Coron

Coron town sits on a mangrove and harbour shore with no beach to speak of, so beach life here means a boat. Island-hopping trips leave the pier every morning for small sandbars and white-sand islets such as Malcapuya, Banana Island and Bulog Dos, with clear, shallow water that stays around 28°C to 30°C through the year. The swimming goes beyond the beaches: the brackish water of Kayangan Lake, the Twin Lagoon reached through a gap in the rock, and the strange warm and cool layers of Barracuda Lake are all on Coron Island, within an hour of town.

The drier months from roughly November to May bring the calmest seas. In the wet season trips can be cancelled when the water is rough. If you want to step out of your room onto sand, you need one of the island resorts rather than a bed in town.

Eating in Coron is simple and mostly about fish. Grilled seafood, adobo, sinigang and kinilaw (fish cured in vinegar) make up the menus in town, alongside pizza, pasta and smoothie bowls for travellers. The public market by the harbour shows the day's catch, and the island-hopping boats serve lunches of grilled fish, rice and fruit on the beach that many visitors remember more than any dinner. Busuanga cashews are the local snack. Choice is limited, standards vary, and nobody chooses Coron for its food.

Coron has very little to see in the usual sense. Visitors climb Mount Tapyas for the view over the bay, and in town there is a plain parish church and the harbour. The history that draws people here is underwater. In 1944 American aircraft sank a fleet of Japanese supply ships in the surrounding bays, and those wrecks, along with the ancestral lands of the Tagbanua people on Coron Island, are what give the place its past. Visitors come for the sea and the limestone, not for museums or architecture.

Evenings are low-key. A few bars along the main road and near the harbour serve beer and cocktails, sometimes with an acoustic set or a reggae playlist, and the dive crowd gathers to swap stories. Most people are back in bed early because the boats leave in the morning. There are no clubs to speak of.

This is the reason to come. Coron Island is a wall of jagged black limestone rising straight out of the sea, with hidden lakes, cliffs and lagoons that kayaks and outrigger boats reach. Beneath the bays lie about a dozen Japanese wrecks from the Second World War, many at depths recreational divers can reach. They are some of the best wreck dives anywhere, and the shallower ones can be seen with a snorkel. Reefs, giant clams and coral gardens fill the surrounding channels.

On land the choice is smaller. You can climb to the Mount Tapyas viewpoint, take a mangrove kayak trip, or make the long road trip north to the Calauit wildlife sanctuary, where African giraffes and zebras roam a Philippine island. Dugongs feed in the seagrass off northern Busuanga. Heat, humidity and wet-season storms shape what is possible.

The one real town trip is Culion, a boat ride of an hour or two away. It was a leper colony for much of the twentieth century, and the hillside town keeps an old Spanish-era fort church and a museum on that history. Beyond Culion, trips from Coron are to islands, reefs and wildlife rather than to other places. El Nido is a long ferry crossing away and works as a next stop, not a day out.

Coron works for families with confident swimmers of school age who are happy to spend long days on boats. The shallow sandbars and snorkelling spots are gentle, and Filipino warmth towards children makes every outing easier. With young children it is harder. There are steep, slippery steps up to Kayangan Lake, long hours in strong sun, a town with traffic and few pavements, and no parks, playgrounds or attractions made for children. Medical facilities are basic, and anything serious means a flight to Manila.

The town is small enough to walk, though the main road is hot, has few pavements and is full of motorised tricycles, which are how most people get around. Everything worth doing is out on the water. That means organised island-hopping boats, private bangkas or dive boats, all arranged through tour desks and hotels. The airport is on the far side of Busuanga, about forty minutes away by van, and the rest of the island is reached on rough roads with a hired driver or scooter.

Shopping amounts to souvenir stalls, T-shirts, woven bags, shell and pearl jewellery and bags of local cashews, with dive and snorkel gear in town for anyone who forgot theirs. The public market is about food rather than crafts. There is no reason to save room in the luggage.

Coron can be done cheaply. Simple guesthouses, local eateries and tricycle rides cost little, and shared island-hopping tours with lunch included are good value. Costs climb with comfort and distance. The private island resorts are priced for an international clientele, private boats and wreck diving add up quickly, and each lake and lagoon charges its own entrance and environmental fee. Getting here usually means a domestic flight, which also adds to the cost.

There is essentially no performing arts life. An acoustic guitarist in a bar or an occasional cultural show at a resort is as far as it goes.

Coron's own place to bathe is the Maquinit hot spring, a short tricycle ride from town. Its warm saltwater pools sit at the edge of the mangroves and are at their best in the evening, after a day on the boats. Cheap massage is on offer all over town, mostly simple and practical, and the island resorts add proper spas and a slow routine of hammocks and quiet water.

The town itself is not restful. Motorised tricycles fill the main road from morning to night, the harbour front is busy with boat crews and tour groups, and there is little shade or green space for sitting still. Visitors who come to unwind mostly stay on one of the outlying islands and come into town only when they need to.