The Unseen Monster of the Pacific

The unseen monster of the Pacific

The huge black monster whines like a bull in rage!

Back in 2005, our group of close friends went on a planned picnic in Cagbalete Island of Mauban, Quezon. The island was then being groomed as the Boracay of Quezon Province what with its white sandy shore and the vast Pacific Island surrounding it.

Having stayed in Mauban shore for some time for a short vacation, I learned by heart the unique characteristic of the Pacific. At nighttime the sea was always roaring. I feared for the coming of the tsunami. My fear for the unseen vanished as Maubanons assured me tsunami cannot come to their town. A small island right in front of the town stands guard. A tsunami if ever it comes will melt as it smashes against the island before reaching the municipality.

We know the Pacific Ocean is always angry. As I sleep on a friend’s house near the shore, I  hear the loud thunderous waves as it strikes the big stones on the shore. As if it is coming to wash everything on its path. It gradually diminishes its squelch as it carries far out its strength leaving the shore behind.

But taking a stroll in the farm of my friend near the shore reveals some concern. The coconut trees that lined off the shore were leaning their tops almost touching the ground. The sea almost swallowed the soil that covers the tree roots on high tide. The roots are like Medusa’s snake hair reaching out trying to bite off all mortals.

Anytime when strong typhoon comes, the trees will fall down. The roots could no longer hold the weight of the tall coconut trees.

We started early on a hired jeepney from Tayabas to Mauban town market where the pier was. It was here where we would start our journey.

The sea was calm as we began sailing smoothly on a small passenger boat with a capacity of 20. The sun was rising in the East. Looking back, the speck of house-covered Mauban gradually vanished from sight. On the left we saw the power plant tower. Docked on its shore nearby was a long cargo ship that contained black coal that is processed into gasoline somewhere among the rich countries.

Farther away onward, the shadow of awesome Cagbalete Island came into view. It appeared as layers of colors blue, green, white, and blue. It was a great color combination. It is like a story that starts with blue and ends with blue.

The topmost layer displayed the clear blue sky on morning calm. No clouds appeared to fleet by. A flock of falcons flew high with their piercing eyes examining the sea down. Anytime they swooped down on the water for fishes.

The second layer was actually the green leaves of the coconut trees and other plants that grow in the island. They serve as the source of food of the inhabitants and the animals there.

The long stretch of white sand on the beach is the third layer. It is accented with colorful tents  that the picnickers use on their picnic and other gatherings.

The lowermost layer was the blue ocean heaving with its crest and trough as the fishes somersaulted near the fishermen’s boats.

As our banca reached the shore of the island a little later, we saw children having some fun on the water. They were toying on a baby shark circling in the water as its snout was pierced on a long fish line so it could not escape.

We stayed on a small red tent that covered a concrete table and concrete benches. It missed the shadow of an old tall mango tree nearby. Some of its roots were exposed as the water reached it on high tide thus washing away the soil and sand from them. I wonder how long the tree could endure the constant washing of the sea.

Having settled under the tent, two of our young male companions started gathering dry tree branches washed away on the water from the neighboring islands and now lying on the white sand. We needed firewood for our pandan-scented white rice.

Linda and Mayang cooked our rice. Eric and Dennis had the grill prepared ready for our fish and pork barbecue. Michael chopped the ripe tomatoes, garlic, and onions. He also set calamansi and fish sauce as dip for the barbecue.

Floating in the air was Paul Anka’s music on the little stereo that Mayang brought with her. The music was mesmerizing as some of us looked for a good place to nap. The shadows of the coconut trees provided it. Their fronds sounded metallic with the strong wind. The adventurous took a dip in the shallow part of the water. They soaked their bodies glistening in the sun as they played in the clear blue sea.

We had a hearty boodle fight on banana leaves that lay on the clean part of the sand under the mango tree. The sun was highest on the horizon. It was scorching hot that even the white sand could cook eggs. The barbecued fish and pork were our superstars. We almost ran out of rice but we were all already satisfied.

After a brief rest, a friend Johnny living in the island called us for souvenir hunting in the white sand. He wanted to gift us with noteworthy souvenirs. With a wooden stick, he groped on the sand as we followed him. He carefully walked with the stick stabbing the white sand.

Johnny stopped when he felt something under the soft sand. He shoveled the sand with his hands and raised a dirty white sea shell as big as an old man’s palm.

All this time, my companions were collecting interesting sea objects on the sand. Until, everybody had souvenirs on their hands. Johnny gave me the sea shell he just unearthed, still dirty with sand. Groping on the sand, he excavated five more shells hiding under.

On his last stop, our friend struggled to dig what appeared to be the largest sea shell in the area that time. I remembered the Shell Philippines logo at the gasoline stations. Really it was huge.

Johnny looked around to find where I was and gave me the largest shell. I felt I was the most powerful in the group as I decided on the shell.

I was very glad I had the biggest sea shell for myself. The group accepted my luck. I gave away the smaller shells to others.

The biggest sea shell was heavy but since I liked it I sacrificed carrying it. I bought three big plastic bags in the nearest sarisari store in the area for my sea shell. Now I could carry it easily.

We felt very elated with our souvenirs from the Island. We did not feel tired and weak. We contented ourselves feeling our souvenirs with our touch.

We started to leave the area at 4 pm when the sun was setting and the air becoming colder. The last banca on its last trip was waiting near the shore. Barefoot, one by one we carefully stepped up the slippery wet wooden plank leaning on the banca while the other end pierced on the sand. We gripped the board surface with our feet.

Our carefulness was not enough to avoid getting wet. The frisky splash of the bouncy water soaked our bodies nevertheless.

I put my heavy sea shell on the bottom of the boat. It might hurt anyone when the sea turns rough.

My friends had their souvenirs on their laps. Anyway they were light.

When everybody was seated well, our gasoline-fueled motor boat sailed away back to civilization. The sea was very calm. And darkness was setting in to hide the turbulent water.

But just a little about 10 minutes later after our banca left the shore, our most horrible sea nightmare came. The vast ocean suddenly swell like Moses’ sea turning itself into a gigantic black monster whining like an angry bull seemingly tossing our banca like a paper boat.  From the boat side, the rising black sea was like colossal ocean wall where our banca was fastened. We didn’t know how long our banca hung there.

Our banca struggled through a high wall of black whining ocean as tall as our basilica back home. Around our boat, the sea kept rolling and rolling mightily with all sorts of debris. I felt the splash of salty water on my face. We thought it was our terrifying end.

We were afraid the sea might engulf us. We would be lost in the deep. Nobody would see our dead bodies anymore. What a chilling end for all of us.

Our banca seemed permanently clamped on the Pacific waters. It couldn’t even slightly move. A titanic passenger ship passed by a few meters away. Its passengers were looking at us. But it did not bother to stop and ask what was happening to us. It quickly disappeared from view the way it suddenly appeared a while ago.

We saw farther right the tall light house with its flickering light.  Our boat kept on sailing trying to pass by. But it seemed it would take us eternity before reaching the distant Mauban shore. It did not change our distance from the light house. We kept asking ourselves if ever we would still reach home.

In fright the girls in the group threw their soaked bodies on the floor of the boat, crying hysterically. Some prayed asking Jesus, all the angels, and all the saints etc. for help.

Through all this, the pilot of the boat was very quiet as he kept his hands on the wheel to avoid an overturn. He was strong and brave not showing any sign of fright.

In the dark, the bulging black sea was still in rage and kept whining. In the distant shore, flickering lights from houses and street lamps in Mauban were like stars. We even heard small voices of children playing on the street. That meant we really were very near the town. Only our banca couldn’t get through the waves.

We were travelling through eternity in the complete darkness. We hardly saw each other. But we heard prayers and cries from our girl companions sprawled on the floor. We thought Jesus and the angels and the saints forgot us.

Then we suddenly realized we were near the harbor. Our banca was struggling amid large waves to inch toward the dock. Then we felt our banca hit the wooden dock. Our pilot threw a big rope on the male attendants on the pier. Their big shouts faded and lost on the angry sea.

We were all so weak. We couldn’t stand and walk. We helped each other with our souvenirs still in our grips.

The banca pilot wondered, “I could not understand why the sea became so rough.”

In the hired jeepney that was waiting for us, we returned to Tayabas. The souvenirs were lying on the floor of the jeepney being driven by my kumpare who is the father of my godson.  A girl companion said, “Maybe the goddess got angry because we carried with us items from the sea.” And she trembled.

We turned back lloking at the turbulent sea. We spontaneously addressed the sea in unison, “We are sorry we brought something from you without asking you. Please allow us to bring them home. We will take care of them.”

After we said our regret, it seemed the sea calmed down. Travelling back home was another trickery trip.  The zigzag road was dark as no electric street lamps lit the way. We passed through a little river that has water. I remember the goddess in the sea. It might meet us on the way to show her wrath.

We kept on praying until we reached Tayabas. One by one the jeepney carried us up to the doors of our houses. I easily put my souvenir in the kitchen to clean. I put it in the garden the next day.

I thank the goddess of the sea for allowing us to reach home safe.