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The Fantastic Fall(s)
The caffeine had definitely set in. Jetter was dead set on getting us to where we wanted to. Emphasis on dead. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think dirt roads however powdery and seemingly smooth, should be treaded lightly at 30 kph max when pebbles begin to betray them. It felt like we were on the Autobahn, except the Autobahn had sprouted post-storm Metro Manila potholes, and the Audi had turned into a pumpkin with blocks for wheels at the chime of twelve. Your conscientiously-styled gran would definitely be fixing up her falsies on her eyelids and in her mouth after the dirt road ride leading off the Bislig highway and to the Tinuy-an.
After stepping shakily off the van, what I was not aware of immediately was the sound of crashing water in the background; it was very subtle, like white noise or silence, and when I had to raise my voice so that my ears could hear my larynx speak, I realized that this was one very, very large waterfall.
And You Thought There were Bandits
The original plan was only for Siargao for a good weekend of surfing. But the island’s Lilliputian airport meant smaller planes, and therefore more expensive plane tickets, so being the cheapskate that I am I looked at larger cities close by for cheaper tickets. After reading countless blogs, I calculated that our best bet was to land at Davao, then use the savings to make a side trip while making our way north on land towards Siargao. We would only be taking the Siargao plane going home.
After countless emails (I have yet to discover the wonders of Facebook’s Groups for organizing socials online – or Facebook, for that matter) between myself and friends, resort owners, vans for rent, provincial tourist offices, and complete strangers online from whom I cajoled travel info from, I finally figured out a fairly straightforward travel route. The stakes were high because one bad misstep would mean us being stuck in the middle of nowhere (meaning, small town relying on its sole karaoke machine for its pulsating nightlife) for an entire day. Every mile, every minute was accounted for.
And what glorious miles and minutes were spent that one awesome weekend.
Forget the fact that we were flying in to Davao at 9 pm, the fact that we would travel through Mindanao highways in the dead of the night, the fact that we didn’t know our van driver from Freddie Kruger, the fact that none of us had ever been on the route I had planned, the fact that the crucial boat ride from an obscure port going to Siargao was possibly non-existent… you get the drift. I promised my friends we would have a memorable trip.
This one belongs in the record books.