My step count must have numbered in the hundreds when I paused to survey my surroundings. I saw the fisherman who had greeted me earlier as he was fixing his fishing net, appearing like a small dot from far away. I turned my head and saw no one else within yelling distance—except for a couple of dogs who were following me. For a few minutes, I sat on a protruding branch of a fallen tree and just wrapped my mind around the solitary vibe of the spot. I started to wonder how such a stunning place remains uncrowded on an afternoon showered with the riveting golden rays of the sun.
Counting Secluded Strides in San Vicente | Palawan
It was like having the entire stretch of oceanfront all to myself. The waves suddenly became an orchestra, humming a chorus of splashing sounds as they crashed on cue, like well-executed drum beats into the fine white sands. I crossed a small stream connecting the sea to a small river, and stepped into the second cove of the combined fourteen-kilometer white sand beach of San Vicente. I have a long way to go if I ever have any reason or desire to tick "walking the whole stretch of San Vicente beach" off my life’s to-do list.
I had no such yearning to complete such a task, though. My mission became clear to me at that moment: to relish and feel the reigning solitude—something I usually find elusive in the big city. I smelled the air and sensed the burgeoning strong winds as the sky started to darken and threatened to rain. In the back of my mind, I imagined how San Vicente would look five, seven, or ten years from now. The idea concerned me, so I resorted back to being the solitary figure, walking barefoot over such a fantastic natural setting.
The San Vicente Tourism Master Plan
Looking several years into the future might shock anyone who has experienced the almost self-contained environment of San Vicente’s long beach. Especially if one gets wind of the Integrated Tourism Master Plan drawn up by architectural planning giant Palafox Associates, which was awarded the project by the Tourism Infrastructure and Enterprise Zone Authority (TIEZA) to design the development plan for San Vicente, Palawan.
Like many who initially heard about it, I became worried about the proposed tourism development plan, as reminders of Boracay and Puerto Galera came to mind. The good news, however, is that the minds behind the master plan have drafted a strict set of measures to safeguard the natural environment of San Vicente’s long beach.
The guidelines include enforcing shorter man-made structure heights, a further setback zone from the high-tide water mark, and the absolute protection of natural vegetation, among others. All of these strategies are aimed to steer the San Vicente tourism master plan into a pro-environment and sustainable long-term program.
Reveling in the Present-Day Shorelines
While the tourism master plan is still years away from being fully implemented, I felt fortunate to have the opportunity to relish the present-day state of San Vicente’s long beach.
It took me another kilometer or so of slow strides to chance upon another small resort composed of a few small nipa huts. I told myself, "This is how Boracay looked in the early nineteen-eighties"—a time when massive development was just knocking on its doorsteps.
Exhibiting bipolar tendencies, the sky, which was in a full golden glow earlier, became covered with dark clouds. The rain started to drop, forcing me to sprint into a line of towering coconut trees for shelter.
My first day ended as I waited for the sky to clear up. I felt a bit short-changed by the intrusive weather, so I made up for it by spending the next three full days exploring various sections of San Vicente’s long beach.
San Vicente’s fourteen-kilometer stretch of white sand beach—which is said to be the longest strip of its kind in the Philippines—doesn’t form one unobstructed path. It is actually divided into six coves, with the edges of limestone cliffs dominating the hills that surround the shoreline.
I consumed the duration of my four-day solo backpacking trip by interchanging my exploration methods: I explored the beach on foot, toured the countryside aboard a habal-habal, and swam in the shallow parts of the sea. During the entirety of my stay, I only encountered a few people. Aside from interacting with a group of fishermen one morning, and being invited to an intimate feast by the beach by a family celebrating a reunion, on my last day I came across a handful of young students hanging out by the shore, calling me out for a shot of Tanduay rum—which I politely declined.
I sensed a world of remoteness—without exhibiting a feeling of loneliness. Rather, it injected moments of blissful thinking, like how poetry wills the mind beautifully into developing bursts of inspiration. The charm of the place has that overall effect on me. There is truly splendor in detachment from the congested world.
As I stood atop a hill on the furthest cove where—as my habal-habal driver pointed out to me, "This is the rock of Ning-ning," referring to a local television series that was shot on that very same spot—I looked down on the vast stretch of San Vicente’s long beach. I saw a jaw-dropping scenery dotted with pockets of small fishing villages and trails of fine white sand leading from one cove to the next.
I imagined how their world might turn topsy-turvy with the impending tourism development—both for good and, hopefully, never for ill. I can only put my trust in the powers that be—that the master plan will be implemented rightfully so as to lessen its impact on the beautifully untouched appearance of San Vicente’s long beach. Because in the end, as much as we want to elevate this place to lure more visitors and usher in a booming local economy, we don’t want this place to become the next Boracay, do we?
