Sometimes you have to go back to familiar spots to catch it in a really good light. I was glad I exactly did just that during a weekend trip back home.

It was a quick trip, arrived on a Saturday and then leaving the next Monday. I was looking for a place to shoot when I remembered this small beach just outside General Santos where full grown mangroves abound. Last time I visited it, I got lucky with the light. Hoped luck is still with me this time around.



Like my previous trip to this area, my wife (patiently) accompanied me. She perfectly understood an outdoor photographer's (peculiar) fascination sunrises and sunsets. We go out while everyone's still asleep and we stay out late and still shoot while everyone else is having dinner already.

We woke up at 3.30AM, sunrise was at 5.30AM that day. The first taxi we contracted backed out when the driver learned on where we are going. The place is at the border of General Santos city and the town of Maasim in Sarangani, outside of what most consider as the "safe zone".



As expected, we had the small area to ourselves. It was high tide so the mangroves roots I was able to shoot before are still underwater. I decided to shoot at the opposite end of the beach were there are sturdy mangroves standing like silent sea sentinels.

It was a short but sweet sunrise - the colors did not linger very long, but I savored every moment of it.  I guess I love sunrises more than sunsets. There is a more peaceful feeling associated with sunrises. Many can witness a sunset, but only the few who manage to actually wake up early are blessed with the privilege of witnessing the first colors of the day.



We were back at the hotel by 7AM. The front desk clerk appeared confused, thinking I was on my way out to shoot (I mentioned the previous night I wanted to take photos of mangroves as I was looking for a calendar with tide information). Told him, with a grin, that I was done already. Outdoor photographers are a weird bunch.

I had the chance to revisit Zambales' grand cove. This time with a group of outdoor photography enthusiasts from the company I work for (yup, I too have a day job).

I decided to skip Nagsasa (one of my favorites also) and instead head to Silanguin. I knew how packed  Nagsasa cove would get in the peak of summer. Silanguin, on the other hand, remained crowd-free, thanks to its remoteness. Its a good 1 hour boat ride to the mouth of the cove from Pundaquit, and another 20 minutes or so before you hit the inner beach. That weekend we had the entire cove (the biggest of the 4 in Zambales) all to ourselves - all 4 km of beautiful beach

My favorite part of the cove is its southern end - full of interesting rock formations and photographic opportunities. Its a good 2-km hike from our campsite but its worth the trouble. The summer heat had turned the nearby hills golden and brown making the scenery looked like it was autumn.


Its was an overcast afternoon but the clouds began to break just as sunset was nearing. I did not know that a typhoon is already brewing on the country's eastern side and it is raining hard back in Manila.

anti-sunset colors

The drama that unfolded right after the sun went down as overwhelming. Suddenly the sky all around us lit up in color. A huge expanse of the eastern sky was ablaze in warm tones of orange which then turned to crimson.

Silanguin pastel colors

Everywhere you turn there's a glowing cloud in shades of orange, yellow, pink, and red. It was a feast for the eyes.

It was already dark when we packed up our gears. The stars hid behind a blanket of clouds evening. The stormy weather finally caught up with us.


Sunrise the next morning was cloudy but we managed to squeeze a few usable shots before heading back to camp for breakfast. I have not finished preparing our meal when I heard the unmistakable sound of an incoming boat. Our boatman decided to fetch us early as the waves are getting bigger and dark clouds are looming. We hurriedly broke camp, stuffed our food into containers, and hopped into the outrigger boat. The first few minutes of the ride was indicative of what's in store for us outside of the cove.


It was the longest 2-hour boat ride I've ever been in. Our boat pitched, lurched, and bucked too many times to count. If our boat had been the usual 4-person boat, I swore the waves would have turned it into pieces of floating wood.

Most of us were drenched by the time we reached Pundaquit but still thankful we made it back in one piece. It felt like Silanguin had compensated us in advance with the colors of sunset the previous day for what would be a rough boat ride the next morning.

Even one of the most famous tourist trap in Baguio, Philippine's quintessential "summer capital", looks different (in a good way) during sunrise.

I have to admit that I've never heard of the town Mayantoc even though I (almost) passed by it countless times whenever I'm passing through the province of Tarlac en route to Pangasinan. An invite from a friend to attend Mayantoc's fiesta patronal led me to discover a rustic town and its charming and hospitable folks.

If there is one thing that abounds in Maantoc, its rivers and streams. Camiling river and its tributaries criss-cross the town, providing countless swimming nooks. Folks from nearby towns and provinces flock to Mayantoc during the hot summer months to cool off. You don't even have to go far, you'll find cool clear water just a stone throw away from the town center.


a cool swimming nook

Going around Mayantoc gave me the impression that it has not changed much for a long time. It rural scenes brought back memories of long gone rice fields and haystacks in my own hometown, now erased by urbanization.



Here the rivers and streams not only refresh but also nourish the land. A good portion of the town's land area is still devoted to farming.



On our second morning of our stay there, our host brought us to the hilly part of the town to wait for the sunrise. The cold morning breeze reminded me of other "summer capitals" I've visited.



We climbed up a small hill to get a good view of the surrounding areas. While waiting for the first light of day, I lay on the ground and watch the nightjars flew to and fro just above us.



We had a great view of the town in the east, still blanketed in fog, as the sun rose. On the opposite direction, of the Bantay Lima (Five Mountains) peaks, Mayantoc's recognizable landmarks, stood steadfast against a rosy sky backdrop.