Guided only by the luminous moon, the pitch-black highway sees our ragtag van with only its headlights billowing like white smoke from the horizon. It passes through equally darkened small communities in between, each coping with rotating power interruptions. Small stores and houses are seen only through their flickering candles. I looked out the window and could only see faces hiding from the dark, staring back at our moving van.
Happy Feet at the Muddy Banks of Dao Dao Daku
Every few ticks off the map, we passed by military checkpoints; some were deserted, while others were manned by heavily armed marines. Each time, we would nod out at the flashlight pointed directly into our faces. I've heard stories about fake military checkpoints, highway bandits, and how treacherous the Pan-Philippine Highway could be. In fact, a few people had explicitly warned us against leaving Cotabato City on a night trip.
The Night Drive to Pagadian
Having all that in mind, I fought hard not to fall asleep while my girlfriend Lauren napped as our van jumped up and down from the numerous potholes on the road. Driven masterfully by the driver, it weaved through the dark road like a moving fireball. I saw the faint outlines of the forests and the edges of small hills on both sides, and I wondered what kind of roadside scenery it might have been if viewed during the day.
During the last few kilometers, our van severely slowed down because it blew its brakes. We finally arrived at a crawling ant's pace in the city of Pagadian at around 11:00 PM. Immediately, we went on to locate the homely abode of Doc Wendz.
Fortunately, a massive feast of spaghetti and a sumptuous dessert of maja blanca awaited me, Lauren, and Dennis. Right off the bat, we hurriedly chewed our starvation away over a highly lively conversation with our gracious host, all while a playful Siberian Husky puppy named Laika licked our feet underneath the table.
The Muddy Slopes of Dao Dao Daku
The next day, Doc Wendz, his brother, and our local guide BigBug showed us eagerly around town. I had the absolute best fruit salad in the market, as it consisted of real, fresh fruits and a perfectly sweetened milk cream. After having our lunch, we proceeded directly to the abandoned island of Dao Dao Daku—which, according to Doc Wendz, during his childhood, was heavily teeming with marine life and served as a highly popular spot to spend Saturdays with the whole family.
En route, we passed by long rows of small stilt houses built right over the sea. Overlooking a massive stretch of the city's coastline, we could already clearly see the small island from afar. It was low tide, so the only viable way to reach the small boat we rented was to physically walk over the muddy slopes of the exposed seabed.
Stepping over the slippery and soft, thick mud, we tried incredibly hard to balance ourselves from falling over. Each time we took a step forward, it felt exactly like we were stepping into quicksand. It was a wonderful, hilarious experience getting intimately acquainted with a completely new type of sea terrain. Lauren and I were kidding each other about discovering a new, revolutionary method of natural foot spa treatment.
Once finally aboard the small boat, we compared our mud-caked toenails, and mine was easily the runaway winner in the most unpleasant feet category.
The condition of the island had now been deeply reduced to the reminiscence of a shipwrecked boat tumbled over at its hull. We saw what was left of a man-made concrete staircase going over its small central hill and rested peacefully on the steps for a few minutes while we enjoyed the strong coastal winds brushing against our faces.
The Stilt House Community
The island might never regain the charm it once had, but it is still highly alive, surrounded closely by tropical trees and resilient vegetation. A bustling fishing community built entirely on stilt houses nestled nearby provides a deeply authentic glimpse into the ordinary lifestyles of the families earning their living from fishing.
It was a massive eye-opener for me. Walking through the thick, muddy banks might be of slight physical inconvenience for me or any passing traveler, but for the local residents, that's their permanent home turf right there. Their houses are perched right on top of it, built securely over this soft, yielding part of the Earth.
In the end, it wasn't so much about the current state of Dao Dao Daku island itself that desperately needs improving. The life of everyone living actively in this coastal community needs to be properly nurtured to attain better self-sustainability, heavily ensuring that this community will never truly sink below the muddy banks of Dao Dao Daku.
This is part of a series about my week-long Mindanao backpacking trip in 2012:
