For the first two posts on the Philippines, try clicking on these links:
1. Manila and Sabang
2. Port Barton
We had two choices to get to El Nido in the north of Palawan: boat or van.
After our first week's experience on boats (amazing views, chilled-out boatmen, good shade from the sun, peaceful), the van option (mosquito-ridden, bumpy, propensity to drive off side of cliff) came a poor second.
The journey from Port Barton to El Nido was billed as a pleasant 5-6 hour journey up the west coast; a journey that would start at 6am in order to give the boatmen time to return to Port Barton the same day.
Eight of us (three crew, plus Kevin, Sabina and a French guy) set off from a sleepy Port Barton just as the sun was showing its face.
Kate and I auditioning for Backstreet Boys: The Movie there.
The first hour or so was perfect as we watched the sun rise over the mountains, looked out across the jagged coastline and soaked up that great feeling of being on theroad water again.
As we moved further away from the coast, in order to cut across the mouth of some wide bays, our serenity was interrupted by a sudden whipping up of the waves.
We were never in any danger (except for when the boatmen tried to light their cigarettes using the petrol tank as shelter...) but the next few hours turned into one long salty shower as the boat bobbed its way north.
Every wave we went over, another bucket-load of water was chucked in our faces. So much so that we were soon literally soaked to the skin with water dripping off our chins and goosebumps all over. It was pretty farcical for a while, without ever being too unpleasant.
During one well-timed lull, Lottie and I asked to use the loo. The loo being the sea.
One of the boatmen, obviously a past master at protecting female modesty, quickly erected a tarpaulin sheet at the back of the boat to shelter us from the eyes of our fellow passengers.
And so it came to pass that I was required to stand next to my girlfriend of barely four months, watching her moon and wee out the back of a boat into the West Philippine Sea.
On such foundations are relationships built.
Having endured a rocky ride, and with stinging salt-soaked lips and eyes, we were thankful to finally reach El Nido around lunchtime.
After a bit of pre-holiday research online, we'd chosen a place called Cadlao Resort just to the north of the small town. We got a tricycle from the beach where we'd been dropped off and then walked the last 200m or so around a rocky headland.
We arrived at Cadlao and found a perfectly-manicured little slice of paradise.
A series of bungalows bordered a lush garden studded with swaying palm trees. The path in the middle of the garden led down to a perfectly positioned bar/restaurant and, next to it, a stunning infinity pool that overlooked Cadlao Island:
And we've got to stay here for a whole week? Bummer.
The owner, a slightly surly French guy, wasn't the most genial host but his staff buzzed around offering perfect service. We drank fresh pineapple juices and moreish cocktails, woke each morning to eat proper breakfasts of ham 'n eggs, and generally lived like kings. It was great.
The town itself wasn't the prettiest we visited but it grew on us over time. Essentially one long main street packed full of tourist-tat shops, tour guides and massage parlours, but at least it was easy to find what you were after.
On the first evening we headed to the Art Cafe, as recommended in the guide books, and booked an island-hopping tour for the following day. We had our first alcoholic drinks in a few days (didn't really fancy it in Sabang or Port Barton) and went for a tasty meal of fish-cooked-3-ways in the Salangane restaurant.
During our meal a cute bunch of school kids came in and sang us a couple of Christmas carols. We were barely into December but it was becoming a Filipino theme: they love a bit of Christmas.
After our snorkelling adventures in Port Barton we were in the mood for the Art Cafe's imaginatively-titled Tour A - a boat trip to several of the islands in the stunning Bacuit Archipelago.
The following morning, after another top-notch breakfast of proper thick-cut ham and fried eggs, we set off on a large bangka catamaran to the first of the day's snorkelling spots: the small lagoon.
We'd already had a first peek at some of the Jurassic-like islands of the archipelago during our arrival by boat in El Nido, but this was a chance to see the jagged rocks up close. As we motored across the blue sea towards Miniloc Island several of the archipelago's other islands came into view:
The boat dropped us next to a shallow bed of coral that Kate and I gingerly floated over, fearing impalement on the spiky reef below. We were soon at the mouth of the small lagoon and swam through a small opening in the rocks.
Inside, we found a spectacular jade-coloured lake surrounded by soaring dark slate-coloured rocks:
The visibility underwater wasn't great, but by this time I'd forgotten my childhood fear of The Deep, and got on with enjoying swimming around in such a still, atmospheric place.
Small lagoon done, and after another enjoyable 10 minutes in the boat we were dropped off by a reef next to a school of tiny flying fish.
This was my favourite snorkel spot of the holiday. We swam over incredibly colourful reefs, the coral twisting and turning in strange shapes below us. Dozens and dozens of different sized and shaped tropical fish flitted in and out of the coral.
After 20 minutes of cinematic viewing under the sea, one of the tour guides suddenly shouted 'turtle!'
We quickly front-crawled it over just in time to see a large yellow-grey turtle swimming off into the deep, its 'wings' flapping gently as it disappeared into the dark blue sea. An amazing sight.
The appearance of pawikan (the Philippine word for a sea turtle) really made my day, but there were other memorable moments to come.
Firstly, our lunch spot provided one of those 'pinch me' moments. We were taken to an amazingly picturesque white sand beach that was enclosed by the now-familiar Bacuit dark rock faces.
The boatmen rustled up our lunch of pork kebabs, freshly-caught fish, salad and rice as we spent an hour chilling on the sand, taking the occasional dip in the sea to swim with fish, and gazing out over the stunning archipelago.
As lunch hours go, this would take some beating.
The afternoon started with a trip to the small lagoon's older brother: the big lagoon (Filipinos might need to work on these names).
We rounded a corner of an island in our bangka and saw a spectacular valley ahead of us, a valley formed of two steep banks of rock with an emerald river of water running through it.
We later picked up some postcards that featured a similar picture on the front. Clearly something to write home about.
As the water levels were low we left the boat at the mouth of the valley and waded down towards the large lagoon.
Along the way, the tour guides pointed out large black shapes under the water. Sea urchins. And not your normal sea urchins either. These were large, spiky, venomous urchins that were waiting for their next unsuspecting victim to step on them.
At one point, Kate went to take a picture of the urchins but suddenly felt the current pushing her towards the spikes. I managed to reach, grab and pull her back before she got too close.
I know, what a hero.
The final stopping point was 7 Commando Island, named after 7 wartime commandos who lived on the island. The long stretch of beach had minimal shade, not ideal after a day spent in the blazing sun and with the vestiges of prickly heat still causing me bother.
We bought an ice tea and a Choco Mucho bar (think Lion Bar mixed with Toffee Crisp) and went and perched on a path above the beach as we waited for our boat back to El Nido.
It was a great day, the sort of day I wanted to visit the Philippines for.
The following day we had some relaxation time by the pool before hiring a tandem kayak from a nearby restaurant. We only had an hour or two before dark, so we took the kayak out into Bacuit Bay and paddled in the stifling heat across to Cadlao Island - the towering peak that we gazed at every day from our resort.
At one point we tied the kayak onto a stray tree branch that stuck out from a rock. I intended to finally put my new goggles to the test and dive in, but chickened out when Kate pointed out that 'getting in will be harder than getting out'. With a moving swell of water knocking the boat about, I decided to stay in.
I know, what a loser.
That night we went back to Art Cafe to check on the status of Typhoon Pablo, a 'super typhoon' that we'd heard about after clocking this sign the previous day:
Some tour guides were still advertising boat trips for the following day, despite the predictions that the eye of Pablo would be hitting less than 24hrs later. We umm-ed and arr-ed for a while before falling for the patter of one particular tour guide who insisted there would be no problem.
The following morning we met him and soon realised he was not really a tour guide at all - more a middleman who picks tourists up and takes them to a tour guide (while getting a small cut for himself presumably). Whatever.
We had another great day - this time taking in the islands of Tour C (Filipinos really need to work on some of these names).
The trip started with an hour's journey across the sea to Calmung Island. At times it was a rocky crossing, and I kept checking the faces of the boatmen to see if I could sense any Pablo-induced panic, but no - this was par for the course.
Around Calmung we visited three spots. The first, Secret Beach, was reached by swimming through a small gap in a wall of rock. Inside we found a shallow pool with a small curve of beach behind it.
Now, did you know that Secret Beach is rumoured to have been the inspiration for Alex Garland's novel The Beach, which he wrote when staying in El Nido?
Well there you go. Phileas Foges: bringing you useful pub quiz trivia since 2011.
Next, we went further down the coast of Calmung before stopping at yet another idyllic white sand beach for yet another memorable lunch. While the boatmen got to work on the fire and preparing some stylishly-presented food....
...I went for a snorkel.
I wasn't far from the shore when I felt a sting on my forearm. I saw a thin, snaking hair-like jellyfish swimming next to me and immediately turned and swam back to the beach. It had wrapped itself around my arm and zapped me a few times.
Fortunately I didn't need to ask Lottie to squat over my arm and pee on me (a four-month relationship is a bit early for watersports) as the boatmen had some vinegar that I dabbed on the stings. By the time we ate lunch, the pain had almost gone.
After lunch we visited an abandoned monastery, which also had a fantastic viewpoint positioned just above it:
The penultimate stop was to hidden beach, a cute curve of sand tucked behind wall of rock. In front of the beach was a shallow inlet where we did some more snorkelling.
At one point a Territorial fish (its actual name) looked me in the eye and bolted straight for me. I jumped up and probably squealed like a girl. Over a 6-inch fish.
Terratorial fish - all black or all white - were common in the archipelago and one had nipped one of our fellow day-trippers earlier in the day.
On the way home, once we'd got over another bumpy crossing, we were taken to the iconic Helicopter Island. As far as spotting fish went, the snorkelling there topped anything we'd seen before.
The visibility was spectacular, allowing us to gaze down 15-20 metres to the seabed and take in the amazing variety of life below the surface. We saw more of the strange chimney-like coral we'd seen before, huge schools of vividly-coloured fish, some large barracudas and more.
We could have stayed for hours, but were soon being beckoned back to the boat for the journey home. Another unforgettable island-hopping experience in the Philippines. What a country.
The following day, our penultimate one in El Nido, was Typhoon Pablo day.
We'd been checking the progress of Pablo on the internet and read that it had already claimed hundreds of lives in the southern Philippines and was now barrelling its way across the Suso Sea towards Palawan. And the eye was heading to north Palawan, to El Nido.
The forecast was specific: it was due to hit mid-afternoon. That morning at breakfast the storm clouds had already gathered and Cadlao Island, normally so resplendent across the bay, was looking a bit sorry for itself:
The French owner of the resort assured us that we'd be safe in our concrete bungalows, but to sit tight during the '4-5 hours' of the storm and not venture out. Many people had been killed by flying debris in the south and neither of us fancied getting chopped in half by a piece of corrugated iron.
After breakfast the resort staff packed away anything from the exposed bar area that wasn't bolted down, I went and got some supplies from the shop (Pringles, biscuits and water - what more does a human need?) and prepared to bed in.
And what happened next?
Well, not a huge amount. The rain continued, the strong wind shook the palm trees and the odd object was blown about, but that was it.
Towards the end of the afternoon we saw the owner and his wife back at the bar. We ventured out to ask what the news was, and found out that the storm had blown south of El Nido just before hitting Palawan.
There were some people at our resort who had left El Nido to travel south to Puerto Princesa that morning, fearing that they would have been trapped in the north. In the event, they were heading straight for the eye of the storm...
Having managed to avoid being swept out to sea by typhoon winds, or being garotted by a flying roof, we resumed our holiday in paradise. As you were then.
Instead of taking a relatively arduous trip by boat to Coron Town in the north of Palawan (on the same island as the airport from which we'd booked a flight back to Manila), we decided to spend an extra day in El Nido and fly direct from there back to the capital.
Unfortunately Cadlao Resort was full so we transferred to the El Nido Garden Resort just down the road. It was similarly-priced, had a pool, amazing views out onto the bay and a decent room. The weird thing was that there didn't seem to be any other guests.
We had the huge swimming pool to ourselves all day. And what do two people do when they have a swimming pool to themselves all day?
They take stupid pictures of themselves jumping in:
The final night we went back to the Alternative restaurant in town, where I had yet another fish curry. Couldn't get enough.
In the morning we made our way to the airport on a tricycle - a 15 minute ride up and down hills, past fields and via the odd bouncy bridge.
We got to the airport entrance gate, were met by a security guard who walkie-talkied our names to someone at the airport building, got approval, and continued on by tricycle.
El Nido and the Bacuit Archipelago have everything the discerning tourist needs: beautiful beaches, stunning seas, friendly people and more than enough boat trips and activities to fill a week or two. What it doesn't have is the infrastructure to get people there.
And so we drove on a bumpy dirt track next to a spanking new runway, under construction but opening within the next year in order to start accepting major flights from Manila and beyond.
Go now before the secret gets out!
In a couple of years people will be bussed in to a sizeable airport terminal for their onward flight. We were dropped off in front of the current 'terminal':
It was effectively an open-sided over-sized hut. We were met by a couple of guys in uniform who weighed us, weighed and hand-searched our bags, gave us some boarding passes and that was it. We were checked in.
As we waited for the other eight passengers, plus our plane, to arrive we were served some tasty sticky rice rolls - served in a rice leaf - alongside our holiday favourite: ice tea.
There are many reasons why El Nido airport is a bit different from the Heathrows, JFKs and Naritas of this world. There are no jostling queues, no security gates, no screaming babies or endless PA announcements.
What there is is a beach that you can walk to as you wait for your plane to arrive. Yes, a beach.
We wandered the 50 metres or so down to the shore, past a couple of buses that were waiting for guests from Manila:
At the beach, deserted except for one lone man, we found yet another Filipino scene that had 'postcard pic' written all over it. A rickety pier stretching out into turquoise seas and a moody multi-coloured sky rumbling overhead:
As a final Palawan scene, it was just about perfect.
Before long our plane had arrived and the incoming guests were welcomed with a traditional Filipino song. I hope they didn't mind me joining in:
I love plane travel, and small planes have a particular thrill for me. The fact you can see the pilots in the cockpit, and see what they see out of the windscreen, makes for an exhilarating ride.
Poor Lottie doesn't take too kindly to flying but she overcame her nerves and we were soon up in the air, looking down at Palawan. It's a region that ticked every one of our boxes, and more.
With a flight back to London the following day, we knew we'd only have a brief time to get to know Manila. But that was ok - the holiday wasn't about city living for us, it was about beaches, boats, fish and islands. We'd had our fill of those.
After circling Manila bay for what seemed an eternity, we finally landed on the airstrip and taxied to a small hangar owned by our flight company, ITI.
They'd obviously got wind of my arrival and, as is custom, rolled out the red carpet for Phileas Foges:
That's how I roll.
We'd found our hotel online, and what a good find it turned out to be. The Bayleaf was positioned perfectly in the old Spanish colonial district of Intramuros.
It had recently opened, was served by impeccably friendly staff, and our attractive room afforded views over the old district walls and the inner city golf course. The view from the roof was just as good:
After we'd checked in we took a walk round Intramuros. It felt a bit of a culture shock to be back in a busy, bustling city after the lazy fortnight we'd just had on Palawan. We bought a snack at that bastion of Asian retail - 7 Eleven - and went and sat on the ramparts of the old town wall.
In the evening, dressed in trousers for the first time in days, we left the hotel with the intention of heading downtown for one final big night out. It was Friday night, after all.
The next hour was probably not one to linger long in the memory. Well, not for the right reasons anyway.
Traffic is a major problem in Manila. And that's probably the biggest understatement I've made in a while. Traffic is a joke in Manila.
We needed to get a cab to another district - Elmina, if memory serves - but no matter how many street corners we stood on, how many queues we stood in, how many desperate thumbs we held out, we were destined not to get one.
With our luck out, my mood turning, my temperature rising, we decided to head back to the hotel and cut our loses. But then, at last, a vacant cab came into view so we nabbed it and jumped in.
I think something then proceeded to be lost in translation, as the cabbie seemed to take us somewhere different from our intended direction - but hey, it's Asia, we're on holiday, who cares?
We were dropped at a mega mall which was gloriously air-conditioned and full of restaurants to sate our by-now ravenous appetites.
We decided on a faux Greek taverna and had a final evening meal before heading back in a cab that appeared to be driven by Eminem's long-lost Filipino brother.
A scowl, a beanie, a sleeve tattoo and a driving style that consistently raised his blood pressure as he honked his horn, tailgated cars and shouted at drivers - and it didn't do ours much good either.
In the morning we decided to take it easy and went for a walk in the sticky heat. We first went to Rizal Park, a much-needed slice of green among the throng of urban Manila:
Afterwards, we somehow ended back at that the same mall we'd visited the previous evening. I gorged on a huge crepe, Kate bought some presents, we queued again for a non-existent taxi, and that was that.
On the way home we dropped in on one of Manila's most famous landmarks, the Manila Hotel:
Once back at the hotel we picked up our bags, and got in our pre-booked (hurrah!) taxi to the airport.
It wouldn't have felt like Manila had the five mile journey not taken almost two hours, due to one of the most ridiculous traffic jams either of us had ever been in. Good job we'd left loads of time to get our flight.
At the airport, we paid about £10 to use a private lounge. My first experience of an airport lounge, and a necessary choice as we were both in desperate need of a shower.
Refreshed, clean and fed (in my case, probably over-fed), we got on our plane home.
The route - Manila, Taipei, Amsterdam, London - was the same as two weeks earlier, and similarly without much incident. A few more films watched, a fourth book of the holiday finished, a few more meals devoured, and before long London's familiar skyline came into view:
1. Manila and Sabang
2. Port Barton
We had two choices to get to El Nido in the north of Palawan: boat or van.
After our first week's experience on boats (amazing views, chilled-out boatmen, good shade from the sun, peaceful), the van option (mosquito-ridden, bumpy, propensity to drive off side of cliff) came a poor second.
The journey from Port Barton to El Nido was billed as a pleasant 5-6 hour journey up the west coast; a journey that would start at 6am in order to give the boatmen time to return to Port Barton the same day.
Eight of us (three crew, plus Kevin, Sabina and a French guy) set off from a sleepy Port Barton just as the sun was showing its face.
Kate and I auditioning for Backstreet Boys: The Movie there.
The first hour or so was perfect as we watched the sun rise over the mountains, looked out across the jagged coastline and soaked up that great feeling of being on the
As we moved further away from the coast, in order to cut across the mouth of some wide bays, our serenity was interrupted by a sudden whipping up of the waves.
We were never in any danger (except for when the boatmen tried to light their cigarettes using the petrol tank as shelter...) but the next few hours turned into one long salty shower as the boat bobbed its way north.
Every wave we went over, another bucket-load of water was chucked in our faces. So much so that we were soon literally soaked to the skin with water dripping off our chins and goosebumps all over. It was pretty farcical for a while, without ever being too unpleasant.
During one well-timed lull, Lottie and I asked to use the loo. The loo being the sea.
One of the boatmen, obviously a past master at protecting female modesty, quickly erected a tarpaulin sheet at the back of the boat to shelter us from the eyes of our fellow passengers.
And so it came to pass that I was required to stand next to my girlfriend of barely four months, watching her moon and wee out the back of a boat into the West Philippine Sea.
On such foundations are relationships built.
Having endured a rocky ride, and with stinging salt-soaked lips and eyes, we were thankful to finally reach El Nido around lunchtime.
After a bit of pre-holiday research online, we'd chosen a place called Cadlao Resort just to the north of the small town. We got a tricycle from the beach where we'd been dropped off and then walked the last 200m or so around a rocky headland.
We arrived at Cadlao and found a perfectly-manicured little slice of paradise.
A series of bungalows bordered a lush garden studded with swaying palm trees. The path in the middle of the garden led down to a perfectly positioned bar/restaurant and, next to it, a stunning infinity pool that overlooked Cadlao Island:
The owner, a slightly surly French guy, wasn't the most genial host but his staff buzzed around offering perfect service. We drank fresh pineapple juices and moreish cocktails, woke each morning to eat proper breakfasts of ham 'n eggs, and generally lived like kings. It was great.
The town itself wasn't the prettiest we visited but it grew on us over time. Essentially one long main street packed full of tourist-tat shops, tour guides and massage parlours, but at least it was easy to find what you were after.
On the first evening we headed to the Art Cafe, as recommended in the guide books, and booked an island-hopping tour for the following day. We had our first alcoholic drinks in a few days (didn't really fancy it in Sabang or Port Barton) and went for a tasty meal of fish-cooked-3-ways in the Salangane restaurant.
During our meal a cute bunch of school kids came in and sang us a couple of Christmas carols. We were barely into December but it was becoming a Filipino theme: they love a bit of Christmas.
After our snorkelling adventures in Port Barton we were in the mood for the Art Cafe's imaginatively-titled Tour A - a boat trip to several of the islands in the stunning Bacuit Archipelago.
The following morning, after another top-notch breakfast of proper thick-cut ham and fried eggs, we set off on a large bangka catamaran to the first of the day's snorkelling spots: the small lagoon.
We'd already had a first peek at some of the Jurassic-like islands of the archipelago during our arrival by boat in El Nido, but this was a chance to see the jagged rocks up close. As we motored across the blue sea towards Miniloc Island several of the archipelago's other islands came into view:
The boat dropped us next to a shallow bed of coral that Kate and I gingerly floated over, fearing impalement on the spiky reef below. We were soon at the mouth of the small lagoon and swam through a small opening in the rocks.
Inside, we found a spectacular jade-coloured lake surrounded by soaring dark slate-coloured rocks:
The visibility underwater wasn't great, but by this time I'd forgotten my childhood fear of The Deep, and got on with enjoying swimming around in such a still, atmospheric place.
Small lagoon done, and after another enjoyable 10 minutes in the boat we were dropped off by a reef next to a school of tiny flying fish.
This was my favourite snorkel spot of the holiday. We swam over incredibly colourful reefs, the coral twisting and turning in strange shapes below us. Dozens and dozens of different sized and shaped tropical fish flitted in and out of the coral.
After 20 minutes of cinematic viewing under the sea, one of the tour guides suddenly shouted 'turtle!'
We quickly front-crawled it over just in time to see a large yellow-grey turtle swimming off into the deep, its 'wings' flapping gently as it disappeared into the dark blue sea. An amazing sight.
The appearance of pawikan (the Philippine word for a sea turtle) really made my day, but there were other memorable moments to come.
Firstly, our lunch spot provided one of those 'pinch me' moments. We were taken to an amazingly picturesque white sand beach that was enclosed by the now-familiar Bacuit dark rock faces.
As lunch hours go, this would take some beating.
The afternoon started with a trip to the small lagoon's older brother: the big lagoon (Filipinos might need to work on these names).
We rounded a corner of an island in our bangka and saw a spectacular valley ahead of us, a valley formed of two steep banks of rock with an emerald river of water running through it.
We later picked up some postcards that featured a similar picture on the front. Clearly something to write home about.
As the water levels were low we left the boat at the mouth of the valley and waded down towards the large lagoon.
Along the way, the tour guides pointed out large black shapes under the water. Sea urchins. And not your normal sea urchins either. These were large, spiky, venomous urchins that were waiting for their next unsuspecting victim to step on them.
At one point, Kate went to take a picture of the urchins but suddenly felt the current pushing her towards the spikes. I managed to reach, grab and pull her back before she got too close.
I know, what a hero.
The final stopping point was 7 Commando Island, named after 7 wartime commandos who lived on the island. The long stretch of beach had minimal shade, not ideal after a day spent in the blazing sun and with the vestiges of prickly heat still causing me bother.
We bought an ice tea and a Choco Mucho bar (think Lion Bar mixed with Toffee Crisp) and went and perched on a path above the beach as we waited for our boat back to El Nido.
It was a great day, the sort of day I wanted to visit the Philippines for.
The following day we had some relaxation time by the pool before hiring a tandem kayak from a nearby restaurant. We only had an hour or two before dark, so we took the kayak out into Bacuit Bay and paddled in the stifling heat across to Cadlao Island - the towering peak that we gazed at every day from our resort.
At one point we tied the kayak onto a stray tree branch that stuck out from a rock. I intended to finally put my new goggles to the test and dive in, but chickened out when Kate pointed out that 'getting in will be harder than getting out'. With a moving swell of water knocking the boat about, I decided to stay in.
I know, what a loser.
That night we went back to Art Cafe to check on the status of Typhoon Pablo, a 'super typhoon' that we'd heard about after clocking this sign the previous day:
Some tour guides were still advertising boat trips for the following day, despite the predictions that the eye of Pablo would be hitting less than 24hrs later. We umm-ed and arr-ed for a while before falling for the patter of one particular tour guide who insisted there would be no problem.
The following morning we met him and soon realised he was not really a tour guide at all - more a middleman who picks tourists up and takes them to a tour guide (while getting a small cut for himself presumably). Whatever.
We had another great day - this time taking in the islands of Tour C (Filipinos really need to work on some of these names).
The trip started with an hour's journey across the sea to Calmung Island. At times it was a rocky crossing, and I kept checking the faces of the boatmen to see if I could sense any Pablo-induced panic, but no - this was par for the course.
Around Calmung we visited three spots. The first, Secret Beach, was reached by swimming through a small gap in a wall of rock. Inside we found a shallow pool with a small curve of beach behind it.
Now, did you know that Secret Beach is rumoured to have been the inspiration for Alex Garland's novel The Beach, which he wrote when staying in El Nido?
Well there you go. Phileas Foges: bringing you useful pub quiz trivia since 2011.
Next, we went further down the coast of Calmung before stopping at yet another idyllic white sand beach for yet another memorable lunch. While the boatmen got to work on the fire and preparing some stylishly-presented food....
...I went for a snorkel.
I wasn't far from the shore when I felt a sting on my forearm. I saw a thin, snaking hair-like jellyfish swimming next to me and immediately turned and swam back to the beach. It had wrapped itself around my arm and zapped me a few times.
After lunch we visited an abandoned monastery, which also had a fantastic viewpoint positioned just above it:
The penultimate stop was to hidden beach, a cute curve of sand tucked behind wall of rock. In front of the beach was a shallow inlet where we did some more snorkelling.
At one point a Territorial fish (its actual name) looked me in the eye and bolted straight for me. I jumped up and probably squealed like a girl. Over a 6-inch fish.
Terratorial fish - all black or all white - were common in the archipelago and one had nipped one of our fellow day-trippers earlier in the day.
On the way home, once we'd got over another bumpy crossing, we were taken to the iconic Helicopter Island. As far as spotting fish went, the snorkelling there topped anything we'd seen before.
The visibility was spectacular, allowing us to gaze down 15-20 metres to the seabed and take in the amazing variety of life below the surface. We saw more of the strange chimney-like coral we'd seen before, huge schools of vividly-coloured fish, some large barracudas and more.
We could have stayed for hours, but were soon being beckoned back to the boat for the journey home. Another unforgettable island-hopping experience in the Philippines. What a country.
The following day, our penultimate one in El Nido, was Typhoon Pablo day.
We'd been checking the progress of Pablo on the internet and read that it had already claimed hundreds of lives in the southern Philippines and was now barrelling its way across the Suso Sea towards Palawan. And the eye was heading to north Palawan, to El Nido.
The forecast was specific: it was due to hit mid-afternoon. That morning at breakfast the storm clouds had already gathered and Cadlao Island, normally so resplendent across the bay, was looking a bit sorry for itself:
The French owner of the resort assured us that we'd be safe in our concrete bungalows, but to sit tight during the '4-5 hours' of the storm and not venture out. Many people had been killed by flying debris in the south and neither of us fancied getting chopped in half by a piece of corrugated iron.
After breakfast the resort staff packed away anything from the exposed bar area that wasn't bolted down, I went and got some supplies from the shop (Pringles, biscuits and water - what more does a human need?) and prepared to bed in.
And what happened next?
Well, not a huge amount. The rain continued, the strong wind shook the palm trees and the odd object was blown about, but that was it.
Towards the end of the afternoon we saw the owner and his wife back at the bar. We ventured out to ask what the news was, and found out that the storm had blown south of El Nido just before hitting Palawan.
There were some people at our resort who had left El Nido to travel south to Puerto Princesa that morning, fearing that they would have been trapped in the north. In the event, they were heading straight for the eye of the storm...
Having managed to avoid being swept out to sea by typhoon winds, or being garotted by a flying roof, we resumed our holiday in paradise. As you were then.
Instead of taking a relatively arduous trip by boat to Coron Town in the north of Palawan (on the same island as the airport from which we'd booked a flight back to Manila), we decided to spend an extra day in El Nido and fly direct from there back to the capital.
Unfortunately Cadlao Resort was full so we transferred to the El Nido Garden Resort just down the road. It was similarly-priced, had a pool, amazing views out onto the bay and a decent room. The weird thing was that there didn't seem to be any other guests.
We had the huge swimming pool to ourselves all day. And what do two people do when they have a swimming pool to themselves all day?
They take stupid pictures of themselves jumping in:
The final night we went back to the Alternative restaurant in town, where I had yet another fish curry. Couldn't get enough.
In the morning we made our way to the airport on a tricycle - a 15 minute ride up and down hills, past fields and via the odd bouncy bridge.
We got to the airport entrance gate, were met by a security guard who walkie-talkied our names to someone at the airport building, got approval, and continued on by tricycle.
El Nido and the Bacuit Archipelago have everything the discerning tourist needs: beautiful beaches, stunning seas, friendly people and more than enough boat trips and activities to fill a week or two. What it doesn't have is the infrastructure to get people there.
And so we drove on a bumpy dirt track next to a spanking new runway, under construction but opening within the next year in order to start accepting major flights from Manila and beyond.
Go now before the secret gets out!
In a couple of years people will be bussed in to a sizeable airport terminal for their onward flight. We were dropped off in front of the current 'terminal':
It was effectively an open-sided over-sized hut. We were met by a couple of guys in uniform who weighed us, weighed and hand-searched our bags, gave us some boarding passes and that was it. We were checked in.
As we waited for the other eight passengers, plus our plane, to arrive we were served some tasty sticky rice rolls - served in a rice leaf - alongside our holiday favourite: ice tea.
There are many reasons why El Nido airport is a bit different from the Heathrows, JFKs and Naritas of this world. There are no jostling queues, no security gates, no screaming babies or endless PA announcements.
What there is is a beach that you can walk to as you wait for your plane to arrive. Yes, a beach.
We wandered the 50 metres or so down to the shore, past a couple of buses that were waiting for guests from Manila:
At the beach, deserted except for one lone man, we found yet another Filipino scene that had 'postcard pic' written all over it. A rickety pier stretching out into turquoise seas and a moody multi-coloured sky rumbling overhead:
As a final Palawan scene, it was just about perfect.
Before long our plane had arrived and the incoming guests were welcomed with a traditional Filipino song. I hope they didn't mind me joining in:
I love plane travel, and small planes have a particular thrill for me. The fact you can see the pilots in the cockpit, and see what they see out of the windscreen, makes for an exhilarating ride.
Poor Lottie doesn't take too kindly to flying but she overcame her nerves and we were soon up in the air, looking down at Palawan. It's a region that ticked every one of our boxes, and more.
With a flight back to London the following day, we knew we'd only have a brief time to get to know Manila. But that was ok - the holiday wasn't about city living for us, it was about beaches, boats, fish and islands. We'd had our fill of those.
After circling Manila bay for what seemed an eternity, we finally landed on the airstrip and taxied to a small hangar owned by our flight company, ITI.
They'd obviously got wind of my arrival and, as is custom, rolled out the red carpet for Phileas Foges:
That's how I roll.
We'd found our hotel online, and what a good find it turned out to be. The Bayleaf was positioned perfectly in the old Spanish colonial district of Intramuros.
It had recently opened, was served by impeccably friendly staff, and our attractive room afforded views over the old district walls and the inner city golf course. The view from the roof was just as good:
After we'd checked in we took a walk round Intramuros. It felt a bit of a culture shock to be back in a busy, bustling city after the lazy fortnight we'd just had on Palawan. We bought a snack at that bastion of Asian retail - 7 Eleven - and went and sat on the ramparts of the old town wall.
In the evening, dressed in trousers for the first time in days, we left the hotel with the intention of heading downtown for one final big night out. It was Friday night, after all.
The next hour was probably not one to linger long in the memory. Well, not for the right reasons anyway.
Traffic is a major problem in Manila. And that's probably the biggest understatement I've made in a while. Traffic is a joke in Manila.
We needed to get a cab to another district - Elmina, if memory serves - but no matter how many street corners we stood on, how many queues we stood in, how many desperate thumbs we held out, we were destined not to get one.
With our luck out, my mood turning, my temperature rising, we decided to head back to the hotel and cut our loses. But then, at last, a vacant cab came into view so we nabbed it and jumped in.
I think something then proceeded to be lost in translation, as the cabbie seemed to take us somewhere different from our intended direction - but hey, it's Asia, we're on holiday, who cares?
We were dropped at a mega mall which was gloriously air-conditioned and full of restaurants to sate our by-now ravenous appetites.
We decided on a faux Greek taverna and had a final evening meal before heading back in a cab that appeared to be driven by Eminem's long-lost Filipino brother.
A scowl, a beanie, a sleeve tattoo and a driving style that consistently raised his blood pressure as he honked his horn, tailgated cars and shouted at drivers - and it didn't do ours much good either.
In the morning we decided to take it easy and went for a walk in the sticky heat. We first went to Rizal Park, a much-needed slice of green among the throng of urban Manila:
Afterwards, we somehow ended back at that the same mall we'd visited the previous evening. I gorged on a huge crepe, Kate bought some presents, we queued again for a non-existent taxi, and that was that.
On the way home we dropped in on one of Manila's most famous landmarks, the Manila Hotel:
Once back at the hotel we picked up our bags, and got in our pre-booked (hurrah!) taxi to the airport.
It wouldn't have felt like Manila had the five mile journey not taken almost two hours, due to one of the most ridiculous traffic jams either of us had ever been in. Good job we'd left loads of time to get our flight.
At the airport, we paid about £10 to use a private lounge. My first experience of an airport lounge, and a necessary choice as we were both in desperate need of a shower.
Refreshed, clean and fed (in my case, probably over-fed), we got on our plane home.
The route - Manila, Taipei, Amsterdam, London - was the same as two weeks earlier, and similarly without much incident. A few more films watched, a fourth book of the holiday finished, a few more meals devoured, and before long London's familiar skyline came into view:
