By Celine Reyes
A four-hour bus ride southeast of Metro Manila will bring you to Lucena, the capital of Quezon—the hindmost province in the Calabarzon region. In the grand bus terminal here, locals will approach, start guessing your destination—Cagbalete, Borawan, Kwebang Lampas—and offer you transportation and tour services.
They seldom mention Alabat, though, and are often pleasantly surprised when you tell them you’re headed to Port Atimonan—the primary entry point to the eponymous island of Alabat.
Taking into account the relative accessibility of the island—one of the requirements to become a veritable tourist destination, one had to wonder why the place had remained largely under the tourist radar for so long.
There are several options for commuting to Atimonan: by bus, van or jeepney. Passing through the notorious “Bituka ng Manok,” it takes approximately an hour to reach the port. Boat rides to Alabat Island, as is common, depend on the weather and sea condition, but are usually available every hour. The boat ride across Lamon Bay then takes another 45 minutes, docking at the port of Alabat.
Alternatively, starting March of this year, those who prefer a quicker way to the island could take a nine-seater seaplane from the Cultural Center of the Philippines Complex in Pasay, shortening the travel time to a mere 20 minutes but upping the cost to P4,500 a seat.
The fifth-class municipality of Alabat is flanked by the towns of Quezon in the northern tip and Perez in the south. According to the locals, the name “Alabat” came from the Tagalog word for balustrade or balcony. The early inhabitants of the place put wooden balustrades across their doors to prevent little children from walking out of the house or falling from stairs. When American soldiers went to the island and asked what the place was called, a local—unable to understand the English language—thought they were asking about the balustrade he was installing, and so replied “alabat.”
For many years, the locals of Alabat had made a decent living as farmers and fishermen. Up to the present day, its more than 16,000 residents continue to put to good use the strategic location of their home. Situated between Lamon Bay and the Pacific Ocean, Alabat—aptly dubbed as the Gateway to the Pacific—has waters that make for excellent fishing grounds. Its wide plains and fertile soil yield enough crops to sustain the town and then some.
It was only in the early 2000s that Alabat saw modern developments. The old port of Alabat—considered as one of the most important commercial and trading points in the island—underwent major reconstruction, ultimately becoming one of the longest ports in the entire Quezon province. Paved roads have also been made, as well as access to telecommunication services.
Now armed with its bountiful natural resources and modern improvements, the town widened its horizons and decided to play to its strengths by engaging in agri- and ecotourism.
Visits to the variety of farms in Alabat are now being offered to travelers and academics alike. A trip to the calamansi farm that supplies the Philippines’s largest fast-food chain, a foray to cacao and red chili plantations, as well as a glimpse to the production process of coco sugar are what comprise the town’s agri-tour.
Outdoorsy folks have a choice between a trek to Tumiis Falls in Pacific-facing Villanorte and a venture to Bosay Falls in the folds of Mount Camagon.
Those who prefer water activities shouldn’t count Alabat out just yet, for the beach of Kabila—also in Villanorte—can rival those of Quezon’s more famous ones. Its shore is dynamic, with cream sands on some parts and smooth pebbles on others. Its water, a portion of the Pacific Ocean, is as still as a glass of blue in the morning and swells to large waves in the late afternoon.
But perhaps the most interesting thing to do would be to take the 15-minute boat trip to the middle of Lamon Bay, where guests are encouraged to have their lunch on a floating cottage. The people of Alabat had cultivated a thriving population of Taclobo—giant clams—in these parts, so snorkeling is also highly recommended.
One obstacle Alabat could be facing in its vie for tourists is the limited option for commuting around town. Tricycle rides, the only commuting option, are priced a fixed P50 per person—an amount already considered a stretch for budget-travelers, especially when the destination is only a 20-minute walk. The solution the local government had come up with is to provide packaged tours where transportation and accommodation are included. Another probable solution would be to have a system for renting a motorcycle or a bicycle, similar to places like Batanes and Palawan. However, bringing a private car had already been made possible by the daily Roro trip from Atimonan.
In the grand scheme of things, though, the scant number of motorized vehicles also adds to Alabat’s advantage and undeniable charm. The air here is noticeably cleaner. Walking around town is commonplace and therefore safe. And because there are almost no engines revving, no honks blaring, the term “laidback” truly applies.
Furthermore, what Alabat lacks in modern comforts, it more than makes up for in hospitality. The community, small and close-knit, treats you like one of its own—an occurrence not entirely new in Filipino culture. Yet, the generosity in Alabat is slightly more unabashed, more sincere, less ingratiating—a result, perhaps, of not having to deal with hundreds of tourists all the time. Here, rice is freely given. Meals are ridiculously cheap. People are generally unassuming.
The less-traveled roads of Alabat, often flanked by a stretch of forests on one side and an expanse of rice fields on the other, may be considered a great gamble by travelers, specifically in terms of time and money. In this age of social media, where destinations must guarantee Instagram-worthy photos and yield experiences worth sharing, travelers flock to already well-known sites to make sure their vacation leaves and hard-earned money are maximized.
One thing that must not be overlooked, however, is that in traveling, as with everything else, risk and reward are directly proportional. Extraordinary risk equals extraordinary reward. And in Alabat, extraordinary is in no short supply.
Image credits: Dennis Murillo