Bunched in with other passengers inside a cramped van, I woke to the sight of blue waters edging the shorelines of Western Leyte. I could feel myself inching closer to my destination. I sent a text message to my friend Gaye: “I think I’m 20 minutes away from Pamplona.” Dizzy from the ride, I had meant to write “Palompon,” a thriving municipality blessed with a fertile coast and serving as a jump-off point to Kalanggaman Island.

True enough, after a short while, I found myself reuniting with my friends Gaye, Edgar, and RJ, all fresh from a wild weekend of partying in Cebu for the Sinulog Festival, while I was coming off a similar festive high courtesy of the Ati-Atihan Festival in Kalibo. A few days of recuperating on an island seemed like a bright idea—our bodies could finally stay away from alcohol. Or so I thought.

Keep Kalm at Kalanggaman

The boat ride over calm waters took less than an hour, and halfway through, we were already staring at the long sandbar of Kalanggaman Island, laid out like the outstretched arms of a human figure. Ahead of us, the turquoise water grew ever more enticing, practically inviting us to jump in. Under the full glint of the sun, the backdrop turned even more captivating, as the island’s sand shimmered from afar. As our boat tapered off its engine and we glided slowly over crystal-clear waters, I let out a sigh of anticipation at the thought of a full day spent idling on the island.

Edgar kept telling us to “Keep Kalm at Kalanggaman,” all while reminding us of the bottle of vodka he had brought along. Stories of how wasted they had gotten during the recently held Sinulog Festival floated around like tales of wartime bravery, followed by bursts of laughter from Gaye—our forever muse and one of the most jovial travel companions I’ve ever had.

We quickly set up camp with our rented two-man tent, which we somehow managed to squeeze all four of us into later that night. The relentless morning sun drove us to take refuge under a tree, where we lounged the entire afternoon, sharing stories over grilled chicken and pork liempo. Our small group shared the island with half a dozen boatmen and caretakers, along with a handful of other campers. Because it was a weekday, we avoided the usual influx of visitors, making it feel as though we had the whole island to ourselves. In no time, our tiny band of merry pranksters had reached a natural high—even without the use of psychedelic drugs.

Our drug was the unruffled beauty of Kalanggaman Island. Even as we were reduced to munching chips by late afternoon, the visual feast was enough to sustain us through the next day. We lay on the sand waiting for the sunset, which soon bathed everything in golden light—hovering over red, glowing skies that framed silhouettes of fishing boats and children playing in the distance.

By nightfall, only the soft rhythm of the waves remained, our surroundings illuminated by solar-powered lamps. Above us, we stared at an endless scatter of stars across the dark sky. Over shots of vodka, we shared stories of past travels, of places we loved and lost, and moments of despair that deepened our bond, drawing the four of us into an even closer camaraderie.

Having four bodies trying to sleep inside a two-man tent can really force you to learn how to doze off sideways. I woke in the middle of the night with a numb left side, barely able to feel my arm, so I decided to lie on a bench outside the tent. But the spectacle of the stars kept me awake until sunrise.

Despite the cold wind blowing outside, I lay staring at the ceiling of our universe, wondering about similar planets hidden among the billions of stars above. Not only was I “keeping kalm” at Kalanggaman Island, I also found myself speculating whether we are ever truly alone in the vast, infinite space stretching overhead. For over an hour, I was consumed by that thought.

Waking up in Kalanggaman Island

Not to be outdone by the magnificence of the sunset, the sunrise at Kalanggaman more than held its own. Dishing out a spellbinding display of fiery red skies, it slowly engulfed the remaining darkness with morning light, making the island’s ambiance feel even more surreal. All four of us began taking photos of the sunrise, then explored the other side of the island, where limestone formations lined the shore and led toward a smaller sandbar visible in the distance.

By early morning, when the waters begin to recede, the full stretch of Kalanggaman Island’s famous sandbar comes into view. Gaye and I walked toward its farthest edge, so far out that when I turned my head, the towering coconut trees of the island had begun to shrink and dwarf in the distance.

I sat down and stretched my feet just enough to dip them into the water, staring longingly at the clear sea while letting the fine sand slip through my fingers. Slowly, the rhythmic drumbeats of the Ati-Atihan that had clouded my mind for the past few days were replaced by the gentle music of the waves—accompanied by Gaye’s laughter in the background as she told a story, unaware that my thoughts had already been completely claimed by the charm of Kalanggaman Island.

2026 Update:

Based on latest rates and recent traveler reports: Entrance Fees

🇵🇭 Filipino tourists: ₱150–₱300

🌏 Foreign tourists: ₱1,000 (day tour) / ₱1,500 (overnight)

🧑‍🎓 Students: discounted ₱40–₱120 range depending residency

⛵ Boat cost (Palompon jump-off point)

From Palompon Eco-Tourism Office:

🚤 Shared boat: ₱250–₱500 per person (joiner basis)

🚤 Private boat:

₱3,000 (15 pax)

₱3,500 (25 pax)

₱4,000–₱5,000 (larger groups)

👉 Travel time: 45 mins – 1 hour sea crossing

How to Get To Kalanggaman Island

Kalanggaman Island is roughy three hours from Tacloban City. You can take a bus or a van from Tacloban City going to Palompon, Leyte. From there, you can rent a boat at the Tourism Office located at the port for a 20 minute boat ride to Kalanggaman Island.

Cebu Pacific Air flies daily from Manila to Tacloban. Check out their website for seat sales and other amazing deals and follow their Facebook page to subscribe to more useful travel information.