In the Face of Disaster

The captain dropped our boat’s contorted rudder in the middle of the rotten deck. He barked out orders to his three-man crew as frequently as waves twice our height plowed into us. I only had myself to blame for getting caught in the middle of a stormy Philippine Sea on a now-rudderless fishing boat illegally ferrying travelers to an island six hours away.

We were on day three of a sailing ban imposed on all vessels in light of a typhoon that was ravaging the Northern Philippines. On my sunny southern island however, the typhoon an abstract warning. I figured the coast guard was being far too cautious and with the help of an enterprising security guard found my way to a distant port, perfectly hidden from the coast guard. Along with some other travelers, I boarded the boat of a fisherman looking to earn himself a small fortune.

Congratulations on a good decision were shared as our boat calmly skated through the thousand-island Linapacan Archipelago. The sun blanketed the uninhabited islands in golden ambrosia and we drank it all in, happily forgetting the coast guard warnings.

As the hours whittled by, the islands grew sparse and the sea menacing. Our sun kissed smiles were replaced by grim faces bracing for that next big wave. Wind scythed, boat groaned, waves slammed, rudder broke.

The coast guard was right after all.

“If we drown, at least they’ll make a movie about us,” chuckled a passenger. We slowly joined in the Spartan laughter as the grey storm closed in around us.

Soon after the rudder broke, our captain caved in and called the coast guard - jail is preferable to the bottom of the ocean after all. I’m not sure how long it took, but as the storm laid siege to our boat, our rescuers finally came into view.

It was not the expected coast guard vessel, but a fishing boat similar to ours and no better equipped to deal with the stormy sea. The two fishing captains greeted each other over the roar of the wind; they were obviously friends.

The new captain tied our boat behind his before reassuring us, “Don’t worry, my village has hamburgers.”

The captain skillfully manipulated our boats. We rode the waves, harnessed the wind, and powered through. Soon we escaped the storm and islands came into view. No movies about our demise today.

Arriving at the village felt like a minor miracle but there we were, probably the first ever visitors to this obscure place. After the terror of the storm, it was a muddy paradise. The hamburgers were good too.