The Way Back

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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Starry, Starry Night

It was getting dark. It was about time to settle down and eat a decent meal. We found a nice campsite beside the stream at the foot of the mountains. And to my surprise, Pag-o was able to catch a wild chicken, and I was as happy as a kid unwrapping a Christmas present. I was going to eat a chicken for the first time in 7 months, caught in the wild, fresh and organic. I couldn't wait to devour it like a hungry wolf.  Then I realized why they had asked me to bring only a half kilo of rice. We would all depend on nature for food.

My hunter-gatherer friends brought some wild orchids to our campground. They will sell this when we get back. I went around the rocky mountain and gathered some for myself as well, though I know that I should take nothing but pictures. I just thought that it would be nice to have the plant as a nice memento of my quest, feeling like an ancient warrior bringing home some loot after a victorious war.

After a well-deserved meal, we sat down on the cold ground as our campfire flickered like dancers in yellow dresses, exchanging stories between two different worlds, living in one same home. 

As the night grew colder, we lay down on our own comfortable bed behind stones of various sizes, like soldiers hiding behind army tanks. A cold November night in a desolate corner of the mountains, a thousand glimmering stars lit up the darkness, there I was again, lying and gazing up above the sky in pleasure.

My friends were in deep slumber, cramped around the fire, while I lay there across them, witnessing the whole fantasy unfolded. It was too good to let it pass. I felt the cool breeze of the wind whispering to my ear like a lover. The dark foggy mountains became visible beneath the pale moon as the relaxing sound of the rushing water from the stream broke the deep silence of the night, and a few fireflies lit the face of the mountains from time to time. This was a very spectacular moment. I had watched this somewhere else before, a familiar epic scene . . . or maybe this was in my dream.

And again, this is what it is to be happy . . . .

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An Epic Journey to Mt. Pinatubo

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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The Dessert Flower

Someone was calling me . . . It wasn't a dream. I woke up to the sound of someone's voice calling my name. It was Jessica, trying to wake me up. It was a bit late and I felt ashamed. Everyone seemed to be up and running, while I was the only one locked in the bed at this point. I had slept a bit late, and I felt like I lay awake for a long time last night.

I hurriedly got up. I remembered that I have to wake up early so I could travel with Marie and Katamtaman to Ibad. They were going back to their village, and we agreed yesterday that I would join them in the boat ride. And there they would help me find my guides to Mt. Pinatubo. 

I was curious as to what’s ahead but my mind paid more attention to the beauty that surrounds me. If there’s one thing I like the most every waking hour, I guess that would be the surreal feeling of early morning. Everyone was quiet as we rode the small wooden boat to Ibad. Everyone seemed to be savoring the cool morning scent and the pure freshness. I was born again. It was like traveling to another space and time. As the sun gradually exposed itself, the fog above the waters faded slowly, and the lake became alive with all the birds flying above and the ducks all lined up slightly visible from a far distance. I couldn't explain that moment in mere words. It’s not every day I get to experience something like this, it seemed all unreal.

After a 20 minute trek from the lake, we arrived in Ibad, a small village in the middle of the mountains. I worship its primitive setting, unspoiled and preserved. There were traditional Nipa huts of varying sizes around, and farm animals roaming freely in each backyard. The village also flaunted a diverse and undivided bloodline, with a few “Ilocanos” and “Pampangeños” living here with the Aetas. There is a whole new world around here.

The curious spectators gathered around me, wondering what I was up to. And then I was introduced to my three Aeta guides - Garry, Benny and Pag-o, all looking tough and powerful, carrying a handmade gun and the good ol' sling used for hunting. This was perfect, I thought. How about learning how to hunt animals for food? The idea seems all natural for me. And that’s the way it should be.

All four of us headed out, passing through the narrow path in the midst of the jungle, making our way out of Ibad. The vast lahar dessert was revealed as we descended from the mountain. It was hot as hell, and from the looks of this merciless landscape, I knew it was going to be a very long hard walk.

We were the only people traversing the bright white dessert-like terrain of lahar, and along the way is a combination of sands, stones, and grayish streams. Benny and Pag-o were leading the way, and they really walked fast, while Garry walked with me as if patiently adjusting to my slow pace. I felt like I was Bear Grylls walking under the scorching heat trying to get out of the dessert to survive. Huge staircases were formed out of lahar, which are quite deceiving, looking like hard concrete steps from a distance. One wrong climb, stepping at the edge, I found myself crashing down with my feet cutting through the gray sand. We were still in the lowland and I had already bruised my knee. What a bummer!

After the first few hours, we had reached this cave we needed to cross. They had expertly analyzed the footholds before we climbed up. It was one unforgettable part of the challenge, one difficult obstacle I surpassed. I felt like everything I hold on to were unstable and that the only thing I depended on were their hands. It was a scary climb up, and I showered with a mixture of sands and water.

Next to the cave, the most difficult part was the climb up this steep anonymous mountain. I couldn't even remember climbing on my own here, as all the rocks I hold on to seemed to be crumbling like an old cookie. And now I realized why I needed more than one guide for this. There were times when I had two different hands as rope while I did the rappelling. Gripping a small tree branch while hanging over the edge, I was asked to patiently wait at this state numerous times . Alternately, my guides cut the tall grass to make way, and at times, they would stomp repeatedly on the loose soil of the steep mountain surface to create a stable trail. When the designed path was ready, we would all continue the climb up. 

This was indeed a long way round to Mt. Pinatubo, and the ruthless path we traversed tested my endurance, almost putting me on the verge of my limits. We would all stop whenever my guides felt like I needed to take a rest. I seldom request for a break as I wanted to get to the finish line in no time, however my strength was quickly diminishing at this point. It was the longest day of my life.

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