Three days after we explore Bongao town and climb Bud Bongao’s slopes, the journey shifts from land to sea. From Bongao’s streets and forested peak, we move outward, skimming across channels of glassy water that stitch Tawi-Tawi’s islands together.
Today, we’re going on a Bongao island hopping tour, a chance to experience powdery white sand and water so clear it feels like we’re gliding through the sky. We’re getting some gentler interlude after the more distant and rougher places we’ve been: Sitangkai and Panguan Island, still stuck on my mind like beach sand on your shorts after getting out of the water. Now, the boat engine whirs loudly over the waves and winds around us as the sea opens wide, ushering us toward small worlds that seem to float just over the horizon.
I sit at the bow for most of the ride, across a couple joining our group for this tour: he’s an Australian, and she’s a Filipina. Many times during the ride, my exhaustion betrays me as I find myself dozing off a few times. Yet a stillness that comes with being in the ocean embraces me, and I find myself settling into the ride easily.
Panampangan Island: Walking the Longest Sandbar in the Philippines
We arrive at Panampangan Island about two hours later, just as the tide begins to stretch itself thin over the sandbar. The boat’s wooden hull nudges the shallows, and in a few steps, our feet sink into powder-fine sand that seems almost too white against the turquoise shallows. The sun is high, but the breeze off the water takes the edge off the heat. Coconut palms lean lazily toward the sea, their fronds flickering against a sky so blue it almost looks unreal.
Panampangan Island is home to the longest sandbar in the Philippines, a highlight of any island hopping in Tawi-Tawi. When the tide pulls back fully, it unfurls like a ribbon of white that seems to go on forever (well, a little more than 3 kilometers, actually), slipping gracefully into the Sulu Sea and dissolving into the shimmer where sky meets water. Locals sometimes call it one of Tawi-Tawi’s crown jewels, though it wears that title without fuss. There are no grand signboards here, no resorts staking claim. Just the sand, the sea, and the endless sky.
We are not alone here, though. Another boat is moored farther down the shore—a group from a different tour, their voices carrying lightly across the sandbar as they wade and pose for photos. A couple of local families have also come for the day, their children darting in and out of the water while adults set out food under the palms, with old Filipino songs softly playing from a Bluetooth speaker. Yet even with the scattered pockets of people, Panampangan doesn’t feel crowded. The island is generous with its space, and everyone seems to move as if mindful not to disturb whatever quiet magic the place holds.
All of us in our group wander around, some wading into the shallows or walking along the curling sandbar. Others stay under the shade, leaning back on the cool sand, lulled by the soft slap of waves. It’s the kind of place where no one asks what time it is—only that somehow it would stop, even if temporarily.
Sir Bas, our guide for much of the Tawi-Tawi tour, soon lays out our shared lunch beneath a cluster of coconut trees. The spread is simple but generous—freshly grilled fish, clams, crabs, mantis shrimp whose weird-looking shape belie their sweet, briny meat, and rice warm from the Orocan container. He passes around dipping sauces mixed with calamansi and chilies. The flavors are unmistakably of the sea. We eat with our hands covered in plastic gloves.
Simunul Island: Visiting the Oldest Mosque in the Philippines
By early afternoon, we lift anchor and drift away from Panampangan’s shimmering sandbar. The sea deepens to a richer blue as we cut across the channel toward Simunul Island. The easy banter of lunch gives way to quiet gazes over the water. I find myself dozing off a couple of times, leaning against the boat’s wooden beam, lulled by the drone of the motor and the sea’s endless sway.
When we step onto the concrete port of Simunul, a group of children approach as they stare curiously at the newest batch of visitors to their island. The village feels warm and lived-in, every corner hinting at stories layered over centuries. Beyond these serene scenes, however, stands a structure that features something more profound—the Sheikh Karimul Makhdum Mosque, the oldest mosque in the Philippines.
As we approach the mosque grounds, shaded by ancient trees and a beautifully manicured lawn, we are met by Alkasbi Andung, Simunul’s tourism officer and our mosque guide for the afternoon. While waiting for the prayer to conclude, we put on the required traditional Muslim attire: a teal robe and taqiya for men, hijab and dress for women.
When the prayers are done, Alkasbi leads us inside. The original wooden mosque has long vanished to time, but four of its ancient pillars—darkened with age and softened by centuries—still stand, preserved within the current structure. They are simple, unadorned, yet heavy with significance.
Alkasbi gestures toward one of the mosque’s weathered columns. “These pillars,” Alkasbi tells us, resting a hand gently on the column, “have stood here for over six hundred years.” However, studies by the National Museum suggest they likely date to the 17th century, remnants of a reconstruction centuries after Karimul Makhdum’s arrival. Still, whether they have witnessed four hundred or six hundred years, they are regarded as sacred, the oldest known Islamic artifacts in the Philippines. Anyway, the historical significance of a place isn’t just measured in dates but in how long a place has mattered.
As I walk around the grounds, Alkasbi shares that the mosque has received national heritage recognition. Furthermore, in recent years, the Bangsamoro government has provided local funding to support the mosque’s preservation. “However, it’s not enough,” he rues, adding that, along with local governments from other provinces and private investors, the community remains closely involved in its upkeep.
By the time we return to our boat, the sun has already begun its westward dip. We clamber aboard the boat once again, looking forward to the next island.
Sangay Siapo: A Glimpse of Tawi-Tawi’s Emerging Island Resort
We skim across calmer waters now, the late afternoon light gilding the ripples with a muted gold. Our boat hums steadily as Simunul shrinks behind us. Before long, a slender strip of land stretches into view: Sangay Siapo Island.
Sangay Siapo is poised on the edge of becoming something more. From afar, what stands out first is the long, elevated wooden walkway stretching out across the water, flanked by cottages perched neatly on stilts. The scene feels almost like a blueprint of the Maldives, only more modest.
We disembark, and the walkway creaks lightly as we step on it. The cottages—still sparse and spaced out—hint at what’s to come. A resort destination in the making, Sangay Siapo is being quietly primed to offer visitors a taste of idyllic seascapes and stilted escapes. The water here is startlingly clear, glassy and shallow, shimmering turquoise in the sun.
We spend the next hour drifting around the boardwalk, peeking into some of the simple cottages and soaking in the quiet luxury of space and sea. There are no bustling crowds yet, just us and a couple of resort staff walking around. It feels like we’ve caught the island at an in-between moment—no longer raw, but not quite polished yet.
There is a hint, though, in Sangay Siapo’s air that, in a few years, might bustle with tourists drinking smoothies on overwater verandas. But for now, it still is an idea.
We take our time here, watching fish flit between stilts, the sea breeze ruffling colorful flags along the walkway’s handrails.
By the time we step back onto the boat, the shadows have stretched long and the sky tilts toward evening. The boat turns gently back toward Bongao. The day’s thread is winding tighter, as this is our last evening together as a group. Tomorrow, the tide will scatter us. Most will continue to Sulu, some will explore a bit in Zamboanga City, and I will have to stay another night here in Tawi-Tawi. Eventually, all of us will return to homes and lives far from here.
Laughter will still come tonight over dinner, but the shape of the day has changed. The shared journey thins out after today.
For now, Sangay Siapo holds our last golden light, stretching gently across the water as we head back to Bongao.
Bongao Island Hopping Tour Basics
Timing
- The best time to do this island hopping tour is during the dry season, March to May, when seas are generally calmer and skies are clearer.
- Avoid the southwest monsoon months (June to September) as waters can be rough and weather unpredictable.
Access
- A typical Bongao island hopping tour covers Panampangan Island, Simunul Island, and Sangay Siapo Island, each offering a unique slice of Tawi-Tawi tourism. All can be accessed via island hopping tours (PHP 8,000 per boat, good for 8-15 people). Our tour was organized by Layag Tawi-Tawi Tours, which also does other tours in the province, such as Bongao town tour and Sitangkai tour.
Essentials
- Sun protection (hat, sunscreen, sunglasses)
- Water and snacks (though lunch is often arranged)
- Cash (no ATMs on the islands, even in Simunul)
- Dry bag for electronics
- Modest clothing or sarong for visiting Sheikh Karimul Makhdum Mosque
Other Tawi-Tawi 2025 Posts
- Bongao, Tawi-Tawi: Exploring the Gateway to the Philippines’ Southernmost Frontier
- Bud Bongao: We Conquered the Highest Peak of Tawi-Tawi and Here’s What It Taught Me
- Sitangkai, Tawi-Tawi: Life in the “Venice of the South” Isn’t What You Might Imagine
- Panguan Island, Tawi-Tawi: We Reached the Edge of the Philippines and Were Surprised by What We Found
The Tourist Gaze 