Philippines: Last Day in Balabac
Balabac is home to fewer than 45,000 residents spread across dozens of islands — but more beach dogs than you can count.
The day began with warm light and tiny pawprints. Punta Sebaring was still waking up when the puppies appeared—tumbling across the sand like living sparks, chasing each other through water that glowed pink with sunrise. There are few places left on earth where morning feels untouched, but this stretch of Balabac, with its white sand dunes and quiet shoreline, felt like a world paused just long enough for us to step inside.
On remote islands like Balabac, dogs freely wander the beach — unofficial mascots of island life
One pup broke away from the play, sitting alone and watching the tide roll in. Something about the scene felt grounding: the simplicity of a creature who needed nothing more than the sound of waves and the warmth of the rising sun. In a place this remote, solitude doesn’t feel empty — it feels honest.
Human or dog — everyone becomes part of the same small community on Punta Sebaring
As we packed for the day’s trip, one of the campers crouched down to greet the tiny patrol of morning guardians. The dogs responded with eager wiggles, leaning into every scratch and pat. Life slows down here, not because of the absence of things, but because of the abundance of simple moments.
A game of “football” with an island dog — Balabac’s version of morning exercise
A dog nudged a ball toward us, and the improvised match began. The dog dribbled better than any of us, weaving between ankles on the powder-soft sand. There are no gyms here, no schedules, no hurry — just a playful reminder that joy doesn’t always arrive in grand scenes, but in the small ones that catch you off guard.
We packed up for the day’s excursion, slipping bags over our shoulders as the sun climbed higher. The boat waited down the beach, its hull rocking gently with the tide. We climbed aboard, the engine sputtered awake, and Punta Sebaring drifted away behind us.
Balabac’s waters are some of the clearest in the Philippines — on good days, visibility reaches 30 meters, turning the sea into a shifting mosaic of greens and blues. As the boat cut across open water, sandbars glimmered in the distance like pale brushstrokes, appearing and disappearing as the tide breathed.
Soon, a narrow stretch of white sand rose from the horizon: the starfish sandbar.
With water this clear, even the shadows look sharp — Balabac’s visibility is among the best in the archipelago
Stepping off the boat felt like stepping into glass. The water was so clear, the surface almost disappeared. Every ripple, every grain of sand, every passing fish was visible as if floating in the air. The world here defies logic — it becomes something softer, brighter, dreamlike.
The sandbar is home to dozens of horned sea stars (Protoreaster nodosus), a species common in Palawan’s southern waters
Kneeling down, I found the first starfish resting on the rippled sand, its orange-brown body mottled like cooled clay. It was heavier than expected, textured and silent, a patient creature shaped by slow tides and long hours of sunlight.
During low tide, as many as 40–60 starfish can be spotted across this single patch of sand
As we walked, more starfish came into view. Dozens of them — glowing in rusty colors like scattered embers on the pale seafloor. They looked carefully placed, as if the sea had arranged its own quiet gallery for us to wander through.
Tourism in Balabac is still small — around 20,000 visitors a year — keeping moments like this intimate and unhurried
Nearby, a couple paused hand-in-hand, pointing at something below the water. The tide whispered around their ankles. No crowds. No noise. Just the slow, shared wonder of watching the sea reveal another small miracle.
At low tide, the sandbar stretches long enough for slow walks that feel suspended between sea and sky
From a distance, they looked like silhouettes drifting across a strip of light. The sandbar narrows quickly, giving every step a feeling of softness and impermanence — like walking along the seam of a dream.
Behind the waterline, a dense palm grove marks the edge of the island — a quiet reminder that paradise can still feel wild
Beyond the shallow water, a thick wall of palm trees stood dark against the bright sky. Their shadows stretched across the sand, silent and unmoving. Even in paradise, there are places the sunlight doesn’t fully reach — and that contrast only makes the bright parts feel brighter.
When I think of this day, it feels less like something that happened and more like something I drifted through — slow, luminous, effortless. Balabac doesn’t overwhelm. It unfolds. It reveals itself in small, quiet ways: in beach dogs racing the sunrise, in saltwater so clear it looks unreal, in the hush of a sandbar dotted with starfish.
This wasn’t the most organized trip I’ve ever taken. Far from it. But here, in this gentle corner of the Philippines, everything aligned. The light. The water. The silence. The company. The kind of day that doesn’t just sit in memory — it lingers, softly, like a tide returning.
Some places stay with you long after you leave.
Balabac is one of them.
To see more photos & videos from my travels visit the links below
happy traveling,
~Sean
