Return to Camiguin: A Journey Through Memory and Timeless Beauty

There are places in this world that refuse to change, where time seems to rest its weary head. Camiguin is one of them. Fourteen years ago, I set foot on this small island in the Bohol Sea during a college field trip for an Art and Society class. It was a pilgrimage back then, a young student’s journey to find beauty in simplicity and art in nature. This year, I returned—not as a student, but with office friends, drawn by the promise of nostalgia and the bountiful Lanzones harvest, an irresistible lure for anyone familiar with Camiguin’s golden reputation.

The flight from Cebu was brief, a mere hop across blue waters. From the air, Camiguin’s jagged coastlines emerged like a green jewel-encrusted in azure. As our plane descended, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The island hadn’t changed. Its mountains stood as they had before—majestic, verdant, and alive. Even the air seemed unchanged, heavy with salt, foliage, and the faint, sugary aroma of ripe Lanzones.

We arrived in the hometown of a colleague who welcomed us with an openness that could only be described as quintessentially Filipino. Here, hospitality isn’t an act; it is woven into the fabric of life. We were offered fruits fresh from the harvest, their golden skins glowing in the midday light. Lanzones from Camiguin have no equal—sweet and tangy, with a whisper of nectar that lingers long after the last bite.

Camiguin’s landscapes remain lush and unspoiled, shaped by the ever-watchful gaze of its volcanoes. With their green mantles and dark secrets, these silent giants preside over an island that seems to hum with their energy. We explored the cold waters of Katibawasan Falls, where icy torrents cascade from a dizzying height, carving through mossy rocks before pooling into a clear, inviting basin. Nearby, the Ardent Hot Springs offered the perfect counterpoint—warm, mineral-rich waters that seemed to soothe not just the body but the spirit.

Yet, no visit to Camiguin is complete without setting foot on White Island. This crescent of sand emerges from the sea like a fleeting mirage, its stark whiteness a dramatic contrast to the cerulean waters that lap at its shores. Standing there, surrounded by endless blue, I felt suspended in time, as if the island and the sea had conspired to create a moment that would never fade.

We wandered, we laughed, and we ate. Memories of my student self brushed against the edges of my consciousness. I realized that Camiguin had not changed because it didn’t need to. Its charm lies in its constancy, its refusal to bow to the modern world’s demands for progress and transformation.

As we left, my colleague’s family waved us off with smiles that warmed the island. Camiguin, timeless and unyielding, had once again etched itself into my memory—not as a place left unchanged, but as a place that changes you, again and again, every time you visit.