Backpackers’ Wild Rides in Palawan: Prayers on Wheels and Skyward Engine Failures

january 2017

Puerto Princesa to El Nido: The Bumpy Road to Adventure

After our harrowing ferry journey and a brief night in Puerto Princesa, the next leg of our adventure awaited: the road to El Nido. Little did we know, this journey would add another layer of wild stories to our trip.

The Bus Ride That Felt Like a Trampoline

We started the day with the simple task of finding the bus station—a task that turned into a mini-adventure itself. Navigating Puerto Princesa without internet felt like playing a treasure hunt on hard mode. Thanks to some incredibly kind locals, we finally found the bus station and managed to hop on the right bus in the early afternoon.

Curious about the journey to El Nido? These days, it’s a smooth 6-7 hour ride that’ll set you back just ₱500-₱600 (around €10-12). Compare that to the good old days when the trip stretched over 15 exhausting hours over a night bus! In just seven years, travel times have been slashed in half, saving adventurers nearly an entire day.

From the moment the wheels started rolling, it was clear this wouldn’t be a smooth ride. The road conditions were rough, and the bus’s suspension turned the entire experience into what I can only describe as a moving trampoline. Each bump in the road sent us flying an inch off our seats, and I couldn’t help but laugh at its absurdity.

As the hours passed, the bus characters became more fascinating. At one point, a priest boarded, clutching a long cross necklace as if he were about to perform an exorcism. He started praying loudly and reading passages from the Bible. For a moment, it felt like we had accidentally joined some sort of spiritual road trip.

But the real twist came when I dozed off, despite the tiny seats—a true defeat for someone like me, standing 191 cm (6’4”). When I woke up the next morning, the scene around me was completely different. The bus was now packed with young children, all staring at me like I was some kind of alien. Even while I was seated in my own chair and the children were standing in the aisle, my height made it impossible to escape their gaze. As soon as I opened my eyes, I was met with a sea of curious stares, all fixed directly on me—even from the very front of the bus. My friend and I were the only adults left, surrounded by wide-eyed elementary school students. It was as if the bus had transformed into a school transport service overnight. Talk about waking up to a surreal surprise!

El Nido: A Small Town with Big Surprises

We finally arrived in El Nido after what felt like an eternity on that chaotic bus ride. Back in 2017, El Nido was a sleepy little town, far from the bustling tourist hub it is today. Our accommodations matched the town's simplicity—our room came with bunk beds and no hot shower. After the long journey, I reluctantly braved the freezing water for the quickest shower of my life.

That first day, we took it easy, enjoying the beach and grabbing dinner at a German-owned restaurant right by the water. But of course, even the simplest day had its drama. As I climbed into the top bunk that night, one of the steps gave way, leaving me with a scratched leg thanks to a rusted nail. Classic.

Kayaking Misadventures and Unexpected Matchmaking

The next day, we rented a kayak to explore a nearby island. "Nearby" turned out to be farther than she anticipated, and my friend quickly ran out of energy, leaning back lazily while I struggled against the relentless current. Frustrated but determined, I called out to her multiple times, “So our life just depends on me now? Hop, hop, start paddling!” But her paddle barely touched the water, leaving me to do all the work. Battling strong currents, I gave it everything I had to keep us from being swept out to sea. By the time we finally made it back, drenched and exhausted, I felt like I had just completed an Olympic rowing event—all on my own.

We were hanging out with two Swedish guys in a place that was half a local couple's home, and half a makeshift bar. Back then, El Nido was just a sleepy little town with no clubs or proper bars to speak of, so this kind of setup was pretty common. When evening rolled around, my friend—who also happened to be my ex—started dropping not-so-subtle hints about how horny she was feeling. But for me, once I decide someone is just a friend, that’s the end of it. No going back. As we sat there, sipping drinks in the "home bar," my ex dropping endless hints about how much she wanted something to happen. Her words were subtle at first, laced with playful teasing, but as the night went on, they grew more direct, like a repetitive song you can’t escape.

I sighed, taking a long sip of my drink, and decided it was time to steer this situation in a new direction. Eyeing the two Swedish guys we were hanging out with, I leaned over to her and asked, “Do you like one of these Swedish guys?”

I could see a spark of interest, though, so I decided to press on. At this point, I was desperate to escape the loop of her innuendos and hints. Later, as we left the "home bar" and wandered down the quiet streets of El Nido, I approached one of the Swedish guys. “Do you like her?” I asked directly, keeping my tone casual.

He looked a bit confused at first, then asked cautiously, “Why do you want to know?”
“It’s just a question,” I said with a shrug. “Do you like her or not?”
After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

I smirked. “Good. She’s really into you—and trust me, she’s ready for a fun night. She’s my ex, so I’m not interested, but here’s your chance to make her evening unforgettable.”

The Swedish guy looked surprised and intrigued, but he didn’t need much more convincing. Soon, he slowed his steps and sidled up next to her, striking up a conversation. Before long, they had completely disappeared, leaving the rest of us behind. We couldn’t help but laugh when we realized they hadn’t gone far—they were hooking up right behind a tuk-tuk, barely out of sight.

Finally free from her persistent hints, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The night went on with the rest of us grabbing more beers and rum, joking about the unexpected turn of events, and enjoying the relaxed pace of life in El Nido. By the time we stumbled back to the hotel, she and the Swedish guy were nowhere to be seen—they had clearly taken their newfound connection to the next level.

The next morning, when she returned to our room looking disheveled and hungover, I couldn’t resist asking, “So, how was it?” She groaned, rubbing her temples. “Boring. The sex wasn’t great, and now I feel like crap.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter. After all her persistence the night before, her anti-climactic verdict was just too funny. It was the perfect punchline to an already absurd story.

Motorcycle Rides and the Jungle of Dogs

Later in the trip, we decided to take a motorcycle road trip to explore some of the hidden gems scattered around the area—waterfalls cascading through lush jungles and beaches that seemed plucked straight from a postcard.

Just a heads-up for anyone planning to drive in the Philippines: forget just watching out for other drivers or riders—here, the real hazard is the dogs. They are everywhere. And I mean everywhere. These four-legged daredevils have absolutely no concept of road safety. They dart out unexpectedly, laze around on the warm asphalt like it’s their personal sunbed, or decide the middle of the road is the perfect spot for an impromptu mating session like orgies.

Now, picture this: you’re cruising along, enjoying the scenic views, and suddenly you’re forced to slam on the brakes. Why? Because smack dab in the middle of the road, there’s a trio of dogs engaged in what can only be described as a canine love train. Yep, they’re knotted together, two pulling in opposite directions like a bizarre tug-of-war, while the third is just... stuck in the chaos. It’s equal parts absurd and hysterical—unless, of course, you’re the poor soul trying not to crash while swerving around this unexpected display of nature at its most awkward.

It’s not just a one-time thing, either. These roadblock romances can pop up anywhere, from quiet village streets to busy highways. And let me tell you, there’s no honking or shouting that’s going to hurry them along. You just have to wait it out, shaking your head in disbelief and maybe snapping a photo to share later—because who’s going to believe you otherwise? Welcome to driving in the Philippines, where the biggest road hazard might just be a pack of amorous dogs holding up traffic like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

The motorcycle I rented had a special feature—no working gasoline meter. I had no way of knowing how much fuel I had left, so I was riding on pure hope and vibes. Naturally, this came back to bite me. One moment, I was cruising along the dusty road, surrounded by nothing but dense jungle; the next, my motorbike sputtered and I muttered “Oh, fucking hell,” From behind me, my friend, perched on the back seat, leaned forward and asked, “What’s wrong?” I sighed and replied, “We’re out of gas.” There I was, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no sign of a gas station, a village, or even another soul. I looked around—trees to the left, trees to the behind, and an endless stretch of jungle ahead. The silence was deafening, and for a moment, I genuinely thought I was screwed.

Then I glanced to my right, and there he was—a man seemingly appearing out of thin air, standing at the edge of the jungle. He looked like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. Before I could even say a word, he pointed at my motorbike and asked, “Gasoline?” I blinked in disbelief, half-convinced I was hallucinating. “Dear god,” I thought, “this is a miracle.” How on earth was this guy here, in the middle of nowhere, right when I needed him? And how did he already know what I needed?

Without a word, he motioned me over to a small wooden stand hidden among the trees. There, lined up neatly, were a handful of Coca-Cola bottles filled with gasoline, their bright red caps gleaming like a beacon of hope. I handed him some cash, and he poured the fuel into my tank with practiced ease, as if this kind of thing happened every day.

In no time, my motorbike roared back to life, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Stranded in the jungle, with no working fuel gauge, and out of nowhere, a random stranger with Coca-Cola bottles of gasoline saved the day. It was one of those surreal travel moments that you couldn’t make up if you tried. As I sped off, I waved to the man, silently thanking him for being in the right place at the right time.

Sailing to Paradise

The most magical part of El Nido, however, was the journey to Coron aboard a sailing boat. As we glided effortlessly between lush, emerald islands, the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the shimmering blues of the sky and sea. The gentle sway of the boat, the salty breeze brushing against my face, and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull created a symphony of serenity. The water was so impossibly clear that you could see every coral reef below, vibrant with life as if the ocean were a living masterpiece.

Each passing island was a postcard come to life, with towering limestone cliffs and hidden beaches that felt untouched by that time. The golden rays of the sun danced on the water’s surface, painting everything with a warm, ethereal glow. For a brief moment, it was as if I had left the real world behind and stepped into a dream where time stood still.

I could’ve stayed in that moment forever, the horizon stretching endlessly ahead, promising adventure and freedom. It wasn’t just the beauty of the place—it was the feeling it stirred within me, a profound sense of peace and connection to something far greater than myself. It was the kind of magic that stays with you long after the journey ends, a memory etched into your soul.

Coron and Life Lessons

While Coron itself didn’t captivate me as much as El Nido, two moments stayed with me. The first was during a snorkeling trip. I remember spotting a fish happily munching away on some sea leaves, completely lost in its underwater feast. Curious, I floated there, watching its every move. Suddenly, the fish froze, turned around, and swam right up to my mask, staring me into my eyes. For a moment, I felt like it was trying to say, “Seriously, dude? Can I eat in peace?” After delivering its silent message, it calmly turned back and continued its meal as if nothing had happened. I couldn’t help but chuckle into my snorkel—it was like being gently told off by a fish.

The second was a profound moment of clarity that stayed with me long after the trip. Back in Manila, it inspired me to get a tattoo—a phrase in Tagalog that read, “Respect others first, then you can expect others to respect you.” It wasn’t just ink; it marked a profound turning point in how I viewed the world and my place in it—a philosophy that still shapes my actions and decisions to this day. Think about a moment when a disagreement arises—perhaps at work, with a friend, or even with a complete stranger. Imagine pausing, taking a step back, and choosing to truly listen to the other person’s perspective, even if it challenges your own. Imagine standing in line at a coffee shop when someone cuts in front of you. Instead of snapping or making a scene, you calmly point it out with a polite tone. The other person, realizing their mistake, apologizes and moves back in line.

The Plane Ride from Hell

From Coron, we couldn’t find a boat to Manila, so we decided to fly. The airline we booked with? Blacklisted in European airspace due to its long history of accidents. But without overthinking it, I figured, How bad could it really be? and went ahead and booked the flight.

When the travel day arrived, we headed to the airport—a tiny place that barely resembled an airport at all. There was no real security to speak of. No bag checks, no restricted zones. You could walk in and out of the boarding gates as often as you wanted, even stepping outside for a cigarette by the taxi line. The only "security" was a basic metal detector, the kind you’d see in a shopping mall.

The airport itself was so small it had just one runway. Our plane was already two hours late, so when it finally arrived, the staff rushed the passengers off and hurried us on, like they were trying to make up for lost time. There were no safety briefings, no protocols—just a mad scramble, like boarding a bus that was running behind schedule.

As I climbed the stairs to the plane, I couldn’t help but notice the rusted screws and corroded metal holding the aircraft together. It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but I shrugged it off. Once we were onboard, the plane taxied to the runway. With full thrust applied and brakes held down, the engine screamed to life, and we shot forward. The runway disappeared beneath us with just meters to spare before takeoff.

But the relief was short-lived. Ahead of us loomed towering mountains, and the plane struggled to gain altitude. I glanced out the window and saw just 20 meters separating us from the treetops. My friend, pale and visibly shaking, whispered, “Niko, are we going to make it?” I forced a smile and said, “That was close, but we’re fine.”

The rest of the flight to Manila was surprisingly uneventful—no turbulence, nothing. It wasn’t until we began circling Manila’s airport, waiting for clearance to land, that things took a turn. Suddenly, the left engine shut down. I saw the fear ripple through the cabin, and my friend grabbed my arm. “Niko, what’s happening?” she asked, panic in her voice. “Looks like the left engine shut off,” I said calmly. “Why? What does that mean?” she pressed. “Maybe they’re saving fuel,” I replied with calm emotions, trying to lighten the mood.

Moments later, the right engine shut down, too. The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, delivering the most terrifyingly casual announcement I’ve ever heard: Pim-pom… "This is your captain. We are going down now.” That was it. No explanation, no reassurance—just those five words.

The cabin erupted in panic. People were panicking, shouting, gripping their seats like their lives depended on it. My friend, practically in tears, asked, “Niko, what are we going to do?”

I looked at her and said, “Nothing. We’re just going to sit here and hope for the best. Unless you’d like to take over and land the plane yourself?”

Somehow, we managed a rough but safe landing. The captain steered the plane off the runway, opened the doors, and let everyone out. My friend bolted out of the plane, fell to her knees, and kissed the ground. She looked up at me, still shaking, and said, “Niko, I’m never traveling with you again.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Welcome to the real adventure,” I said, grinning as we walked away from the plane.

Manila’s Chaos and Final Laughs

With just a few days left in Manila, we decided to take it easy. We visited the oceanarium and a zoo that was marketed as “The happiest and cleanest zoo.” Let me tell you—it was neither. In fact, it was the most miserable and dirtiest zoo I’d ever seen, with sad-looking animals and enclosures that made you want to look away. The highlight of Manila, however, was getting the tattoo I mentioned earlier from a renowned toy collector and tattoo artist I had the chance to meet.

Reflecting on that time, I also remembered how one night we ventured into a club where we ended up chatting with a group of ladyboys. They were lively and fun, and we spent the night laughing and dancing. Then, in the middle of the chaos, one of them came up to me looking distressed.

“Niko, can you help me?” they asked. “What’s going on?” I replied.
“This guy won’t leave me alone, and I don’t want him near me.” I couldn’t help but grin mischievously, realizing this situation was going to be interesting. I walked over to the guy, who was practically glued to the ladyboy, tapped him on the shoulder, and leaned in close. “Just so you know,” I whispered, “you’re not kissing with a girl.”
He froze for a moment, then shook his head, refusing to believe me. “Are you sure?” I asked, locking eyes with him, my grin growing more devilish by the second.

To prove me wrong, he reached out and touched the ladyboy between the legs. The realization hit him like a freight train. He turned pale, gagged, and then—right there in the middle of the dancefloor—started vomiting before bolting out of the club. I turned back to the ladyboy, gave them a cheeky smile, and said,
“Mission completed.” The look of relief and laughter that followed was priceless.

On our actual last day in the Philippines, the real chaos began. My friend came down with the worst case of diarrhea imaginable. She was suffering so much that it was as if she were preparing for her final moments. With a 16-hour flight back to Finland looming, she was in full panic about how miserable the journey would be. I knew it wasn’t funny, but the thought of her sprinting to the airplane toilet every few minutes had me stifling laughter the whole time. Let’s just say her final day in the Philippines wasn’t exactly the adventure she’d hoped for.

It was finally time to fly back home, and at the time, I thought my travels were done for the year. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of what would turn into seven years of non-stop adventures. As I write this story now, I find myself back in the Philippines, sitting in a Starbucks, exactly seven years later.

Between then and now, I’ve explored countless countries, met incredible people, and lived through the kind of wild, unbelievable experiences that make for some pretty crazy stories. There’s so much to share before I can even begin to tell you about being back here, in the very place where it all started. Life has a funny way of bringing things full circle, doesn’t it?

But the story doesn’t end here. Those seven years were more than just a journey—they were a whirlwind of madness, joy, and some of the craziest experiences anyone could imagine. Along the way, I discovered something I couldn’t ignore, something that would change everything. It led me to a life-altering decision: to permanently leave my home country and dive headfirst into a completely new way of living.

What could push someone to make such a leap? Buckle up, because the next chapter is packed with bold decisions, wild twists, and stories so insane they’ll leave you questioning reality. From life-threatening close calls to moments of pure, unfiltered magic, it’s a rollercoaster of a tale you won’t want to miss. Stay tuned—this is where things get really unforgettable.

Niko, December 24'