First-time in Sabtang Island, Batanes

Among the three main islands of the province of Batanes, Sabtang seems to be the most interesting because of the old stone houses that have been part of the Ivatan culture.

We rose early morning to catch the boat that would take us to Sabtang Island. Alas, waking up at 5:30 and having breakfast at 6:00 wasn’t enough to make it to the scheduled trip. It was another 15 to 20-minute ride from Basco town, the capital of Batanes, down to the southern town of Ivana, where the port was located. We had to brave the zigzag cliffs of Batan Island to get to the port, only to find out that the boat has left already.

The cliffs, with the view of South China Sea, reminded me of Greece overlooking Aegean Sea, as well as Scotland, and Hawaii. Still, there was something about the surroundings that was definitely Batanes, and that I wouldn’t confuse this place with anywhere else.

So, there we were at the port of Ivana with an hour to spare as we waited for the next trip. Our guide deposited us at the Honesty Café by the side of the road. This café has been popular because the owners leave the customers to their own devices, trusting that they would honestly pay for the products they would take.  Other tourists started arriving in this tiny café, so I decided to look around and take pictures of the local scene.

The first structure that came into view was the church of San Jose.  The entrance was filled with people who came to attend mass. When the mass was finished, everyone – young and old, male and female – rode their bicycles and dispersed at the highway, off to their respective homes or destinations. One thing I have observed of Batanes, there were only a few vehicles and everyone seems to be on bicycles or motorbikes. I guess it is because gasoline has to be brought in this far-flung province (there’s only one gas station), but it is also good for the environment. No wonder Batanes still enjoys lush greenery everywhere.

Finally, the boat we were about to take has arrived. However, we had to wait for the arriving passengers to disembark. To our surprise, that tiny boat was able to transport more than 30 people, including baggage, LPG tanks, and a carabao!

After the tossing and turning of the waves, we finally got aboard our boat. But the crashing waves were merciless. In our 30-minute journey, crossing Batan Island to Sabtang, it seemed like we were swallowed by the sea and the wind, and everything around us was swirling. But we made it hale and whole to our destination.

We docked at Sinakan with the view of the Sabtang lighthouse standing tall at the cliff of a hill. Tourists had to register at the Municipal Tourism Office, just across the church of San Vicente Ferrer and an open-space stage area used for town events.

When we arrived at the village of Savidug, we found some locals building a thatch roof by the roadside. The narrow road, with Ivatan stone houses on both sides, looked deserted. Some of the houses were already destroyed although a good number were still intact and inhabited.

It was a long ride to the next village. We passed more hills and mountains. An Ivatan Idjang, or fortress, came into view. A few trees grew along these hills, but were still green with the grass and several young palm trees that seemed to have sprouted out from everywhere.

Finally, we had to stop at one of the man-made arches along the road. We were in Chamantad-Tinyan Sitio and the view of the splashing waves was breathtaking. At a 360° turn, I was able to scenic pictures of goats grazing by the hillside, the mountaintop at the other side of the road, and the sloping hill that leads towards the sea, at where I stood. I could have just spent an afternoon gazing at the ocean and enjoying the tranquility of the place.

A few-minute ride took us to the town of Chavayan. Our first stop was the weavers’ association office, which was like an old Ivatan house that was transformed into a tourism center. We tried on the Vakul, or the hay-covered hat (which seemed more like a wig to me). The cluster of these native stone houses, with thatched roof and the mountains at the background, make up for a lovely painting subject.

We stopped by at the Chavayan Theater or mini-plaza, and had a hearty drink of fresh coconut. Right behind the stage area, we visited a house, where the oldest man in the province lives. We found Marcelo Hestarilo, 103 years old, still weaving a basket even at his advanced age. He weaves baskets not to make money but as a hobby. When asked what his secret was for such a long life, he immediately replied in Filipino, “I eat vegetables. I don’t eat meat and I don’t eat anything with chemicals.”

As we reached the end of the village, I saw a small store that sold native slippers which fishermen use as protection for their feet on rocky coastal areas. One friend told me that these slippers were fondly called “Chavayanas”. Next to it was a school that has wide grounds where children could play. Tents were set up at the grounds. I later found out that there were Anthropology students from the University of the Philippines camping there. I bumped into two of them and they told me that they were staying at the village for one month as part of their field work. What an interesting assignment.

It was early afternoon when we finally had our lunch. We had to go back to Sinakan and head up north to Nakabuang Beach where a sumptuous meal of lobsters and fish awaited us. We ate on a large leaf, as our plate, feasting on their usual rice with turmeric powder.

Right after lunch, we excitedly went to the beach for a swim. There we found a natural arch carved out from the rock by the wind and the seas. Although it was low tide, the waves were still harsh and swimming on such strong current was not really ideal. After a few minutes of dipping at the sea, we decided to call it a day and head back to Batan Island. I feared facing the waves once again but our boat ride back was not as nerve-wracking as the journey that morning. But then again, the waves and the grueling boat ride would always be a trademark of a Sabtang trip.