It was in the middle of summer and everyone else was in Boracay island in Aklan or some other usual summer place. Perfect timing to search for another “happy beach” that would get you on such a natural high just by looking at it. One that promises a weekend of a good tan session and doing absolutely nothing except eat, drink and sleep – plus bragging rights because you are one of the few people who were able to get there.
I turned to one of my favorite groups of travel buddies for a perfect weekend getaway and they proposed Calaguas, a virgin group of islands in Camarines Norte, Bicol. The region, which is considered as one of the poorest in the country, has already been seeing better times thanks to a widening tourist fan base for Caramoan and CamSur Watersports Complex located at its southern end.
I have never heard of Calaguas before and “virgin” in the beach sense usually means tent for accommodations, water source is from a pump in the middle of nowhere, no mobile phone signal, no electricity, no proper toilet and bath (this is a must for most Manilenos’ trips), and lengthy road trips. Not to mention that the prospect of going to an unheard of place, while less expensive, poses higher risks of danger. I promptly said yes and started packing.
It was a weekend of absolutely nothing so my essentials were: a bikini, camera, another set of clothes to go home in, and my malong, which usually serves as my jacket, cover up, and blanket. We left Manila via a private bus at 9pm on a Friday. Apart from minimal stopovers at quaint little eateries along the way, the 10-hour bus ride was uneventful and merely a good way to catch up on sleep in preparation for The Big Day at the Happy Beach.
By 7am, we arrived at a port in the small town of Vinzons in Daet. The boatman said it usually takes two hours from the port to the island, but it turned out to be the most harrowing three-hour boat ride I have ever experienced.
The skies were dark by the time we got to the open sea. The waves were huge and were constantly splashing against our boat. At one point, I thought I felt our boat tilting downward, as if it was trying to drop us all off into the water. To cope, I alternated between screaming “DEATH RIDE, YEEEEEEAH!!!” and laughing (!) with my companions half the way. The other half, I concentrated on taking deep breaths. I was already feeling very dizzy as the sea tossed and turned the boat like salad and was trying not to throw up. A girl behind me was already doing so and I was not so inclined to join in.
I was a little comforted by the cool and calculating expressions on our boatmen’s fact I rationalized that since they do not look so worried, they must be used to such big waves. From time to time, we were also distracted from panicking by views of islands with rolling hills and patches of white sand beaches from afar.
At a clearer sighting of Tinaga island where we were supposed to land, all my troubles and fears faded. I had my breath caught in my throat. It was the “virginest” of virgin island I have ever seen – even more virgin than the Virgin Island in Cebu. I scrambled to get off boat and onto the sand.
I thought it was exactly how my parents described Boracay island when they visited it some 30 years ago: a long stretch of soft and pristine white sand that is framed with volcanic rocks on either end, serene ambience, unspoiled population of trees, crystal-clear water, no smell of spilt diesel on the shore, no vendors, no superimposed jumble of beach resorts a few meters away from the beach. More importantly, no one else was around.
Tinaga is the main island of Calaguas (yes, there are others in the area) and has the long white sand beach in the area, which is literally called Halabang Baybay in the Bicolandia dialect or Mahabang Buhangin in Tagalog. (I guess the locals were busy with other creative pursuits back then.)
We set up camp before noon near the bushes – several feet away from the only water pump installed in the middle of the bushes and near the only enclosed nipa hut with toilet that flushes only when you pour a bucket of water on the bowl.
A small community resides at a further end of the island (as in 1-km trek) in a baranggay called Banocboc. The locals took over cooking sumptuous dishes for us. Yes, there was laing. Yes, there was coconut milk on everything. And yes, while spoon and fork were provided, we ate with our bare hands. It was heaven on earth.
After a stomach-bloating lunch, the group scattered to do their own beach-bumming activity. Some read books, played Frisbee, or did skimboarding. The sun was not as beastly as expected, so I took a northbound stroll with some of my friends. We saw a total of four open-air nipa huts lined along the beach apart from the concrete shelter with toilet (my friend who had been there before said there used to be just one) and several colored flags that line the beach. We swam back to camp and were careful to just keep near the shore because there was a slight undercurrent that would not be good for those who cannot swim well. Like me.
Around 5pm, somebody took out a guitar and kahon and we sang songs that varied from those by The Beatles, to Maroon 5 in between telling stories, getting-to-know-you chitchat that went on throughout dinner and, later on, over a bonfire.
We happily ate breakfast the following morning – again with our bare hands, and again courtesy of the locals – and then lay on the sand and went for a bit of swim for the rest of that peaceful Sunday morning. The sun was up and it was bent on giving me the tan I wanted.
By loam, we broke camp and started on our way back to the Vinzons port. The boat ride back was calmer (or perhaps it is just because compared to the past day’s death ride, anything is considered ‘calm’). I felt sad about leaving “my” happy beach, but I was excited at the thought of taking my first proper shower in two days.
We arrived at Bagasbas Tourist Inn around noon for lunch, had a shower and a bit of surfing on the nearby beach. Unlike Calaguas, the sand was darker and the frequency of the waves was more appropriate for the surfing pros of the group. I preferred the occasional waves of La Union in Ilocos Norte or Baler in Aurora so I stayed on semi-dry land and took photos of my more gung-ho friends.
Our bus would leave at 7pm and we still had a couple of hours for some R&R after surfing. Someone had already dominated the videoke at a pub next door. We opted to drown out the man’s voice with our own (loud) storytelling over early dinner at the small restaurant of our inn.
We arrived in Manila around 3am on Monday. The ride back was swift. I was jolted awake, but the fact that the happy weekend was over took its time to sink in. I get back to work in a couple of hours, but I am still happy with the realization that The Happy Beach is just “several” hours away.
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Tags: caramoan, perfect timing, virgin group