Siargao Back Then: Stories From Shore to Mangrove

 

When people think of Siargao today, they picture surfboards, island hopping, and busy cafés in General Luna. But this image is only the latest chapter in the island’s story. Long before Cloud 9 became a name spoken across the surf world, Siargao lived quietly. Families worked the sea and land, relying on small boats, mangroves, and coconuts. To understand the island today, it helps to see how it once was.

Life Before Tourism

Siargao’s communities grew around fishing. Men sailed out to the reefs and women helped prepare the catch to feed families or to sell in local markets. Coconut palms lined much of the land, and copra making was a main source of income. Boats served as the veins of the island. They carried food, firewood, and people between villages. Traveling overland was slow, and in many areas impossible, so the sea was the highway. Life was not shaped by tourism but by tides, weather, and the rhythm of the coast.

Del Carmen’s Roots

Del Carmen, one of Siargao’s oldest towns, carries traces of Spanish influence. Once called Numancia, it became a settlement in the 1600s. Watch posts guarded against raiders, and churches marked the arrival of missionaries. Yet the heart of Del Carmen was never only its town center. The vast mangrove forest surrounding it shaped both work and culture. Spanning about 4,800 hectares, it is the largest continuous mangrove stand in the Philippines. For generations, this green maze was more than scenery. It was a shield against storms, a nursery for fish, and a source of daily survival. People gathered crabs, fish, and wood. They learned which roots sheltered fingerlings and which channels kept them safe when typhoons came.

Rise of Cloud 9

This older Siargao had little to do with tourism. Foreigners rarely visited, and most Filipinos who knew the island connected it to fishing rather than leisure. That changed in the late 1980s and early 1990s when a new set of visitors arrived. Surfers began exploring its reefs and breaks, and one wave stood out. It was a heavy, hollow right-hander off General Luna that locals had not yet named. The story goes that surfers kept eating a local chocolate bar called Cloud 9 after their sessions, and soon the wave adopted the same name. When surf photographer John Callahan published images of it in the early nineties, the world began to pay attention. Siargao, once a quiet island, now had an identity tied to surf. The change was quick, and the surf economy started to grow around General Luna.

Early Island Routes

Even with surfing at the center, other traditions remained. Island hopping, which today fills Instagram feeds, was once simply part of daily life. Boats were always the link between islets and villages, and the three small islands closest to General Luna became natural stops. Guyam, a tiny patch of land surrounded by reef, was used by locals for fishing rests. Daku, bigger and with wide beaches, became a gathering place where families cooked meals and shared fish. Naked Island, a sandbar with no trees, was a landmark for fishermen. These routes have turned into the popular Tri Island tour, but at their core they are the same waters locals crossed for generations.

Sugba and Sohoton

Beyond the classic three, other sea journeys shaped local life. Sugba Lagoon in Del Carmen shows what mangrove waterways have long meant to residents. To reach it, you pass through channels that families once used as fishing grounds. The lagoon itself, now famous for its jumping deck and green water, was always a calm space in the middle of thick forest. Sohoton Cove in nearby Bucas Grande tells another story. The limestone walls and caves were part of a fishing landscape before they became attractions. The stingless jellyfish lagoons, now visited by day tours, were known only to locals who treated them with respect.

Old Ways in New Times

Travelers today experience these places with cameras, kayaks, and posted fees. They rent huts on Daku, swim in Sugba, and glide through Sohoton in small paddle boats. Yet the backbone of these activities remains the same as it always was. Locals still guide the boats. Families still prepare the fish you eat. The mangroves still serve as protection against storms. What changed is the purpose: once for survival, now also for tourism.

Seeing Beyond Surf

Visiting Siargao with this in mind adds meaning to each stop. You see Naked Island not only as a photo backdrop but also as a sandbar that guided fishermen. You notice the mangroves of Del Carmen not only as a tourist site but as a food source and storm barrier. You step into Sohoton not just as a visitor but as someone entering a space that once belonged only to fishers and their children. Surfing gave Siargao its fame, but the roots of the island run deeper than waves. Its past is written in fishing nets, in coconut groves, and in the green mangroves that have stood for centuries.

When you leave Siargao, you carry more than photos. You carry the story of an island that lived quietly long before its surf fame, an island where daily life was shaped by shorelines and mangroves. To travel here with care is to honor that history and to see the island not only for what it is today but for everything it has been.