Mad mike

Bacuit Archipelago

 

Two days till the end of the year and I woke - after just a few hours' sleep - on the corner beach that I had come to call home. Once more, I reflected on our good fortune, forever grateful to the kind souls that put us there.

 

A serene calm came over me, matched by the still water and coconut trees hanging loosely in the air. Islands sprang from the shimmering water, matching my idle stance; this was what it meant to be alive.

 

John finally woke from his slumber (boy, had it been a long night for him), and before eight we walked along our empty stretch of beach (save for two lovely ladies) and headed into town. From there we booked a boat tour, spending the day cruising the islands of the Bacuit Archipelago, swimming in caved lagoons (35 metres deep), bathing on deserted beaches, and snorkeling among the coral and fishes.

 

Our day of peace, our day of tranquility, the sun peering over the edge of cylindrical lime cliffs as we floated on our backs. Clear, calm, the very essence of island life. We ate charcoaled fish and pork for lunch - both fresh - before cruising back to El Nido later in the afternoon.

 

A quick side note - before I came on this tripped I was warned that I am a "white pakeha", which essentially means I am one of two colours. You guessed it - white or red. Not believing in the myth that white boys like me can't tan, I learned the hard way. That day, I changed from vanilla white to lobster red. I still had my beach body (soon to be ruined from too many San Miguel's), but now I was a flaming red. I guess I am a white pakeha.

 

Mad Mike - our 29 year old captain - and who had earned about $10 a day on the boat out there, joined us for a beer on the beach at the end of the day, such was our custom. His skin was darkened from the sun, and he flashed a toothy smile as we recounted the day's adventures.

 

Late in the afternoon we walked back to our quiet beach - and the best swimming spot on the island. The sun lowered as we swam, dipping as we walked back to our corner spot. Against the shilouette of flaming red and golden orange, our friends waited for us - Derek, Josie, Dan - and a couple of new additions. The night grew still, the sky darkened. A single flame; the only light emitting from the little corner; the sound of laughter; happiness.

 

We ate from there - the last supper - and enjoyed dinner with a familiar east of family long past. This was life.

 

Our goodbye's came, but I knew it would not be the end. A respect earned, a respect gained, and an experience to remember forever. Two white pakeha's from Tawa, fortunate and lucky beyond all sense of possibility, yet made possible by a bit of luck and the kindness of others. My only repayment will be, in time, hoping that one day I can pass on the kindness that was bestowed upon us, and only then will I feel the ledger has balanced. Until then, I will forever remain in gratitude.

 

We slept on a mattress outside Dan's apartment that night - his final act of kindness - and got our second night of just four hours sleep, as our transport would be leaving at 5am.  

 

Oh well, we could always sleep in Boracay. Or not.