Knowing there isn't much diving back home, I pushed for one more tropical dive. Destination: Puerto Galera. The city is only a "hop, skip, and ferry ride away from Manila," according to the Lonely Planet. The authors also noted the water crossing may be choppy. That was our first warning.
Three and a half hours of "Transformers," "Final Destination," and other high-speed collision type movies on a speeding bus and we arrive in the port city of Batangas. I noted the Anti-Hijacking Office to my left just before stepping off the bus. After searching the options on both piers, I resigned to our only option: a small outrigger. Our advice was to take a big fast craft, but none could be found. I bought my ticket, then the mandatory environmental usage tax, and then the mandatory port fee. I politely declined the optional life/severe injury insurance. Warning number two.
I walked down a gangplank and into a (thankfully) new looking boat. It was half full with tourists and locals alike. We waited for the boat to fill, dutifully ignoring the departure time printed on our ticket. I later learned captains earn a percentage of the tickets sold, leading to dangerously overcrowded boats in less tourist-tread routes. A member of the coast guard came on board motioning to all of us to put on our life jackets. A - and I kid you not - "Titanic" brand name was embossed on the chest. The captain nodded to a figurine of the Virgin Mary, crossed his chest (as did many passengers), and started the engine. That's warning number . . . ??
I remind myself that Puerto Galera is the second most popular tourist destination in the Philippines, after Boracay. People take this route all the time. Nothing to worry about. The ride was going just fine. But what about those white-caps up ahead . . .
. . . then the engine cut. A wave hit. At the point of no return, we still had 30 minutes of our hour ride to go. The boat was rocking, up and down, back and forth. All on edge, we nervously look at one another wondering, "Does this always happen?" A crew member stood on the bow signaling to the driver when to speed up or slow down. A few tense minutes - and some very skilled driving - later, and we think we're past the worst.
After 10 minutes, the waves pick up again. Some splash through the flexible windows. A few people's bags get soaked. An inch or two of water is sloshing underneath my seat. I'm very nervous. The waves don't look that big until our boat rolls up one side, then down down down the other. The only little kid on the boat starts to cry quietly. It feels like riding a small roller coaster, except I know that the worst is an actual possibility. These boats do sink. Andrew and I are good swimmers, but safely exiting a doomed outrigger is much harder than it sounds because you have to avoid the huge bamboo beams on either side. And what about everyone else? My stomach sank with the motion of the boat.
Luckily, Puerto Galera was now in view, only a few hundred meters away. Slowly, we pitched our way to shore. Shore!!! Andrew asked the captain if the crossing was always like that. He answered yes, the current always strengthens in the afternoon. We vowed to take the earliest ferry out a few days later. My shaky legs somehow managed the wobbly gangplank - we made it!
Sabang Beach (outside Puerto Galera proper) is a perfect little diving town, once you get there! We checked into a nice family-run guesthouse, then walked along the beach till we found the right dive shop for the next day's dive. South Seas Diving fit the bill.
On the way back to the hotel we sat down, grabbed a beer, and finally . . . ahhhhh. I could hear the waves coming in with the tide. The sun was low. Silver shimmered on the surface of the bay as small boats motored in. The next morning I'd be diving a beautiful coral garden known as the Pink Wall. And I was with Andrew. It was another long, satisfying day abroad where things may not quite work out the way you expect.
Three and a half hours of "Transformers," "Final Destination," and other high-speed collision type movies on a speeding bus and we arrive in the port city of Batangas. I noted the Anti-Hijacking Office to my left just before stepping off the bus. After searching the options on both piers, I resigned to our only option: a small outrigger. Our advice was to take a big fast craft, but none could be found. I bought my ticket, then the mandatory environmental usage tax, and then the mandatory port fee. I politely declined the optional life/severe injury insurance. Warning number two.
 |
| Bamboo poles of the outrigger |
I walked down a gangplank and into a (thankfully) new looking boat. It was half full with tourists and locals alike. We waited for the boat to fill, dutifully ignoring the departure time printed on our ticket. I later learned captains earn a percentage of the tickets sold, leading to dangerously overcrowded boats in less tourist-tread routes. A member of the coast guard came on board motioning to all of us to put on our life jackets. A - and I kid you not - "Titanic" brand name was embossed on the chest. The captain nodded to a figurine of the Virgin Mary, crossed his chest (as did many passengers), and started the engine. That's warning number . . . ??
I remind myself that Puerto Galera is the second most popular tourist destination in the Philippines, after Boracay. People take this route all the time. Nothing to worry about. The ride was going just fine. But what about those white-caps up ahead . . .
. . . then the engine cut. A wave hit. At the point of no return, we still had 30 minutes of our hour ride to go. The boat was rocking, up and down, back and forth. All on edge, we nervously look at one another wondering, "Does this always happen?" A crew member stood on the bow signaling to the driver when to speed up or slow down. A few tense minutes - and some very skilled driving - later, and we think we're past the worst.
After 10 minutes, the waves pick up again. Some splash through the flexible windows. A few people's bags get soaked. An inch or two of water is sloshing underneath my seat. I'm very nervous. The waves don't look that big until our boat rolls up one side, then down down down the other. The only little kid on the boat starts to cry quietly. It feels like riding a small roller coaster, except I know that the worst is an actual possibility. These boats do sink. Andrew and I are good swimmers, but safely exiting a doomed outrigger is much harder than it sounds because you have to avoid the huge bamboo beams on either side. And what about everyone else? My stomach sank with the motion of the boat.
Luckily, Puerto Galera was now in view, only a few hundred meters away. Slowly, we pitched our way to shore. Shore!!! Andrew asked the captain if the crossing was always like that. He answered yes, the current always strengthens in the afternoon. We vowed to take the earliest ferry out a few days later. My shaky legs somehow managed the wobbly gangplank - we made it!
 |
| View of the bay from our window |
On the way back to the hotel we sat down, grabbed a beer, and finally . . . ahhhhh. I could hear the waves coming in with the tide. The sun was low. Silver shimmered on the surface of the bay as small boats motored in. The next morning I'd be diving a beautiful coral garden known as the Pink Wall. And I was with Andrew. It was another long, satisfying day abroad where things may not quite work out the way you expect.
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