Leaving El Nido early in the morning we saw the most perilously overloaded Jeepney to date. It's not unusual to see people perched on the roof amidst an array of cargo but this was ingenious, unfortunately backpacks were being carried and there was no camera to hand to record this feat of balance.

We took a van from El Nido to Roxas which was probably some of the worst driving I've experienced and I was glad to get out! Getting dumped in Roxas we headed for the terminal looking for some form of transport to the sleepy costal village of Port Barton, where we hoped to get a boat over to Cacnipa Island, doing all this in one day was pushing it a bit. Soon after arriving at the terminal we were pointed towards a jeepney that we were assured was heading to Port Barton, it was however conspicuously empty but we were delighted when it moved off after about 15 minutes. First stop, the market, second stop an ice making factory (didn't know these existed and saw huge blocks of ice being loaded into a tricycle which could then hardly move under the weight) where we collected lots and lots of crushed ice, third stop a lock up on a quiet street where large sacks were loaded aboard, fourth stop back to the bloody jeepney terminal to pick up passengers. Without realising it we had spent the last hour and a half touring Roxas on the provision run for Port Barton, collecting all the supplies they can't get in the village!

After our little jaunt we headed off to Port Barton most of the journey took us through jungle and past paddy fields and was quite delightful. Then the heavens open and the rain was torrential, little streams were soon running down the road and the poor drivers wipers did little to abate the onslaught, essentially he was driving blind.

Arriving in Port Barton the worst of the rain had died off and miraculously our bags were brought down from the roof still relatively dry from the protection of a good old tarp. We were met by a boat from Coconut Island Garden Resort, we had expected it to be long gone so this was a pleasant surprise, and all was going according to plan! Our private Bangka shuttled us to the resort through some wavy seas and we were given industrial waterproofs to keep us dry from the rain and waves, all this thoughtfulness makes me wonder if this is what it's like to be a 'C list' celebrity.

Our accommodation for the next few days consisted of a little hut on a private beach where we were the only guests after the first night. I'm a little ashamed to admit I spent the next two days lounging on a sun bed fighting off sand flies, the height of my activities amounted to an attempted jog along the beach where is soon realised there is a reason I wear a sports bra to the gym and not a bikini top, won't be doing that again, and an energetic game of badminton with James!

On our second night we were treated to a spectacular thunder storm. Electricity on the island ran only from 6.30pm - 9.30pm so we were plunged into pitch black night skies quite early in the evening. Attempting to sleep in our bamboo hut the thunder rumbled overhead for over an hour, the rain was torrential and the lightning lit up the sky so vividly that it momentarily looked like daylight. After sometime we began to grow used to the noise of Mother Nature and drifted into a fitful sleep. Only to be woken by the loudest thunder clap ever known. Well that might be a slight exaggeration but it woke us both up thinking the sky was falling in!

From the island we took the boat a couple of hours down the coast to Sabang home of a relatively famous subterranean river. For decades it has been one of a kind and the largest known subterranean river, well that was until Mexico usurped Sabang with the discovery of a cavernous, currently uncharted such river which is believed to be considerably larger. Well I didn't disclose that to our guide when he was helpfully navigating us along the river claiming it's prominence as the largest. So back to Sabang, on the pier we joined yet another tour group of Filipino tourists, it's refreshing that wherever we go we see more local tourists than foreign ones. One elderly lady had been a nurse in south London for over 20 years and her brother still lives in Clapham and we had a lovely little chat with them about the delights of London. An incredibly noisy boat took us a little way off shore where a short walk through the bush deposited us at a stretch of water an ominous looking cave. All were instructed to don smelly life jackets and hard hats before stepping aboard a large canoe. We soon realised the hats weren't necessarily designed for health and safety precautions, they were instead essential protection from Bat s***. The caves this subterranean river runs through are incredible and utterly vast but the smell is overpowering. Bats everywhere and with bats comes Guano. 40 minutes later we emerged impressed with the sights but gasping for a breath of fresh air.

From Sabang it was on to Puerto Princessa the capital of Palawan for our last stop before moving on to Cebu. Yet another trip on a knackered old bus with barely enough engine power to make it up to the hill. With plenty of room aboard James and I took a seat to ourselves and clearly we must have smelt pretty bad as soon the bus was filled to bursting point with people standing in every available space but despite moving over no one wanted to sit next to us. Oh it was rather sad and I felt a little like an unpopular school girl, whilst still being rather smug that I had a seat to myself! A little while later a brave old lady took the plunge and plonked herself next to me. Still no one dared go near James; he must have smelt a lot worse than me!