Logistics in the Philippines is never particularly straightforward. Miriam sent me the coordinates of the secret location of the 2nd to last bend of the Maoyan River. My choices to get there from Coron (the northernmost island of Palawan) would have been a 2-hour seaplane journey (4500 USD) or an overnight stop from Cebu (250 USD). Lucky that I didn’t decide on the expensive seaplane, for had I chosen that, we would have landed on a seaweed farm in the bay, nowhere close to the site. Therefore, on 1st February 2025, How Man, Joceline and Miriam picked me up from the airport in typical CERS fashion, with a police escort (Joceline’s cousin’s husband).
The next few days would turn out to be a series of encounters with many people who love Joceline, who would run up with huge smiles, ruffle hair, laugh and hug. This extended love from the Batak villagers and the fisherfolk comes with what CERS has done for the people of the sea, speaks volumes for what a small amount of money with the correct team can do to conserve and protect, and act as a platform for a new way of exploration.
How Man’s first stop was of course to ensure that there was enough food for dinner. The local market was packed with colour that should not be there, a 5-kilo trigger fish, blue parrot fish, moray eels; the more expensive tuna, one chunk thicker than my thigh. Fish range from 50 php a kilo to 900 php a kilo for our grade A garouper. With our dinner all procured, a smooth highway ride and a few pulls of the spluttering diesel engine on a skiff, we arrived at the secret CERS site by sunset. The kids had taken coconut shells to mark paths to the different sleeping areas, and I chose to sleep in the treehouse with air-con (luxury) and the best access to the occasional 1 bar of internet.
Sea day exploration of the bay right outside the mouth of the river included four coral sites with limited visibility because of the silt churned up by unseasonal winds. Climate change is real. The boatmen said before Typhoon Odette, the coral gardens were teeming with life and colour. We could see the devastation wrought by nature – swathes of dead coral, but within them – signs of new life – a lot of coral chatter and a small mound that survived. We found a big fan coral with a tiger cowrie the size of 2 fists just sitting on top of a sponge. A queen conch in the shallows. We passed by a seaweed freighter that had run aground in the storm, keeled onto its side, rusting away. This was where they used to trade the seaweed from the farms – and close to it, we found a few fishermen, wading with their small boats looking for urchins, scallops and harvesting from the sandbanks. 250 php for a bucket of urchin. The boatmen pulled up the seaweed to show me what the village was producing.
Anilawan Village is made up of concrete shacks with tin roofs, clean and very basic. As we walked up to one of the huts, we heard a huge scream of recognition – and Joceline got a huge hug, found out the lady was one of her father’s relatives, and it was also her seaweed farmer husband’s birthday. They were making pansit and showed me a big coral fish they are going to roast. His giant seaweed harvest had already been sold to the Japanese for 65 php a dry kilo, so he said there was little to show us. But as we left them for their celebrations – happy screaming came into the bay – the fishermen had brought in a great haul. We watched as the whole village gathered to de-net, weigh, gut and prep trevally for sale – 150 php a kilo. They would sell it at 450 per kilo at the market. Yet another steal.
Land day exploration was a 40-min early morning walk to the village, where everyone we passed stopped to chit chat and was asked, “Have you seen Marlon?” We eventually found Marlon in the village, waiting to bring us to the village shaman. Every villager has a story – and Joceline knows them all, in deep detail. Who married whom, who is living through tragedy, whose child has been traumatised through near drowning in the typhoon, whose kid has witnessed paranormal activity. Her intricate knowledge is what creates trust and collaboration – and a willingness for the Batak to share experiences, like the bamboo raft which they transported down river (with me on it) so that the bamboo (at 60 php per pole – 80 poles) could be used on the CERS site.
Life on this island is subsistence, but yet the kids still have pressed white shirts whilst they walk an hour to school. As I write this – it is currently flooding, and these people will have to face climate changes that will devastate them. But as Joceline said to me even whilst recounting a village tragedy – “It’s true. Life is hard, and we smile through.”
