Photo Essay: Another World.

ANOTHER WORLD
by
Carl Kuntze

The ambience is eerie, unearthly, really. A cacophony of strange sounds echo through the preserve. It does not shatter the peace, however, they are sounds of nature. It could be The Garden of Eden, or another planet. It is The St. Paul Subterranean River National Park. The caves were discovered by Tagbanua Tribesmen in the early 19th century, but left undisturbed as the abode of spirits. Dean Worcester, an American assistant professor from The University of Michigan, attempted to explore it in 1887, but retreated in the face of impenetrable darkness. Declared recently as a World Heritage Site by UNICEF, the park is well maintained and cared for by the government.

The core of the park is 3,901 hectares playing host to 295 varieties of trees, 30 species of mammals, 18 reptiles, 10 amphibians, 62 coral reef fishes, 41 butterflies, 91 birds, and 8 types of bats, and 800 plant species. The St. Paul’s Dome has a diameter of 1028 meters and indeed resembles that of similar famous cupolas. A beautiful forest encircles it,

The most intriguing feature of the park is the underground river after which the park is named. 8.2 kms in length, the navigable portion, 4.3 kms. The steepest depth, 80 meters, and the tallest ceiling, 65 meters. Because I was alone with only one companion, the custodian of the dock was reluctant to use a motorized boat. “Maagsaya ng gasolina,” he complained, but I balked at the wobbly small canoe he presented. While I was not too concerned at falling in the drink (despite the reputed crocodiles), I was lugging expensive photogra- phic gear, the loss of which would have vitiated my trip. He surlily brought out his smallest motorized boat to convey us into the cave. Once in, his pride overwhelmed him, and his resentment, forgotten. He began a spirited narrative.

2

Not being particularly imaginative, I couldn’t discern the hallucinations he described.: prehistoric creatures, the cathedral, the mushroom, the holy family, the three kings,the fruit and vegetable gardens, but I could see the magnificent textures, and rock formations.
The calcite, stalagmites, and stalagtites, etched and chiseled by trickles and spurts of abrading seepage of water, which lovingly cling then streak across ceilings and walls before dripping down to merge into the murkiness below.

A karst formation is the demarcation for the end of the boat ride. A special permit is required to extend it (as well as additional safety precautions). A battery powered spotlight is essential to illuminate our way. Our waggish boatman joked about weak batteries, extinguishng our light briefly, to give us a sample of inky blackness. I nervously asked him if he could find his way out if that happened. He just laughed. We emerged into tlhe sunlight feeling reinvigorated, a strange wonderful experience persisting in our memory.

I had a second delightful surprise when my slides came back. I saw what resembled ethereal ancient Chinese paintings. Misty valleys, forests, and canyons, brilliant tapestries, tangible pictures that compensated for the rough ride from Puerto Princesa to Sabang, and the uncertain transportation. The Park is something for the people of Palawan to be justifiably proud, an attitude reflected in their kindness and hospitality.