I made the decision next morning, I will go to Basilan to accomplish what I set out to do… and that is to reach the farthest that I can south on a motorcycle. I paused for a while to plan for what I’m about to do. I can just spend a couple of hours at the capital city of Isabela, go around some populated spots then ride back to the port and take the next RORO going back to Zamboanga. I felt like my plan was solid… until I got to the port.
The first night I arrived at the island of Mindanao an old lady from Surigao asked me where I intend to go. I told her “I will try to reach the farthest that I can here in Mindanao. That would most probably mean I would have to go to Zamboanga.” She was very surprised and cautioned me, “Do not go there! There are a lot of bombings and terrorist activities that happens there.” Instead of becoming afraid I got more curious and wondered if this old lady has actually visited Zamboanga or she is just reiterating what is being broadcasted on the news.
I went back to gather my gear to leave the place as I’m losing light fast, it would be hard for me to navigate at night. A man from a nearby house came up to the store and started asking questions about me. He said he overheard me speak in Tagalog and that is a rare occurrence on places like this. He concluded that I’m not from nearby. As always I told him my story and my journey. He smiled and said it was really brave of me to venture out this far. Then he casually invited me to join them for a beer.
I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. As I open my tent all you can see was the vast ocean with a few fishing boats darting the horizon. It felt like I was at the edge of the world and that this is the final frontier for me… but obviously not yet, it just felt like that.
By this time I was so used to the idea of inter-island travel taking an hour or more. When someone told me that I can go to Samal island in less than 15 minutes, I was a bit skeptical. So I decided to check it out of it’s true.
I recently had a conversation with a friend that me and JC had, he is now working at the admitting section of a tertiary hospital, he told me that 94% of the motorcycle that they admit are caused by self accident. A huge percentage of that is due to alcohol intoxication while riding.
There’s a reason I don’t attend motorcycle related events that often. Once you have been to one it feels like you have been to all of them. It usually goes like this, loud music in a small area with bored half naked women either sitting or standing beside a gorgeous motorcycle surrounded by sober to not so sober men.
I got a text message from one of my friends late at night. He is one of those people that would only message you if it’s really important. I know that this is something that I should give attention to, I looked at my phone and read the message. It was short and direct and it said “JC is gone.” At first I was confused, there are a couple of JC’s that we both know and I was not sure who he was referring to and what he meant by the word “gone”. I decided to call him up to clarify what the message meant, after 3 rings he picked up and told me which “JC” he was referring to, then the call ended.
I rarely get a message on Instagram. What’s more unusual was, it was a lady that looked like a model. Honestly, at first I was hesitant to even open the message, scams and bots typically use images of beautiful women to entice you to click on a link. The next thing you know you’re having issues with your account or worse your computer.
This is my cousin that I have only met for the first time. I wanted to take a photo of him in the most natural way possible. For some strange reason I just blurted out “Who’s your favorite superhero?” He said with a very big smile on his face “Ironman!”.