My team and I planned not to take the same route back to Cavite, that would be boring, and not that adventurous anymore. We planned to spend some time in the beach because water is really our first love after all. However, the descent from Pico de Loro’s summit was the hardest part as we were unsure of the path down to Nasugbu’s coastline. Honestly this was making me worried. Descending through a steep rocky trail is way more difficult than the climb up. We thought that there must be some way down, and once we make a decision, there’s no turning back. So we just crossed our fingers and decided to give it a try, however risky it is. We descended one by one down from the summit carefully doing some backward crawl. I knew that one wrong move and I’m out, out there free-falling in the vast misty space down to the unknown. Momentarily I had forgotten about the beauty that surrounds me as the altitude’s sheer power engulfed me. Let’s play with death one more time, here comes the man vs. wild.
My huge bag really made my life miserable along the way, it made me want to throw it over the edge of the cliff. It was really slowing me down and the thought of falling made me anxious. “Deuter pushed a mountaineer to her death,” a headline flashed in my head, with a posted comment “What a noob!” I’m a half-filled bucket of negative feelings.
The thought of me causing the whole slow down put that much pressure in me. I've tried to keep up with everyone’s pace, patiently navigating the unforgiving track. Never underestimate the power of nature, I thought. And then I realized that we were all alone trekking out there, as the other groups probably have decided to stay in the summit’s base camp. I admire my friends’ instinctive capabilities, in being able to provide clear estimation of the way. This helped everyone all the way through.
United we hiked.
It seemed like we were in a game trying to get pass the obstacles. 1 point, if we managed to move without hurting ourselves. Good thing that we had already walked past the steep trail down. But now comes what I call the “hellish trail”, quite an unimaginable track by my own standard. I don’t know about the so-called Level 1 or easy trek. All I knew was that I’m outta here. The sad truth - I was still here, in this endless slippery path composed of rocks, twigs and unstable branches to hold on to. And worst of all, the existence of this sadistic thing that constantly cuts my skin. I was trying to find the culprit, until I realized that I had completely ignored Bear Grylls’ warning about these ouchy plants. Beware. I had acquired several cuts around my arms and the aftermath looked depressing. I didn't know that a pain tolerance test would come to this point. Oh but should I blame the nature, when it was me who invaded their peaceful territory. I blame it on my lack of knowledge about the tropical forest’s flora and fauna.
I remembered going straight to this place from work, sleepless and tired. Then the nature’s alarm had woken me up, no I was not sleeping. I was alone. Where the hell are the others? I thought. I continued to navigate the slippery trail, and fell a couple of times. What if I slipped over the edge, and worst I’d be left there hanging waiting for the rescue. I knew that I was just overreacting. This was not totally a remote place all right. However, here comes my long lost friend – Paranoia. An excerpt from a Rivermaya’s song will explain it all:
It's getting late
I'm sure they worry
It's getting late
My dear, uh oh
It's getting late
I hear them callin'
It's getting late
Come home, come on,
come home, come on,
come home'
How can I ride?
How can I fall?
How can I lay me down?
How can I run?
How can I leave and disappear?
How can I learn?
How can I follow?
How can I sympathize?
And what if I burn
What if tomorrow
Brings only melted ice?
And for a moment the team spirit was lost. We had gone in separate ways, which was not supposed to happen. My two friends went ahead unknowingly, the other one was trying to catch every one of us, and the last two were way far behind. I’m not good in planning and all, but in cases like this there are lessons to be learned. The team was doing great at the beginning. The buddy system was actually a good fix, though it was not implemented all the way through. There was no contingency plan should everything else fail. We were all overwhelmed with the whole scenario. Some of us had formulated our own assumptions and separate self-serving goals, and that’s human spirit! I should have known. Should I expect more out of humans, or generally do they really care about each other, no this is an illusion. At some point I wished to be left out, and to fall all the way down, and just be with the locals and villagers. Just like the way I used to do. I was stuck in the middle of the forest, and I was unsure of which way to go. I was disoriented that I couldn't go on anymore. And so by the forest ground I sat down and waited . . .
Divided we’re lost.
I’m a bucket-full of negative feelings. As always, I’m failing epically with a group. I knew that I couldn't blame it on everyone, as this is an insignificant personal issue that remained unresolved all these years, and even I, was getting tired of it. I’m glad that there’s a God-sent drug - nature, and to make love with it - ALONE. There’s always demand and expectation if there’s more than one person in the picture. Human nature it is. Let’s change the situation, should I be feeling the same If I was alone, perhaps no. I could have probably been peacefully looking for my own way out of the woods. It might be stressful yeah, and definitely scary. But I wouldn't have any other choice, if that's the case. I would just treat it as a glorious and orgasmic solitary time with nature.
I met one of my team mates a couple of minutes later, and he was alone too. The two of us decided to regroup, and wait for the others. The other two were able to catch up, but it was too late. It was late that it would be impossible to continue trekking all the way down in the dark to catch up with my other two friends. The two-way trail is also tricky. It was like deciding which way to go – heaven or hell. Eventually the four of us agreed to settle down and spend our night here. So we set up our tent right in the middle of the two-way trail, which also happened to be the ants’ kingdom unfortunately. And that was the longest night of my life . . . .
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