How a man who loves Puerto Galera came to admit that the mountains are greener on the other side.
It got darker and darker as we approached the tourist landmark we went out of our way to see. During what had been otherwise perfect riding weather, ominous rain clouds, and lightning concentrated exactly where we were headed, gave us a bit of pause.
Because of the unsettling tempest brewing over the horizon, we thought it was best to ask the locals working at the 7-Eleven if we would still be able to see Devil’s Mountain if it poured. The answer my motorcycling buddy, Jojo, came out of the door shouting was, “All roads going there are paved!”
Magic of the Mountains
Our group of 12 motorcycles dwindled to two as the heavy downpour—sprinkled with sets of lightning that spiked the middle of the road like celestial waypoints flashing across our path—forced the others to rethink their life choices as they slipped into their rain gear.
It got darker still as we approached our destination. The roads became increasingly slippery as rainwater pooled and visibility shrank to no more than a few feet. As Jojo and I soldiered on, I found myself howling with laughter at the absurdity of our mission while half-expecting to see nothing.
Suddenly, it sprang into our view: a collage of angular peaks, contoured by unique shades of brown and green. Somehow, in spite of the storm front swelling all around it, Devil’s Mountain remained luminous. It seemed to me that the mountainscape intentionally tested our resolve before rewarding us with its grandeur.
By then, my laughter resembled that of someone who had taken a good amount of magic mushrooms. Suffice it to say, seeing Devil’s Mountain up close made it well-worth getting drenched.
Peak Riding
Devil’s Mountain in the town of San Jose may have been the highlight of that first day riding around Occidental Mindoro, but it certainly wasn’t the only spectacle that lit our senses with awe. Town after town, the province randomly scattered unique topographical features. It was as though the western part of the island was landscaped by a toddler’s whim, with random government buildings casually flanked by stunning jagged backdrops.
And the roads? They were close to perfection: immaculate stretches of asphalt, stitched together by corners that enticed everyone to ride more spiritedly. Even as dusk transitioned to night, the roads were so well-lit that the cornering party carried on up to Buktot Beach in Mansalay. Occidental Mindoro was a joy to ride.
Oriental Contrast
As a millennial whose first travel experiences prominently included Puerto Galera’s White Beach, Oriental Mindoro holds a special place in my heart. Even as I learned to loathe the cluttered cacophony of five different songs playing simultaneously amid the murmur of crowds, the town of Puerto Galera was still one of the first places I visited when I got into motorcycle touring.
I would tuck myself away at Talipanan Beach, feeling superior to those who only knew White Beach. If I wanted excellent pizza and pasta, Luca’s was just a few minutes walk from Bamboo House, my de facto home on the island. And if I craved Japanese, Abe Chang and her one-woman-run izakaya was a 10-minute ride away. The roads going around the mountains to and from Calapan Port are scenic and twisty. And because of these, I always kept coming back.
However, Occidental Mindoro just seems more interesting to look at. Plus, its roads more consistently provide the nudging to play around. I have no doubt in my mind that I will be back lounging at Talipanan Beach someday, not too far in the future. But I will most likely do so after looping the island from Abra de Ilog.
