The first glimpse, after having traveled miles and miles for hours and hours, from the cool night breeze and rain and now sweating in the rising morning sun, at last a blinding glimpse of the glitter of a ripple, climbing out from the deep blue sea trenches and crashing, exploding into a brilliant white upon the coral reef. The mantra of our travels, the rewards we seek at the end of all our journey's to the coastline.
But, what about the number of times you have traveled but failed to find your bounty of waves? Then someone sat down to share the stoke of one such trip, would you care to read on? Would a surf magazine publish such an article? Not an unfamiliar tale to many surfers, though this one has a little bit more of tropical setting, than what I am traditionally use to.
Anywhere, it is all the same
Another Saturday came around, work had been chaotic lately five or six days a week and having to travel to get surf it is easy to do the sums, you get to puck two out of seven days, maximum. The chances of catching swell on the coast are greatly reduced. Currently I am working on coastline sheltered from all but the rarest of swells. Choices of where to live and work are plentiful for the majority of us, surfers, as the majority of surfers come from the developed world. But the choice of making your hobby pay your way is not easy to achieve and really it is the minority who are pro-surfers, surf writers, guides etc. So lately I have strayed to a island void of large numbers of surfers, partly because of its inconsistence shoreline, partly because it is best known to the international community as a island which has in recent decades suffered the ravages of war.
Where is it I refer to? In a tropical archipelago of 7000 plus islands in the west pacific, sitting on the ring of fire lays the island of Mindanao. The southern most Island of the Philippines, Mindanao is populated by Lumads (nomads), Moros and Christans, locally termed as "the tri-peoples." An island where a rich diversity flourishes in language, cultural and religion. Where the coral reefs, the tropical forests and wetlands are critical habitats for rare and endemic species and has biodiversity levels equal to anywhere in the world.
This corner of the Philippines has been considered a no go area for surfer and backpackers a like as the national government has struggled find a peacefully co- existences with sections of their Moro, Christian and Indigenous country men. Overtly the confrontations are against insurgents, predominant focused on Moro Communities, but also against the socialist leaning New Peoples Army made up of disfranchised Christian settlers and Lumads. Dig a little deeper, map the conflicts and ponder why each conflict occurred in or around, areas of rich natural resources, a classic power struggle divided over religious or cultural lines.
Off the eastern shoreline of the Philippines on average twenty typhoons per year are generated creating swells that can last up to a week at a ago. Siragao, Samar and Luzon are the main destination for surfers and with good reason, most of the swell hits to the north of Mindanao. Davao the city where I am living prides itself as being out side the typhoon belt. So unlike the traveling surf writers who have the time and resources to chase the typhoons I can only reflect what its like to live and to be a weekend chaser of the all elusive swells of Southern Mindanao, also known locally also as the "Land of Promise."
So came along the weekend I had spent all week trying to round up a crew to travel with. Unlike most other places my biggest problem here is rounding up people to travel to surf with. Firstly there isn't too many who surf, second maybe because of the security concerns many locals are hesitant to travel frequently cross rural landscapes and thirdly those who are more than willing usually have absolutely no cash. But with a bit of encouragement the great pull of the ocean over powers these inhibitors and I end up reaching capacity load for the van and have to refuse one or two. Davao is a coastal city in a large Gulf which close's out all but the rarest of swells, so it's a four hour trip to the nearest exposed coast line. It's a full moon and to avoid the traffic and the sweltering heat of the day we set off just before three in the morning. The plan was to arrive first light to a long, if small, ground swell with hopefully the right swell direct to light up the exposed spots of the jagged reefs.
To enjoy lower your expectations
The conservations ran around the van as we picked up Jing Jing the last of our travelers who also has family out along the coast line where we are heading to . Upaw a young surfer artist set about lowering expectations of my companions "I know the wetsands charts showed nothing, but I checked the navy charts and it showed a long ground swell arriving tomorrow it is small, but we have surfed there when the charts looked weaker." Steve a local skim board shaper, I guess sensing the tone and in appreciating that we weren't in for any thing epic added that "a low pressure was building just out to the west and could send fresh swell by the following day." The talk fickled out as we whizzed our away along past the paddies fields and up over the hills, the moon failed to light our way as clouds and drizzle hid her shine. It seemed like we slept through the night, but I couldn't have as I drove! But next the thoughts I recall are of the first glimpse, the ripple, folding and crashing in the morning light. We were passing what could be considered to be a relatively sheltered part of the coast line, but the first real indicator of things to come and we spotted the sparkle and crash of a clean crisp swell, if small we didn't care, sure the exposed spots would be rocking.
We pushed on down the coral stone road, a trail of white dust rising behind us our anticipation grew. I had only introduced the spot we were heading for to the others about a year ago, the look of amazement the first time I brought them, the locals, there. Kurdec the elder brother of Jing Jing stood with his jaw hanging "I never knew there were waves like this here, my home break, its like out of a magazine." The point snakes around the reef peeling for seventy meters pulse, its fast and hollow wave with fast sections. When it gets any bigger than four feet it throws out top to bottom barrels. Safe time to approach this wave is at high tide. In this area the reef traces parallel along the long straight coast line stacked with coconut trees stretching on for what seems like forever providing few opportunities for the swell to section and break down the line, but this spot is the exception and the only really class wave I have yet found. As we paddled out for the first time upon our hallowed find my heart pumped. Kurdec and his cousin said they would just sit on the outside. The amount of times I had prayed for less crowds, I now wished for just one person to join me on this christening.
I had been in the Philippines since October I had surfed good waves in Luzon with a friend of mine who work with local communities in marine conservation. I was reading Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness at the time and surfing around the spot where they filmed the ‘Charlie don't surf scene' from Apocalypse Now, completing a long held mission of mine. After that I had spent new year at Siargao when a storm raged and blew out all but the most sheltered of spots, it was March now, so feeling a little out of shapes I paddle for my first wave. The drop was late and fast, the lip curled and exploded on the reef just behind me, the slow motion explosions chasing me like a steam train. The sun shone hot and illuminated the lip, smack off the top, turn and down, it shone clear through to the shallow razor sharp reef below. The exhilaration and relief, the holler of the boys, no comparison to a magazine, this was real, this was living.
But all that was sometime ago now, today all most a year into my Philippine stay the land of promise was not living up to its name. Today in distinct regular sets a one foot dribble rolled across the spring tide. As we stood down from the van stretched, reflected and joked an elderly gentleman strolled up. Interested to see who we were, he knew what we looking for, a long way off the beaten track, vehicles were a rarity on this quite stretch of coast. His skin and clothes were worn by the sun and sea, the boys and him exchange greetings in visiyan (local dialecte), then as he saw my face and a smile iron out his wrinkles and in a long slow tone he said "ah I know your face, you've been here before." I had, we had signed the community guest book and were informed we were the first tourist, let alone surfers to visit their village. I replied "Oo, Kumusta Po, walay balud" he nodded to acknowledging the lack of waves and proceed to give us a run down on the times of year when the coast lit up with waves and the local fisher folk would go hungry, not being able to get out beyond the pounding reefs. We all knew Amihan is the season for surf, we knew it was a few months away yet, but we all enjoyed getting away from the city and sharing these humble moments with people who share their joys and sorrows with the moods of the seas. I had a photo from a pervious visit, the old man wasn't in it, but he knew all the characters in the photo. He promise to share it with his friends. We bid farewell until the swell rolls by his hollow point again.
I haven't named this spots because it doesn't have a name. It is in a Purok or sito, in a Barangay in Southern Mindanao. It's a small mixed community with Christian settlers and orthodox Muslims. All are fisher folk. The tree of life, the Coconut covers the entire area, the richer folk own small plots of coconut, the poor work as labourers harvesting the nut for its meat which is dried and pressed for oil, the husk (or shell) can be used for fiber and for compost. They also tap the sap from the tree, fresh it is the local alcoholic drink tuba after a few days it turns to vinegar and is used for cooking, nothing goes to waste. Life it is obvious to see is hard and vulnerable to the changes in nature, but faces are warm bright and happy. An inspiration and relief form the city smog, pace and pettiness.
For part two of this article
Click Here.
Submitted By
Declan Hearne on the 5th February 2007.
This article has been viewed 4577 times.
Declan arrived in the Philippines over 3 years ago to live, work and learn. A proud dad to be, weekends are spent chasing the elusive pulses of the southern Philippines and catching frames when the sun gets to hot. Week days are focused on working with communities to building sustainable lives, not to conform, but to transform, not for relief, but to release.
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