From Action Asia October 2003Our 14-meter outrigger boat worked its way carefully down the narrow river of Baler, the capital of Aurora province and the starting point for our expedition. Lining the banks were thickets of nipa, the broad-leaved plant used by the locals for roofing…and brewing the local wine. Twenty minutes of sluggish chugging through the heat and humidity brought us to the river’s delta. The boat lurched from right to left as it struggled through the surf zone, and soon we were cruising north along the eastern coast of Luzon towards one of the Philippines’ most remote and pristine wildernesses: the Northern Sierra Madre Natural Park.
Ten people had signed up for the expedition, a good mix of scientists, outdoor enthusiasts and environmental educators. We were looking forward to exploring the eastern border of the Park where it meets the mighty Pacific Ocean, an inaccessible region genuinely untouched by the modern world. In particular, geologists Dr. Fernando Siringan and Rose Berdin from the University of Geological Sciences were hoping to find examples of Porites, a huge type of coral that can grow to 8-9 m in diameter if left undisturbed. They have disappeared from around much of Luzon due to dynamite and cyanide fishing, but the hope was that the isolated region (there is no road access at all to the area) might harbour some examples.
Porites are important thanks to the bands of different density coral within them. These can be read like tree rings: thick, low density bands form during periods of fast growth, when conditions such as sea-surface temperature, salinity, wave action, sedimentation, nutrient load and light intensity are favourable. Similarly, at times when conditions are more difficult, the coral grows more slowly, making them potentially good indicators of the relative health of the marine environment.
In addition to our scientific aim, we were also going to position a terbum (a Tibetan peace vase) in an underwater location in the park as part of the World Peace Vase Programme, which involves deploying 6,000 vases worldwide. Peace vases are filled with medicine, precious substances and mantras and are traditionally used by Tibetan Buddhists to protect important places against misfortune and promote positive healing energies. Each of the 6,000 in this programme had been consecrated by His Holiness Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, a highly respected spiritual leader.
Passing San Ildefonso Point, the water became calmer, as summer’s southwest wind was blocked by the mountain range running parallel to the coast. It’s not always this way: for almost half of the year the coastline is battered by gigantic waves rolling in from the Pacific. The ocean rules supreme during this period and no boats dare venture out this far. Numerous caves, tidal pools, pockmarked cliffs and dramatic rock formations stand testament to the ocean’s enormous power. Its wild, windswept, primeval coastline – paradoxically ideal for Porites which are massive enough to withstand the waves and are therefore protected from human interference.
Ten people had signed up for the expedition, a good mix of scientists, outdoor enthusiasts and environmental educators. We were looking forward to exploring the eastern border of the Park where it meets the mighty Pacific Ocean, an inaccessible region genuinely untouched by the modern world. In particular, geologists Dr. Fernando Siringan and Rose Berdin from the University of Geological Sciences were hoping to find examples of Porites, a huge type of coral that can grow to 8-9 m in diameter if left undisturbed. They have disappeared from around much of Luzon due to dynamite and cyanide fishing, but the hope was that the isolated region (there is no road access at all to the area) might harbour some examples.
Porites are important thanks to the bands of different density coral within them. These can be read like tree rings: thick, low density bands form during periods of fast growth, when conditions such as sea-surface temperature, salinity, wave action, sedimentation, nutrient load and light intensity are favourable. Similarly, at times when conditions are more difficult, the coral grows more slowly, making them potentially good indicators of the relative health of the marine environment.
In addition to our scientific aim, we were also going to position a terbum (a Tibetan peace vase) in an underwater location in the park as part of the World Peace Vase Programme, which involves deploying 6,000 vases worldwide. Peace vases are filled with medicine, precious substances and mantras and are traditionally used by Tibetan Buddhists to protect important places against misfortune and promote positive healing energies. Each of the 6,000 in this programme had been consecrated by His Holiness Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, a highly respected spiritual leader.
Passing San Ildefonso Point, the water became calmer, as summer’s southwest wind was blocked by the mountain range running parallel to the coast. It’s not always this way: for almost half of the year the coastline is battered by gigantic waves rolling in from the Pacific. The ocean rules supreme during this period and no boats dare venture out this far. Numerous caves, tidal pools, pockmarked cliffs and dramatic rock formations stand testament to the ocean’s enormous power. Its wild, windswept, primeval coastline – paradoxically ideal for Porites which are massive enough to withstand the waves and are therefore protected from human interference.
The Northern Sierra Madre Natural Park is the largest protected area in the Philippines, covering an area of 359,500 hectares, and one of ten priority areas for environmental protection and management. Its coastal area is characterized by a narrow strip of tropical of tropical beach forest dominated by agoho trees, that look strangely out of place since they resemble pine trees. Patches of low shrubby vegetation also occur, interspersed with dwarf trees with twisted trunks and crooked root systems. From the boat, we could see long stretches of white sandy beaches reflecting the midday sun brightly, backing onto steep mountain ranges covered by a thick canopy of evergreen dipterocarp rainforest, and lower montane and mossy forests higher up. Breaking this swathe of green were long silvery streaks that regularly cut across the thick forest cover as precipitous waterfalls fed by constant mountain streams drained into the sea. In a span of two hours, I counted as many as 15 waterfalls falling directly onto the beach.
“Has it always been this beautiful?” I asked Dolsing Rostaquio, the captain of the expedition’s boat. He has been traveling this route for more than 30 years and knows its features, moods and seasons. “Ever since I can remember, this part of Luzon has always been like this. Nature has made sure that this place rests from human intrusion for most part of the year. The Pacific Ocean destroys and yet protects,” he replied, speaking in the local dialect.
Protect she certainly does. The semi-nomadic Dumagat, an indigenous tribe who live in these coastal areas of Luzon, have been isolated from modern civilization for centuries. At Divinisa – a lovely river delta fringed with white sandy beach – we came upon a group of these short, dark, curly-haired people. The Dumagat live off the land, gathering almost everything they need from the forest and sea. To them the wilderness is their home, market, medicine cabinet and place of worship.
A young man named Udok, clad only in a string loincloth, told me he was a forest ranger. Dumagat men have been trained by the government to be stewards of their domain. They were given outrigger boats with which to patrol their areas of jurisdiction, but as Udok said,”It is a nice title but we had been doing this even before the government came. This is our home and we need to protect it. If we allow people to come in and destroy it, it is like allowing ourselves to die.”
Further north, we camped beside an enchanting waterfalls on the beach. In the water freshwater shrimps have developed a single claw that they use to grasp rocks to avoid being washed away by the swift current. Our team decided to climb up the rock wall and explore the upper reaches of the gorge.
From the lip of the falls, the long beach stretched away, foaming surf crashed down on it endlessly. A flock of white seagulls swooped down on the water to snatch fish, purple herons circled their nests stop rocky outrcrops, and numerous tidal pools acted as natural tubs filled with busy marine life. Inland the undulating green peaks of the Sierra Madre marched into the distance. A 20 minute hike upstream revealed a secret garden blooming with pastel-colored flowers. Pitcher plants, orchids and vines grew in wild profusion around a mini-waterfall that flowed into a small pond. This idyllic discovery filled us with a real sense of purpose as we returned to the waterfall at day’s end and rappelled down it back to the beach.
The following morning as I watched the sunrise from the window of my tent, Udok’s words came back to me. The Northern Sierra Madre Natural Park is indeed a superb example of the Philippine’s natural treasures, and as such it is vital to protect it by any means. The sun climbed slowly from the horizon, rising between two rocks that resembled shark’s fins, and suddenly I realized that this was the perfect place for the peace vase.
We donned our diving gear, and entered the water to explore the outer reef and search for a suitable site for the vase. The surge can be monstrously strong at certain times of the year, so we needed to find a place where it wouldn’t be dislodged. The underwater terrain here on the Pacific coast of Luzon is dominated by rock formations, pinnacles, pillars and small caves. It is not an ideal place for coral growth, battered as it frequently is by storm waves and currents. Nevertheless, some sturdy species grow, including the Porites that our geologist friends had hoped to find, and also plenty of seaweed anchored to the bare rock.
We worked our way along the sandy bottom at 25 m, struggling against the forward and backward movement of the water even at this relatively calm time of the year. Having to deal with the surge meant we consume our air faster than usual, and we were almost out of air by the time we reached a group of tall rock pillars rising from 18 m to the surface. Past these submarine towers we came upon a slope with several large round boulders. They seem to be of uniform size and shape, but closer inspection revealed carpets of seaweeds and algae wrapped around them.
We had been underwater for some 30 minutes, and we were now in shallow reef. Suddenly a hawksbill turtle appeared from nowhere, and as if guiding us, passed in front of us and landed on one of the round boulders. An emperor angelfish materialized from under the rock and hovered close to the turtle. I peaked underneath and discovered a small cave just big enough for the vase. I checked with my dive light in case it was inhabited by a moray eel or some other territorial creature, but there was nothing. I motioned to my companions and they all nodded in agreement.
We returned to the surface and on the second dive brought the peace vase with us. Weighing around 18 kg, it required two lift bags to be brought down to the correct depth safely, then once neutrally buoyant it was transferred horizontally through the water to its new home, where it was carefully placed.
The expedition was concluded after eight days. As we headed back to Baler, a pod of dolphins swam in the wake of our boat, as if escorting us back to the modern world from an untouched Eden. We felt exuberant and fulfilled, both from a scientific viewpoint and a spiritual one. As scientists we hope our report will aid understanding large tracts of pristine land such as the Northern Sierra Madre Natural Park. And as members of the global community we hope the small but symbolic act of placing the peace vase will also have some beneficial effect, no matter how ethereal.
“Has it always been this beautiful?” I asked Dolsing Rostaquio, the captain of the expedition’s boat. He has been traveling this route for more than 30 years and knows its features, moods and seasons. “Ever since I can remember, this part of Luzon has always been like this. Nature has made sure that this place rests from human intrusion for most part of the year. The Pacific Ocean destroys and yet protects,” he replied, speaking in the local dialect.
Protect she certainly does. The semi-nomadic Dumagat, an indigenous tribe who live in these coastal areas of Luzon, have been isolated from modern civilization for centuries. At Divinisa – a lovely river delta fringed with white sandy beach – we came upon a group of these short, dark, curly-haired people. The Dumagat live off the land, gathering almost everything they need from the forest and sea. To them the wilderness is their home, market, medicine cabinet and place of worship.
A young man named Udok, clad only in a string loincloth, told me he was a forest ranger. Dumagat men have been trained by the government to be stewards of their domain. They were given outrigger boats with which to patrol their areas of jurisdiction, but as Udok said,”It is a nice title but we had been doing this even before the government came. This is our home and we need to protect it. If we allow people to come in and destroy it, it is like allowing ourselves to die.”
Further north, we camped beside an enchanting waterfalls on the beach. In the water freshwater shrimps have developed a single claw that they use to grasp rocks to avoid being washed away by the swift current. Our team decided to climb up the rock wall and explore the upper reaches of the gorge.
From the lip of the falls, the long beach stretched away, foaming surf crashed down on it endlessly. A flock of white seagulls swooped down on the water to snatch fish, purple herons circled their nests stop rocky outrcrops, and numerous tidal pools acted as natural tubs filled with busy marine life. Inland the undulating green peaks of the Sierra Madre marched into the distance. A 20 minute hike upstream revealed a secret garden blooming with pastel-colored flowers. Pitcher plants, orchids and vines grew in wild profusion around a mini-waterfall that flowed into a small pond. This idyllic discovery filled us with a real sense of purpose as we returned to the waterfall at day’s end and rappelled down it back to the beach.
The following morning as I watched the sunrise from the window of my tent, Udok’s words came back to me. The Northern Sierra Madre Natural Park is indeed a superb example of the Philippine’s natural treasures, and as such it is vital to protect it by any means. The sun climbed slowly from the horizon, rising between two rocks that resembled shark’s fins, and suddenly I realized that this was the perfect place for the peace vase.
We donned our diving gear, and entered the water to explore the outer reef and search for a suitable site for the vase. The surge can be monstrously strong at certain times of the year, so we needed to find a place where it wouldn’t be dislodged. The underwater terrain here on the Pacific coast of Luzon is dominated by rock formations, pinnacles, pillars and small caves. It is not an ideal place for coral growth, battered as it frequently is by storm waves and currents. Nevertheless, some sturdy species grow, including the Porites that our geologist friends had hoped to find, and also plenty of seaweed anchored to the bare rock.
We worked our way along the sandy bottom at 25 m, struggling against the forward and backward movement of the water even at this relatively calm time of the year. Having to deal with the surge meant we consume our air faster than usual, and we were almost out of air by the time we reached a group of tall rock pillars rising from 18 m to the surface. Past these submarine towers we came upon a slope with several large round boulders. They seem to be of uniform size and shape, but closer inspection revealed carpets of seaweeds and algae wrapped around them.
We had been underwater for some 30 minutes, and we were now in shallow reef. Suddenly a hawksbill turtle appeared from nowhere, and as if guiding us, passed in front of us and landed on one of the round boulders. An emperor angelfish materialized from under the rock and hovered close to the turtle. I peaked underneath and discovered a small cave just big enough for the vase. I checked with my dive light in case it was inhabited by a moray eel or some other territorial creature, but there was nothing. I motioned to my companions and they all nodded in agreement.
We returned to the surface and on the second dive brought the peace vase with us. Weighing around 18 kg, it required two lift bags to be brought down to the correct depth safely, then once neutrally buoyant it was transferred horizontally through the water to its new home, where it was carefully placed.
The expedition was concluded after eight days. As we headed back to Baler, a pod of dolphins swam in the wake of our boat, as if escorting us back to the modern world from an untouched Eden. We felt exuberant and fulfilled, both from a scientific viewpoint and a spiritual one. As scientists we hope our report will aid understanding large tracts of pristine land such as the Northern Sierra Madre Natural Park. And as members of the global community we hope the small but symbolic act of placing the peace vase will also have some beneficial effect, no matter how ethereal.
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