I hadn't visited Balicasag in years. My memories of this island are filled with corals of different varieties and multitudes of darting fishes. However, I braced myself for a disappointment when I heard the horror stories of dead corals and dynamite fishing. Still, I needed to find out how this island fared all these years.
I took a 1 ½ -hour ride from Cebu City to Tagbilaran, Bohol, via fast ferry, then another ride by cab for 45 minutes to Alona Beach. The fast ferry costs around P300 and the cab charges P250 - P400 depending on how well you haggle. Beach resorts and dive centers in Alona Beach operate pumpboats that can take you to nearby islands for P300 or less. I took a diveboat and left Alona Beach on a day of light breezes. In just 45 minutes, I took my first step in many years on Balicasag island.
Balicasag is a sleepy islet situated in southwestern Bohol. The four islands of mainland Bohol, Cebu, Negros, and Siquijor are visible from Balicasag. It is also a favorite of divers, famous for its 40-meter drop only a few meters offshore.
Back on the boat, I stared at the corals passing underneath, until I couldn't wait to get into the water. I put on my mask and snorkel and sank into the water, not really knowing what to expect. When I first opened my eyes, I knew my trip wasn't wasted. The corals were growing in profusion. That was the joyful thought I held close to me as I floated, enthralled by the marine life surrounding me.
The corals were healthy indeed, resplendent in golden-yellows, marine greens, azures, terra rosas, and pale whites. Growing in as many sizes and shapes as can be imagined, some stuck out their stubby fingers to the sunlight, while others spread broadly over the seabed. One coral grew as big as a mound, I could have stood on it with half of my body above the water level. But mindful of the harm touching corals can do, I refrained from doing so. Corals are often harmed by anchors and bottoms of boats and it takes them forever to recover. Fishes swam away as I invaded their space. Some fishes lazily swam under

me and others glided past only 2 meters from my side. Small fishes stayed within the branches of the corals. I observed the tiny fishes in inky black, luminous blue, or aquagreen that wriggled all the time while feeding on the seabed amidst the corals.
I saw the two types of fish that guard their nests closely, the triggerfish and the clownfish. Once I was bitten by a triggerfish, when unknowingly, my foot strayed too near its nest for comfort. Triggerfishes are strikingly clothed in bright colors while clownfishes are broadly striped in white and orange hues. Also, there were angelfishes and even pufferfishes the size of a watermelon. Numerous more varieties swam in schools. Schools were thick with fishes all swimming at the same pace. They changed their pace at exactly the same time. Until now, I still wonder how an entire school of fish can suddenly shift to another direction, even the opposite direction, in a split second. I snorkeled at random and observed that the corals abruptly ended and beyond was just nothing but blue. I soon found myself snorkeling along the top edge of the vertical drop in the next two hours.
It was a world of contrasts. A couple of meters was all it took for me to feel the abrupt change in temperature from warm shallow waters to the cold wafting from the bottom along the vertical drop. The shallower waters bloomed with corals of various hues and to my right was the ever mysterious yet constant blue. The bright colors of smaller fishes in shallow waters were easy to see but I had to concentrate to determine the shapes of the bigger browns and grays swimming many meters below me along the wall of the drop off.
Near the top edge of the underwater cliff I spotted orange basslets (anthias), and batfishes. Yellow damsels were swimming among staghorn corals. There were so many schools of fishes that I played a game with myself by spotting the biggest fish.
A shoal of barracudas, each barracuda looking sharp, swam only 5 meters