Surfing Philippines - Baler Edition

The forecast was bad. Very bad. But we went ahead as our crazy feet was itching to ride the swells that Baler is providing.

Ah Baler! Where the movie of Anne Curtis and some guy was shot. Where things happen. Where waves are non stop. And where, I decided, I must move on some more. Hahaha.



We took the bus going to Cabanatuan, since we decided at 12:35 midnight, that we cannot wait for the 2:30am direct bus ride to Baler. We are patient like that, see? Haha. Arriving at 3am in Cabanatuan, we boarded a non airconditioned bus with a faint but distinct smell of fresh fish. But on the way to the restroom, we were approached by people who asked if we were going to Baler, and if, we were amenable to riding with them on a van. So, we decided that since van is less hassle, and less stopovers, we left the NAC bus.

We arrived at Baler around 9am. And we ate breakfast at Amco, where we were billeted for the night. Then we boarded a tricycle which toured us around the place. First stop was the church and the house.

Dona Aurora Aragon Quezon

Baler Church

Municipal Hall

And the Baler museum,

Museo de Baler

Quezon

and the hill,

Ermita Hill

Monkey see

Ermita Hill

Ermita Hill

Ermita Hill

and the rock formations.

Dimadimalangat Islet

Diguisit Beach

Boys

Girls

Swinging by. Monkey do. Hihi

And the waterfalls.

And more rock formations.

Añao Islet

The day was overcast. We were overjoyed at the sight of a portion of blue in the sky. As we started traipsing along the shores of the rock formations, rain poured incessantly. We had to wait inside a hut for it to stop, and for us to start our wanderings. Gladly, after about an hour, it did stop. And we continued with our tour. The most enjoyable part of it, I think, were the conversations. The realizations, after all the musings, and the finality of it all. Rain can be so nostalgic at times, you cannot help but be melancholic.

Chabs and I could not contain ourselves and we had to find a loo. Haha. Nevermind where we found our reprieve.

The afternoon was spent sleeping, albeit our itinerary stated we should've been surfing. We did not see surfers playing that was why we opted to stay indoors instead. Since our iti was already rewired, we decided to wake up early the next day.

And more conversations from a bottle of alcohol and a supply of chips. The night was far from mundane.

However, the very first thing my consciousness heard when I woke up the next day was the incredibly strong whistle of the wind. It was pouring like crazy. And we decided we could not take the tour to the mother falls. We then decided to just play with the waves instead. So at 10AM, we played.

The crash of the waves across my playboard was harsh, guttural, and natural. I was screaming for it. Wanting it more than anything else. Wanting to ride the tides more than anything else. Wanting to feel the rush, and forgetting everything else. I loved how it was both exhilarating and comforting. Like as if a big hand was ushering me to the shore. Directing my movements like I was a mere puppet on string. Forgetting all the trivialities of everyday life.

And there I was. Soaked. Stoked. And sunburned. Till next time, Waves. I shall return for you. When waters are less murky, and the sky less overcast.