Our boat crew wanted an early start, but we saw no reason to rush. First things first—an early morning SUP session. John, Edith, and Kathrin explored the neighboring bay, gliding over stingrays hiding in the sand and stopping by a bamboo hut. There, kids were just getting ready to head off to the local school .

Back at Coco Beach, breakfast awaited us—but calling it "breakfast" felt generous. A single slice of toast, topped with a lonely fried egg. No coffee. No sides. Just… sadness on a plate. Luckily, the local island shop came to the rescue, and with caffeine in hand, spirits were high.

Boat Crew on Strike?

Our crew, however, was less than thrilled with our slow pace. "Which beaches? How many islands?" they asked impatiently, clearly seeing their earnings shrinking with every minute we weren't hopping from one tourist paypoint to the next. When we explained we were here for the paddling, not the island-hopping cash cow, their enthusiasm evaporated.

Then came the real kicker: "Too dangerous to paddle," they declared. "The coastguards won’t allow it. We could lose our license!" What?! That sounded fishier than our lunch. One quick call to Nenita at Al Faro, and surprise, surprise—paddling was allowed. The only problem? The captain still had the final say, and he was digging his heels in.

After much debate (and an unnecessarily late start), we finally convinced them to drop us on the west coast of Coron island, from where we'd paddle north along the west coast. The Amihan wind was strong—25 knots from the northeast—so we sought shelter behind the rocky cliffs. But instead of taking us to the best starting point, the boat crew only took us four kilometers from our next overnight spot. And thanks to the wind curving around the cliffs… headwind again. The plan was falling apart fast and we decided to paddle south to get picked up later from the boat.

Lunch, Life Jackets, and Lackluster Service

The underwater scenery was stunning—vibrant reefs, dreamy white-sand beaches, and dramatic limestone cliffs. But as we paddled, Zeb stayed on the boat to make sure the captain actually picked us up. This was necessary because, believe it or not, he had already insisted we wear life jackets while stand-up paddling. A new level of overkill.

Lunch was at Banul Beach—yet another tourist trap where every boat seemed to dump its passengers at noon. While the table next to us got beautifully decorated seafood platters, fresh prawns, carved fruits, and grilled fish, we got… the usual. Rice, pancit, fish, and watermelon. Again.

The vibe was sinking faster than a poorly anchored banca. Edith retreated to the beach, Kathrin attempted to negotiate a course correction, and Zeb took over as SUP guide. But the breaking point came when the crew informed us about our overnight accommodation:

1. No mattresses, no blankets. Just tents.

2. The "beach" would disappear at high tide, meaning our tents could end up underwater.

3. A government weather warning had just been issued, predicting heavy rain and flooding.

4. The cost of this "luxury" tent was somehow double that of a hotel in town.

Time for a Mutiny

The decision was easy: ditch the boat, ditch the crew, and start over.

After our two-hour SUP tour along the west coast, we were unceremoniously dropped back in town, where we said goodbye to our less-than-helpful crew. No hard feelings—just a mutual understanding that this wasn't working out.

To celebrate, we checked into Coron Hilltop View, a cozy bungalow-style accommodation, and immediately headed to the hot springs. Sunset, beers, and warm water washed away the troubes of the day. Kathrin arranged a new boat, a new crew, and a new plan for tomorrow.

Dinner at Fishpond Café sealed the deal—seafood rice, chicken in coconut milk, and a sizzling plate of pork sisig, topped with egg.

Tomorrow, We Try Again

The new plan? Meet at 6:30 AM, beat the crowds, and paddle along Coron’s main sights with a fresh, motivated crew. Because if there’s one thing we learned today, it’s that the right team can make—or break—a trip.

And with that, we called it a night, ready to start over. Same island, different vibe. Let’s hope tomorrow brings fewer debates, better food, and a whole lot more fun.Read more