The Island of Siargao Through the Lens of Its Community

Siargao can appear as a dream, but its habitués know the work it takes to keep the dream alive.

A short trek through some overgrowth and tangled, windswept tree trunks led us to a stretch of beach with not a soul or sign of habitation in sight. The tide had retreated, exposing sea grass that carpeted the rippled sand. The photographer Camille Robiou du Pont tells us that this quiet spot away from the crowds is her “studio.” This is where she goes to shoot, to find inspiration from nature, and to carve out time for herself. 

Originally from France, Camille was working and traveling through Asia before finding herself in Siargao, where she has stayed for nearly a decade. “This is where I grew and discovered myself both as a photographer, and as a woman,” she says. Camille (who can now passably converse in Bisaya), is known for the soft sensuality of the female form in the images she creates. Surfers dancing on the waves or undulating under water. Flowers in peak bloom, or crushed in between pages for memory keeping. 

Her work also draws attention to the locals, whose realities are often overlooked in the tide of tourist-centric storytelling that mythologize Siargao as the Philippines’ premiere Eat Surf Love destination. A recent exhibit of hers featured photographs of multigenerational fisherfolk whose traditional way of life is being challenged by climate change and the island’s rapid gentrification. 

Siargao, consistently on the top of “Best Island” travel lists, has lately been portrayed as a paradise teetering on the edge of unsustainable growth, a victim of its own hype, a Bali in the making. Fueling this narrative are a recent spate of widely-publicized incidents: frequent power outages, a spike in theft and break-ins, and troubling behavior from certain groups of disrespectful foreigners. Yet these issues appear to be outliers rather than the norm, as the island spirit of shaka still draws strangers together into a tight-knit community with surfing at its center.

The island’s resilience is the inhabitants’ very source of inspiration. With its face to the Pacific Ocean, Siargao welcomes the powerful swells that have attracted elite surfers and bred homegrown champs. Its eastern exposure also puts the island in direct contact with the storms that brew in the Pacific, often being a typhoon’s first port of call. Siargao’s fragile infrastructure is laid bare whenever strong winds sweep through, showing visitors the contradictions of an island that is built over with the latest luxuries marketed to the global traveller. 

Yet it is in these tough moments that Siargao shines, and its people, regardless of origin, rise to the occasion. Through all the ebbs and flows, Siargao remains home to a dynamic mix of locals, transplants, and expatriates who continue to find the island worth fighting for.

Christophe Bariou 

At the tip of the Malinao peninsula, where several of Siargao’s higher-end resorts enjoy a heightened sense of seclusion, sits Maison Bukana, Christophe Bariou’s eco-luxury four-bedroom villa. Firefly-dotted mangroves flow on one side toward the vast Pacific on the other, creating a natural sanctuary between river and sea. While General Luna beats as the center of the surf action and festivity, Malinao offers tranquility and access to some of the island’s quieter adventures.

Maison Bukana was built with intention, and its architects had the island’s climate vulnerability in mind when constructing the house. A hybrid between a bunker and an open structure with walls made of eco-bricks, the villa offered little resistance to the force of nature. “When the typhoon came, the air just flowed through it,” Christophe says. The roof, which was made of bamboo, was partially damaged but easily patched up. “When you design a building, especially in those areas, it’s really about accepting that it can be potentially destroyed, but also at the same time easy to rebuild.” 

The villa, which employs twice the number of people it hosts, is just one facet of the French-Filipino entrepreneur’s philosophy grounded on sustainability. “Caring for the community and protecting the environment are not obstacles to prosperity,” he insists.“They are the foundation for lasting success, especially here in Siargao.”

Furthering his journey as an advocate for the planet, he and his partner Nadine Lustre opened Ver De Siargao, a restaurant serving elevated, plant-based comfort food. “Eating a plant-based diet is by far the most impactful action we can all easily implement in our lives, more than traveling less, or recycling. At the same time, it is paradoxically the most overlooked and ignored solution to the environmental crisis.” He notes that Ver De is already changing minds among their predominantly non-vegan diners, who are surprised to find themselves leaving their tables fulfilled and satisfied.  

Christophe understands that Siargao’s appeal transcends its surface attractions. There’s a distinct energy born from the convergence of people, from the locals fiercely defending their culture alongside outsiders who arrive with positive intentions. “Here it feels like everything is possible, and everybody can collaborate to build the ideal community we want,” he says, explaining the so-called “Siargao curse” that seems to grip visitors like a fever. “So I understand when somebody returns to the city, they think, it was like a dream, not a perfect dream, but something that makes you wonder, what if?” 

Chris Alfaro and Jay Ru

It’s the 12th of June, and Barbosa is honoring the occasion with a night of OPM. Chris Alfaro and Jay Ru take turns on the decks selecting tracks that are thoroughly unfamiliar to my ears yet immediately get my shoulders moving. While budots has its place, and it’s huge in Siargao, this is not that night. Instead, deep cuts of Filipino hip hop mix with surprisingly funky ‘70s jukebox queens. Chris and Jay don’t think of themselves as music snobs, but they do take it seriously. “We really put time and effort in digging for music we play every week,” says Jay. “So we want to keep our sets fresh, and we want to introduce the music that we like.”

The two had moved to Siargao (Chris from LA, Jay from Manila) two weeks before the pandemic locked the world down. After a few months, quarantine restrictions eased up. “We were surfing every day, so I actually had an amazing time during COVID.” “You had the island yourself,” adds Chris. “We were stoked but broke, we were all trying to figure out to self sustain, working with farms, doing barter trades.”

The island bubble, so to speak, burst when Typhoon Odette hit. “All the fun we had during the pandemic, it just knocked us right back into humility,” they admit.“That was the big equalizer for us, just three, four hours of destruction. It was really scary, but once again, our tight knit community came together.” For months they went without power, but witnessing the stoic way that the locals just got on with rebuilding pushed the different communities to do their part, learning firsthand the meaning of bayanihan. “The Spanish, the French, the Cebuanos—it was super cool to see the diversity of the people here and the love that we have from all the visitors who came before.”

After a period of recovery and DJing for fundraisers, the two decided it was time to rebuild their own lives, and opened Barbosa in April 2023. The vinyl bar stands out as a music space that honors digging culture, favoring hidden gems over the obvious banger.  “We’ll put together Northern Soul into house and ghetto tech, and then a classic disco track to some uptempo hip hop, and as much as that sounds like a mess, we make it work,” says Chris. “It’s still a challenge, that’s what keeps it fun.”

Gringo Benedicto

A Siargao establishment doesn’t feel complete without a Gringograss painting swirled all over its walls. A mural by him bestows upon the place a sprinkling of shaka vibes and good juju, with surrealist characters inked in bold lines against dreamlike backdrops that blend the indigenous with the cosmic. It pulls you into another world, a vision of Siargao steeped in magic and mythology.

Gringo Benedicto is a chef by training, and he first moved from Bacolod to Siargao to work in the kitchens of Kermit, the popular Italian-owned pizzeria that opened on the island even before there were any direct flights from Manila. He’s had other stints, from managing Harana Surf Resort to slicing raw fish at Cev, over the 11 years he’s been a resident, but now primarily devotes his time to working as a visual artist. An ink-on-paper illustrator by heart, he’s known for his larger-scale works as the go-to muralist on the island. “There’s always something new, and they always need some art,” Gringo says.

Though he’s exhibited his paintings in Bacolod, it was in Siargao where he began to consider the possibility of becoming a professional artist, after foreigners encouraged him to sell his doodles. He draws from a deep well of imagination, never repeating his work but crafting a distinct visual brew that pays homage to street art and tattoo culture through a fuzzy psychedelic lens.

“You can find a lot of nice beaches and nice places to go elsewhere in the Philippines,” Gringo reflects on his adopted home, “but for me, it’s the community.” He has found it easy to make lifelong friends here, connecting with a tribe of kindred spirits. “The community of creatives is just healthy in a way that we all support each other. We don’t compete, but we like to team up and find ways to be symbiotically useful.”

Manuel “Wilmar” Melindo

A legendary local, Wilmar still manages to stop people in their tracks when they catch sight of him, like spotting a perfect wave from shore. “OG!” young groms call out before going on their way, unless they are tourists asking for a selfie. He has accepted his designation as the sexiest man in Siargao without fuss. Wilmar, who started surfing in 1995, is considered one of the original surfers on the island, though he claims that there were others before him. Born in Siargao, he was sent to school in Cebu and then Manila from a young age, and only returned after high school when the scene was just starting to take off.  

“Nasa second year high school, nakita ko sa action magazine, oh, may surfing sa Siargao?” He recounts. “Palagi ko kinakita sa TV yung surfing competition sa Hawaii. Sarap, sana makapunta. Nandito pa naman.” The magazine he refers to is likely one of the surfing magazines that published John Callahan’s photos of Cloud 9’s spectacular barrels and unspoiled beach taken in 1992. It was the first time the surfing world learned about the Philippine island, and it changed everything. 

Another first-generation surfer named Rudy Figuron, who is around a decade older than Wilmar, was the only local who owned a surfboard back then. “Noong 1996 or 1997, may nabalian na board ng foreigner kasi ang laki ng alon dito sa Cloud 9,” Wilmar recounts. “Sabi ko, puntahin ko yon at hingiin ko talaga. Tapos inayos ko,” which is how he got hold of his first board. 

Rather than pursuing competitive surfing himself (“daming magaling”), Wilmar shifted his focus to competition judging, working with Jaime Rusillon, the late former mayor who established the first international surf cup on Cloud 9. Today, Wilmar coaches the Philippine Surfing Team, who in May earned bronze at the 2025 ISA World Longboard Championship in El Salvador, the national team’s strongest showing to date. Siargao newbies can also hang a surf session with Wilmar at Harana Surf Resort, where he gives lessons at his favorite reef break at Tuason Point.

Lady Carmel Litang

She calls herself the “pawikan girl.” Since 2023, Lady has been facilitating workshops and training sessions on sea turtle conservation and handling, starting with the fisherfolk from her home in Halian, a tiny island reached by a two-hour boat ride from the Siargao mainland. At first, the fishers were given PHP1,000 for the eggs they captured, in addition to flashlights, raincoats, and rash guards. Eventually they began patrolling the island on their own, looking out for nesting sites and monitoring them. The initiative spread to four other island barangays and by the end of 2024 they had collectively released 153 turtle hatchlings to the sea. “From poachers to protectors,” Lady says with pride.

The elder folks, entrenched in their ways, were less easy to convince, since they believed that eating turtle meat and eggs enhanced their libidos. “There was a lot of inuman involved,” she shares. “And I would tell them that there is law banning the consumption of sea turtles.” Involving the island kids early on also helped spread the conservation message to their parents. When Typhoon Odette shattered the island in December 2021, the residents were left without power for nearly six months. Relatively speaking this didn’t make a huge difference to the people of Halian, who only had use of a generator from 6 to 9 P.M. on a normal day. 

In the wake of the disaster, Lady mobilized the community to help with clearing the debris from the beach, and the children enthusiastically joined in. This evolved into a weekly clean-up activity where the participants, called the SeaWikan Kid Patrollers, comb the coast for trash and segregate the plastic that will be sent to a recycling facility in Del Carmen. Continuing her collaboration with the organizations SEA Movement, Kids for Kids, and Oceanus, Lady plans to develop similar educational projects about the importance of corals and mangroves to island ecosystems.   

“We tell the kids that this is our playground. This is the environment that has been given to us, and we need to protect it so that the future generations will able to experience what we experience right now.”

Maria Tokong

Maria has the kind of voice that sends chills down your spine. She sings, almost every night, at various resorts and bars with her band called Going Mary. Their sound is Filipino roots, tropical folk, island soul. She says she is powered by the spirits when she sings, and it’s not hard to believe so. Belonging to an influential surfing family (pro surfer Marama Tokong and Pearls Project muse Josie Prendergast are her cousins), Maria is deeply connected to Siargao. In a post that went viral, she wrote, “This is not just where I live, it’s where I learned to walk, where I watched the sunrise with my family and where the ocean became a part of my heartbeat.”

Her message struck a chord with many for its raw honesty as she describes the heartbreak she feels seeing the Siargao that she has known disappear under a cloud of hedonistic partying. She’s not against tourism. It is, after all, how she earns a living as a musician. But she hopes that travelers will carry more respect and realize they are in someone’s home, and she feels strongly about protecting the integrity of the local culture and identity. “There’s a lot of us that are feeling this, that we sometimes don’t feel like we’re from here anymore, or we feel out of place,” she explains, sadly. “We just want to know that we’re also being heard. We hope that everyone could also slow down, so that we can keep up.”

Also exacerbated by the rise in tourism is the island’s long-running waste problem. “There’s no proper waste landfill here, there’s a lot of garbage on the island. It’s going to come to a point where it can’t contain all of the garbage anymore,” she says. “We might end up surfing with garbage.” Maria spearheads the Siargao Collective, a monthly community event/music festival involving a beach cleanup, art workshops, and a feeding program for the island children. Events like these bring the different groups together (“mga lumad, mga lokal, mga bisita”) in a day of connection, creativity, and community love, a vision for what the island could still be. 

The island dangles the intoxicating promise of an ideal life, an escape from the overwhelm of big cities that disconnect us from nature and from each other. We all yearn to return to something fundamentally true. Siargaonons, who have lived this reality their whole lives, welcome outsiders with open arms, knowing they will remain rooted, long after the last guest has departed and the final storm has passed. 

See more of this story in the Anniversary Issue of Vogue Philippines, available at the link below.

By AUDREY CARPIO. Photographs by CAMILLE ROBIUO DU PONT. Media Channels Editor: Anz Hizon. Digital Associate Editor: Chelsea Sarabia.

Special thanks to Cebu Pacific Air.