We want to get away from the crowded Bulabog Beach, so we take a trike and drive to Ilig-Iligan Beach in the north-east of Boracay. Then we walk half a kilometre over the last hill. White sand with no dirt, abandoned resorts and restaurants and absolute emptiness. Unbelievable. A small paradise, three kilometres north of the Bulabog rubbish dump.
Max is out again immediately, thanks to the 25 metre wide beach without palm trees today. We want to take it in turns to kite. To the north-west, a few small islands cover the wind a little. To the south-east, the beach is bordered by coral rocks, behind which are the bays of a closed golf club. Drifting off is not a good idea. I stay on the beach as Baywatch with my camera.
Max comes out a little later. Unfortunately there’s not enough wind for me, my kite almost smears in the windward jam of palm trees and hills. Nap under the palm trees. Max wakes me up several times: “But you can go again now, can’t you?”. The third time I give up. We pack up and walk a kilometre back to the main road. From there we continue on the trike to Puka Beach. The wind is fine, but we have to wait a little longer. There was nowhere to eat at Ilig Iligan – we were there before breakfast. Refuelled with Pancit, sipped a fruit shake and headed out.
The waves at Puka Beach are nice. Only half a metre breaks on the beach – but it’s very strong. As soon as Max is out, a Chinese fighter squadron finally has something to shoot at. They were already bored of the same old stupid holiday pictures. Max gives himself nothing. The swell outside was 1.5 metres, but he went half a kilometre out and did a few big jumps on the first line. The Chinese ohen, ahen and take pictures.
The current at Puka Beach pulls quite strongly to the south-west. Drifting off is not a good idea here either, because after 300 metres the coastline bends to the south. Then all that remains is open sea – with a bit of luck 15 kilometres to Panay. A Yank launches the kite for me. The waves are rough, not very high, but often very steep, and they break pretty far out of nowhere. The wind sets a course at a shallow angle to the waves in both directions. The combination of the two is exciting – until the moment when another wave breaks unexpectedly. In that case, it often gets wet.
The children on the beach comment on every jump close to the beach, shouting at the top of their voices – their favourite thing is high jumps with splashy, botched landings. I’m an expert at both, so at least I win the children’s vote. After a while, the wind dies down. I go out. The kite is immediately taken over by the kids. Ten campers under one kite is the minimum.
A woman comes up to me and says I was good. I point out to Max and say “He’s good.”. She’s seen us several times. We’ve seen her too. In Charlh’s bar, she was wearing the same T-shirt as today. It has the word “SWALLOW” in rhinestones. I just manage to turn the tide and confirm that her husband immediately looked familiar.
On the way home, there are more Japanese people on quads. They are wearing full motocross protection, helmets and pink straw hats with wide brims underneath. Thanks to the evening traffic jam on the only tarmac main road, they manage almost 10 km/h. Their faces are tense. Their faces are tense. We are royally amused by the advantages of Bavarian dialect as we overtake them, grinning sweetly and shouting things like “Depperter Schleichzipfl”, “Konnst niad nu a wengal bleada schaun?” or simply “Oaschloch”. They wave.
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.