Thrice in the past, spread over a decade, I found myself in Baler always tugging a surfboard. Despite failing to achieve consistent long rides over the waves, I recognized the cherished vibe reigning in this seaside town. There is an inexplicable, vibrant sub-culture that continues to attract an expanding list of my friends and acquaintances to re-root themselves among the surfing community here.
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.
After a sweltering day resembling The Clash's "breaking rocks in the hot sun" and relishing the impassioned ambiance of Davao City's Kadayawan Festival, early the next day, I joined a small group of enthusiastic film photographers—Lauren, Master Erick, and Surfer Kara—on a journey to Mati, the capital of Davao Oriental. Our aim was to find some waves and capture some amazing landscapes, both digitally and on film. My buddies were carrying analog cameras and rolls of film, as opposed to my little camera bag. The trio undoubtedly came to Davao armed to the teeth—Lomography speaking.
