And just like that—it was our last morning on Cakisigan Island. Waking up to the sound of the waves knowing we’d be saying goodbye was a bittersweet feeling. Somehow, three nights here felt like a week and a minute all at once. We’d gotten so used to barefoot living, cold bucket showers, and meals cooked over fire that it was hard to imagine going back to shoes, Wi-Fi, and traffic.
We squeezed in one last swim before breakfast, wading out into that warm, glassy water like we were trying to soak up every last bit of paradise. The island dogs trotted alongside us on the beach, and the staff—who by now felt like old friends—joked with us as they packed up the gear. It was quiet, peaceful, and honestly, kind of emotional.
After breakfast, we loaded our bags back onto the bangka and started the journey home. The ride felt different this time—less “where are we going?” and more “I can’t believe we’ve been here.” Everyone was a bit quieter, tired in the best way, just watching the islands pass by in the sun.
Then came the long van ride from Buliluyan Port back to Puerto Princesa. It was still bumpy, still twisty, but this time we barely noticed—we were too busy scrolling through our cameras, swapping stories, and trying not to fall asleep on each other.
By the time we reached the city, our skin was sun-kissed (read: slightly crispy), our hair was sea-salted and wild, and our hearts were very, very full.
Balabac isn’t the easiest place to get to—and it’s not meant to be. That’s what makes it so special. It’s raw, remote, and real. No resorts, no crowds, no schedules—just you, nature, and the kind of memories that sneak up on you days later when you’re stuck in traffic and suddenly missing that squeaky white sand.
We came for the beaches. We left with stories, friendships, and a whole new respect for the simple beauty of the Philippines.
Would we do it again? Maybe. Would we recommend it? Absolutely—if you’re up for the ride.
Tight Travellers 