Every July 1 to 3, the Puerto Princesa Underground River (PPUR) is closed to the public.
For three days, the boats stop running. The cave falls quiet. Visitors have to wait until July 4 to visit the Underground River again.
Known as Let the River Rest, the annual closure has been observed since 2015 through the initiative of filmmaker and environmental advocate Dante Nico Garcia, together with the management of the Puerto Princesa Subterranean River National Park. Long before regenerative tourism became a buzzword, this initiative was already built on a simple but important idea: nature also needs time to rest.
I’ve spent much of my professional life in tourism—as a journalist covering destinations and later working in tourism development and destination branding. Over the years, what I’ve learned is that the success of a destination is not measured only by visitor arrivals or tourism receipts. A destination succeeds when people still want to visit decades from now because it has remained true to what made it special in the first place.
A few years ago, I visited the Marble Arch Caves in County Fermanagh, about two hours from Belfast in Northern Ireland. It’s a beautiful cave system and exceptionally well managed. But as impressive as it was, the experience only made me appreciate the Puerto Princesa Underground River even more.
We sometimes forget what we have because we live with it every day.
The Underground River is one of the world’s longest navigable underground rivers. Its towering limestone formations, rich biodiversity and the rare phenomenon of a river flowing directly into the sea earned it recognition as both a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the New7Wonders of Nature. Few destinations in the world can make that claim.
That is exactly why we cannot afford to take it for granted.
Tourism has transformed Puerto Princesa and Palawan. It has created jobs, sustained local businesses and provided livelihoods for thousands of families — from hotels and restaurants to transport operators, boatmen and tour guides.
The United Nations recognizes tourism as an important contributor to sustainable development. It supports decent work and local economic growth under Sustainable Development Goal 8, encourages the protection of cultural and natural heritage under SDG 12, and promotes the sustainable management of coastal and marine resources under SDG 14.
But these goals mean little if we fail to protect the very places that make people want to visit in the first place. That is where Let the River Rest becomes more than an annual tradition.
Will three days of silence dramatically restore an ecosystem that has evolved over millions of years? Probably not. Scientists may even argue that more time is needed.
But I don’t think the value of this initiative should be measured by the number of days the river is closed.
Its real value lies in the message it sends—that conservation deserves a permanent place in our tourism calendar. That not every decision should be driven by visitor numbers. And that protecting a destination sometimes means pressing pause.
I also appreciate that the annual closure has become more than simply keeping tourists away.
This year’s program brought together filmmakers, writers, educators, artists and environmental advocates for workshops, film screenings and discussions on biodiversity, literature, heritage conservation and community stewardship. Instead of treating the closure as lost tourism days, the organizers used the opportunity to tell the story behind the Underground River and why it deserves our care.
Around the world, many destinations are paying the price for years of overtourism. Fragile ecosystems have been degraded. Wildlife has been disturbed. Communities are beginning to question whether tourism has grown beyond what their destinations can sustain.
Palawan still has the opportunity to choose a different path.
For years, we’ve promoted Palawan as the Philippines’ Last Frontier. That title comes with a responsibility. We cannot keep marketing paradise unless we are equally committed to protecting it.
Three quiet days each year may not seem like much.
But if those three days remind us that nature comes before tourism—and that without healthy ecosystems there is no tourism—then Let the River Rest has already accomplished something far greater than closing the river for three days. (30)
