Lhasa Cove-Playa La Caleta Nature Adventure
Twilight Express
By Jonathan Soriano
PHOTOGRAPHS COURTESY OF PLAYACALETA.MULTIPLY.COM

AWAITING DISCOVERY This place in Bataan is gaining reputation as a must-visit for those looking to find fun off the beaten track.

I've been meaning to go to Bataan since I stumbled upon a marketing campaign on Playa la Caleta in Guys4Men.com sometime last year.  The thing that caught my fancy was that – as it was advertised – one can romp around naked without anyone raising an eyebrow.  I've always fantasized about an Eden-like environment, and now it is within the realm of reality.  My version of Eden, however, has Eve conveniently absent, even if the proverbial apple and snake still in toe, of course.  So with my leave finally approved (I have been invited countless of times in the past, but my schedule didn't allow me to join the trip; it's not easy to get a vacation leave approved if you're working in a call center, and I'm not the type of person who would go A.W.O.L.), the weekend getaway was set.

The original plan was for all participants to meet in a Cubao bus terminal early Saturday morning, but due to some mix-up, I ended up traveling with the coordinator’s female assistant.  So right after work, at 4:30 A.M., we met - and to think that, originally, I was supposed to travel with a group of gay men; by some twist of fate, I was accompanied by a girl.  Whopee-doo!   So with a deep sigh, I told myself I might as well enjoy this vacation; that I will not complain anymore; that I will make the most of it. 

At around 6:30 A.M. we got off the bus in the town of Balanga where all participants were to rendezvous.  We went to a fast food restaurant in front of Balanga Church, where I finally met the tour guide.  We had to stay in town for a while, as our tour guide was taking care of logistics and food rations, as well as coordinating with other participants.  But finally, at around 9:00 A.M., after being served breakfast, our group of about a dozen were ready to (ride) a rented jeepney; the destination: Bagac, a sleepy town beside the sea.

Our tour guide  explained that a certain Gerry Acuzar, a local tycoon, collects antique houses all over country, (having them) disassembled, transported, and re-assembled again in Bagac.  The “adopted” antique houses are Bagac’s main attractions – aged façades, the wooden stairways, the adobe walls and accompanying corbels, balkonajes, the capiz and stained glass windows, the Narra floors, the ornate ceilings and chandeliers, and the streets and cul-de-sac not of cement but of cobblestones.  It was like being transported back to the time of the insulares, the mestizos, and the ilustrados.  I felt extremely happy I was lost for words. 

Minutes later, we were off and running again, but this time it was a quick trip.  We (took) a left at the Filipino-Japanese memorial shrine, and after a kilometer or two, the jeepney ground to a halt and everybody got out.  From the main road, we walked towards the shore, where we took the banca ride to the cove.  As we started our trek, I could see a panoramic view of the Natib mountain.  Soon, we found ourselves in a rice field - or perhaps we were near or at the foot of the mountain, since the rice paddies were not flat but were multi-leveled.   I could hear the running water as we walked, the brooks, streams and creeks crisscrossing the fertile land.  That and other elements had a relaxing effect on me: waist-high lush green rice stalks; hovering dragonflies; and carabaos laboriously wallowing in mud. 

We turned right at the very edge of the rice field into the forest canopy.  At that point, it was all verdant foliage, red earth, and grey stone.  We could hear the sea beckoning further down; the smell of sea air was soothing and therapeutic.  Not long after and we were in a clearing as the forest gave way to a grey sandy beach dotted with seaweeds.  One of the participants who had been there before pointed out our final destination in the distance: Lhasa Cove. 

On a banca, we were meters away from the shore when it started to rain, but instead of panicking, I welcomed it.  And just moments later we were aground, and everybody raced to the nearest shelter.  We were in Eden at long last.
 
INTO THE MIST

The view of the China Sea from the seaweed littered grey shore where I stood was arresting, as white crested waves crashed into the rocks, and blue-grey clouds rolled, spraying the cove with light gentle rain.  It was tropical bliss. 

There were about four or five kubos along the beach, and we were told we can pick any of them. I, along with two other participants, gravitated towards the farthest hut.  As we walked towards it, I stopped dead on my tracks and just stared (at the sight before me, my) jaw dropping to the ground – a waterfall no more than 10 meters high was before me, bedecked on both sides by large roots.  I continued to stare silently, fine mists slowly started caressing my tired and weary face.  It was so divine I was at peace, sighing ever so softly, (looking at) the water flowing through a psychedelic swirl (atop the) grey and black sand before reaching the sea.  I had to drench myself wet under the falls later.  I simply (had to). 

The accommodation was quite Spartan and sparse, I should say; the structure was made almost entirely of bamboo and dried nipa leaves – a veranda of about three by three meters, and the single bedroom of about the same size, where bed sheets, pillows and banigs were neatly piled on top of the papag.  But it was perfectly snug and comfortable.

Settling down, we were given packets of what our tour guide described as survivor kits: tooth paste, toothbrush, soap and shampoo – no lube and condoms.  Good thing I bought my own survival kit. 

I quickly slipped into my shorts and set out to explore the rest of the cove.  My phone only had two bars left, but I kept snapping more pictures: the sand, the sea, the sky, the cliff, and the waterfall, of course. 

While our tour guide, with his assistants, busily prepared lunch probinsiya style, using gatong (embers), in their hut, one of my hut mates said for us to go and see another waterfall. 

“May isa pa?!” I asked, my eyes popping wide open. 

Wasting no time, I followed my hut mate to show me where it was, just further down the shore, (where, behind) tall coconut trees, there it was, the second waterfall.  It was massive, maybe four to five meters wide and thirty to forty meters high, with the water cascading over big boulders.

Then: “Clang! Clang!”  Fifteen minutes before 1:00 P.M., lunch was ready to be served – a tropical gastronomic experience: wicker plates lined with banana leaves, to be filled with rice, appetizers, condiments, and dipping sauces served on wooden bowls, accompanied by coconuts picked just a few minutes earlier.  To hell with my South Beach Diet, I came for seconds, thirds… Burp!
 
DARE TO BARE

One of my hut mates mentioned that there was a strip of beach not far from where we were , and he had been there many times before.  It was more than a kilometer away, but I didn’t mind; I wanted to see it.  We convinced others to tag along; about five of us went past the second waterfall, and, a while later, we were traversing large boulders.  As we went further, the hike became more difficult since we had to wade our way through course rocks and pebbles, knee deep in water meters away from the edge of a jagged reef.  It was no picnic; but “no pain, no gain,” as the saying goes. 

I didn’t mind my slightly bruised feet; getting there was a reward in itself.  A small patch of sand not more than 50 meters wide and some 100 meters beyond was a natural breakwater; it was sweet serenity. 

I couldn’t help it, so I warned my companions that I’d go full frontal.

Flash! 

I was naked; I didn’t have a care in the world; I was one with nature. 

I was rolling in the sand and swooshing in shallow water.  I repeatedly asked them to defrock but I guess they were stricken by Maria Clara syndrome.  I just didn’t get it; everybody knew coming here that prancing around in the nude was the selling point of this getaway.  Why did they become such prudes all of a sudden?  Could it be inherent for Filipinos to have issues with nudity?

I was having the time of my life so I ignored them; I ignored them all.  They decided to go back to base but I said they could go without me; I wanted to stay a while longer.

Ahh, yes!  Tranquility!  I was all alone in the middle of the sandy patch, sitting there, admiring nature with no sign of civilization anywhere between the shore and the horizon.  That was the closest I could get to paradise or zen or Nirvana or Shangri-La, or whatever you like to call it. I was there.  I closed my eyes and all I could hear were the muted sounds of nature - soft, subtle serenades of wind and water, they were gratifyingly rejuvenating. 

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