Adrenalin rush in Batanes: the Itbayat saga

IT WAS THE SCARIEST RIDE OF MY LIFE -- the 3-hour boat trip to Itbayat, the northernmost island of the Philippine archipelago. I've heard many wonderful stories about Itbayat and my good friend Vic swore one could only fully appreciate Batanes if you visit Itbayat on a faluwa, no less! And so off we went on a faluwa.

A faluwa is a small motorized boat which is more like a hull. Its design is very similar to the little boats found in Europe. There are no seats. Everyone – young or old, rich or otherwise -- sits on the floor, sometimes skin to skin.

Inside the faluwa, everyone sits on the floor side by side.

Once we got inside, the boat crew handed everyone plastic bags. I guess everyone was assumed to throw up during the trip. Weird, I thought.

Our trip to Itbayat happened a few days after a strong typhoon ravaged the rest of the country. While some elderly Ivatans assured us that the sea was already "calm" by then, their degree of calmness differed from mine, I belatedly realized.

Our journey began at 8am. The waves were kinder when we departed from Basco. Still, it was gigantic compared to the waves of Tañon Straight in my childhood days. As soon as I got inside the boat, I had a premonition it was not going to be an easy ride. Even as we were still finding comfortable nooks, some passengers already started throwing up. But it was too late to back out. By then, the boat had started to move towards the open sea.

Silently I assured myself everything would be alright. After all, there had been no sea accidents in Batanes, no less than Gov. Foro Castillejos assured us earlier. Being a self-proclaimed sea goddess, I thought I had more stamina for motion. But the further we moved, the more I realized the seas of Batanes were just different. The waves got bigger and bigger. And it came from all directions.

"There are eight wind directions in Batanes," the governor's statement in an earlier interview echoed in my mind. Geez, this is it. But, he assured us, Ivatan boatmen are expert seafarers and they know the ocean like the palm of their hand.

I had to close my eyes practically the whole time and keep my mind busy so I wouldn't get sea-sick. Thankfully, I was armed an MP4 player fully loaded with praise and worship songs. (At least, I would be singing in case we perished to the great abyss.)

I would sometimes doze off. Then I would check on my cellphone to see how long we had been on the sea. But every time I opened my eyes, I couldn't hold it beyond two minutes. By the time we reached the middle, almost everyone in the boat had probably thrown up. And when I was brave enough to take a peek, it seemed we were already flying! One moment the boat was on top of the wave, the next moment, a two-story high wave hovered above us! Still, the next moment, a wave from behind would push us.

My long-time illusion of being a sea goddess began to crumble. The sea was just too much for me to bear and so I forced myself to sleep. Sometimes I would feel my head banging on the post that I was leaning on. With my eyes closed, it felt like a giant hand was stirring the ocean.

There is no shoreline in Itbayat.

Finally, we saw a glimpse of the island. It was a great sight from afar. I wanted to take photos but I was already dizzy by then. From time
to time, I would try my best to open my eyes to look at the enormous rocks.

I had wanted to see the beautiful rock formations as we approached the port but apparently, it was either I closed my eyes, or I blow up and lose composure. I decided to close my eyes, of course!

Soon I heard voices that we were almost at the port. This was to be the most exciting part of the trip, Vic told me. "You need to make a good timing. Or else, you will fall into the sea," Vic had warned.

I thought the waves would be kinder as we came closer to the island. But I was wrong. And just as I had been warned, there was no shoreline. The sea was almost pitch black all over.

The port of Itbayat is actually a chopped-off portion of the rock island. The sea all over the island was too deep that it was not possible to build a real port anywhere. In this particular port, a steep pathway leads up to the top. On the sides were cemented steps which made the climb easier.

A faluwa trying to dock on the port of Itbayat.

On a perfect day, the boat could easily dock at the port and jumping off was peanuts. You just need to find proper timing so you don't fall into the sea. But falling in the sea -- perfect day or not -- would actually not pose much of a problem. Bayanihan is innate among the Ivatans and there would always be people willing to jump into the sea to save anyone who falls.

But the day we went was no perfect day. Waves would occasionally pull us away. Jumping off became very challenging as the ledge where we were supposed to take off would sometimes go up as high as 20 feet.

Silently, I watched the "jumpers" ahead of me both in amazement and fear. The jump was sort of theatrical. Four men eagerly await every "jumper" at the island side. They were all tied on the waist as precautionary measure. They would catch every jumper or pull one out of the sea in case of a bad jump. On the boat side, four more men also tied on the waist would coach the "jumper" or on some instance, give a push when the "jumper" hesitates to move.

It was amazing but fearsome to see the boatmen expertly throw little children to the island side and the men on the island perfectly catching the crying children. Ivatans are really a different stock.

When it was my turn, I suddenly chickened out. The waves got bigger, raising the ledge of the boat even higher. I silently prayed as I waited for my turn and actually commanded the waves to be still. But they refused to relent. Finally, the boat helpers decided to push me. Lo and behold, I was suddenly on the island side! I made it with a perfect landing. Fabulous! It was an experience I would never forget.

Up to now, I can still feel the adrenalin rush every time I remember that jump in Itbayat. The waves, I must say, were nothing compared with the jump. But that experience changed me. It made me appreciate deeper a trait long forgotten by most Filipinos. Bayanihan or community effort, called by different names in Ivatan, is the key to the survival of the Ivatan people in the midst of their harsh environments.

My conclusion: Vic was right. A trip to Itbayat completes the Batanes experience. And it should be on a faluwa, no less!