The exuberance of the young amazes me. Despite the lightning that stitched the night sky during the thunderstorm, they still found reasons to whoop up and do a joyful rain dance (above), while we four oldies (me, Jun Diaz, Bert Falsis, and Isko dela Cruz) just huddled under our so-called tent brooding, and regretting the day we agreed to join this snorkeling tour. The day started pleasantly enough. Although the sun shone hotly, the camping site we chose under a talisay tree was well-shaded and cool. A few hours after lunch the kids went snorkeling. We followed them an hour after.
But near dusk, I had a foreboding of the rough time ahead of us when I saw above a gigantic mass of black rain clouds that seemed about to envelop us. And sure enough, when darkness fell, the rains fell too, punctuated now and then by thunder and lightning. This got me worried especially when the girls (Girlie Rivera and Neyt Geminiano) started to complain of the cold. Now, I have always been aware of how dangerous hypothermia, or loss of body heat, is. It can be fatal, if the person who's soaking wet doesn't get the chance to change into dry clothing at once- and stay dry afterwards. I knew of one such case involving a mountaineer from San Beda, who died of hypothermia at the summit of Mt. Halcon, in Mindoro, during heavy rains.
Fortunately, the rain stopped around twelve midnight, which gave us the chance to light the bonfire. The blazing fire lifted our spirits, which prodded the kids who previously did a rain dance to next do some sort of thanksgiving dance around the bonfire (above right). We went to sleep, deeply, around two a.m., and if I hadn't woke and urged them to break camp just before sunrise, they would have slept well on until the sun is high (below).
So, what's my verdict on Isla Balaki. Well, the island is scenic enough, with beige colored sands finer, as Tonton Tornea said, than Boracay's. Talisay trees which provide good shade abound, although thorny aroma bushes are plentiful, too. Therefore, the natural beauty of the place should be reason enough for us to celebrate our stay there. But a few mistakes were made. Our spirits wouldn't have been dampened even by heavy rains had the boys (my sons Bahgee and Kai, Topher Buerano, Isra Lamsen, Ryan Pagao, and Jose Yu) followed my advice to bring with them large waterproof sheets which we can use as tents ; and also if Isko had followed my suggestion that he assembled his dome tent (which could housed four people or more in cozy comfort) on higher grounds, instead of near the edge of the water. (below left)
As it happened, when the water rose (during high tide) and the rains fell, he had to dismantle it. In his haste, he broke one or two of his tent's flexi-rods, which made it impossible for him to assemble the tent again as a dome. So, he just folded the tent flat and tied the four corners to the bushes. It was under this so-called leaking tent, which hardly provided us shelter from the rain, that the four of us oldies huddled, depressed. I have also seen that the waters around the island is indeed rich with fishes, because there were several spear-fishermen with good catches to show.
Yet, despite all that, I say that I'm not returning to Balaki to snorkel, simply because there is no good snorkeling to be done there. Snorkeling is best among the corals, and not among the sea grasses which seem to surround the island. The coral growths are about half a kilometer away, in rough waves, where I wouldn't dare venture. I'm sure, too, that Jun Diaz won't return because he said that it was the first time that he had an experience as frightful as that, and that he'd be taking Stresstabs once we had return home. His first words to me when he woke up were, "Survived tayo." (We survived.) Bert, too. won't be returning. He said that his idea of outing is one where you sleep in air-conditioned comfort in a nice rain-proofed cottage. Bert even proposed that we return that very night to the Zambales mainland, which I flatly rejected, of course. I reasoned that it was risky business- many things can happen to the boat and us if we risk crossing the rough sea at night, with all the bolts of lightning being hurled around.
I'm not sure about the sentiment of Isko (right, in green)- because during the time when the rain was falling the hardest, he kept on muttering (as some sort of mantra, perhaps) the words, "Ang saya-saya" (This is fun). His attitude prompted Jun to say that it's good to have Isko around in times of crisis- because he is a positive thinker.
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