Day 2
FromBunawan to Talacogon
We left Bunawan at daybreak, our
long, motorized boat purring through
the morning mists that hung over the
shallow Sumilao tributary. As the
sun’s rays broke through the fringing
canopy, we were nowwell into the
mainstream and found ourselves
picking up pace. Little homesteads
dotted the banks, surrounded by
vegetable patches and swamp
trees thriving at water level. Terns,
swiftlets and an occasional egret
flew across our bows, foraging for
breakfast tidbits.
Navigating past the openings to the
lakes of AgusanMarsh, we saw the
riverbanks rise as ramps of parched
mud. And all the while the human
footprint was a constant presence:
a young boy washed pots from a
bamboo raft tied to the bank; large,
bell-shaped
bubo
(fish traps) sat high
and dry, patiently waiting for the
river to rise; floating river houses,
attributed to the Manobo, bobbed
solemnly in our wake. Toward mid-
morning, the river began to change,
flanked with thick greenery, cogon
grass and corn farms as far as the eye
could see.
Just as the first stirrings of
listlessness made me wonder what we
had gotten ourselves into, we pulled
into Barangay Sabang-Gibong and
finally got to stretch our legs. Here,
the local barangay captain welcomed
us into her kitchen-porch, while her
husband offered us much-appreciated
cups of instant coffee. They shared
animated tales of the river and its
people, and engagedMarian in an
eye-opening discussion on their
boats, houses and the nuances of the
local language. Sabang-Gibong was
a small community. Divorced from
the national highway, they were left
to their own devices, but they knew
so much of the river and made the
most of what it had to offer. Here, the
dignified wisdom of river folk still
flourished, leaving us with much to
think about as we sailed on.
After lunch, we came to a small
oxbow lake near Talacogon called La
Flora and, once again, we were happy
to use our legs as we marched up dry
land. Ivan, our resident birdman, was
quick to point out a congregation
of egrets and water birds lining the
water’s edge. To escape the harsh
noontime sun, we crowded into a
small hut with a raised bamboo floor
where, fanned by a cool breeze, we all
dozed off.
After our brief siesta it was time to
put our life jackets back on and sail
towards the town of Talacogon, where
we were to spend the night. We had
expected to reach the town by four in
the afternoon, but the river en route
was deep, and our passage was swift
and unhindered. A little past two, we
found ourselves on the town’s floating
dock, where a surprise merienda of
lechon was waiting for us.
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