The beach sits at the edge of town, accessible via a narrow road that passes through coconut groves and small holdings where carabaos graze. Sand mixes with darker sediment carried down by the river that empties nearby, creating a mottled shoreline that shifts texture depending on recent rains. Mangroves establish their foothold at both ends of the beach, their roots forming architectural tangles that shelter juvenile fish and accumulate driftwood in baroque arrangements.
“Southeast Masbate's primary town beach, offering tidal immersion in working coastal ecosystems rather than sanitized resort experiences.”
Crashing wave at sunset
Timing matters here. Visit at high tide and you'll find chest-deep water warm as bathwater, gentle waves lapping at the sand, and enough depth for actual swimming. Return six hours later and the sea retreats a hundred meters, exposing a vast flat where locals wade with buckets, harvesting shellfish and checking the bamboo fish traps they've staked in the shallows. The exposed reef smells of brine and decomposing seaweed, and the texture underfoot transitions from sand to mud to sharp coral fragments that require sandals.
Afternoons bring the usual cast of characters: kids playing patintero in the sand, vendors grilling corn on improvised charcoal stands, fishermen repairing nets under the shade of beached bancas. As the sun descends, the light turns golden, then amber, illuminating the mangroves and transforming the mudflats into mirrors. You sit on a weathered log and watch the sky perform its nightly routine—clouds igniting in shades of rust and plum, the horizon line blurring as land, sea, and sky merge in the dimming light. It's quiet enough to hear the crackle of cooking fires from nearby houses.
