Day 92. Manila, Philippines. Toodle pip.

Another lengthy day of travel, this time to the sprawling nut-house that is Manila.

A sad day too, as we had to wave goodbye to Jan and Marlou at the airport.

We'll miss Marlou for her smiling face, and Jan for his general bonhomie and sense of fun. He's a bit like Gazza; daft as a brush, but the sort of bloke you love having on your team.

Day 91. Sabang, Philippines. More monkey business.

We saved one of Palawan's star attractions for our last full day on the island; Sabang's world famous underground river.

Our guide book describes it thus: 'A journey into the darkness of this riverine cave is a truly unique experience - you really will feel like a character in Jules Verne's Journey to the centre of the earth'.

And I think that sums it up nicely.

It's thought to be the longest subterranean river in the world. Stretching 8 km from an opening in the limestone cliffs as it twists and turns further and further inland.

Bloody great it is too.

We boarded a small boat and for the next 45 minutes were treated to the awe-inspiring sight of 50ft stalactites, gothic rock formations and tens of thousands of bats - all snoozing, but apparently still capable of going to the toilet in their sleep, hence the need for our protective headwear.

The 2 hour hike back to Sabang was almost as memorable as the visit to the cave. Thick rainforest alive with the sights and sounds of exotic fauna made quite an impression. The undisputed highlight being when we came across a feral dog engaged in a protracted stand-off with a monkey.

Normally my money would have been on the dog. But once the monkey showed us the size of his teeth I changed my mind - and while it was thrilling to be within a few feet of the cheeky chappy - we all retreated a step or two at the sight of his incisors.

Day 90. Sabang, Philippines. Moving on down.

A 2 hour boat ride back to Palawan island followed by a 5 hour road trip south makes for a long and tiring day.

It seems most journeys here take the best part of a day. The transport infrastructure is basic to say the least, especially on the further flung islands. And the best virtue any traveller can have is a little patience.

This is OK for me and Wend. Time is something we have plenty of. But for Jan, who is on a much tighter schedule, it's a frustrating business. In fact, I almost felt sorry for the bloke today...until the bugger beat me again at Scrabble.

Day 89. Flower island, Philippines. Medal(ion) man.

Day 2 of the Olympics started predictably with Jan registering a big fat zero in the long-jump, sprint and - a new event - Petanque (posh word for bowls). All of which left him languishing in his spiritual home of 4th place.

Then something remarkable happened. He asked a few questions of himself, dug deep, and put valuable points on the board in three consecutive disciplines.

Firstly, he managed to throw a coconut further than Marlou (all 5'2" of her). Then outscored Wend in a penalty shoot-out. And finally - and it pains me to record this -somehow fluked a win in the Badminton against vastly superior opposition.

"All in the wrist" he reckons. Well, he's certainly had enough practice in that department over the years.

Anyway, he leap-frogged Wend into Silver medal position along side Marlou, which meant all four of us made it to the podium. So in the end, top-class Athletics was the real winner.

Day 88. Flower island, Philippines. More fun and games.

Jan's been hurting badly ever since his humiliation in the inaugural beach Olympics 10 days ago. So after making him grovel for most of last night, we finally agreed to a rematch (I know they're only supposed to be every 4 years, but if we wait until 2011 he'll be too decrepit to lift a coconut).

This time it was to be a Decathlon. A grueling two days of running, jumping, throwing and shuttlecock keepy uppy. And Wend had the genius idea of giving everyone a 'Joker' that they could use to double the points in their favourite event - hats off to the legendary Eddie Waring.

Needless to say, Jan was almost as woeful as he'd been the first time. Finishing the day well off the pace.

Interesting game of Pictionary with the Swedes in the evening. No rules in the box, so we made up our own version. Me and Jan kicking Scandinavian ass, helped in part by 6 year old Isobella and 8 year old Alex being unable to read english.

Still, a victory's a victory, and as Newcastle fans we'll take anything we can get.

Day 87. Flower island. Flip flop, bang bang.

Anyone who's read 'Lord of the flies', or indeed, seen the film, will remember island life isn't always as idyllic as it's cracked up to be. A few days in splendid isolation and behaviour patterns of the weak-willed can start to become irrational.

Take Jan for example.

He came into breakfast this morning looking decidedly puffy eyed.

"Bad night's kip Jan?"

"Aye, I was up all night worrying about intruders"

Now bear in mind, we're on a small island miles from anywhere. Our new Swedish friends are the only other people staying here, and the staff comprises 4 diminutive Philippino girls who do the cooking and a couple of teenage lads who run the boats and take care of the odd jobs.

The only intruder anyone is likely to encounter is the occasional Gecko. And they're far more amusing than they are threatening.

"I'm telling you man, I got up for a pee and saw a shady character with a torch. He was flashing signals offshore - probably to a boat full of his dodgy mates".

He told us he was going to apprehend the bloke, but felt vulnerable with only a small towel covering his backside and genitals.

"Could have stabbed me or anything, didn't sleep a wink".

Turns out - of course - that the holder of the torch was one of the odd job lads on his security rounds. All he'd been doing was protecting the strapping 16 stone Mr.Mintowt from the scary vagabonds who live in his imagination.

Day 86. Flower island, Philippines. Reef life.

We'd planned to do some diving while here, but the snorkeling is so good, we've decided to save our money for beer and pina coladas.

There's a reef lying 30 metres off the beach that is home to more marine life than we saw on all our Malapascua dives put together.

Parrotfish, Triggerfish, Angelfish and Clownfish are everywhere. Look a little longer and you're rewarded with Blue spotted Rays, Catfish and some huge Cuttlefish that have the uncanny knack of changing from grey and black to vivid blue and orange depending on which piece of coral they're closest too at the time.

It's become a bit of a competition to see who can spot the most impressive beast.

Jan and Marlou went out before breakfast and spent a couple of minutes in the company of a decent sized turtle. "Pah" said Wend, "We'll see a shark before the day's out".

And right on cue, 2 hours later, a 4ft black-tip reef shark darted past us as we were treading water.

1 - 0 to the Smiths.

Day 85. Flower island, Philippines. Daft dog.

Scooby Doo is alive and well and seeing out his retirement in the Philippines.

Living under the assumed name of 'Spigo' he keeps himself busy with a low key job barking at passing boats, bursting uninvited into bedrooms to wake people (ineffective, as his breath would stun a hippo from 15 yards), and generally lording it up as the only mutt on the island.

He's a big bugger too. Probably with a bit of Great Dane in him, and new arrivals would be advised not to ruffle his ears too vigorously, as never having met another dog, he takes such actions as being a bit of a come-on.

It's a tricky one, I mean I really like the dog, but I'm just not ready to commit to that kind of relationship.

Day 84. Flower Island, Philippines. Flower power.

There are over 7000 islands on The Philippine archipelago and it's frustrating to think, that at best, we'll do well to visit a dozen or so during our five week stay.

That said, we think today we've ended up on one of the prettiest.

Stretching no more than 800 metres from tip to palm-fringed tip, Flower island would be a tiny speck on any map. There are 6 staff who run the island's solitary resort, and from what we can gather, the only other people here are a young Swedish family staying in the next cottage to Jan and Marlou.

Result!

We think we're going to like it here. We've held a team meeting and decided to stay for 4 nights. In fact, on learning there are no mosquitoes, I'm already lobbying to make it 5.

No internet mind, so Lord only knows when I'll get to update the blog (8 days later - ed.)

Day 83. El Nido, Philippines. Stepping up to the microphone.

When it comes to religion in the Philippines, Catholicism comes a distant second to karaoke.

Not every town has has a post office, bank or bakery but we're yet to pass a village that doesn't have a karaoke bar (or to give it its proper Philippino name 'videoke').

Unfortunately for the light sleepers in our party, the place we've been staying in at El Nido, which we love for its hammocks, bean bags and general good karma, is adjacent to the most boisterous videoke joint on Palawan.

So every night without fail, we've been lulled to sleep with increasingly awful renditions of 'My Way', 'Suspicious Minds' and the ubiquitous sodding 'Angels'.

Well if you can't beat 'em (which is what we'd like to have done with a large baseball bat) join 'em.

So we bagged a table under the video screen and prepared to show the locals how not to do it.

First up was Jan, who massacred 'Islands in the Stream', starting in too high a key and ending with the bar owner's dog running for the exit.

Then I tried to recreate the five minutes of Elton John magic that I'd treated Matty and Selina's wedding guests to in Cyprus. But while the Paphos crowd were with me all the way, the El Nido posse were far harder to please and I ended up with a muted ovation.

At home karaoke is a laugh. When someone is abysmal the audience quickly let them know and no-one gets upset if they're booed, heckled or jovially threatened with castration.

Over here, its deadly serious. The singing is consistently abject but there's no barracking and everyone - even Jan - receives a polite round of applause.

Our star performer, by a country mile was Marlou who sang a couple of Philippino songs like a little nightingale . As she grew in confidence however the song selection became decidedly suspect and her homage to Celine Dion had me and Wend following the owner's dog into the street.

Day 82. El Nido, Philippines. Monkey mad mob.

Up early to scale the mountain that sits as a back drop to El Nido town.

A tough old climb.

Some crampons and rope wouldn't have gone amiss as we scrambled up the sheer 700ft rockface with only our guide Dennis and a few cheeky monkeys for company.

Genuinely exhilarating though. And despite the aching limbs we were rewarded with unbeatable views and a real sense of achievement.

Full moon in the evening so we chartered a boat to take us back to the Big lagoon. A completely different feel to the place in the soft, silvery light. The water transformed from yesterday's aqua-marine to a murky, inky black.

We all took a dip but Jan couldn't stay in for long as he was - and I quote - "scared".

Day 81 El Nido, Philippines. Two lagoons, and a Dale.

We'd heard El Nido was a bit special but nothing prepared us for the sight that greeted us as we looked across the bay this morning.

Dozens of immense limestone stacks sitting out in the bright Blue South China Sea for as far as the eye can see.

Stunning, just stunning.

Chartered a small boat to visit a few of the larger ones, and if anything they're even more impressive close up. Also called in at the imaginatively named Big Lagoon, a piece of paradise only surpassed by the neighbouring - even more imaginatively named - Small Lagoon, which we agreed was one of the most drop dead gorgeous places any of us has ever visited.

Only accessible via a four foot gap in the rock, it's more like a small lake than a lagoon, surrounded by towering jagged stone spires, which over 250 million years have been sculptured into what can best be described as a 100ft high set of dentures.

Not happy with the digs we'd ended up in when arriving late yesterday, so on the advice of Dale, an amiable Geordie, we checked into a brilliant little eco-place which at 4 quid a night is about six hundred per cent cheaper.