Bohol: Wild waters and Chocolate Hills

“This is incredible,” I mumble to myself, as I take a break, clinging to the side of the white wooden boat. This scene is a stark contrast to half an hour earlier when I was practically in tears at the thought of getting into the water. Minutes later, I slip my mask back on, ignore the perpetual Jaws theme tune that’s been plaguing my mind, and dip my face back into the water in search of more marine life. Neon-coloured fish of different shapes and sizes swim past me as I stick out my hand to try to touch one. No such luck as they are too fast for my fumbling limbs. But as soon as they disperse, they regroup and I can feel them nipping at the back of my legs. The warm sea is calm despite the rough surf above. My guide removes his mask and I reluctantly allow him to let go of my wrist – just that one time – so he can swim to the bottom of the reef and retrieve a starfish for me. Its neon blue colour is strangely beautiful and oddly representative of the overall natural scenery of Bohol itself. This is an island of peculiar wildlife and areas of topographical scenery so different that you’d swear at first glance it wasn’t real.

When we arrive at Tagbilaran Airport, the mix of foggy dampness and the traffic-congested streets make for an at best mediocre first impression. People hauling large suitcases fill the area outside of arrivals, crowding into the backs of small cars and vans while motorbikes buzz in and out of lines of cars, leaving trails of fumes behind. But my opinion quickly changes as we make our way out of the city, skimming the edge of Baclayon’s scattered villages and on into the scenery of Loboc, which alternates between food stalls that dot the road and looming mountains.

This inland market village dates back to 1596, and its architecture reveals Spanish influence. The swift and smooth car ride is a welcome change to the otherwise chaotic traffic of Manila that managed to test my patience even as a passenger. The town of Loboc also neighbours the tiny village of Corella, home to the country’s most iconic primate, the Philippine tarsier, and the Philippine Tarsier Foundation. It was created in 1996 as a result of the severe decline of the tiny primate after it was hunted to near extinction. For many years the mammal was sought out as a pet or sold for trade. The group’s creation was inspired by the conservation efforts of Carlito Pizarras, affectionately referred to as “The Tarsier Man”, who is now a field supervisor for the foundation. Impressively, the tarsier was officially removed from the genus Tarsius and instead placed in Carlito, a new genus named after Pizarras for his efforts. As it stands, the tarsier’s current conservation status is listed as “near threatened”.

I’m not entirely sure what a tarsier is, and the photos we have seen have presented a creature that manages to be both adorably cute and creepily otherworldly at the same time. We do manage to get practically face-to-face with the small Yoda-like creature – if one can be so with an animal so tiny it fits into the palm of your hand. A mere five inches “long”, with bulbous alien eyes disproportionately large for the rest of its face, it is nocturnal, so we do our best to keep our clicking cameras and appreciative cooing to a minimum. Later we learn that while the tarsier is tiny, it is also extremely fragile, shy and nervous. Because of this, the tarsier can become suicidal if kept in captivity, often hitting its head against objects and injuring its thin skull.

Though Bohol is home to the majority of tarsiers, they have also been spotted in Samar, Leyte and Mindanao. At present, there are around 10,000 wild tarsiers around Bohol.

As we make our way back to Loboc, Tess, our local tour guide for the next 48 hours, walks us through some of Bohol’s history and statistics. She’s been doing this for 21 years and throughout the visit we learn that she’s something of a local celebrity – regardless of where we are on the island, everyone seems to know her. She eventually draws our attention to the different coloured recycling bins dotted along the road. It seems the people of Bohol are so invested in the conservation of their island’s natural beauty that the government has gone to great lengths to help with preservation attempts. These efforts also include mangrove and tree-planting programmes, and even – believe it or not – extend to the implementation of an outdoor smoking ban. Simply Butterflies Conservation Center, located in Bilar, is another ecological effort and was created in the hope of protecting and strengthening the natural environment of local butterflies through efforts such as plant research, and a breed-and-release programme. During our tour later that day, we see some of the 60 vibrantly coloured local species of butterflies. Our guide, one of the local volunteers, even insists on taking what he calls a “butterfly selfie”, a photo taken with one of the butterflies that results in the people looking as though they have wings on their backs.

Our car eventually stops at a dock where a boat is waiting to take us on a cruise down Loboc River. We’re hustled on board and the boat casts off just as lunch is being served. In spite of a live band rattling out some incongruous music, taking the cruise is a great opportunity to see this part of the island from the water. The mountains from this angle hover over us like giants as we pass below, and the dense, intimidating jungle makes it difficult for me to get the opening theme tune from Jurassic Park out of my head as we drift along downriver.

Back on solid earth, the evidence of the 2013 earthquake is still very apparent. Hitting the Central Visayas region, mainly Bohol and Cebu, the earthquake killed more than 200 people and injured almost 1,000. “People were going crazy,” Tess recalls later that evening. She eventually reveals she was slightly injured during the earthquake, though seems more irritated by the reaction of some of the residents. “Some stupid woman started screaming ‘tsunami’ on the beach, which sent people into even more of a panic,” she says, shaking her head. “Of course there’s no way there could be a tsunami, since Bohol is surrounded by other islands,” she adds in her matter-of-fact manner.

Unfortunately, the architecture around the region also fell victim to the disaster, and 73,000 structures were damaged in total. As we pass the San Pedro Apostol Parish Church, built in 1734, we notice scaffolding surrounding the otherwise thick-walled building. We are informed that, despite the devastation that the earthquake caused, both the public and private sectors are pulling together in a number of efforts to rebuild Bohol. Following the disaster, tourism fell by 25 per cent. Yet less than a year later, tourism is once again on the rise in this province, where 1.2 million people live, according to the 2010 census.

Visit the Chocolate Hills and you’ll swear this natural phenomenon is a scene from a different planet. The hills appear all too perfectly placed throughout the area – like furry, tropical bubble wrap – and take on different colours depending on the time of the year, ranging from lush greens to deep browns and even, at times, a reddish-purple hue. Located in Carmen, a large municipality that lies at the heart of the Bohol province, the hills themselves consist of marine limestone and were created after being lifted above sea level and fractured by tectonic processes. The smooth symmetrical look of the hills is in part due to the years of erosion by rain, rivers and streams. It comes as no surprise that the Chocolate Hills are currently under consideration to become a Unesco World Heritage Site.

As we’re escorted up a flight of stairs to the observation platform overlooking the hills, what we see borders on the sublime and surreal. Spanning out across Carmen, for what seems like forever, is a landscape that’s more akin to a Photoshopped image than reality. Despite the number of visitors snapping photos, the stillness of the surrounding land is surprising.

Though not apparent at this time, the Chocolate Hills get their name from the colour of the grass during the dry season. The typical greenery that covers the hills turns a rich brown hue, comparable to the colour of chocolate.

Our restaurant for that evening is located in one of the many resorts that line the beaches of Panglao. As we’ve arrived early, Tess suggests a stroll along the beach. Resorts, restaurants, massage pop-up shops, bars and fish stalls, selling locally sourced seafood, line the white sands. The beach could be anywhere in South East Asia, though that’s not to say it’s in any way less impressive. As the sun sets, I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to end an otherwise exhausting day.

The next morning we take time to explore our hotel. The Bohol Beach Club, located on its own private area of Panglao, was recently renovated and now offers new rooms, including larger stand-alone beach-view suites. The accommodation is bright, clean and has all the amenities needed for a comfortable stay. The pool on-site is located at walking distance from all the rooms and the restaurant overlooks the water. Heading towards a hired boat after breakfast, I learn that snorkelling is our main activity on today’s itinerary. At hearing this I lose my footing – not just because I have the stability of a newborn calf when walking on sand, but because I have something of a phobia (read: I’m absolutely terrified) of swimming in the sea. The vastness and constant fear of being eaten by sharks reduces me to a snivelling 5-year-old. However, it’s already been planned and I can’t turn down the itinerary Tess has so graciously arranged for us. I tentatively board the boat and we set off on a 45-minute ride to Balicasag Island Dive Resort, located on a tiny island off Bohol.

The resort is located just off the reef, preventing the boat from pulling up right in front of the location. Instead, we’re dropped off about 10 minutes down the white shoreline and walk the rest of the way, dodging the areas laden with broken shells. Once we arrive, Tess goes to hire a guide and snorkelling equipment while we change into the necessary attire. The boat that is to take us to the reef, called an outrigger canoe, looks more like a large white canoe with wings, which, given the roughness of the surf, doesn’t look stable to my dubious eyes. Of course it survives the three-minute journey and soon enough I’m the only one left on board.

Fear has no language barrier and our guide quickly gauges that I’m not entirely sold on the whole situation. He proffers a life jacket, and proceeds to take me around the reef while holding my wrist. While the sight of me bobbing up and down hopelessly in the water would fail to impress any seasoned diver, we start to explore the variety of marine life from above. It takes a while to get the hang of using the snorkel – I ingest what feels like two pints of seawater in the first two minutes – but once I settle in, it becomes easier for me to navigate.

While I’m not brave enough to allow the guide to let go of my wrist – never mind go off the reef – I can’t deny that I enjoy spotting a pair of sea turtles that slowly cruise past. I might even consider doing it again, though I’ll take some convincing to give up the life jacket.

After a meal and a few hours of lounging by the water, we head back to the hotel. It is our final night in Bohol before we leave for frenetic Manila the next morning. Once again we find ourselves on the beach as the last remaining glimmers of light linger over the horizon.

Leaving this perfectly bizarre island makes it all the more difficult to return back down to Earth.

alane@thenational.ae