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Daily Mail
11-06-2025
- Daily Mail
I visited the real-life Neverland and met the 'Lost Boys' - there's only one way to get there
Finding Neverland was not on the agenda when I opened Google Maps and clicked through random destinations to decide my next holiday. Yet here I am on a desert island, surrounded by towering sea cliffs and shipwrecks along an ancient pirate route in the Palawan archipelago of the Philippines. The Lost Boys brought me here: to the uninhabited island of Cadlao, off the coast of El Nido. But rather than the characters imagined by J.M. Barrie, these Lost Boys are the crew of Tao Philippines, running group expeditions across the West Philippine Sea. These remarkable seafarers, many the sons of ex-pirates, were raised among the 11 islands we are exploring on a five-night cruise covering 155 miles (250km) from El Nido, on Palawan Island, to Coron, on Busuanga. They can navigate the archipelago without a map, catch fish from the boat, climb coconut trees and have a cheeky, but kind. sense of spirit. Our vessel for the first two days is a 74ft wooden Paraw, a traditional Filipino sailboat with tribal carvings and rigging, followed by a more modern boat to cross choppier waters. As we set sail from El Nido port, we are accompanied by a pod of dolphins leaping from the water just metres from the deck while hundreds of tropical butterflies soar between the sails. Laura Sharman visits the uninhabited island of Cadlao, off the coast of El Nido in the Philippines, with help from the 'Lost Boys', the crew of Tao Philippines These remarkable seafarers, many the sons of ex-pirates, were raised among the 11 islands Laura and her group explore on a five-night cruise covering 155 miles (250km) from El Nido Of the Philippines' 7,641 islands, we are staying on five of the most remote, sleeping in bamboo huts on otherwise deserted beaches with the bare essentials – a mattress, mosquito net, modest toilet block, and a picnic bench for sharing meals which are all included in the voyage. Some of the islands lack fresh water so our shower is alfresco, made from a hosepipe and a water tank hung from a tree. We're warned to keep our mouths closed while washing and use bottled water for teeth brushing to avoid an upset stomach. These secluded settings are made possible by Tao's collaboration with local councils which guarantees a minimal ecological impact on these otherwise unvisited islands, keeping them wild. Each day, the Lost Boys fish for our supper, reeling in yellowfin tuna, squid, tilapia and barracuda. This is then barbecued and served on a giant banana leaf with 'Filipino power' – their name for the country's staple dish, garlic rice. It's the definition of sea-to-plate. On our first night, here on Cadlao Island, the feast takes place under the light of our head torches and laughter fills the table, free from the distractions of electricity or Wi-Fi. Of the Philippines' 7,641 islands, Laura is staying on five of the most remote, sleeping in bamboo huts with just a mattress, mosquito net, modest toilet block, and a picnic bench for sharing meals Each day, the Lost Boys fish for the evening meal, reeling in yellowfin tuna, squid, tilapia and barracuda The Lost Boys know just where to drop the anchor for this hidden paradise and we swim to shore accompanied by a school of fish dancing at our feet. Its staggering limestone cliffs, dense vegetation and enchanting lagoon are reminiscent of Peter Pan's Neverland. Beyond its playful monkeys, fascinating monitor lizards and elusive snakes, this uninhabited gem stands as the largest island in the El Nido archipelago with the tallest peak, reaching 609 metres above sea level. And we have it all to ourselves for the night. The trumpeting of a conch shell marks the start of a new day and we set sail for Daracotan Island after an aubergine omelette on the beach. Starfish larger than my palm decorate the seabed and clownfish retreat into their shelters as we explore the El Nido Shipwreck - a tugboat wreck that succumbed to Typhoon Herming in 1987. But it's the deadly box jellyfish that are the most mesmerising marine life we see on our voyage, during the third night, spent on Culion Island. Approaching the shore via a tropical valley, we observe the enormous translucent creatures being swept beneath the boat's bow and I dread to think what would happen if I were to dive in for a swim. Yet the island's 23,000 residents seem largely unphased by their presence, wading out to their boats barefoot. Once known as the 'Island of No Return,' this haunting destination served as the world's largest leprosarium in the early 1900s during the American colonisation, the Lost Boys tell me. Many were banished here under Act 1711 of the Philippine Commission and up to 60 per cent of those treated did not survive their first four years on the island. What was a place of despair slowly evolved into a community of more than 400 households, leading to a sanitary system, hospital, theatre, town hall and school. Stepping onto the island via a rickety pontoon, I am grateful to hear that it is now leprosy-free. It's hard to imagine its dark history as we make our way to our bamboo huts beneath a forest canopy speckled with Pink Rain Lilies. Now it's a very different place. In a clearing bordered by fire torches, women from the neighbouring Coring village are offering a one-hour full body massage for just 1,500 Philippine Pesos (£20), with their children sat beside them playing on smartphones. And by the waterfront is now a manmade plunge pool overlooking the enchanting albeit jellyfish-infested valley. WHAT TO BRING ON YOUR TAO EXPEDITION A 30-litre dry bag to store your belongings for the trip while your main suitcase will remain on the boat Travel insurance including emergency evacuation cover Portable charger Refillable water bottle Cap or hat Sun protection Head torch Jellyfish guard Reef shoes and sandals Small towel and swimwear Lightweight rain jacket Sarong Anti-mosquito spray Rehydration salts and anti-diarrhea tablets Plasters Camera of choice Nearby, the Lost Boys are serving fried lentil balls with Filipino power and vegetables and our team leader Joshua is strumming a guitar by a crackling bonfire. The only activities - besides feasting - are sharing stories by the fire and dancing under the stars. Thirty-two miles (52km) away is our next stop Manlihan Island. Often referred to as Cobra Island, it is tied to a local legend which speaks of Japanese soldiers hiding treasure here during WWII. When fishermen found the chest, it was supposedly decorated with a magnificent golden cobra. Today, the treasure hunt unfolds beneath the surrounding waters teeming with vibrant coral gardens and turtles. Tucking into breakfast onboard the boat, we spot one peeking its head above the water and are soon swimming alongside it. The expedition culminates on Mangenguey Island, at a Crusoe-style camp built from the remains of a typhoon-wrecked resort. Other than feasting, the only activities on this island are dancing under the stars and sharing stories by the fire Its white sands feel like a plush carpet and the water is so clear you can see the bottom when your feet no longer touch the ground. Unlike previous basecamps, this one is not short of amenities with beach volleyball, basketball, lounge spaces with hammocks, a fire dancing show and a beach bar serving beer, wine and cocktails. Behind it all is a dry, grassy hill topped with three bamboo towers for the ultimate sundowners. From here, I look for the second star to the right and am reminded of where it all began on Cadlao Island, the 'Neverland of the Philippines'
Telegraph
21-02-2025
- Telegraph
Forget Thailand, this South-East Asian destination is a true untamed paradise
I arrived by night, stuffed into the back of a jeepney next to a basket of chickens. It was late, and the town was quiet. The full moon light glinted on a cluster of fishing boats in the bay. There was no mobile phone reception and I was lost. It was January 2009, and I was part of a trickle of tourists that had started making the trek to El Nido on Palawan island in the Philippines' westernmost province. The nearest airport was in Puerto Princesa, an eight-hour bus ride away on a bumpy unpaved logging road, or a flight from the Filipino capital, Manila. According to the 2007 census, there were just 4,500 inhabitants in 950 households in El Nido. I remember seeing a string of colourful shacks along the beach and in the bay, dramatic limestone karsts jutting out of the water masking secret lagoons with sapphire blue waters and tropical jungles giving way to hidden beaches. This untouched paradise was, according to local legend, the inspiration for Alex Garland's 1996 novel, The Beach, which he'd set in Thailand supposedly to divert attention from the beauty of El Nido. There was just one expedition company, Tao Philippines, taking people to explore these natural wonders. With no website or social media, word spread from traveller to traveller about these rarest of adventures. As I waited in the dark, I eventually heard an engine put-putting towards me: I still tingle when I think about the delicious feeling of standing on the precipice of that great adventure. I boarded the traditional bangka fishing boat adapted to take guests and, along with a small group and a crew of six, we spent the next week exploring some of the 200 or so wilderness islands between El Nido and Coron. We slept on board or in fisherman's huts on land, clambered aboard a pirate ship to trade rum for ice and fish, explored hidden lagoons, jumped from cliffs into the ocean, snorkelled wrecks and coral reefs, trekked through the jungle to a hidden Spanish fort, and ate a pig fattened especially for us. Besides the local communities that we spent time with, we saw no one else. Returning with my eighteen-month-old son, Sid, in December 2024, we arrived (mercifully) by turboprop plane that bumped along the runway. El Nido had blossomed into a town of 50,000 people, and planes were arriving almost hourly into the tiny airport. In the arrivals hall I laughed at overhearing two backpackers saying they'd come to party. But El Nido was dramatically different from my visit 16 years ago. The dusty streets – roadworks run right through town – were alive with backpackers, families and silver surfers jostling for space. Unbelievably, in 2023, half a million tourists visited El Nido (compared with 20,000 in 2009) and a whole host of hotels, hostels, restaurants, nightclubs and plastic sunglasses stands have cropped up to service them, while buzzy beach clubs spill out of the town along the coast. 'Each year more people arrive hoping to open a business here, but they only last six months or so,' says Sarah Rosser, who opened SAVA Beach Bar in 2016. It was the town's first cocktail bar, and today attracts international DJs. 'Even now there is intermittent internet and phone reception, frequent electricity brownouts and then the cost of getting supplies like ice to a remote place. The bonus? I have yet to find a sunset like the ones in El Nido.' Even so, there are signs that the town is struggling. Squashed as it is between the South China Sea and the mountains, El Nido felt densely packed with a hillside scarred by ill-conceived and ugly building works. The coral has been reduced by a series of mass bleaching events. And then there's the water. In recent years, fecal coliform levels in the coastal waters off El Nido town centre have consistently exceeded the safe recreational swimming limit (according to data from the Philippines' Department of Environment and Natural Resources). A new sewerage treatment plant has been built, but it's up to the local government to connect private residences to bring water quality up to standard. As of January 2025, 82 per cent of businesses had connected to it at their own expense. Businesses are having to adapt to a new kind of tourist. 'We used to be busy until 2 or 3am every night, but these days it's quiet by midnight,' says Rosser. Instead of giving up, Rosser, who was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, converted the upstairs of her business into a Pilates and Reiki studio called Phlo Wellness. 'It is also a space for women to come to get checked for breast cancer.' Nearby is another utopian vision: Lio Tourism Estate is designed in harmony with nature, with building restrictions requiring that properties are no taller than 18 metres; the height of a coconut tree. The estate is pedestrianised and houses sustainable businesses and Filipino artisans, with a wellness bent. From the beach at Lio, the distinctive shape of Cadlao Island rises from the bay. It was here, 16 years ago, that I slept in a fisherman's hut. There was no electricity and I washed at a well under a giant fig tree. With so much development in town, I was keen to discover what has become of the pristine islands of Bacuit Bay and Tao Philippines. We stayed in an open-sided hut at Tao Farm, the gloriously sleepy headquarters of Tao Philippines. Tao start or end their trips at the farm to avoid the crowds of El Nido. Life started at 4am when the baker arrived to fire up the clay oven. Food was a big part of the offering. Around 175 meals were served each day, including a delectable seven-course tasting menu, all of which is sourced on the farm. Inspired by the founders' passion for the popular Netflix series, Chef's Table, it was a world away from the simple grilled fish and rice we ate in 2009. 'We keep innovating while staying true to our principles,' said Filipino co-founder Eddie Brock Agamos. This year Tao turns 20 years old and the crew of six has grown into a community of 300 islanders. Building resilient beach camps has led to the creation of an architectural firm that designs modern properties made mainly out of bamboo. 'What have we learned?' laughed Eddie. 'We were hippies before, we didn't believe in running a company. Now we embrace it as a means to empower the local community. It takes time to build a functioning community project. You have to be patient and adapt to the local attitude and culture.' An overnight trip to Cadlao revealed little had changed there, although the fishing huts have been replaced with bamboo tukas (a bird-beak shaped hut) and there was discrete LED lighting thanks to the installation of solar panels. On the boat ride back to Tao Farm, we spotted 16 boats clustered about the 'Secret Lagoon' (said to be the inspiration for the bay in The Beach), loaded with tourists with their cameras out. 'There are seven expedition companies here now,' mused Eddie. 'Our work with the community, alongside our safety and hospitality standards, mean we can't compete on price. But I think we offer something unique. Being off grid is all part of the adventure – we have a strict no phone policy and each year we change our route to stay away from the crowds. 'As fishing stocks have dwindled, [tourism] has created an economy for communities in dire need. It has also prompted an ideological shift. When we first came, there was evidence of dynamite fishing damaging the coral reefs, but today local communities understand the importance of preserving the natural environment and are looking after the reefs, creating coral nurseries and fish sanctuaries.' One morning on an island near Coron, I had the most incredible underwater experience of my life, swimming with a vast school of fish – like being in a kaleidoscopic ever-shifting world. Another day we visited a new base camp Tao is creating in collaboration with a local village. They were building a new water pipe for the inhabitants which will be hidden behind the mangrove swamps. On the way there our boat passed the same pristine islands that I first saw 16 years ago. Wind in our hair, salt on our lips and nobody there. 'Stop!' cried Eddie. We jumped off the boat and swam through luminous water to an islet to explore its shores and caves. Hardly an hour from El Nido and we were in a wild, raw paradise, untouched and untameable. I wrote 16 years ago: 'There is so much uncharted territory, each day is a new adventure,' and, unlike its neighbours in Thailand and Bali, in The Philippines that still rings true.
