ORIGINS

In BATANES, "a microcosm of a sustainable world," we find our people's beginnings a story of earth, sky, craft, and boundaries broken. AUDREY CARPIO writes about our history through a high to homespun fashion sojourn in the highlands.

- PAM QUIÑONES

Astorm was gathering. Or some form of inclement weather—it’s hard to be certain in these times. It was June, a month on the cusp of what is the traditional typhoon season in the Philippines, and we were on a rocky promontory in Batanes, the northernmost province of the country, on an island that lies right on the exit path of the region’s typhoon track. As the first droplets fell, the crew took shelter and Sharif Hamza, our photographer, instructed everyone to stand down. There would be no pictures here.

As I write this, Batanes has just been whipped by Typhoon Egay (Doksuri) as it made its way out of the PAR toward China. The usual calls for relief goods have been made for nearby provinces Cagayan and Ilocos Norte, but the sea journey to Batanes will be unnavigable, and small aircraft most certainly won’t be able to land until the last gusts have dissipated.

Batanes has always been isolated from the main Philippine island of Luzon. Like the Iron Islands of Westeriosi lore, Batanes is set apart, adrift, its small rocky isles swept up by gale force winds over millennia. The people of Batanes, known as the Ivatan, are necessarily hardier, possessing a fortitude that transcends resiliency. They have survived typhoon after typhoon, with rarely any casualties, because they are prepared, and have always been.

This is the group of islands that Vogue Philip