Locals say Siargao is changing, and not just in the way travel guides update from year to year. If you listen closely, you’ll hear fishermen talk about how the tides no longer come in when they used to. Surfers share stories of once-reliable swells that seem harder to predict. It’s not the same sea many grew up with, and some are beginning to wonder if tourists even notice.
For many visitors, Siargao is a perfect postcard. The sun is bright, the waves are rolling, and the vibe feels untouched. But if you stay a little longer or talk to someone who’s lived there all their life, you’ll hear about coral beds that used to be teeming with life or the sudden appearance of sandbars in places where there were none. It's not loud or dramatic, but the changes are steady. And those who rely on the sea feel them the most.
Climate shifts aren’t new, but what’s happening in Siargao feels more personal to locals. Older folks remember when certain areas flooded only during strong typhoons. Now, those same places feel threatened even during ordinary rains. Fishing families speak of a catch that used to last all day, now taking longer and going further just to fill the same buckets.
Tourism has helped the island in many ways. It brought jobs, income, and attention to a place that once felt remote. But it also brought in more boats, more construction, and more waste. It’s not that people don’t want visitors around, but there’s a quiet hope that tourists would come with open eyes, not just for the beaches, but for what’s being quietly lost beneath them.
Most tourists don’t see the rising concern because everything still looks beautiful on the surface. Resorts remain booked, and the photos on social media still glow. But beyond the hashtags, there’s a coastline that's slowly shifting. Locals are adjusting how they fish, when they surf, and even where they build. And in those small adjustments lies a bigger story.
There’s no single person or group to blame. What’s happening is complicated and tied to a mix of nature and human habits. But the conversations happening around sari-sari stores and small fishing docks show that people care. They love their island and want others to see it fully, not just for what it offers, but for what it’s quietly fighting to preserve.
So next time you visit a place like Siargao, would you be willing to look past the perfect sunset and ask someone how the island has changed? There’s still time to care, and maybe that’s where the real beauty begins.
0 Comments