I was swaying from side to side like a lost drunkard, gripping the grass for support feeling dizzy and weak. And for the first time that day, I begged for a rest. One final climb, they said, and we would rest there in the shade between the mountain walls. When we had reached this narrow pathway, I fell to my knees. I had been walking and climbing for 6 hours straight with an empty stomach. The ascent was consuming too much of my energy. I couldn't remember taking breakfast or lunch as I was too excited that morning, that I had even forgotten to bring enough food for us. I was only asked to buy a half kilo of rice, and that was all what we had. I sat heavily on the ground with my back against the rocky wall, still catching my breath. Like a desperate survivor, I distributed my 4 nut bars. I was so hungry I could eat a wild boar alive.
Garry, Benny and Pag-o had been doing some wild foraging as we passed through the wilderness. I was awed by the hunting prowess of my guides, when one of them would suddenly run fast in attempt to kill a low flying wild chicken with their sling, or when they would look underneath the boulders for some ”bayawak” or monitor lizard. They were telling me that if we get lucky, we could even catch a wild boar. I wished that they had caught either a wild boar or a bayawak. I was prepared to eat anything that time.
I felt ashamed that I could no longer push myself up the vertical face of the mountain, and that I had to grab their hands to let them pull me up further. When I was totally depending on their strength, they realized how heavy I am. I was still able to put more weight on my legs with my feet against the wall during the first part of the climb. However this time, I almost wished they had let me go, and I would let myself be hurled down to the bottom.
The abundance of water was keeping me revitalized. Whenever we passed by some rocky stream, we would all stop, and I would happily drink the clean flowing water like there’s no tomorrow. It was an instant joy to a thirsty soul.
My arms were once again full of cuts and scratches due to the stems and thorns of some random plants in the mountains. I guess my skin is really thin. This is the same dilemma I had in Pico de Loro, but this time it didn't bother me anymore. It was quite disturbing to look at, with all the short and long red cuts intersecting each other, like those lines and patterns you solve in logic tests. The cuts still looked fresh and swollen, and I wished I could retain it this way when I get back to Manila. It is perfectly okay to get hurt naturally, this is the time when pain becomes sweet.
Going up and down the slopes, back to dessert-walk, then up and down again, the varying conditions made this a truly remarkable adventure. It wasn't boring at all. If I hadn't been hungry, I could have enjoyed the whole journey more.
And at last we had reached the foot of Mt. Pinatubo after 8 hours of traversing the surrounding mountain range. Disguising as small and innocent, with the alternating green carpet of grass and jagged gray slopes, I thought it was an easy climb up. Though it was stripped down to 1,145 meters after its eruption in 1991, the volcano is still high and mighty, and that it would take another half day to reach the crater lake. I was a bit sad as this was my whole point of going here. I was hoping to swim in the lake after the long tiresome trek. There was quite a misunderstanding though, as my guides thought that I would just camp at the foot of the volcano, just like the others they had lead here in the past. In spite of my pleas, climbing up would be impossible at this point. They must have thought I was going crazy. We didn't have enough food.
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