Port Barton

I stumbled onto Port Barton the way you stumble onto most genuinely good things: by accident, because the bus to El Nido had stopped here to discharge a passenger and I had looked out at the bay — calm, turquoise, framed by green hills — and thought: I’m not ready for El Nido yet. I got off with my bag. The bus continued north. The driver didn’t seem surprised.

Port Barton is a small fishing barangay on Palawan’s west coast, equidistant between Puerto Princesa and El Nido. It has three streets, a Catholic church with a generator that cuts out during mass, a market that runs for two hours in the early morning, and a crescent bay in which the fishing boats rock at anchor alongside an increasing number of tourist bancas. There are a dozen or so guesthouses — most of them simple nipa hut affairs on the waterfront, the cheaper ones a short walk into the village behind the beach. The electricity, last I visited, ran from six in the evening until midnight.

The island-hopping from Port Barton runs to a different set of islands than the ones that get photographed everywhere — Exotic Island, German Island, Capsalay Island — names that are either aspirational or slightly ironic depending on the island, but each one with a reef system that is in better condition than what you find around El Nido’s more visited atolls. The snorkeling over the coral garden near Exotic Island was the best I did on Palawan: staghorn coral in formations the size of small cars, parrotfish as long as my arm, and a sea turtle that surfaced three times in front of our banca before disappearing beneath the keel.

The village itself has a quality of life I found compelling. The bakery opens at five — there is always a bakery that opens at five, in every small Filipino town I have ever visited — and the pan de sal is fresh and warm and costs three pesos each. The sari-sari store on the corner sells cold Coke and phone credits and two types of instant noodles. The women who run the snorkeling tour concession at the beach speak three languages between them and quote the tour price flatly, without negotiation, which I found refreshing after the persistent upselling of El Nido.

The sunsets at Port Barton are what I remember most specifically. The bay faces west — pure west, no karsts in the way — and the sun goes down over an open stretch of the Sulu Sea with nothing obstructing it. On the evening I finally made myself take the bus north, I sat on the beach until the last light died and the fishermen had pulled the last boats in and the generator kicked on with its familiar diesel clatter. Then I walked back to the guesthouse and packed my bag in the dark.

When to go: November through April. Port Barton sees fewer visitors than El Nido throughout the season, which means January and February — El Nido’s peak months — are relatively manageable here. If you want the village essentially to yourself, come in November or early December before the Christmas traffic arrives on the island.