But something else was ablaze that night. The reason why we were in a banca at night was because of the "Fireflies tour." When we finally reached the river, one of the trees was literally alight. A natural Christmas tree in April! There were dozens, nope, hundreds, of fireflies swarming around one tree, desperately trying to pass on his chromosomes. At first the blinking was random but there were occasions when about half the fireflies were turning their beacons on and off in synchrony. We have fireflies where we live but the sight was still jaw-dropping. We spent about an hour in the river, moving upstream to view some other trees ablaze in firefly glory, before heading back to the resort.
The Donsol light show was not over yet however. The mouth of the river was heavily silted so the boatman had to jump overboard and drag the banca. That's when we saw the coolest thing. The boatman's legs were half immersed and they turned green! They were literally glowing! I realized then that on the way to the river we could see the waves, which I just attributed to moonlight (which was stupid because there was no moon) and starlight (nope, too dark). The phosphoresence was obviously due to some microscopic life form in the seawater that emitted light when disturbed by movement. My son said that seeing the legs of the boatmen glowing green was his favorite experience that night.
The main reason for going to Donsol is of course, Rhincodon typus, or the whale shark. This was voted TIME magazines best animal encounter of the year. Tourism is carefully controlled. One needs to register and pay at the Butanding Interaction Center - P3,500 for the boat, spotters and Butanding Interaction Officer (BIO), and P100 per local guest, P300 per foreigner. While lining up at the office I noticed that most of the tourists were Caucasian. Some were giddily recounting the previous day's whale shark adventures, and like children, went back for more.
The tour started with a the BIO giving a very short lecture while we viewed the first sharks (actually just the dorsal fins) from afar. We were instructed to jump only when told to do so, apparently to avoid the banca's propellers from food-processing our heads. When we saw the next dorsal fin, the excitement builded up. We felt like like parachuters on a maiden jump, all decked out in fins, life vest, goggles and snorkel (they don't allow scuba gear by the way). We jumped one by one and looked down into the water while floating. That's when I heard my daughter scream. Ooohh, this must be good!, I thought. I frantically searched for the monster but the best I got was a vague dark blob. With the encounter lasting only some seconds, only my daughter saw the shark that time. Disappointed, we readied ourselves for the next one which came soon enough. With anticipation at a fever pitch, we again jumped one after the other. Except the banca was still moving rapidly and my son, who jumped after me, landed right on top of my head. Still disoriented, with my mask and snorkel askew and rapidly filling up with seawater, I felt the BIO pulling me ahead to catch the shark, but again we were too late. Oh well, back to the boat.
After about half an hour of cruising, the spotters saw one again. The boat was expertly positioned along the shark's path and the order to jump was given. It was third time lucky. I peered down into the water for a few seconds, and then I saw it. I understood immediately what the hype and the screaming was all about. Below me was a seven-meter shimmering blue, spotted alien creature that looked like something from a Star Trek or Star Wars movie. The way the sunlight bounced off it gave it an otherworldly glow. I managed to take a couple of pictures before the butanding started swimming down and away. One of the BIOs grabbed the camera from me and dived - as in took off - after the fish for a close up. And why the heck didn't I think of that? Next time, I thought, I'm definitely ditching the life vest.
The next time however took a while. For the next 1.5 hours we were circling the strait with no luck, and the skies darkening rapidly. We even had to endure a sudden squall, which the boat captain decided to ride out. We huddled down just floating along off the shore, passing the time with lame jokes about menstruation and sharks, and whining about not being able to see Mayon volcano for the second straight day because of the cloud cover. The skies soon cleared and we were off again. Desperate to find one more butanding before calling it a day, we joined the other boats near the shallows. And finally a quick glimpse of a dorsal fin! This was to be our last one and everybody hoped for a good encounter. We circled the area like a vulture, the boatmen and spotters showing off the arcane art and science of whale shark interception. I was worried that the fish would change direction or the other boats will reach it first (they are strict about the one boat per butanding rule), but this one was destined to be ours. We jumped into the water, peered down, and the BIO pointed to an empty patch of sea. Frankly I couldn't see a thing at first, but the guys knew their stuff - and then there it was, swimming straight at me! I took a huge gulp of air and dove down to meet it. The butanding was swimming a little faster than I was so I got to inspect the entire body. The mouth was cavernous, especially just inches from my face. I debated for a while about inserting a hand to feel the suction strength, but common sense and sheer fright won out. We then stared eye-to-eye. Or so I hoped since the multiple spots made it difficult to see where the eye exactly was. Next came the rows of gills, which were undulating wildly while the shark filtered food from the sea. Somehow I found the movement of the gills completely unexpected and disconcerting, compared with the stately movement of the large creature. After a while I was by the midsection and gave it a poke. Yah, yah, you're not supposed to touch it (the brochures say to stay 3 meters away at least, yeah, right) but it's hard to stay away. The skin felt leathery but was the giant actually ticklish? It gave me a startled look, which startled me too, and sped off, thankfully not slapping me with its tail.
We spotted six butandings that morning. The mayor even gave us certificates that say so. Pretty pleased with ourselves, we checked out of the resort and rushed to the Cagsawa ruins before the clouds covered up Mayon Volcano again.
Getting there
We left Quezon City at 4 am, took EDSA, SLEX (Batangas exit 56A, don't take the Calamba exit, which is the absolute last exit of SLEX), and Maharlika Highway (with pee and food stops at Candelaria, Calauag, and Naga). We reached Donsol at 5:30 pm using a fairly relaxed pace.
Take the Quirino Highway in Sta. Elena, Camarines Norte. This is a short cut and will bypass Daet, saving you at least an hour despite the bad road condition. Quirino Highway will rejoin Maharlika Highway in Sipocot.
You may of course fly to Legaspi airport and hire a van to Donsol, which is an hour away.
When to go
The butanding season is supposed to be from October to June, probably optimistically extended to drum up tourism. The spotters admitted with prodding that the peak sightings are during February and March. We came in April.
Where to stay
Woodland Resort is best known. P1,500 per airconditioned double room. The adjacent Vitton Resort is newer (same owners as Woodland) and just adjacent to the Butanding Interaction Center. In a pinch, you may stay at inns and private homes in Donsol town proper. For some reason, people are recommending not to eat in restaurants outside the resorts.
What to eat
Bicol express (pork with coconut milk and pepper), laing (taro leaves with coconut milk and meat or fish).
What not to eat
Butanding steak (Eeww, eeww, eeww!).
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