Romblon through Bagyong Opong

When Bagyong Opong hit Romblon on September 26, 2025, the island endured one of its strongest storms in years. Houses were damaged, businesses shut down for repairs, and power stayed out for days. But through it all, people showed up for one another, proving once again how bayanihan keeps the community standing.

Before the Storm

A day before Bagyong Opong (Typhoon Bualoi) struck Romblon, advisories placed the province under storm signal number 2. Classes were suspended, boat trips were cancelled, and fishermen were warned not to set sail as the storm was expected to make landfall early the next morning. Honestly, we didn’t think much of it, as we’d grown used to storm signal number 2 and assumed it would pass like the others.

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As Opong made landfall in Romblon

But Opong had other plans. As it unleashed its full force, the typhoon suddenly intensified and accelerated as it neared Romblon, prompting authorities to raise the alert to signal number 3. By the time it hit, PAGASA reported maximum sustained winds of 110 km/h, moving at 30 km/h, with storm-force winds stretching up to 460 km from its center. The island was directly in its path. By morning, we were woken up by strong winds snapping trees and power lines, leaving us without electricity. The sound of it howled through the windows, walls trembling, the roof groaning, the wind screaming like it was trying to tear the house apart. From the balcony of our beach house, we witnessed how wild the waves were that day, strong enough to make the ocean look alive and angry. The surface churned and spun as if a helicopter were hovering just above it, whipping the water into a white, furious storm of spray and foam. The ocean was restless, trembling under the weight of the typhoon. As Opong raged on, our connection to the outside world faded. The signal bars on our phones dropped one by one until there was nothing left.

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The Aftermath

It was around 3 p.m. when it started to calm down. The storm left behind a strange kind of silence. Not peaceful, but hollow. The wind was gone, but the ground told the story it left behind. Trees lay across the roads, torn from their roots, branches and leaves plastered to the wet earth, and electric posts snapped in half, power lines sagging low and dangling across the streets. People slowly came out of their homes, sweeping, clearing, salvaging what they could. Some gathered kalamansi on the ground and bananas from the fallen trees, small signs of life after the wreckage.

Neighbors gathered to help clear roadways and debris from all the fallen trees, working together to immediately restore a sense of normalcy, exchanging smiles and checking in despite what had happened. The true spirit of bayanihan among Filipinos came alive that day, reminding everyone that even in the face of loss, unity and kindness can rebuild what the storm had destroyed.

It wasn’t until the next day that we truly saw the extent of the damage. Some families were displaced and had lost their homes, some even live under the ruins of what once was their home. Many local businesses were left in shambles, roofs blown off, walls torn down, windows shattered, and signboards ripped away. 

Thankfully, there were no reported casualties across the province. And even through the loss, there’s something about Romblomanons, anchored by strong roots, they always find a way to rise again, building a better and stronger foundation than before. That’s why the hashtag #BangonRomblon began to spread, a simple but powerful call that means “Rise, Romblon.”

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Declared as State of Calamity

In the following days, the provincial government declared Romblon under a state of calamity.

According to official reports, around 14,138 homes suffered partial damage, while 1,786 were completely destroyed, bringing total losses to an estimated ₱220 million. The agriculture sector also took a heavy hit, with damages amounting to roughly ₱60 million.

Romblon Freediving Above the Surface

As the island slowly recovered, guided by the same breath that anchors every dive, We at Romblon Freediving gathered what we could from our own resources and prepared 28 food packs, each carrying five kilos of rice, a gentle wave of hope reaching distant shores.

We dove beneath the waves of calamity, surfacing at every doorstep we could reach. From one home to another, we handed out food, comfort, and the quiet assurance that recovery, like freediving, starts with a single deep breath.

In those days, Romblon Freediving showed that the heart of a diver doesn’t just belong to the sea, but to the community it calls home. Because every dive teaches us the same truth: after every descent, there is always a rise. And in Romblon, we rise together.

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Bangon Romblon: Together We Rise

As of today, Romblon continues to rebuild, one home, one hand, one hopeful breath at a time. The island has opened its doors once more to travelers, life is finding its rhythm again, slow but steady, like the ocean after a storm. The sea that once raged now rests in calm blue, reflecting not just the sky, but the strength of the people who live beside it. 

But the ocean, too, bears its scars. One of our favorite dive sites in Biaringan, Tablas Island, once home to a magnificent, one-of-a-kind giant red fan coral was among those damaged by the storm. Once standing tall and radiant in the shallows, its broad, lace-like branches danced gently with the current. Now, where it once swayed gracefully, only fragments remain. Those same fragile arms lie splintered and silent on the seafloor, a haunting reminder of nature’s vulnerability.

Romblon may have been tested, but like every diver who resurfaces after holding their breath through the depths, it rises again, stronger, steadier, and more alive than ever.

At Romblon Freediving, we continue to dive with that same sense of purpose, not just to explore what’s beneath the surface, but to stay connected to the world above it.

This is Romblon.

This is home.

And we rise together.

Bangon Romblon, Bangon Kasimanwa!

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