Already positioned on top of my longboard, I looked behind me and saw a cluster of incoming swells. With my heart racing, I rapidly paddled my hands to gear up for my impending stoke. The waves aggressively pushed me forward, and as I raised my body against my two arms to confidently stand on my board, I heard a sudden pop in my lower right chest. I lost my balance entirely, and the swirling of the swell—closely resembling the chaotic insides of a washing machine—swallowed me yet again.
Surfing in Small Hideaway Town: Lanuza
After suffering a minor muscle strain that caused a stinging, lingering pain, I sat isolated at the shore and quietly watched the endless breaks of the waves—only to be charmed back into grabbing my rented surfboard and repeating my clumsy encounter with the onslaught of the swells. Long story short, I had a truly wonderful time. That was merely the first of my many series of attempts at learning to finally surf in Lanuza.
The Surfer's Paradise
Five straight days of continuous stabs at getting stoked finally paid dividends when I successfully rode the waves amidst the loud cheers of my surfer friends George and Izzy, who exhibited incredible patience in closely watching me learn. I looked around me, and as I saw the endless, perfect waves of Doot Poktoy—a prime surfing spot conveniently located right at the river mouth leading directly to Lanuza Bay—I instantly believed all the hype and raves about Lanuza being a true "surfer’s paradise."
"We surf here all year round. After work and immediately after school," says my young local surfing instructor, Junjun. "Except during the dry summers when the sea is entirely flat; we play basketball and volleyball instead."
"Life Here is Steady and Chill"
Home to less than twelve thousand residents, Lanuza is a modest fourth-class municipality securely nestled in the coastal province of Surigao del Sur in eastern Mindanao. Sandwiched quietly between the busy coastal towns of Cantilan and Tandag, it appears pleasantly distant and well off the beaten path.
Like most rural provincial settlements scattered across the Philippines, the quaint town of Lanuza relies heavily on its fishing and farming industries. It is tiny in size, with almost all of its commercial activities happening directly at the public market in the center of town, located just adjacent to the municipal building and other local government offices. Beautiful rows of small houses gracefully dot the few parallel streets leading straight to the coastline, where energetic local kids can be seen actively riding their surfboards starting at the very first light of day.
"Life here is just steady and chill," a local surfer whom everyone respectfully refers to as "Attorney" tells us. After spending a week learning to surf and deeply bonding with my friends George and Izzy, completely surrounded by a calm, balanced environment, I straightaway understood exactly what Attorney was telling us about.
Post-Ruined Trip
A month and a half before arriving here, I lay in emotional ruins, heavily devastated by another disbanded romantic affiliation. After enduring a long series of nights feeling the inescapable blues, I just boldly decided to continue with my own solo travels and fortunately ended up on this serene part of the country. This is exactly where my friends George and Izzy—who, unbeknownst to me at that time, would soon leave the surfer’s haven of Lanuza as a newly engaged couple—were staying. Like a tricky mirror that shows entirely opposing angles, my life was heavily wrecked at that time, but to my friends George and Izzy, a beautiful image of a blissful union securely surfaced in Lanuza that week.
The River House
Every morning, I would awake completely revitalized to the rhythmic sounds of the crashing waves, even from the quiet spot where I slept—the so-called "River House," which is proudly owned by Darah, a good friend of mine dating back to my UST Mountaineering Club days.
For almost a full week, I happily followed the gentle pattern of a simple life in Lanuza. I would head out to the coastal boulevard and sit quietly to watch the massive swells grow as I comfortably held a hot cup of coffee in one hand. A couple of mornings, I would start the day chilling out at the small round jetty of Darah’s river house, simply counting the passing minutes until the tides gradually rose up—slowly and steadily covering the exposed roots of the surrounding mangrove forests.
During the day, we all bonded tightly over the open sea, the breaking waves, our rented boards, endless conversations strategizing exactly how we should approach the swells, and significantly more surfing talk. At night, we further welded our friendships together over strong shots of "pritik-pritik"—a potent local wine—and singing loud karaoke songs. One specific night, we even gleefully attended a vibrant town party highlighted by a free-for-all public plaza disco.
More than Surfing
After a few extremely lucky attempts at riding the waves, I still absolutely could not surf to save my own life. Surfing, as I have intensely learned firsthand, isn't anything like riding a bicycle. It takes immense, continuous practice in order to truly master the intricate skill of balancing over a moving surfboard. There was a striking moment when I stared closely at Darah independently paddling herself to the waves almost effortlessly, looking exactly as if she owns the vast seas and the powerful swells move to her own personal concurrence.
Where I failed miserably in effectively learning to surf, I strongly succeeded in making wonderful new friends. I originally traveled to Lanuza only knowing Darah, George, and Izzy, but I warmly left with a few new fantastic additions. By the exact time I packed up my backpack to head back to Butuan, I had genuinely become a proud part of this local surfing circle, which now also comfortably comprises my new friends Junjun, Debbie, and even the aforementioned "Attorney."
The challenging swells of the sea largely remain elusive for me to master—literally, it absolutely insists on much more room to be desired. Figuratively though, the unpredictable tides of life changed profoundly for the better for myself in the entirety of this week-long trip. Nursing yet another tattered heart, I eventually left with a fresh new leash of gleeful anticipation for the future. The waves, it turns out, have swept me further forward as if I’m successfully standing on a surfboard. Misadventures with my battered surfboard aside, I successfully surfed my blues away at Lanuza.
* Parts of this article previously appeared in the pages of Manila Bulletin Style Weekend on January 27, 2017. *
