By Joshua Berida
I’VE been to El Nido three times and, in those trips, I’ve seen it change from the first time I set foot on one of its islands back in 2013. However, there is still something about the island that is both old and new with each visit.
Old places, new experiences
The unfinished structures were now either complete or almost completed; the road to town is crawling slowly toward completion; and there is now a new town just outside the old one to accommodate the increasing number of tourists. Just walking outside felt different, the narrow streets are more crowded with vendors and restaurants, and houses are turned to guesthouses.
There are now more automated teller machines in town compared to none a few years ago. Electricity has been running for 24 hours for several months rather than having rotational brownouts in the morning. These little things are something we take for granted, but on this island, these are huge leaps toward development.
I couldn’t imagine traveling here for more than the allotted six hours, which was the case several years ago. Despite the transformation El Nido is experiencing, it still manages to keep some of its idyllic charm and tropical island feel.
Island-hopping
I was looking for something new to do as I’ve done most of the island-hopping tours, except one. However, the tour I wanted to do wasn’t popular, since most foreign and local tourists do the island-hopping trips A, B and C. It took a while and some bargaining before a boatman agreed to do tour D the following day.
I was expecting a bigger boat with a seat for a passenger, but when I arrived at the dock, I saw only a small fishing boat with only one seat for the boatman and an overhead cover good enough for just one person. I had to maneuver and maximize the space given to me, to avoid blocking the line of vision of the boatman, sit without falling off and get ample shade from the sun.
Our little boat moved through the sea roughly, I felt every jerk and wave, big or small, as the boatman maneuvered to enter an island. I’ve been to Cadlao Lagoon before—our first stop but at that time, I traveled with a friend and the lagoon had other visitors. This was the first time I was there as the only tourist, the only other visitor was a local who was cleaning and maintaining his boat.
Since we were only three people in the lagoon, the slightest sounds we made were amplified, made vivid and detailed. The same goes with the humming of the motor just before it stopped, and the splashing of footsteps on the glass-like waters. I could hear the sounds of the island clearly—the birds chirping, the rustling of the trees and the ripple of the waves. As the emerald waters glistened under the heat of the sun, I had my own piece of paradise even just for a moment.
I was expecting more people in the next stops because they were all beaches. However, once we docked at Paradise Beach, I was again the only tourist. Don’t get me wrong. I could get used to having the fine, white sand, the swaying coconut trees and the clear waters all for myself.
After leaving Bukal Beach, it began to rain, and it wasn’t just a drizzle, it was a downpour. The rain drenched our little boat, and the fog that accompanied the heavy rains limited our vision to just a few meters. We were fortunate that Natnat Beach was close by. We docked until the rain stopped and the weather improved. From a gloomy patch of beach, the small island turned into a tropical haven, with white sand and azure waters. I was ready to end the islands tour after the skies turned blue again.
I’ve heard many good things about the sunset in Las Cabanas, a beach near the town. I planned to watch the sunset during my previous visits, but somehow, I never got the chance to. I saw the beach before, but have never seen the sunset. I rented a tricycle to take me there, expecting it the same scene like the first time I visited. However, once I got to Las Cabanas, I saw restaurants and bars along the shoreline, pumping loud music, with tables and lounge chairs. It was no longer the pristine beach I went to.
I didn’t let the changes bother me and just waited for the sunset. The sky transformed from a clear blue to a warm orange and then to a fiery red as the day ended. I knew that the El Nido I once knew was on the cusp of becoming something else.
It’s the destination
I was afraid El Nido would lose its soul because of its changes. These are thoughts of a selfish traveler who wants to own a piece of something as a bragging right. Something untainted by mass tourism, something precious that no one else could have.
Maybe the El Nido we knew was that place where the electricity went out in the morning, or that place where the bone, white-sand beach was ours. Maybe it was the place where the waters were cerulean, with no boats breaking its glass-like surface. Maybe it was where we partied all night with friends or went on an island-hopping tour with a loved one. Maybe the island is better developed and accessible, or maybe it’s not. It’s the destination we want to call our own, but it really isn’t.
Who are we to judge other people’s experiences? We can’t have the island because it stands alone, we can’t own it, it doesn’t change—we do.
Travel Guide
El Nido is changing fast as more and more foreign and local tourists are traveling to this northern part of Palawan. There are many vans and buses that travel to the town from Puerto Princesa so you have several options. Some airlines have a direct flight from Manila to El Nido. The tours cost around P1,200 to P1,400, excluding snorkeling gear, and the P200 environmental fee. It is better to ask if the price quoted includes the latter two.
Image credits: Photos by Joshua Berida