El Fraile: El Acorazado Insumergible

Saturday, August 8, 2015

All I seemed to remember was that my heart beat followed the waves of the sea.

With uncertainty, we risked going to the desolate island in Cavite on August 6. The conflict arose between safety and story, but love for the job won after all. We fought our way to it despite the gloomy skies and strong winds.

The concealed fear of what might happen that we have no control over was overpowered by the passion that drove the souls hankering for bacon to be brought home.

An hour of boat ride was filled with inconsistent billow in the horizon, and I thought while I stared at the inviting sight of salt water that sometimes going with the flow is not the best option. Maybe going against the waves is the key to unlocking the door to something beyond existence.

I was quite fascinated that we were actually on the boat on our way to the unsinkable battleship let alone the view of islands and palm trees that composed the overall scene. The closer we got to Fort Drum, the louder the lub dub screamed.

I was excited, too excited even, that my heart raced way faster than it used to when I was all kilig because my crush said hello. I held onto that tiny hope that we would make it. We were halfway there, I kept the faith we would not go back without anything on our hands.

Magic as it seemed, we were able to stand the wrath of rock climbing due to low tide, survive the heat as we sun danced the rain away, conquer the blanket of traveling to El Fraile.

© Kris de Jesus

All the rusty cannons and destroyed cements were proofs of the fights that occurred during the World War II. The visit we had became more than the rediscovery of the unpopular history—it was more of reliving the strength the man-made island has and retelling the story of the stronger people who were behind it.