Quirino Province: What Happens When You Stop Fighting Time

What would you do differently if you knew you had ten years left? What would you do if you knew tomorrow was your last day? These questions have been lingering inside my head for the past few years. And every time I asked myself these questions, I end up in a place that I’ve never been to. This time, it was Quirino Province. An overlooked province with no claims to fame and Instagram-worthy hotspots.

And like always, the place I’d never been to taught me something I wasn’t looking for. It even gave me answers to questions I’ve never asked. 

So, what can an underrated province teach you about life and the finite time we have?

My Quirino Province adventure 

I woke up in the van with no idea where we were. I looked outside, and found a sign saying we were in Isabela, another province most people skip on their way to somewhere else.

The landscapes outside were stunning. I was in awe of the rolling hills, emerald fields, and slow-paced communities. 

I tried to stretch my aching body. At 22, I could sleep anywhere. I could sleep in a cramped van and wake up fine.

But at this age? I wake up with consequences. My aching neck, back and shoulders are reminding me I’m not invincible.

Soon, we arrived at the first stop of our Quirino Province tour.

Quirino Provincial Capitol

We stopped at the Quirino Provincial Capitol. I got out, legs still stiff, and stretched in front of buildings that had clearly weathered decades.

The other joiners, especially the younger ones, rushed ahead to get photos of the Quirino Province arch.

I stayed back, catching my breath. 

Then, the questions came back to me.

What would you do differently if you knew you had ten years left? 

What would you do if you knew tomorrow was your last day?

This time, I had answers to these questions. 

I’d keep doing this. 

I’d keep going to places no one talks about. 

And I’d keep moving while I still can.

The organizers gave us time to explore the grounds. So, we checked out the museum, the buildings, and the souvenir shops.

Even in that short stop, I learned more about Quirino than I had in my entire lifetime. 

The province is landlocked, surrounded by mountains on all sides. 

Most of it is rugged terrain: forests, caves, and waterfalls tucked into valleys that don’t see many visitors.

This is why I keep going to places no one talks about. 

Travel is a never-ending university. Every new province is a chance to learn something I didn’t know. 

I ask questions. I absorb information. I collect facts about places most people will never see.

In my younger years, I would’ve found this boring. I would have rushed to the adrenaline-pumping activities and notable sights. 

But it’s different when you’re a little older. You appreciate the simpler things. You enjoy the slower side of travel. And you love acquiring facts that you can share with your family back home.

From the capitol grounds, we headed back to the van to prepare for our next stop in Quirino Province.

Maddela Falls in Quirino Province 

I fell asleep on the way to the falls. Again. I woke up just as we were pulling into the parking area, groggy and disoriented.

When I was younger, I could stay awake for entire road trips, alert and ready for whatever came next. Now? I can’t make it an hour without nodding off.

Father Time is coming for me. No amount of vitamins, exercise, whey protein and sleep can stop it.

But I’m not afraid to admit that I’m getting older. While some deny the fact that they’re aging, I fully embrace this part of life.

Because aging isn’t a tragedy. The real tragedy is living a life full of regrets and what-ifs. And I’m living my life the way I want to.

So we followed the scenic and mossy pathway to the first level of this gorgeous waterfall in Maddela, Quirino Province.

It was stunning. Yes, it’s nowhere as massive or breathtaking as the Crying Mountains in Kibungan.

Still, I was fascinated by its refreshing scenery and picturesque natural beauty. 

From the first level, I noticed a concrete pathway leading up to the other tiers. Naturally, we followed it to see what else Maddela Falls had to offer.

The upper levels were quieter, less accessible. The pathway was steeper here, and I felt it in my legs. But the falls were just as beautiful or maybe more so without the crowd.

We spent time there, taking photos and listening to the water. The rest of the group didn’t follow us up. Either they didn’t notice the pathway, or they decided the climb wasn’t worth it.

Eventually, we headed back down to the first level and took more photos there.

After taking photos, we returned to the parking lot, stepped inside the van, and prepared for the next stop of our Quirino Province adventure.

Governor’s Rapids

Lunch was quick but filling. Our organizers mentioned we needed to move quickly because there were many activities waiting at Governor’s Rapids.

When we arrived, we were shown to our rooms. Shared accommodations, meaning I’d be bunking with three other people. The rooms were simple and basic, but they were good enough.

I’m not picky when it comes to accommodations. I’ve slept in wilderness camps and muddy forests. A clean bed and a roof? That’s luxury.

Then, our local guides picked us up, and we followed them down to the shore of the raging river.

I could feel the energy shift. Something was about to happen, but I had no idea what. 

I hadn’t researched the activities in Quirino Province. I’d just shown up and trusted the itinerary.

A younger version of me would’ve needed to know every detail, every risk and every outcome. But at this age, I don’t give a damn about having all the answers. I prefer not knowing. Control is overrated anyway.

Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.

On the river banks, the guides gave us a quick rundown of our activities that day. They mentioned a boat tour, a swing, a cave, and river tubing. 

It sounded exciting and a little reckless. But that’s perfect. That’s perfectly me.

Here’s what I’ve learned in my travels: everyone knows we’re all going to die. But almost no one lives like they believe it. 

They plan and research and overthink until the trip never happens. Not me.

Life waits for no one. Soon, the coffee gets cold. You can leave it sitting there while you plan the perfect moment to drink it. But all that planning doesn’t make it taste better. It just guarantees you’ll be drinking something lukewarm that could’ve been perfect if you’d just taken the first sip.

From the river banks, we hopped on the boat, and took a scenic tour of Governor’s Rapids in Quirino Province. 

Along the way, the guides shared information about the history and geography of the area.

I prefer more tours like this in the Philippines. This is the part of travel we need to add to our attractions and activities. I think it could help boost the country’s slumping tourism numbers.

Here’s the thing: foreign travelers don’t just travel for photographs and sights. They travel to experience things. They want to learn about the history and culture of every location they visit.

Our Instagram and TikTok culture has contributed to the downfall of Philippine tourism. 

We’ve overly romanticized Instagram-worthy spots, like flower farms and replicas of iconic international landmarks.

We tend to overlook the raw, ruggedly beautiful places like Quirino Province.

And whenever we discover a new beautiful place, we compare it to famous foreign landmarks or attractions.

We give them monikers like “The New Zealand of the Philippines”, “The Amsterdam of Cebu”. 

As if a place can’t be beautiful on its own terms. As if it needs validation from somewhere else to matter.

Midway through the tour, we pulled up to a rocky bank.

Ahead, a cave opening emerged from the cliff face. Our guide said we’d be entering Tinyente Cave.

Tinyente Cave

Caves are muddy and messy. You’ll have to crawl, scramble, duck, and even wade through waist-deep water.

That’s exactly what happened on our tour of Tinyente Cave.

It wasn’t pretty.

But then again, outdoor adventures aren’t ballet. You don’t have to be a graceful ballerina to explore a cave.

And somehow, this quick adventure in Quirino Province reminded me of the beauty of aging.

Some people are afraid to get older because they won’t look radiant or they’ll lose their athleticism.

That is a fact, but that’s also an eventuality.

But getting older also comes with perks. And I’m not talking about the senior citizen discounts. I’m talking about the mental maturity that usually comes with age.

One of the things I love about being at this age is I just don’t give a damn what others think.

The older I get, the less I care about being liked. I’m too close to death to please anyone.

Unlike the younger version of me, I have the courage to be disliked or fade into the background.

I’m not afraid of disappointing others.

I used to spend so much energy managing expectations that weren’t even mine. I tried to be impressive, agreeable, and memorable. I thought that was what living well meant.

Aging removes that illusion slowly.

You realize most people are busy carrying their own worries. The audience you were performing for was never really watching.

And that is strangely freeing.

I used to explain myself to everyone. Now I let misunderstandings stay misunderstood.

I stopped explaining myself to people who already decided who I am. I stopped chasing approval from people who wouldn’t be in my life in five years.

I learned to choose peace over recognition.

In a cave, no one cares how you look. Your clothes get soaked. Your shoes sink into mud. You move awkwardly, sometimes slowly, sometimes carefully, because you have to. The cave does not reward pride. It rewards patience.

Life is similar.

You spend your youth trying to appear strong. Later, you learn strength is the ability to continue even when you’re uncomfortable, uncertain, or unseen.

Aging does not shrink your world. It clarifies it.

The things that once felt urgent become quiet. The opinions that once felt heavy become light. And the days you once postponed begin to feel precious.

You stop waiting for the right time.

You understand the right time was always just the time you still have.

We emerged from the Quirino cave, muddy and soaked, back into daylight. It was exciting and fun. It wasn’t as challenging as Sumaguing Cave in Sagada, but it was insanely enjoyable. 

Finishing the rest of the boat tour in Quirino Province 

The cave wasn’t the end of our boat tour at Governor’s Rapids. We stopped by a spot where people could swing and plunge into the green water. Then we headed back to the base for river tubing.

Honestly, the river tubing was shorter than I expected. I thought it would be as thrilling as white water rafting in Cagayan De Oro. 

Nevertheless, I was extremely satisfied with our first day in Quirino Province. 

At least I got my adrenaline pumping.

At least I got to meet new people.

Quite frankly, I don’t spend a lot of time interacting with others these days. I usually spend my time alone or with people who really matter.

That’s another perk of getting older. When you realize you have limited time and energy, you stop spending it on people who don’t deserve it.

Not because you became cold.

Because you finally understood how exhausting it is to keep forcing connections that never felt natural.

When I was younger, I thought being a good person meant being available to everyone. Reply fast. Show up every time. Say yes even when I didn’t want to.

Now I notice how peaceful a small circle can be.

A few people who understand your silences. People you don’t have to impress. People who don’t require a performance just to stay.

You stop collecting acquaintances and start valuing presence.

You realize loneliness doesn’t come from being alone. It comes from being surrounded by people you can’t be honest with.

And somewhere between the river, the mountains, and that quiet ride back to the base, I understood something simple.

Time isn’t taken from us all at once.

It leaves in small portions, through the days we give to the wrong things and the wrong people.

So now I try to be careful where a day goes.

Landingan Viewpoint in Quirino Province 

The second day of our weekend tour in Quirino Province didn’t look promising. 

It rained non-stop and the fog covered the verdant cornfields and landscapes of Quirino Province

When we arrived at Landingan Viewpoint, some of the joiners weren’t in the mood to go out of the van.

Some were a little disappointed because they couldn’t take pictures of the flowers and the views. 

I, on the other hand, wasn’t bothered by the fog and light rain.

I stepped out, made my way past the flower fields, and climbed to the top of Landingan Viewpoint.

Years of hiking mountains, like Mount Purgatory and Bauko 7 Peaks have taught me this lesson in Stoicism: focus on what you can control.

I couldn’t control the rain.

I couldn’t control the fog.

I couldn’t clear the skies just because I traveled far to get here.

But I could still walk. So I kept going.

The path was damp and the view was hidden, yet the climb still felt meaningful. I used to think a trip was successful only if everything went perfectly. Clear skies, good photos and ideal timing.

Life rarely works that way.

Sometimes you reach the viewpoint and there’s no view.

That is when you learn patience. You stop expecting the world to follow your plans. You begin adjusting yourself instead. Disappointment often comes from the picture you created in your head, not from what actually happened.

The fog didn’t ruin the morning. It changed it.

Without the distant mountains, I noticed smaller things. The sound of wet grass brushing my legs. The smell of the soil after rain. The slow movement of wind across the fields. Nothing dramatic. Nothing impressive. But it felt real.

Standing there, I understood something.

We wait for perfect conditions before we allow ourselves to appreciate a moment. We postpone joy until circumstances cooperate. Yet days don’t repeat themselves because we chose not to notice them.

The view may not appear.

But the day is still happening.

And sometimes, simply being present in an ordinary, imperfect moment is already enough.

I started making my way back down. Then something shifted. The fog began to lift. Within minutes, it cleared partially, revealing the landscape we’d come to see.

Once or twice, it cleared completely, giving us a stunning view of the area.

Maybe I was rewarded for my patience.

Or perhaps I knew deep inside, through my experience in hiking, that the fog wouldn’t last long.

Either way, we enjoyed the moment, and snapped pictures.

Then we descended to a flat surface when a joiner asked me to join their Tiktok dance video.

Naturally I said no. 

I don’t mind challenges, and I love stepping outside my comfort zone.

But Tiktok isn’t something that I want to do. 

I’m trying to minimize my usage and time on social media. 

I’m trying my best to fade into the background. 

In 100 years, no one will remember us and our achievements.

So I might as well start now, and live a life that’s free and liberating.

Dinadiawan, Aurora

The last stop of our trip wasn’t in Quirino, but in Aurora.

After a long drive and a quick lunch, we arrived at Dinadiawan Beach. We spent the afternoon unwinding and enjoying the view.

The waves were too strong for swimming, but that was fine. We were there for the moment, to escape the chaos of modern life.

I sat there watching the water, feeling the sand beneath me, grateful for aching knees and a body that still moves. Grateful for fog that lifts and waves that don’t cooperate. Grateful for provinces nobody’s heard of and days that don’t go as planned.

Aging isn’t the tragedy. Wasting the time you have left is the real tragedy.

Quirino reminded me of that. And I’m grateful I showed up.

What is Quirino Province known for?

Quirino Province is known for outdoor adventures and uncrowded natural scenery. Visitors come for the boat tours and river tubing at Governor’s Rapids, cave exploration at Tinyente Cave, waterfalls like Maddela Falls, and scenic views from Landingan Viewpoint. Unlike major tourist areas, it focuses on nature, hiking, and quiet travel rather than resorts and nightlife.

How far is Quirino Province from Manila?

Quirino Province is roughly 320 to 350 kilometers from Metro Manila, depending on your exact starting point and which town in Quirino you’re visiting.

By car or van, the trip usually takes 7 to 9 hours. Travel time varies because much of the route is along mountain roads once you leave the expressways and enter Nueva Vizcaya and the Sierra Madre area.

How to tour Quirino Province from Manila?

The best and most convenient way to tour Quirino Province from Manila is to take an organized tour. If you prefer to take this route, I recommend RX Travel and Tours.