A few weeks ago, the good people at Hangin Kite on Boracay suggested that I visit the Philippine Kitesurfing Championship on Sicogon. Thanks to a delay of just eight hours on the ferry from Cuyo back to Antique, the plan worked out. Together with a Spanish instructor and a competitor from Hamburg, I race two and a half hours from Iloilo to Estancia in the Speedvan.
The next afternoon, a banka full of competitors takes me three quarters of an hour over to Sicogon. The venue is the classy Huni Resort. The infinity pool flows directly into the endless white-blue horizon above the spot. Thanks to rooms beyond the €100 mark, we stay at the slightly cheaper Balay Kogon. The path there is currently still so narrow that only motorbikes can get you there over two kilometres.
The entire island of Sicogon is in the hands of a single family. The family loves The Sims. Residents are relocated, resort development areas are designated. The Deezers are working night shifts everywhere. The small airport has been awakened from its decades-long slumber. There is a gold-rush atmosphere everywhere. Prices should fall soon. At present, Sicogon is still a real luxury spot, with rooms starting at five times the Philippine average and colas at ten times that – unless you go past the numerous guards to the local Videoke bar next door, where everything costs only 50% more.
After two weeks in the real and very basic Philippines, I am overjoyed to have air conditioning in the luxury hut on the beach – and freshly made scented beds every day. In the bathroom, I start by looking for the bucket and ladle without realising it – then I look up, see the shower head and hot water is running over my broad grin. It’s so nice to realise how little you need – and how nice it is to have more again.
The competition runs for two days in the lower wind range. The first race is cancelled after a while due to a lack of wind. I work on homepages in the mobile phone network, which has been running well on Sicogon for a short time, in a lousy eight knots. Chilled electro sounds flow from the sound system into the blue infinity pool. All the surfers are synchronised: no one is better, worse, different or anything else. Just a lazy day. My kitebag stays on the beach. The next afternoon, he thanks me personally for the beautiful sunrise and the trust in the good in people.
On the second day, the weak wind is enough for the race and a few small airstyle jumps. My neighbour takes first place. I take another one: on 13m² I soak in turquoise blue paradise water – and the Edge stalls in an air pocket before I can finish singing at least half a chorus of Nazareth’s “Dream on”. Where are the bad words, where is the nasty grumbling? The wind has been below my minimum requirement of 15 knots for eight days and there’s not a black smurf in sight. I’m working in the most beautiful office, editing room and music studio in the world.
Sicogon is still in the best wind region in the Philippines. The wind at Balay Kogon and Huni Resort is usually 45° side-on from the right. In front of the Huni Resort you can only kitesurf from mid-tide, at low tide you have to walk 300 metres out over coral and rocks to the reef. Only the last 80 metres before the beach are free of rocks. You can also kitesurf in front of Balay Kogon at low tide, but there are a few rocks and cliffs to leeward with the resort’s restaurant on top. Emergency landings are only possible behind them.
The last supper. I hate mussels. Actually, I do. These things are as sweet as candy. My plate crumbles under a mountain of empty mussel shells. The Australian competitor crashes onto the flagstones in front of the luxury restaurant, drunk off his arse. The red horses ride again and I weaken. Flocks of swallows explode out of a palm tree as they clap.
Over on the motorbike through the night to the Spanish teacher on the beach. The 2013 typhoon brought help to backpackers: you can spend the night here cheaply in abandoned expedition tents belonging to aid organisations, and even the web designer couldn’t find any information about this anywhere. The waves are crashing, a mobile phone is playing “Sitting on the dock of the bay” and the stars are shining brightly. Everything is fine.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.