The 'Lost Lakes' of Cebu?

Welcome to another episode of "Lost Landmarks of Cebu," the podcast where we dig deep into the mysteries of the past, uncovering forgotten tales and lost landscapes. I'm your host, John Paul, and today we're embarking on a cartographic journey to uncover the long-lost lakes of Cebu. Join me as we explore a forgotten world hidden beneath the bustling streets and buildings of modern-day Cebu City.

It's been more than a decade since I stumbled upon an old Cebu City map while researching my term paper at a Filipiniana archive. Little did I know that this discovery would lead me down a rabbit hole of mystery and intrigue. On that ancient map, I noticed an enigmatic water feature that hinted at the existence of an old lake or marshy area in what is now the North Reclamation Area.

Today, that area is dominated by run-down buildings, warehouses, and logistics facilities, a far cry from what it might have looked like in the past. If only we had a time machine, we could witness the transformation of this land over the centuries, comparing it to maps from different eras to see how it evolved.

Let's dive into the cartographic history of Cebu and these long-lost lakes. The oldest maps seem to lack any trace of these lakes. In the 1699 map, we only see the Estero de Parian, but it doesn't connect to other bodies of water. The lake southwest of the Parian likely formed later.

By 1739, the Estero had expanded to surround the old city. It's possible that it served as a protective moat for Spanish inhabitants, creating a barrier between them and the Chinese in the Parian and the locals in San Nicolas.

Moving forward to 1833, we encounter a topographic map of Cebu that shows the Estero de Parian extending to the west of the old city, forming a sizable lake or reservoir in between. Could this Estero have played a defensive role for the Spanish?

As time passed, the bay began to form at the mouth of the Rio de Camputhaw, with lost estuaries connecting various rivers. Eventually, the western end of the Estero dried up, and the central lake followed suit. Silt began to clog up the waterways, leading to the formation of a lake that connected the fishing community north of the Spanish settlement.

Fast forward to 1873, as depicted in Domingo de Escondrillas' map. The walled Fort San Pedro and the surrounding Spanish settlement dominated the landscape. It was an era of racial segregation, with the Indios, Spanish, mestizos, and Chinese immigrants living in distinct areas. Escondrillas, the map's creator, was also responsible for building the Carcel de Cebu, now known as Museo Sugbo. Coral stones from the Parian Church may have been used in its construction, suggesting that Chinese laborers gathered stones in the area.

It's plausible that the lake was once a salty and marshy region that dried up over time due to increasing human settlement. As more people moved in, refuse and trash could have compacted the land, diverting water into the existing river system.

By 1880, the supposed lake remained similar in size, but the coastline had evolved to accommodate larger ships. Cebu's role in world trade had expanded significantly since the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869.

In just five years, the Parian had expanded further, with more houses built around the lake. It's likely that the lake served as a freshwater source for the growing population, but it would eventually dry up as its connection to the nearest water source dwindled.

In 1914, plans for reclamation were proposed, sealing the fate of the lake as rising silt deposits blocked its mouth. Interestingly, there appears to be another lake up north, where the lost lakes near the Parian area once existed.

The reduction and eventual disappearance of these lakes and extended estuaries forever altered the city's landscape. In the past, small bancas could navigate the rivers freely, and people might have fished, swam, and allowed their water buffalo to roam in the shallow lake. Life revolved around the river and the sea.

Recent cartographic studies by the National Institute of Physics at UP Diliman reveal that the water source still exists beneath the modern landscape. Residents of Tinago, who now occupy the former lake area, still contend with rising floodwaters during heavy rains, as the area remains below sea level. Oral history from the oldest residents even suggests that many once washed their clothes in these waters.

So, where do we locate these long-lost lakes today? We might have to superimpose old maps indicating the lakes over a current Google Map to understand their locations in the context of our present world.

Let's explore the individual lakes and their fate. The lake from the 1833 map, which connected the west and east sides of the estuaries, is now part of the bustling streets of downtown Cebu. If you were standing in the middle of where it was, you'd now find yourself in the middle of a street.

Next, we have the Laguna de Parian, perhaps the largest of the disappeared lakes in Cebu. Its exact disappearance date remains a mystery, and today it's a densely-populated residential area filled with small houses and ramshackle structures.

Finally, there was a bay at the mouth of the Kamputhaw River that eventually dried up due to silt accumulation. Today, it's further inland, surrounded by old buildings and informal settlements.

In closing, we're reminded that our world is in a constant state of change, even the natural topography of where we live. As we progress, the landscapes of the past are replaced by the new. What we see today may become the lost histories of tomorrow, as the fabric of time weaves a never-ending tapestry of transformation.

That wraps up our journey into the long-lost lakes of Cebu. Thank you for joining me on this expedition through time and maps. If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe to my Substack and leave a review. And remember, the mysteries of the past are waiting to be uncovered, one map at a time.