Island Hopping: The envy of all beach travellers.

The first day began with a trip to the local market to gather some provisions. This entailed useless, ignorant westerners agreeing to buy all that (Ca)Pitan suggested, insisting only that we have a crate of beer to go with his four bottles of rum.

The cloudy weather dampened no one's spirits as we embarked upon our trip. Ice cold beers at the bow were the order of the day as we made our way to the south side of a an island some 40km away, called Tauranga. On the way we snorkelled two shallow wrecks- one a gun boat, the other larger, but both were Japanese warships sunk by the American Helldivers bomber attacks in 1945. Both were also now completely covered in coral and swimming with marine activity.

Just before we reached our camp we stopped to fish for dinner. Between four of us our haul was a rather dismal five fish (2 of which were pretty small), although I was pleased that I personally bagged four of these- including one aggressive Barracuda.

The camp itself was like no other I have experienced- right next to the sea on a deserted, white sandy beach. We plonked our tents down, foolishly tried to play frisbee in the dark, and after dinner, even more foolishly set about drinking all the alcohol we had. This equated to six beers and a bottle of rum each. When morning broke, two hours after we went to bed, the heat from the sun forced us out of our tent and we realised that we only had three bottles of beer left in total. Needless to say the hangover was phenomenal. Mercifully however, this day was slow paced and stress free. It was true island hopping. We began with coconuts skillfully retieved from a tree on the island (Pitan's boatman climbed a 15m vertical tree and cut them down) and then ambled from island to island, basking in the sun and absorbing our incredible surroundings and what each small island had to offer- white sands, craggy rocks, crab pools, clear waters, coral and sealife all around. The highlight of day for me was snorkelling at Cochamba island. Truly amazing. We saw every colour imaginable, even if you include girls' depiction of colours (what is magenta?), and saw every size and shape of fish whilst completely alone to explore it.

From here we went to fish and set up camp. Fishing, however, proved a fruitless endeavour where we were due to the currents that day. Dinner was looking even less wholesome than the previous night. Until we found a Robinson Crusoe type character who had travelled away from civilization on his own, but had brought some chickens, one of which he agreed to sell to us. Sorted. Certainly the first time I think I've held dinner alive less than an hour before I eat it.

As for the camp, this was obviously on a beautiful white sand beachon a small island where spectacular sunsets and sunrises come as standard. After marvelling at theseand catching some much needed sleep, we headed on to the crystal clear waters surrounding Coron Island. Here we snorkelled a wooden skeleton wreck and enjoyed more of the ubiquitous coral and its inhabitants. Barracuda lake, spectacular as it was with its mountainous walls above and below surface, was undoubtedly overshadowed by the mystery of the twin lagoon. After sailing into the first lagoon (itself concealed to the unknowledgable traveller) to enter the second you had to swim through the underwater gateway. At this point in the wall the rocks are shallower so that at a depth of about a metre, you swim approximately 5m under the rock to reach the second lagoon where oxygen is again available at the surface. Indeed in reality the distance is not that far and easily swimmable, but at the moment when you are swimming in darker waters under solid rock, not air and you are aware that you have to make the other end to breathe again, it's a bit of a rush. The lagoon itself was impressive. Encased by towering rocks and completely still, it provided a great echo.

After seeing some local coffin caves (the locals lay their dead in caves so that when you sail past you just see skulls sticking out the caves) we finished the day with some rest in the local hot springs and a meal at Pitan's house. In sum, an amazing trip.

Since then we have relaxed and enjoyed the scenery from our balcony mainly, recalling the adventure that was. Although two nights later Pitan again demonstrated how good Filipino hospitality can be when he invited us around for dinner again. It largely consisted of what he had caught that day and not wanting to be rude we scoffed down the clams, raw fish and chicken adobo, but of course he insisted that any good meal should be enjoyed with rum. I think I'll always remember the harsh custom of passing round shots of rum all night until inevitably you end up in one of the local karaoke bars in town singing Westlife and rapping Eminem whilst all the locals stare at you curiously, probably trying to peice together how such a mixed group of people had come together and how they were all so drunk. Although once you get offered a ladyboy in the club next door you'd probably have some Pancit Canton (noodles) and call it a night. Obviously Paddy and I drunk responsibly and retired to bed at a reasonable hour but you can imagine what it might do to less culturally sensitive travellers.