Philippines: Having a Whale of a Time - Final Day (or so we thought)

Day 3 was another day of whale shark spotting.

At breakfast we noted an old chap that was seated at the breakfast bar and who had been there every day for breakfast. Obviously he was someone of some influence judging by the reverence he was treated with by the resort staff. When he stood up to leave we noticed (you couldn't miss it) that he had what looked like a chrome plated 44 magnum of Dirty Harry fame ("Go ahead punk, make my day") strapped to a holster on his belt. We found out later that this was the mayor of Donsol and his sister owned the resort (of course she did). I think this speaks volumes about the Philippines that the mayor feels it necessary to wander around with such a large and conspicuous weapon openly on display. It doesn't do much to inspire or comfort the foreign tourists, I think.

I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?"

We were sharing the boat this time with a Scandinavian couple, which was better then sharing with the loud-mouth chavs that were on one of the other boats. It was touch and go on the boat because at this point in time Luis had developed a severe case of diahorea and was in danger leaving his own brown slick in the water.

All aboard

Same as before we spotted plenty of whale sharks. It's always easier when you know the form and what to expect. My only regret is that I didn't buy a waterproof case for my digital camera that has HD video.

The whale shark spotting was over just after lunch so we spent the rest of the afternoon taking it easy, with me drinking beer in the bar and looking for some photo inspiration, whilst Luis went to the beach to practice his tupperwareah (whatever that is? Some Brazilian physical jerks, I think).

That evening we thought we'd venture into Donsol town to what entertainment it had to offer and to this end rented a trike and driver the for evening. The first place we went to, a bamboo shack over a stinking river bed, was meant to have a live band but could only offer deafening karaoke. I hate karaoke.

The next place we went to was even worse. Much worse. We managed to hang it out for a couple of drinks but no more and so headed back to the resort.

Earlier in the day I'd asked the tour reps in the dive shop if it was possible to head back to Legazpi very early the next day so that we could spend some time exploring Mt. Mayon. They said they'd check it out and get back to me to let me know if it would be possible but they never did, and so we worked on the basis that we'd be leaving at a regular time.

Early morning on the day of our flight out of Legaspi the driver was already at the resort waiting for us. He'd been there since 4:00am for the early start that we hadn't been told about. Nevertheless, we were able to get away earlier than expected and hoped to visit the church ruins at Cagsawa.

We'd had a fantastic time in Donsol and the Vitton Beach Resort. Easy going and wonderful staff that were always happy and cheerful, despite having to work from 5:00am to 10:00pm seven days a week for really not very much money. When asked why they did it, invariably the response was a resigned "What else is there to do?"

So if you ever find yourself heading to Donsol to watch the whale sharks I can thoroughly recommend the tour company that made all the arrangements on my behalf and who made a excellent job of it: Donsol Eco Tour

Back in Legazpi we had enough time to visit Cagsawa. Mt. Mayon was hiding behind cloud so there wasn't much of a photo opportunity and besides, it's a photo taken a million times by others of the buried church with just its steeple showing and the smoking gun of the volcano responsible for burying it in the background. It was sweltering hot too.

What's left of the church

We left Cagsawa and headed to the airport. We were one of the first there and checked in and settled down to wait for the flight. The departure hall soon became packed beyond capacity and was heaving with humanity and was so hot it was like hell's waiting room. Our plane came. Parked on the tarmac in front of the terminal, sitting there so tantalisingly close and offering the respite we all craved from the heat. But our allotted time came and went. Clearly there was something wrong. After a couple of hours (God only knows why it took so long for it to be announced) we were told the flight has been cancelled. Something to do with a missing dust cap on a tyre or something like that. I mean, the flight had made it in to Legazpi no problem and hadn't landed with its engines on fire, so clearly the problem wasn't that bad.

Unlike everyone else, and despite the heat, I took it all in my stride. All I wanted to know was what was going to happen, then we could just clear off and do something different and infinitely more interesting. However, it wasn't going to be that easy: it seems that Filipinos do like to make a drama out of minor event, so there was plenty of indignant shouting and arm waving. We were told, eventually, that we could either take a bus (for bus read tiny mini-van) for the 8 hour journey to Manila or stay overnight in a hotel. Luis wasn't going to be able to sit on a bus for 8 hours, unless it was fitted with a commode. And I wasn't exactly enamoured with the idea of sitting with zero leg room for 8 hours on a bus being driven at high speed with a sleepy driver.

So we opted for the hotel. But no one could tell us where it was or when it would be available and as we'd been sweating it out for close on 6 hours by now we made our own arrangements and headed off back to the Vista Al Mayon for a comfortable evening, rather than risk being sent to some cockroach, mosquito hell hole.

Every cloud has a silver lining and ours was that the following morning Mt. Mayon was cloaked in a wonderful cloud formation, which kind of made all the hassle of the previous day worth it.