It was quite a weekend. Huge waves, strong winds, and blazing wild fires that devastated whole mountains. Nagsasa cove certainly outdid itself this time.

I followed my usual itinerary: bus ride at midnight and an early boat ride to the cove, just in time for the sunrise. This is already by 3rd trip to the cove this year.

My brother, although still tired from an 11-hour flight, felt excited about this camp trip, enticed by my tales and photos of scenic beaches with pine tree and surreal moonlit boat rides with glowing bioluminescent planktons.

We were right on schedule and by 4AM we were on our way to the cove. The moon was not too bright and the sea was almost black, but no glowing planktons.

The wind picked up by the time we passed Anawangin (the first cove). The waves grew larger and soon both of us were drenched, well me mostly since I gave my poncho to my brother. It started to get real scary by the time we reached the mouth of Nagsasa cove. All I could see is white surf and it seemed like are being tossed around like a rider on a bronco. Scenes from the movie the Perfect Storm flashed. The wind was so strong the waves were actually coming from the shore (and not to the shore). We were practically going head on with them and our boatman is finding it hard to steer. Less than 1 minute into cove, which seemed like forever, and the boatman threw in the towel. We have to turn back.

We made our way to Talisayin cove, the one between Nagsasa and Anawangin. I was still shaken when we reached the shores of Talisayin. Wet, cold and shivering, and hungry, we tried to sleep on the sand.

Talisayin dawn

The consolation that morning was the glorious sunrise. It was my first time to see such explosion of sunrise colors in the coves, and we are not in the right place to shoot it. A mountain separates Talisayin from Nagsasa and it practically blocks the sunrise view. But it was no doubt a great sunrise.

By 7AM we made our way back to Nagsasa. This time we were able to enter the cove. From the mouth it’s still 3 kilometers to the shore.

Midway the waves got big again but this time it’s too late to turn back. It was one hell of a ride, the one that requires you to say the Lord’s Prayer non-stop and mutter “are we there yet” in between. I was half expecting our small boat to shatter into pieces as it pounded the waves and the waves hit back.

We made the shore in one piece. And my brother’s first words on Nagsasa: “You sure picked a great day to introduce me to Nagsasa”, or something like that.

swimming nook

The day was a lot better as it progressed. We spent the day on a hammock or taking a refreshing dip in the river at the back of the camp site.


Sunset was deceptively serene, showing no hint or indication of what’s coming to us later in the evening. My brother remarked how intense Nagsasa’s welcome was for him: an early morning bath from the scary boat ride and a raging wild fire in the evening - a baptism by water and fire.

serene amidst the chaos (dawn)

Sunrise scene the next day did not show hints of the chaos that ensured the previous night. Nagsasa returned to its quiet and serene mood.


The boat ride on the way back to Pundakit was still rough, but we got rewarded with a surreal lighting when we reached the beach. It was the first that I saw the sea at its most bluest/greenest from that place.


It was an intense weekend, but all’s well that ends well.

It was a spectacular sight, and equally horrifying. The whole mountain was ablaze. Loud crackling sound rang through out the cove as trees were consumed. It was so far the largest bush fire or wildfire Nagsasa cove has ever seen.

Bush fires, started by hunters trying to flush out their game, are pretty common in the coves including Nagsasa. I saw reminders of it during my previous visit. The locals have gotten used to it as it happens every year and has become part of the life cycle of the cove. Usually it stayed at a distance from the inhabited parts. But as we all know, with Nature, nothing is really that predictable.


Some of our friends have spotted the small fire a kilometer or so in land earlier that day. On the way to the cove, I also spotted several burning patches on the mountains. According to our campsite caretaker, the fire dies when it reached a certain point, like a stream that acts as a natural fire barrier. However that night there was a another ingredient to the deadly mix: very strong winds, the same ones that created huge waves at the mouth of the coves earlier that day (we were forced to turn back, the movie the "Perfect Storm" came to mind. But that's another story).


By dinner time the fire has gotten aggressive, we can see the glow from afar and it kept getting bigger and bigger. I kept prodding my friends to check it out. Some of us even brought their tripod and camera and jokingly remarked, "Night shoot!". It was only when we reached the open area at the center of the cove that we saw the extent of the fire and how it was proceeding faster to where we are. My brother, whom I dragged here straight out of an 11-hour flight, muttered "Just great, huge waves this morning and now a huge bonfire".

I immediately went back to the campsite and talked to the caretaker, who in turn assured me not to worry because we are at a safe distance from the fire. Everyone was still in a jolly camp mood, most  were oblivious to whats happening at the backwoods.


The fire kept raging, fueled by the dry grasses and fanned by the strong winds. I went around some of the groups and told them about the fire at the back. Within thirty minutes from the time we checked it out, it was already less than 200 meters from where we are. The fire is advancing both at our rear and our right.

By this time it got everyone's attention and people started to break camp. Some simply plucked their tents out of the ground. Heavy smoke has already enveloped campsite. I told my brother to simply bring the essentials and leave the rest behind, then we started heading to the camp site at the south of the cove.


We waited for close to 4 hours before the fire waned. It got close to our campsite, too close in fact. Part of area where people camp at the back of the main campsite was burned. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. Heavy smoke was still lingering when we got back to the campsite at midnight. I was dead tired and dozed off the moment I lay my back on our sand filled tent.


The next day we saw the extent of the damage. Some of trees in our favorite sunrise location are still burning. The whole mountain on the north side of the cove was black and brown, gone is the green grass cover.


Nature will surely rebound, as it always has. Fires like this will still happen in the future unless these hunters are caught. It may be impractical to police this huge expanse of a mountain range at the moment so educating the communities around the area could be a good start.

This is my second visit to the cove (this year) in a span of just a few weeks. The trip was almost canceled due to the tsunami warning on the Philippine's eastern side a few hours after the Japan earthquake.

We decided the trip as a "go" after the dreaded tsunami forecast schedule passed without any incident and the warning lifted. The cove is on Luzon's western side so we figured we are pretty much away from the danger.

The 1 hour boat ride was pleasantly uneventful. It was still dark when we went out to sea. My friends Ferdz of Ironwulf and Oggie of lagalog, visiting Nagsasa cove for the first time, enjoyed the neon glow of bio luminescent planktons as our boat cuts through the pitch black sea. I tried to get some sleep but was awakened by a spray of salty water. After about an hour of calm sea, we are now entering the cove and heading into the wind, with good sized waves coming towards us. This is how Nagsasa welcome early visitors: a morning shower.


We were just in time for sunrise. We went around after setting our stuff in Mang Ador's campsite in the north end of the beach. The south side, the sleepy part of the cove I described here before, is now a packed tent city during the weekends. Some of the locals have sold their rights to their land to some enterprising folks who in turn have started "developing" the place. Concrete structures are becoming common. A loud karaoke nearby blasted Europe's "The Final Countdown" while we were trying to shoot. Quite a fitting soundtrack considering whats happening to the place.


Something's never changed though. The beach was as beautiful as I can remember it. Mang Ador's campsite is kept clean and free of "developments". There you can make yourself comfortable in a hammock and listed to the rustling of the pine needles.


By sundown the beach front is alive with activities - locals tending their nets and campers going around for an sunset stroll.

Nagsasa dusk

Everything settled down as twilight falls. We had great conversations over a simple meal that evening. We tucked in early, anticipating the sunrise the next day. On the other side of the cove, the drinking sessions are just starting.

I woke up early the next morning. I slept soundly but the cold early morning wind (I slept on a hammock) jump-started my day. After a cup of coffee, its off to the back of the campsite for the sunrise.

dawn at Wild Horse Creek

After breakfast we had a chance to hike to the mountains at the back of the falls, looking for some waterfalls to shoot.

backwoods trail

Along the way we passed through a burnt landscape - a product of hunters trying to flush out their game. They start a small fire which can sometimes get out of control. In this case it did and turned a whole mountain brown.


We reached the supposedly beautiful waterfalls after more than 1 hour of hiking under a searing sun. But it was dry was there was not even a trickle. The upside was the catch basin is still filled with crystal clear cold water. Not just cool, but cold. Freezing cold. It was weird taking a dip in cold water in the middle of a hot summer day.

where have all the trees gone?

A lot of changes is happening to the cove. The land is constantly "reconfiguring" itself. The fire that has burned the backwoods will trigger fresh growth and nature will heal itself. Fire has always been nature's cleanser.

The busy campsite at the south side is another matter. Soon there will be more generators, and with it more karaoke machines. Soon Nagsasa will be just another Anawangin.

Return to Nagsasa, the not-so-hidden-gem-anymore of Zambales and reconnecting with old acquaintances. This is my 4th visit after two years.

We had good weather that weekend. We arrived just in time for the sunrise. A full moon was setting on the west and the tide was low.


I did a look around after setting camp (which was quick, I just brought a hammock). A lot has changed: new campsites on the southern end (first thing we suggested before was that they should have decent CRs and water). Several years before, it was just a sleepy settlement with just a couple of houses. It’s great to know that people are making a good living; even Mang Ador (caretaker of the first campsite) has a new boat now with "Mang Ador Campsite" brightly painted on its sides. He also had additional huts now and tables.


I wanted to see if I can take a shot from a vantage point overlooking the cove so I decided to climb one of the hills at the back of Mang Ador’s campsite. The view was great, but I had to settle taking the shot while the sun is high. During sunrise, the hills would be back lighted, and at late in the afternoon my foreground will be in deep shadows.


The “free time” between lunch and sunset was spent cooling off by the river that cuts through right in the middle of the cove. The shifting sand at the beach had partially covered the mouth of the river thus a small shallow lake formed inland. There was a time when some parts of the lake were more than 5 feet deep.


Sunset is my favorite time here; the cove has a good view of the west. It’s the time when the cove is at is most serene, with everything and everyone settling down. Even with several groups camping there, the place almost seemed deserted.


As I wait for the sun to come down, I pondered on what kept me coming back. I have no doubt that the place is becoming more popular as each summer passed by. It’s getting crowded too (it is already crowded by my standards). Even the landscape seemed to have "reconfigured" itself, but I cannot deny that its beauty has endured.


The place certainly did change. People came and went. I missed Mang Jun "Kidlat" and his family (my favorite subjects for portraits). Mang Ador's wife lost her fight with the big C just this January. I was not able to visit the place as often as I would like, but we kept in touch whenever we can (or whenever they are within cell phone coverage area).

I promised Mang Ador I’ll be back again with printed copies of photos I once took, to remember the smiles of those who are not there anymore. I intend to keep that promise.