By Sophia Bain

Honesty prevailed over emotion, and I conceded with great sadness that I would have to sell. There just was not enough potential pasture area for raising dairy cows and horses, or to fulfill my desire to cultivate hundreds of exotic fruit trees. Most of the island is quite steep and covered with mature giant hardwoods such as Amoghis, Natuk, and Nara. Altogether I found maybe twenty acres that could be put to agricultural use and I needed much more than that.

I gave no real thought to practicalities when I acquired the land, I was overwhelmed by the island’s stunning natural beauty and surreal features. My heart won the battle over my head and I was sold.
As the boat pulled away from the beach on my last visit there over a year ago, I could not bear to look back. Still, the hauntingly mystical vision of the island kept appearing in my mind’s eye, and will remain forever.

The island is named Dumunpalit, which means in the local Cuyonin dialect “the place of no change.” From the air this island is shaped exactly like a turtle swimming through the Mindoro Strait which connects the South China Sea to the Sulu Sea. From Manila one flies by SeAir or Asian Pacific to the YKR airfield on the island of Busuanga, near the bustling port town of Coron. These are the northern parts of Palawan, the “last frontier” and most undeveloped province of the Philippines, rich with awesome natural, pristine beauty.

Dumunpalit is one of the most magical places that one could ever imagine. The amazing limestone and red agate cliffs rising out of the turquoise waters, the immense fine white sand beach, the eerie caves with wave worn polished walls at all angles, and its remote setting both make one feel that this island should really be home to Dr. No.

This part of the Philippines is 350 miles from the troubled Muslim areas to the south, and is very safe with crime almost unheard of. There are rumours of pirates sailing the seas to the south in Indonesia, but these are more likely to be nothing other than the brightly coloured local fishing boats.

From YKR airport, a 20 minute jeepney ride takes you to the mouth of the San Jose River. The airport manager, Elmer, has his men ready to load my supplies onto his 40 foot spider boat with bench seats for twelve passengers (or it is possible to arrange passage with Club Paradise’s taxi and boat). The diesel boat chugs out to sea, past Maricaban Resort in Maricaban Bay (an excellent yacht refuge), past Club Paradise on Dimakya Island, past a huge rock with a pure white sandbar and one lone small tree, past Diboyayan Island, and towards Dumunpalit’s four towers jutting above the horizon.

Often, dolphins tag along as the boat cuts though the long rolling waves in the smooth, deep blue waters. As the hour passes, details of Dumunpalit, isolated by ocean for ten to fifty miles on all sides, become clearer - especially the gigantic rock columns, cliffs, and stone “blades” that hang over the ends of wide beaches and the encircling, foaming surf. The island profile and lush curves are enchanting, and a full roundabout visual tour is again requested from the captain.

The lure of Dumunpalit feels primordial and transcendental. The desire to explore is overwhelming. The “needle” rocks, the island’s turtle shape with four massive rock flippers and projecting headland, the central three hundred foot forested dome allure and delight visitors.

The network of caves at the water’s edge, below the sheer limestone walls, spawns local legends of Japanese gold hidden at the end of the last big war. Although to date none has been found.

On the southeast, there is no surrounding reef and the boat slides up to the shore. If it is calm enough, which is usually most of the time, we can disembark directly on the beach, which is hundreds of feet deep at this point, big enough for a stadium football field. The beach then S-curves around a corner for almost 2000 feet. This is the “front” side of the island, where lies the flattest areas, below the dominating, but protective hills. The “back” side also has numerous beaches, but they are backed up by almost insurmountable slopes and cliffs, mostly covered by trees, shrubs, grass, or rock faces.

Coconut palms project above the forest canopy and a flock of “toto yalo” (totally yellow?) birds

Filed under: Islanders