Demystifying Anawangin
Stories have it that wild carabaos wander the mountain range that surrounds Anawangin cove in Zambales, that vicious swirls hide beneath the calm waters of its sea…
The cove’s mysticism and the many stories besieging Anawangin passed through word-of-mouth to various online claims have put the place as one of the most popular destinations for the more adventurous people who are willing to rough it up just to have a taste of paradise, and that includes me. These tales made my second trip to Anawangin even more thrilling as it intensified my fascination of the place.
This time around though, my friend Ryan and I decided not to take the boat ride that could conveniently bring us to the cove and instead took the toil of the mountain trail. Besides, it was how mountaineers who are said to have discovered the place reach the destination even before small boats started servicing tourists to the place. Our journey started in Pundaquit, which most people use as jumping point to the cove where we were met by a local guide that led us through a narrow barangay path to the foot of the mountain.
It was along the way that our guide shared to us the stories of the elusive wild carabaos inhabiting the area where Anawangin got its name from the Ilocano word nuan. It was also from him that we learnt that Anawangin did not look how it is now before Mount Pinatubo erupted in 1991. At some point, we also had to stop on a dry riverbed so he can show us the spot where locals found the gears of some mountaineers who met a tragic end on their climb to the mountain. However, as we traversed on constantly changing beautiful landscapes of vast meadows, wee forests, and isolated swamps en route to our destination I soon forgot about that tragedy. Halfway through the trek, we took a break to gawk on the breathtaking beauty that awaits us as tips of coniferous trees peeked through the forest just before the shoreline of the cove.
It was after roughly five hours hike that we finally arrived at the cove. A long strip of off-white sand appeared before us as the sea beamed turquoise against a stone mountain that glared almost fiery red on midafternoon sun. Anawangin is not your usual tropical beach lined up with palm trees. It reminded me of some of the beaches I’ve been to in Scotland where pine trees abound, the only other place I can think of that could rival Anawangin’s charm is Sibuyan Island in Romblon, only that this is a mere five to six hours drive from Manila. As the place enunciated the same splendour as the first time I set foot on its shores three years ago I realised that nothing much have changed except for some few welcome additions such as the toilet and some wooden table built around the trunk of some of the trees.
Immediately after we set up our tent, I took a dip in the warm blue waters of its sea which I found to be just perfect after the long walk. As my body started to relax I went on to bask on its shore blasting my ipod between Andy Garcia reciting a Neruda and some Vampire Weekend music. Whilst Ryan curiously engaged with a fisherman trying some afternoon catch I slowly drifted off to sleep on its greyish white sands, but just when my body was starting to trance to the rhythmic fusion of the sound of the waves I was suddenly awakened by the most gorgeous sunset this side of South China Sea. As if dyed by the divine hands of Rebrandt, the sky proudly displayed a stunning burst of gold and fire as light teasingly played with water over the horizon.
The dusk signalled to us to get moving and prepare for supper. It was a good thing that we got late in our bus ride the night before because it gave us ample time before the next schedule to plan our meals apportioning it to survive us the next two days. It also gave us some last minute check on practical stuff we needed knowing that we will be in a place devoid of the conveniences of a 7-11. Although we brought along foods you can easily munch through anytime, some of it still needed some amount of heat and boiled water to keep it working. The tenant was kind enough to invite us to his kitchen and at some point even offered us coffee or Tanduay to warm us up as the cool December wind started to chill the environs.
As darkness soon embraced the whole place, it also meant for us to retire our weary bodies to an early snooze. I hit the sack in an instant but as I started to feel the heat coming from the synthetic sheet of our tent, I moved out of our shack and decided to sleep on the bamboo raft at our tent side. The clean cool air certainly felt much better but the solitude of the place is as scary as it is comforting. So, before Morpheus cradled me back to a sound slumber I asked the stars that gracefully gazed upon us to see us through the night. The shadows of the trees that hugged over us nodded in corroboration.
At about half past three, the silence of the night was gradually broken by what I figured were human voices coming faintly from the forest. As the sound drew nearer and nearer I saw a procession of lights glimmering like fireflies against a black pitch night coming to our direction. Raising my guard up, I stayed awake thinking that in case it meant trouble the only other denizens in the cove we can run to are the tenant and two other souls in another tent that were both few distances from where we were . But I trusted the assurance of the galaxy and let the flock made its way. Crawling back to my malong, my last memory of that episode is seeing silhouette of people setting up their shelters lit by soft yellow lights from their torches. With the visitors from midnight, it suddenly felt not so alone anymore.
Whilst the light of dawn unhurriedly sipped through the tips of the pine trees, I shared cups of hot coffee with the local fishermen who told me that the newcomers were mountaineers that had trekked the Zambales mountain range for the last two days or so. More interestingly, the morning light uncovered to us a much more different visage of the place from the previous day when we arrived. Now, the stone mountain was suddenly transformed like a big chunk of Toblerone showing different shades of brown. As it was already weekend, a throng of tourists started to populate the place, but it didn’t bother me as we were already preparing to leave for the nearby Capones island. As I idly waited for our boatman to arrive I enjoyed some ice cream brought by a sorbetero who came along with the boats that got there that day, whilst Ryan had to have his camera’s battery pack charged in the tenant’s abode using generator power. Obviously, the charging came with a fee considering that they have to transport petrol to the area. We also paid some fees for the maintenance of the place but that was nothing compared to the whole experience. It was sure priceless.
As the vision of the cove slowly faded away as the banca drove us to the nearby islands of Capones and Camara, I found out that one of the pair of my rubber shoes that I knotted tightly on my rucksack was missing. The swirls must have devoured it, but until such time that the wild carabaos appear before me I will keep coming back to Anawangin.
