philippine signature of fighting cockerels. It is still recovering from
a big earthquake (7.2) in October 2013, which destroyed many houses,
roads, and some of the famed hills. The earthquake was eclipsed six weeks
later by the super typhoon Hyan, which just missed it, and the world
moved on to the next tragedy, leaving them to cope alone.
The typhoon had delayed us a couple of days, so Jon and Ros took
a ferry back to Cebu while we stopped at a couple of islands along the
way and at the port of Jetafe, where the market and large jetty had been
destroyed by the earthquake.
The commercial approach to Cebu from
the south seemed a necessary part of my
research for the South East Asia Cruising
Guide. The island of Mactan lies opposite
Cebu town and provides good shelter in
the channel for the main commercial port
of Cebu. Both bridges have 23m clearance.
The marina, the first one since Miri, has no
pontoons, so you anchor and go stern on.
The place was largely empty, and should
there be a visiting yacht the minimum
charge of 10 days is a big deterrent!
We spent a couple of delightful and
relaxed days in the north of the Comotes
Tarsier in Bohol
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Jo Winter
Islands. The fishing fleet went out every evening, and the ramshackle
village ashore was full of smiling faces and friendly people. When
we managed to hire a motorbike for a trip around the two islands, the
threadbare tyre finally gave up when we were as far away as we could be,
but was miraculously sorted by the locals, who refused any payment.
Finally reality had to be faced. We sailed back to Port Carmen and into
Zeke’s yard, where we had arranged to be hauled out the next day on the
rather rickety cradle, having first dropped our rudder off. The tractor
barely had the strength to pull us up the ramp. The first attempt failed,
but the following day we floated a bit higher, avoiding the pot-holes, and
eventually we were sitting
high and dry in a good
position to take out the
prop shaft and replace the
cutlass bearing and the
leaking shaft seal.
Unfortunately
the
day’s delay getting us out
meant that there was not
enough water to relaunch
for another two weeks, by
which time we would have
left for home. We had been
well and truly neaped!
The next two weeks
were spent commuting
Giles and Jo
by motor tricycle to a
local B&B. On one occasion there were 10 of us on a bike designed for
five. It struck me as a perfect metaphor for the cheerful optimism that
we have encountered in the face of disaster throughout our travels in the
Philippines.
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