I felt like I was awake the whole time. I envy my hunter friends sleeping soundly across me, almost hugging the fire. I hate it when everyone sleeps so easily while I’m the only one left awake. It happens all the time. The heat of the fire didn't reach me though, so I went inside my tent in hopes of subsiding the feeling of coldness in my body. But it didn't do any good. The cold wind almost blew my whole shelter away. So I lay there, listening to the wind, waiting for the sunrise. I abandoned any hope of sleep.
Morning came so fast. I got out of my tent to let the fresh light of dawn shine upon me, and as usual everyone’s up and running. So I hurriedly packed my stuff, it was time to go home.
The problem was we didn't have any food left for the day, and my guides were asking me if I can endure walking for long hours without eating. I didn't have any choice, and I didn't want to let them starve as well. We all headed off early following a different route this time.
I had several blisters around my feet. This has always been a trip killer. It was neither the sleeplessness nor the hunger that was bothering me at this point, it was the pain I felt every step I took. I endured the silent torture as I walked very slowly. I glanced at my guides who were way too ahead of me, and then I thought I could walk like them and be like them, but my skin was telling me otherwise. It was too late to save it, and I knew that I would suffer the consequences when I get back to Manila. The lack of proper clothing and preparation lead to pain and suffering, I guess I underestimated everything again.
We stopped by to check out some campers, some relatives of Benny who left a freshly killed monitor lizard or “bayawak” and some of their stuff. And so we waited, in high hopes of having something to eat from them. Benny made some rice coffee for us, and it somehow energized my tired body. And that was all what we had for the whole 8 hours.
We left the camp as we could not wait any longer, we didn't have that much time. Avoiding the lahar dessert this time, we crossed the top of the mountain, passing through the narrow path hiding underneath the tall slippery grasses in between two different landscapes. One wrong step and I would be slipping to either side, back to square one. It was a little difficult to determine which way to go. I felt stupid for not being able to quickly analyze the path, and so I had to let one of my guides lead the way. We did this for the next couple of hours under the heat of the sun.
“One truck of bread”, I was imagining things . . . food, hunger was slowly creeping out like venomous snake. I felt disoriented, but I didn't want to be such a pain in the ass. I endured the pain, hunger and exhaustion just to get back to Ibad before it gets dark. They had promised me that they would take me to this hidden lake somewhere along the way, but it would take hours again to get there. So they had let me decide, but from the looks of everyone, we knew that we might not enjoy it any longer as we didn't have that much strength for another long walk. We continued straight home.
Marching triumphantly to Ibad, we were greeted by curious villagers. Everyone wanted to know what happened, they talked in language I couldn't understand. Then I sat down in exhaustion as people gathered around, looking at me pitifully as they saw the bruises around my arms.
It was late in the afternoon. I would have to stay here until the next day as no one could drive me back to the town anymore. I stayed with Katamtaman and his family. The exhaustion, silence and the early welcoming of the night brought me into a deep uninterrupted slumber.
The days flew like a fast train, my aching body and my blistered feet marked the end of my journey. And I carried back with me the vivid imagery of nature, lessons from simple living and collections of late night conversations printed in my head. And with me are memories with people to whom it is easy to do good, who are not used to have it done to them, who only have little and who will help you out the most. The ones I would be willing to spend my time with.
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