I’ve always been fascinated by blue lagoons, especially those that defy human exploration and technology. These lagoons seem to guard secrets that are meant to inspire awe. The first to capture my imagination was the Enchanted River in Hinatuan, where local tales of its mystical nature ignited my passion. Next on my journey is Lake Carolina, which remains a favorite—not only for its beauty but for the exhilarating sense of mystery it brings. Its unknown depths fill me with both fear and excitement. Honorable mention to Nasuli Spring, which also embodies these enchanting qualities. That said, I’m just thrilled to finally add Kimereges Blue Water to my growing collection of enchanted portals.

I visited Kimereges Blue Water during my final month in Bukidnon. It was after my scenic stay at U-GO Cliff Resort one weekend. Although I had planned to climb Musuan Peak beforehand, I realized it was getting late. Bukidnon, despite having many cities, feels like a ghost town past 7 PM. Not wanting to risk getting stranded or traveling at night, I decided to skip the hike and head straight to Pangantucan.

It was 1 PM when I arrived in the city of Maramag, where I was supposed to wait for a bus to Pangantucan. For some unknown reason, no buses arrived, so I, along with three others, decided to hire a tuk-tuk to our destinations. We split the fare, and I was the last to be dropped off. I felt uneasy during the ride because it was unusually cheap. The driver charged me only ₱75, which made me think he might not know where I was headed. Sure enough, the misunderstanding became clear when we turned toward Brgy. Adtuyon.

The driver assumed I was headed to one of the nearby resorts. However, as we passed all of them and my destination remained elusive, he began to question our route. I replied, “I thought you knew the area.” He sighed, not out of frustration, but likely because he realized he was mistaken. When we spotted some riders stranded due to flat tires, we didn’t hesitate to stop and ask if they needed help. It turned out they were also headed in our direction, which was unfortunate given their predicament.

We passed by them, quickly uttering a thank you. I thought the ride was going smoothly. After all, the map said we were just 10 minutes away. However, nothing could have prepared me for the roller coaster ride I was about to face. The road to Kimereges Blue Water was paved but uneven. Even though the waterways along the road were dry, they had carved out deep voids that caused the tuk-tuk to jolt.

Despite the road conditions, my driver seemed unfazed. He maintained his speed despite the bumps and treacherous turns. I wondered if he had gone mad or if he simply didn’t care for his tuk-tuk, so I asked if he rented it. He replied that he had paid it off a long time ago. Oh well, that explains it. Bumping my head a few more times on the tuk-tuk, we finally reached our destination at 2:30 PM.

The caretaker was taken aback by my arrival, perhaps not expecting any more visitors that day. It was a Sunday after all, and an afternoon visit was uncommon. I greeted her warmly and inquired about the fees, but she kindly informed me that it was no longer necessary, gesturing toward my destination. As I made my way to the lagoon, I overheard her asking my driver why I was alone, a question I often encounter. I just smiled.

A moment later, I was finally gazing at the beauty that had haunted my dreams for a long time. The lagoon itself? Remarkable doesn’t quite cut it. There was a stillness to it that felt sacred — like I had stumbled into a place I wasn’t supposed to find, but was somehow allowed to witness. A soft, eerie quiet settled over the water, not in a spooky way, but in that something-is-watching-but-not-threatening kind of way. The kind that makes you lower your voice without knowing why.

A narrow bamboo path led me closer, its rustic charm only adding to the enchantment. With each step, the vivid blue of the lagoon peeked through the trees like it was playing coy — teasing, shimmering, and then fully revealing itself all at once. That contrast between handmade paths and ancient waters? Chef’s kiss.

And the rice fields — wide, golden, humming with the quiet rhythm of the land — wrapped around the lagoon like guardians. I stood there thinking, How does something this beautiful just… exist? No fanfare, no crowds, no noise. Just this blue jewel tucked between mountains and farmland.

I explored for nearly two hours, walking the edges, breathing it all in, and letting the place imprint itself on me. And even with the depth — which normally fills me with the usual cocktail of fear and existential dread — I stayed close to the water. Maybe it was the solitude, maybe it was the peace, or maybe I was just tired of letting fear win.

Eventually, I decided to leave. I had seen enough, felt enough. The magic had settled. That night, I checked into Igemew, a Manobo-owned resort with one of the most underrated views in Bukidnon. Perched high, it overlooks sprawling fields and mountains that turn golden at sundown. The quiet there was different — less eerie, more comforting. Like a full exhale after holding your breath all day.

Lying in bed that night, I felt it: that soft contentment you get when a long-awaited moment finally happens. I had finally seen Kimereges Blue Water — and somehow, it had seen me too.