it could be the colors and the costumes. it might be the thumping sound of drums. or it may even be the careless dancing and the wild abandon on car-less streets, the organized chaos. i can think of many different reasons why i'm drawn to festivals: they are a photographer's buffet and an explosion of folk culture, history, christianity, and paganism. i first got a taste of the different flavors of philippine festivals when they first held the aliwan fiesta early this decade: it was a visual smorgasbord. i still had a film camera at the time and managed to expose only 2 rolls over 2 days. but there were few photographers and the performers didn't tire posing for any of us. now, the aliwan is a photographer's playground, and they number nearly as much as the performers.


nonetheless, the distraction of other shooters notwithstanding, my attraction to festivals hasn't waned by any appreciable degree. in mid-october, i saw myself speeding towards bacolod city for my second masskara festival. i was there in 2007, but for some odd reason, i didn't get to shoot to my heart's delight. this time around, although it wasn't part of the plan, joy and i jumped right into the streets of bacolod and soaked in the suffocating masks of the festival. the canned music was a droning repetition of localized nursery rhymes unlike the unique cacophony of the sinulog, and the movements are a little constrained compared to dinagyang. but wonders can be made with masks, and the colors can rival even the panagbenga. i'm just a little unsure if the performers truly "feel" the fever of fiesta: the masks are locked in some kind of silly laugh, and i wouldn't be surprised if any of them pass out from having to wear so much weight on their heads. the constriction of it all must affect their energy -- in fact, nearly all of bacolod appears to be sapped during the masskara. don't get me wrong: it was fun. a stretch of lacson is closed off, and free music is provided by bands and speakers spaced 100 meters apart. but people were just walking. and sitting, nursing bottles of beer. no one was dancing. like really dancing. lately i discovered this song which implores: when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, i hope you dance. i did, but the bacolodnons sat it out.

so i've been to a few festivals. the aliwan has actually given me an idea about what i might expect in other far-flung places. for next year, i'm keen on seeing the pintados and the buyog-buyogan festivals in leyte. i also haven't seen the pahiyas and the moriones. i already have a ticket for the ati-atihan, but i'm ditching that in favor of a good friend's wedding. i wonder whether some other fiesta might be worth the visit. i'm rather open to suggestions.

here are some of the fiestas i've taken part in:

Tags: bacolod, bangkok, chiang mai, culture, festival: dinagyang, festival: masskara, festival: sinulog, festival: songkran, fiesta, loy krathong, philippines, thailand

i think i need new sheets. seriously. although i'm pretty comfortable sleeping on sheets that don't reflect my age (winnie the pooh) and i don't get many guests anyway who can criticize my poor taste in sheets or my general lack of interest in interior design, i really think i should retire winnie and the old sheet my mom lent me in favor of something with a higher thread count, and maybe a more solid, bold color. when i first moved out of my parents' house and decided to live close to where i work, i had grand ideas of remodeling and coordinating my space. i wanted to exude something earthy and close to nature. i wanted plain white plates with a minimal leaf design, a green curtain to reflect my love for the environment, a brown mattress set to show my connection with the earth... but i pursued none of those and decided to have function over form. but now my unit is a mess, and dishes from 3 days ago still sit on the sink. i haven't polished my floor since i can't remember, and i've never had more than 3 hours of television in the last 27 months. i've read many books (currently reading ian mcewan's "a child in time" and an essay collection by pico iyer), solved many puzzles, and compiled many magazines as a consequence. i renewed my lease contract just last month, so i can look forward to 10 more months in my makati foxhole. i really must do something to better the space i live in. it's close to being a sty. haha.

two weeks ago, after we had successfully climbed apo to induct close to 40 new members to the club, we dropped by camp sabros in bgy. kapatagan, digos city, not far away from the resort where we spent the night. sabros has a few exciting rides: zip lines with lengths of 380 meters, 400 meters, and 800 meters. the last one was, until recently, the longest zip line in the philippines, and even all of asia, until CDO extended it by 200 meters and stole the title. to get to the camp, we had to walk a kilometer uphill from the street, along an unpaved, winding road. i've done zip lines before, but nothing as long and as picturesque as the ones in sabros (clear skies allowed us an unimpeded view of mounts apo and talomo). the facility was built around a small patch of pine forest, so we zipped through small openings between trees. the 800-meter zip line takes 44 seconds, and has a rather rude ending (check out the video), but it's a lot of fun because you get the feeling of flying: you're strapped on a jacket that makes you lie flat in mid-air: it's really the closest you'll get to defying gravity. it actually wasn't terrifying, but ann nearly broke her vocal chords from too much screaming.


anyway, this i did despite the infection in my gums that was causing my left jaw to swell. 3 hours later, immediately upon our arrival in davao city, i went straight to the dentist who prescribed some medicines and drained the infection. i felt better almost instantly, and that night, managed to chew on something at luz kinilaw. the following day, i just dropped by aldevinco and then had to pack up for my flight. we were holed at the davao medical school foundation, which had 3 indian restaurants. the owner (who is indian) informed me that there are currently more indian students in the school's nursing program than filipinos. now that's something!

right now i'm still on medication, but hopefully i'll be weaned from it with my scheduled visit to the dentist. i shudder at the thought of some invasive procedure to be done. i really hope it's nothing that would require more visits. sigh.

i'm rather excited about this weekend. i'm still a bit torn about what to do, but if i decide finally to go to the mountains, then i'll actually get to see a new mountain. that's a cool treat.

Tags: adventure, bachelor life, camp sabros, davao, dental health, literary consumption

i had a rather fruitful day today despite having risen from bed in time for lunch. i brought home the tuna i bought in davao last week and my mom made her classic kinilaw. i have actually pretty low standards when it comes to eating raw fish because i would eat them wherever they're served, but my mom's recipe is pretty good. too bad my dental issues have gotten in the way of completely enjoying the meal. after lunch i sat down with my mom to watch a bit of "eat bulaga" and she told me about the results of the "survivor philippines: palau". i would have stayed behind to watch more television, but i had to go back to makati to drop by the dentist.

anyway, that fizzled and i had myself squeezed in for next week, so i ended up buying a new pair of swimming trunks from speedo, because my current one has a small hole on the left butt cheek. i put in 600 meters at MASA today, and it was quite an achievement already because i only paused every 200 meters. for someone who at the start of this year couldn't even complete one lap of an olympic sized pool, that's a big leap forward. although, i don't expect anyone to congratulate me. not yet. hopefully, by next week, i can manage to do 500 meters, non-stop. the other day, i swam at the fitness first pool in RCBC, and did maybe 20 laps, which is 400 meters. i can't remember the last time i swam. coach july was even surprised to see me. i really need to put more time into my swim training if i intend to make a mild splash in the extri, for which i'm registered (yet another result of some drunken challenge).

this week has been rather fruitful actually, in stark contrast to last week, immediately after the climb, when i just went straight home and plopped down on the bed. i returned to the gym again, like i just said, because i'm tired of spending over P3,000 for 2 visits. in fact, i think there was one month when i didn't see the gym at all: not wise spending, and not good for my general health and appearance. although, i've got to say, i've been dropping pounds like a japanese warplane over pearl harbor. i'm pretty sure that prior to leaving for mount apo, i was around 160lbs. last monday, i weighed with clothes on and i was 153lbs. last thursday, i went back to the same scale, and i had to ask the attendant if it was working, because i'm now down to 150lbs (with only my underwear). and people have been noticing: everyone keeps saying, alman ampayat mo na. i have no explanation for it: yes, there was one whole day when i had nothing but soup, and maybe another day when i had little appetite, but i quickly resumed my eating habits, and i haven't skipped any meals since i got better last saturday, so it's strange. i mean, i'm sure other people might welcome that, but i can't help but be a bit concerned. rapid weight loss isn't healthy.

and this week, i found time to see two movies: "law abiding citizen" which i enjoyed and which enthralled me, and just now "2012", which entertained a lot. i particularly liked the post-colonial underpinnings of the ending (the west headed for africa). i was going to link the disaster movie where the scale of destruction is unprecedented to climate change, but apparently, nothing is preached about how we are killing the earth. so i'll save my speech about the environment for some other time.


so now it's a little past midnight and i've set my alarm to go off at 4am. there's the timex run later, and although i'm actually not registered, i intend to run (a portion of) the 10km route. the last road race i joined was the adidas king of the road. and i vlogged my experience in the 5km category, which, despite its distance, turned out to be a leisurely walk for countless people who were more into it for the fad, than for fitness. it was not just recently that i noted running to be "cool", and road races, particularly the famous ones like the KOTR, are turning into social events, not unlike a rock concert, with running venues as places to see and be seen, like a really hip bar. what miffs me though is finding so many declarations (not the least on facebook) from people who are only recently into running that they'd just finished their first marathon. people: 5K, 10K, or even 21K distances are not considered marathons! you'd have to run 42.195K for that. i have never made such a claim myself, and we all know how disastrous my 21K turned out to be.

so anyway, we'll all know later if i actually manage to peel myself out of bed to join the timex run.

Tags: family, fitness, health, road race, swimming, weight loss

i don't know about the rest of you, but i could not watch through more than 2 minutes of manny pacquiao's interview with jimmy kimmel. i was not sure whether it was more than a tinge of national embarrassment or too much rollicking comedy that i just had to cut the video short and find something else to see. there's a lot of awkward humor poking at my insides, much like the result when i watched this filipino kid sing his version of the black eyed peas' "boom boom pow". enduring 4 minutes of that is agonizing. but in the 2 minutes that i did manage to see, i noticed that jimmy kimmel referred to manny pacquiao as a (not the) future president of the philippines. i think another american talk show host made the same bold prediction: whether this is part of their machine gun humor, or an honest perception of philippine politics, it still comes across an an insult, at least to me. it does not help either that manny is also on the cover of time magazine, only the second filipino to be given such an honor after corazon aquino. whether that solidifies manny's political future, i would be the first to deny it. we're talking about my country. our country. it's best not joked about, even though when you look at the state of things, the joke's really on us.

how can you take the electoral process seriously, when the players obviously feed on this mass desire for personality over platform? take, for example, noynoy's recent political ad, which joins heavyweight celebrities from competing networks to help the senator carry around lit torches: had the expression on their faces been grim, i would have assumed they were about to go for a witch hunt. it does not help at all that regine is singing this badly-worded song in front of a bonfire in a forest with moonlight seeping through the mist. it had the makings of an 80s filipino horror movie. noynoy does not say anything, or suggest anything. he just stands proudly in the company of his sister's friends in the industry. i would go on rambling about it but patricia evangelista wrote a very good opinion column about it in the inquirer. i've never necessarily liked patricia before, maybe because i didn't really read her. but this piece is brilliant.

i normally shun politics on the blog, because i feel that it is better left to the exclusive domain of pundits who have actually spent a lot of time thinking about the filipino condition, privy to the machinations behind all these defections and declarations. but it cannot be helped that i am myself a political animal, much as i would like to deny it, and i eschew apathy. i believe in certain things, and some of them include: people who do not vote have no right to complain about how the nation is run. people who do not pay the right amount of taxes have no right to demand better roads or improved delivery of basic necessities. people who have not been in government have no right to declare that every single person in government is either inept or corrupt or both. people who have not volunteered to safeguard the ballot have no right to ridicule the entire process as a complete and absolute sham. and finally, i do not understand why so many people are complaining about the long lines outside of the comelec's election registration centers less than a week prior to the deadline. i have not missed an election since i reached the age of majority, so i didn't have to endure the drama and the frustration of being a new registrant this year.

that said, i still haven't decided on a candidate. i would much rather prefer to wait for the campaign period and devote some time to study their plans for the country. your country. our country.

Tags: 2010 elections, culture, manny pacquiao, politics

at least 2 days prior to my early friday morning flight to davao, i had already packed my osprey argon 70, and on an anxiety-filled thursday evening that left me tossing in bed, sleepless, i decided to consider the weight of my pack. i attempted to lift it with both hands, and marveled at my own difficulty. i'm normally used to carrying insanely heavy loads, not wanting to trade the little outdoor luxuries for less weight. but i was not planning to embark on an overnighter, no. i was joining AMCI batch 2k9's induction climb in mount apo: four days of toil through familiar terrain. i had been there before, on my own induction climb in 2005, and on a batch-organized climb, so i am aware of the challenges. since i couldn't sleep anyway, i decided to reconsider my load and unpacked. i debated with myself whether everything was necessary, and in the end, i managed to take out an extra pair of socks, 2 packs of milk tea, another 2 packs of swiss miss hot chocolate powder, and half a liter of tequila. i managed to lighten my load by less than a kilo. at the airport, i plunged my backpack on an empty counter and the red digits informed me of the my future burden: 19.8kg. without water. i wondered whether heaving a pack consisting of at least 2 liters of expensive vodka would excuse me from contributing to the water load, and whether along the trail, i could just beg for hydration. i was worried.

but worrying about the weight of my pack was the least of my issues at the airport when charles, one-fourteenth of my team, was yet to arrive as cebu pacific announced the closing of its gates, 45 minutes prior to departure time. i fabricated excuses and assured the very helpful 5J crew that he was nearly there. and just a heartbeat away from being offloaded, charles appeared, balancing stacks of books on both hands. "eds and her stupid books!" he remarked as he made a dash for the check-in counter. from the final check-in, we walked straight into the plane where a little commotion was caused by a family who had mistaken it for the flight to tacloban city.


it was a smooth flight that left me merely feigning sleep. before 6am, we were already at the davao airport, where the flights from Z2, 5J, and PR arrived within ten minutes of each other. it was 2 hours yet till assembly time, and i found our van to try to sneak in some sleep. i had officially been awake since 7am of thursday, and still had at least 6 hours of trekking time ahead of me. it is never wise to plunge headlong into an adventure of this magnitude without rest. but it was futile. i needed to draw on my depleted reserves if i wanted to last the whole day. at 8am, the rest of my team appeared, already decked in their multi-colored batang batibot uniforms. my anxiety ebbed, and my imagined stress deflated. i looked forward to 4 days on the slopes of mount apo with my group.


not too long ago, i was invited by enrico to advise his IC group. i have had some of them in my group in previous BMC climbs: enrico from TC1, abs from TC 2, eds from TC3, and nelle from TCs 1 and 4. i had no knowledge of the trekking style of the rest of the group (carlo, ann, emma, and charles), but i could tell that we were all at best, an average group of climbers: not the strongest, but none of them would certainly count as among the slowest. i would not have it any other way. after having been inducted into the club, i have advised 3 IC groups, and played the role of GL/AGL countless times for both TCs under the BMC, as well as independently-organized hikes. i know very well that it matters little that you have the strongest climber in you, because you are only as strong as your weakest member. for this IC, i was joined by edwin, joanne, aris, alen, and diana. it would have been a much larger group, but i wanted to keep the number to something more manageable.


on the way to kapatagan, we passed kiagot, and the name rung a bell. as it turns out, this is my father's hometown, and i have been there at least once, nearly 30 years before. a while later, our van dropped us off in a nameless roadside in baroring where the savers, wearing our dark blue BMC shirts from 2005, were already waiting. after my prayer, the climb promptly began through carrot plantations. less than 20 minutes later, we reached sitio colan to deposit our donations (this was already close to lunch time of our day 2 in our 2k5 IC), and we approached the savers campsite through the shorter route, avoiding hot springs, but passing through a trail blooming with color. the savers campsite itself had been swallowed by nature's growth.


finally, we entered the forest line where we spent most of our trekking time, until evening fell. i was at the tail end of the group, and in the pale light of our headlamps, the trail to tinikaran was a sombre, featureless trek in the woods. i have little recollection of this path since we walked through it under cover of darkness. finally, a little after 6pm, the din of human activity was heard, and we found our camp. enrico announced that he had reserved us a spot. it wasn't the most ideal, but given the refugee-like conditions of the other areas, it was fine. we pitched our tents, prepared dinner, ate, and forgot to uncork our bottles. everyone was just a bit too tired, despite the batang batibot's moniker as maliksi at masigla, that my team decided to hit the sack early, so i ended up with the climb staff, with their jigger cum electronic dice, that had me drinking one too many shots, either through sheer luck or misfortune.


the following morning we rose early for breakfast, and once again, i led the prayer prior to the trek. per my recollection, the trail to the boulders was not very long, although we were beset by slow-moving traffic along the narrow and steep parts of the trail. it wasn't long until we found the dry gully that drained sand from the boulders, and then the forest opened to reveal mount apo's smoking cheek. in the distance, it appears as a cleft of monotonous gray, but upon closer inspection, there is a variety of colors surrounding the monochromatic chunks of rock: phlegmatic green, pale yellow, sometimes, even rust.


we were still more than an hour ahead of the itinerary so my group went to the sulfur vents, the source of all that smell, for a photo. the vents are actually not very obvious. there are no gaping holes on the surface of mount apo, with boiling lava, or anything of the sort you might find in natgeo. rather, the smoke just blows out of crevices on the yellow walls. there is in fact a hissing sound as the smoke, and smell, escape. mount apo is still very much active, and even in its slumber, reminds all of us of its might and the trembling giant that lies underneath it.


the ascent through the boulders took over 4 hours, and its gray, rocky surface can get tediously monotonous at times: it is just rock after rock after boulder after boulder. the colors range from white to a shade above black, with hints of yellow, green and rust. the vents were hyperactive, spewing a sickening smoke that makes one choose to either suffocate by breathing it, or asphyxiate one's self by constricting breathing itself. nonetheless, in its lack of features lay its charms: it was otherworldly. volcanoes tend to different from most mountains: pinatubo and bulusan always tend to give this feeling that you are somewhere else, where magic and fantasy thrive, or where humans are not alone. i have been to the boulders before, but it was as if i have never seen it. i have no recollection of any specific boulder, as each one resembles the other. the textures range from smooth to rough to jagged to razor-sharp, and the shapes transition from round to many-sided polygons. despite its apparent featurelessness, i took more pictures along the boulders than anywhere else on mount apo. the contrast of our bright, perky uniforms against its deathly monochrome was fantastic.


throughout the 4-hour trek, a fog was also almost always present. it blurred the views ahead and behind us, but allowed us small peeks so that we would not grow tired, too quickly. somewhere along the trail, we were hit by hunger. i called for lunch, and it got cold rather quickly. we munched on our lunches, even as others snacked on berries harvested along the trail. that these small bushes can grow in such adverse conditions and still manage to bear fruit is a testament to apo's nurturing nature.


finally, we walked into a wide expanse. the cracked cliffs on both sides were daunting. it was as if an entire mountain would fall upon us. rather quickly, we began a steep ascent on what they'd called the 87-degree wall. although it was steep, it seemed to me that it was a pretty random number, and there was nothing there that would tend to prove pythagoras. this was a different trail from 2k5. we crawled up the trail, and very shortly after found the crater. it was vandalized by rocks that formed names of strangers: how very pre-historic. the urge to leave behind a trace is a feature that can be traced to cavemen. from the crater, we knew that the campsite was less than 30 minutes away. so instead of speeding towards the summit campsite, we decided to assault peak 1 (where we desperately anticipated a clearing back in 2007) for a long photo shoot. we were in no hurry. this was not a contest, after all, and we had no desire to prove anything, least of all our speed. we just stayed there, channeling our inner models, flashing our smiles, denying the fact that we had just hurdled something close to herculean. this was, after all, the highest peak in the philippines. we raise our hands and we touch the roof of the archipelago.


on our way to the campsite, we talked about how the group was just too happy. maybe it would be good to have some issues, a bit of drama, so we devised a script, improvised a fight. it worked for a while, but we couldn't sustain it: we actually had people believe we were involved in a tussle. but the real drama began when i realized that our designated campsite was along a wind tunnel. i investigated to see if there was no more room elsewhere, and was surprised to find that many prized spots were still available in the cozier part of the campsite. i began to ask just how random the camp assignments were, and whether some favoritism was employed. this less-than-innocuous question eventually led to our transfer beside the climb staff. it felt good to be wedged between a rock and a hard place. i felt less afraid of the evening cold.


pretty soon, we were taking care of dinner while some sun still showed. i spoke to the groups from bukidnon and marveled at how the nearly-full moon rose over the campsite. the evening itself wasn't too cold. a lot of people still managed to crawl out of their tents for a few shots. underneath a tarp, we created the truth circle. somewhere else, they were singing OPM. the impact-Os moved around with their costumes and wigs. mount apo was just too kind. the weather had been friendly since the beginning, and that evening, though nippy, wasn't deathly freezing. although when i turned in to sleep, after bringing home 2 very inebriated ladies, i regretted having to leave out the extra pair of socks. my feet were cold.


then, early in the morning, we had to rise for the induction rites at one of the peaks. i put on my shirt and knotted my tie, gave final instructions to my group and proceeded to trek in the light of dawn. the AMCI induction rites are sacred and secret. i have witnessed five of these, including mine, and despite the solemnity we associate with them, there is always something that makes us laugh or cry afterwards. the rites were also threatened by outsiders who invaded our ceremony while it was taking place. but what could we do? we do not own the mountain, and we can only plead for their kind understanding: the entire program didn't last 30 minutes, and at the end, we had welcomed 39 new members into the club. i hugged everyone who had been part of my group, and even those who have grown close to me. it was a happy, emotional moment. and for the next hour, we had the customary photo shoots at the peak. the sun was high above us, and the weather permitted an extended stay: much unlike my own IC when we were rushed to descend.




we returned to the campsite, prepared breakfast (a nearly-botched champorado which i will not recommend), and broke camp quickly. all the groups departed one after the other, and there was a long queue all the way to the 87-degree wall. we were sandwiched in the middle, but by the time we had reached another part of the boulders, we were right behind the lead pack. at one point sir manny told me to stay behind and not to stay too close to the lead pack and subject them to any added pressure. i obeyed, of course, and sat it out, despite my misgivings about the choice of route. it could have been easier: the strides could have been shorter, and there would not have been any need to hop. frequently, i made my own trail, as jumping from one boulder to the next wasn't my specialty, not with a huge pack behind me.


eventually, we found the friendlier trail which we ascended the previous day. other groups were already making their way down. our SAVERS guide remarked about how our packs tended to be generally bigger, and that our ladies shared in the load. when i discussed our training, he was close to disbelieving. but it's true: not that AMCI (or some manila-based mountaineering groups for that matter) tend to be less gentlemanly, but that we do not pamper our women: they carry a portion of the load, which is distributed equitably rather than equally.

after finishing lunch along the trail, we picked up our packs and continued with the trek. enrico insisted on staying behind, since we were more than 2 hours ahead of the IT. he preferred to be with the "view pack" rather than the lead pack. but less than 20 minutes later, i found the lead pack resting at tinikaran 2. we discussed the plan, and manny T said that at our pace, it would be possible to trek all the way to tumbis where there would be water, hot springs, and a store. the decision would be made at tinikaran 1, depending on the time of everyone's arrival. so i waited for my group, discussed the options, and we continued with the trek at a less leisurely pace. i arrived at the campsite with aris just a little past 2pm. the group that had gone ahead of us asked for help when one of their companions had trouble walking: he absolutely could not move his legs but could not feel any pain at all since he had overdosed on painkillers, so they were devising a hammock. it was a long way yet to colan. my entire group was there by 2:30pm, and we were eager to keep walking, and by 3pm, we were still awaiting a decision to be made. i regaled them with my anecdotes of previous climbs, until i eventually had run out of stories. at 4pm, with still a huge chunk of the team far behind, manny T called out: camp!


by this time, i was developing a headache as well as a fever. one of my molars was also strangely sensitive to the bite, and i had difficulty chewing anything. despite that, we still managed to have a sumptuous dinner, and finished off the remaining liter of vodka that i carried up and down apo. at around 8pm, there was hint of a drizzle, so we quickly packed up and retired into our tents, although i continued the conversation with charles and enrico while inside. enrico kept saying how this was the perfect group, the best group, how the team composition was ideal, and all that, and without saying goodnight, we fell asleep. at a bit past 9pm, the coke we ordered arrived, and kuya mar's team was alive with beer. they tried to call us out, but i begged off because of the headache. and it was either the racket they were making, or the headache i was feeling, or both, that kept me mostly awake till 5am the following day. i had such an uncomfortable time, rolling around on my thermarest, worrying about my condition, trying to knock of the pain with ineffective medication.

by breakfast, i was visibly not myself, and people noticed: i was brooding, quiet, lost in the distance, out of focus. i tried not to infect anyone with my situation but it was inevitable: the silence was deafening. charles already volunteered to carry my tent poles and that was a welcome offer. still, we managed to prepare breakfast of which i had only a bite. i didn't even bother to get lunch. we were the second group to depart tinikaran, behind the impact-Os. and it was only on the return that i managed to appreciate the kind of trail we trekked: it was actually steep and very slippery in parts. under such conditions, you just walk on, look back a little to see if the team is close to you, and continue walking, following the beat-up trail with its yellow strings, failing to appreciate birdsong or the mating calls of insects or the variety of trees that fill your vision. behind me, the group was having fun counting the falls and slips they collected, and apo was a runaway winner (i would have been the biggest loser since my butt was clean as a whistle). rather quickly, we found the savers campsite again. less than half of the team was still not present, and i decided to be left behind to see what i could do. eds's knees had apparently lost a lot of their control, and they folded on their own. she was slowing down on the descent. so i took off, and in an instant, i was behind my group who had ordered coke at tumbis. we should have been there the day prior if all the other groups made it to tinikaran before 4pm.

but instead there we were, deciding how to be able to help eds. the road was about 30 minutes away from here, so we continued, again past plantations of carrots, along a muddy horse trail, and onto the road which in 2005, was in such bad condition, the mud was nearly knee-deep in parts, and yet we dutifully trekked it at nighttime until we reached marawer. this time, there were no such hiccups: a vegetable truck was waiting for us, and took us to the resort still in kapatagan, about 20 minutes away. and then it began to drizzle: the only significant weather anomaly that took place the entire climb. getting off at the resort, we had a late lunch (i only had soup, about 3 bowls), there was a choice between sleeping and getting cleaned up. given the long queues, i chose the former, until finally it was late in the afternoon, and the entire team had arrived. i quickly took a bath despite my fever, and sat down with the rest of the batang batibot, pooled together our emergency food which we converted into a gourmet dinner, and happily recalled the last 4 days in the company of rum coke.


we also planned the socials presentation, which true to the group's name, was still batibot-themed (add a splash of black eyed peas and sinulog as well). it was a lot of fun just to sit there, exchanging stories, laughing at things and occurrences which anyone not privy to the climb or the group would not find funny. in the end, every single one in the group was a revelation, putting a piece of themselves for everyone's consumption. if the lack of misery in the climb did not help to draw us closer together, it was the steady company of each other's presence and small contributions to the success of the group, individually, and the entire team, collectively. i like this group not because there weren't any boiling issues during the climb, or that everyone pitched in without having to be told, or that we worked well as a team. it was because even if any problems ensued, it would not have anchored us down.

a lot of people might compare this climb to others. only very few batches have been inducted on the summit of mount apo, and i am among the few who can actually compare two ICs. but just because i can, does not mean i will. the conditions then and now are wildly different; the amount of realism breathed into the IT of my IC was askance. this year's president had a few simple goals: no night-trekking, no injuries, beat the IT. yes, there may have been features of apo that we were unable to see: waterfalls, hot springs, lake venado. but what is the purpose? to see everything that can possible be seen? then we would need more than 4 days. the underlying reason behind our climb was to welcome new members into the club, and show them the quality of our mountaineering. i think we did that successfully, without having to tempt fate, or hoping that something would go awry, and thus lend the experience some credibility for its sheer difficulty. it is true that many ICs will be remembered for their tendency to push the envelope, to push us to tears and to the edge of sanity. maybe it's time to set a new standard: why can't an IC be hitch-free? it began with the weather, after all.

so despite the impossible load on my shoulders, i ended the climb without feeling sore. the only pain i had to endure was the one vibrating from my lower left second molar. but that's another story.

welcome to the club batch 2k9! here's looking forward to climbing many mountains with you.

Tags: 2k9, adventure, amci, davao, induction climb, mount apo, mountaineering, volcano

anyone who frequents the blog will notice that my entries have been far and few between. not that i have a dearth of topics to write about, but i have perpetually been deprived of time. while writing appears to be natural for me, i really have to find time to do it. i can draw inspiration from anything, and can write about the most mundane as well as the most profound subjects, given the opportunity. so it is true after all: despite all indications, i also have days when i'm flooded with work.


the last weekend marked the beginning of the end of the 2009 BMC. it was decided to compress the orienteering activity as well as the 15-K qualifying run, to save both time and costs. which is an improvement, i would say, from the first calendar, which had placed the 15-K too close to the induction climb. the orienteering weekend is always fun, if not for the trainees who are terrorized by the idea of having to take an exam, read maps and navigate with compasses, and employ skills learned over a period of 3 months while dressed for battle, but for the members, who lug along meals worthy of a modest feast, along with crates of alcohol in a bid to be the last to pass out. i was also somewhat involved in a different activity: as support group for TMM-timex participating in the first corregidor aquathlon.

i was personally very excited about the weekend because it would be held at the island of corregidor. not only will i be able to update my lakbayan map, but also i hoped to see a bit of the historic place. i did what seemed to be humanly impossible: i brought along my entire kitchen, all my mountaineering gear, plus my bike. also, i volunteered to do most of the groceries and the meal planning. in hindsight, not being able to collect from everyone, i now realize that this is both stupid and tiresome. i will think twice about doing it again.

anyway, at a shave before 5am on saturday, i was already at CCP. i hadn't slept the entire day friday: went to quiapo, did the groceries with janice, dropped off my bike at roy's, picked up the pinaupong manok from home, and drank till 2am at joven's place. and i hadn't packed. nonetheless, i was awake for most of the trip to the island, even while the tour guide gave us a history lesson. my eyes were closed and i feigned sleep throughout, but i listened and absorbed.


at corregidor, we were dropped off at our station. i was invited to share my rice cooking skills at the meal planning station. but before we could focus our attention on the orienteering activity, there was the aquathlon. i had seen many of them inside the ferry and they looked pretty scary. by that i mean i wouldn't want to take my shirt off in their presence, nor would i want to be in competition against any of them. and that's just the girls. due to a lack of personnel, i somehow ended up helping out the organizers, and even doing the body markings. i should volunteer to do this more often!


and then i handed my camera to dindo and decided to take videos of the aquathlon instead. the waves were huge, and it was difficult to swim in chest-deep waters, so for the first 400-meter swim, most of the participants were just wading. it was quite funny to watch. the run leg is 7km, and it goes up to the ruins of countless barracks, along a steep road which was difficult to bike. i would have much preferred running some portions. and to think i was briefly possessed with the idea of joining the race. thank goodness i had second thoughts! by the time i was back at the beach, roy was already halfway through the final swim, and he was the first to cross the finish line at a time of just over 50 minutes.



after the aquathlon, i managed to sneak in some sleep. we were the last station so the trainees would only be arriving late in the afternoon. and at around 4pm, they showed up, going through the motions of the activity, station by station. i was rowing in two rivers, actually, because i also had 2 stoves at the stovemanship station, where i also lectured and shared. in so far as skills are concerned, i really don't believe in evaluating what a trainee knows; i'm more eager to share what i've learned, and work on the trainee's knowledge from previous climbs. that's why we're here after all.


by the time most of the groups had arrived, night had fallen, and many of them were cooking rice illuminated by headlamps. i was already frequently distracted because i had to deal with our meal plan. when we started eating, some groups were still working on their rice. a few of them had hard heads and stuck to their age-old methods, which have been proven to be ineffectual. i've learned very early in my mountaineering exploits never to settle for good enough.


so while they struggled with making something edible out of their experiments, we began the feast. my mom's pinaupong manok was a big winner, and so was my ginger dip. mannie also threw in kobe beef salpicao and cream dory fish fillet with 17 (not-so) secret spices. everything that followed seemed to be a blur. i don't know when the first bottle was uncorked, or how and why i ended up in a dance showdown with al, or why i cried buckets when i visited the trainee campsite, and when i finally ended up inside my tent. but that's about the sequence of events as i remember it. of course, there were many swigs and hoots and screams in between, but they all happened so fast, i didn't have time to absorb much of it.

the next thing i knew was rising up in the midst of an uneasy dawn, wanting to be of some use during the 15-K. i mounted my bike, went to where the trainees were doing their warm-ups, and looked to see what i could do. i was asked to lead the prayer and deliver 6 liters of water 6 kilometers away. i biked back and forth, and enjoyed the view immensely: there's something about corregidor that begs another visit. but the current concern was the 15-K. in a way, the terrain was less unforgiving than the steep slopes of los baños, but the distance between water stations was some cause for concern for me. there were also stretches of road where no members were present. nevertheless, the support could be felt in the whole island: some members ran the entire course alongside trainees who needed a push, a shove, a tug, a pull, and maybe some motivation.


on my last bike back to the finish line i decided to pick-up eds along the way, to egg her on and resist the temptation to walk. eds is going to be part of my induction group, and i remember clearly how it was when we did our 15-K. previous to her, i had seen many faces, some gripped by pure exhaustion; others convulsing under the heat. but there were many more smiling despite the difficulty. if everyone had paid attention to the training, finishing 15 kilometers should be possible. not necessarily easy, but doable. eds was determined to finish the run, although many times she was about to give up and surrender. i could see she was about to crack. my job was to provide the external push. i couldn't carry her; i couldn't run on her behalf. but i can give her countless reasons why the demons tempting her to stop or to pause should be ignored.


finally, we went inside the darkness that is the malinta tunnel, and i kept reminding eds that only a short distance was left. just a bit more, just a bit more. i was behind her right to the finish, where she finally heaved a sigh, laughed a little, and cried. and then i looked back. there were a few more behind, and i worried they might not finish. and then i heard thundering cheers. emil and donna were both making a mad dash for the finish. i couldn't quite explain why, but as they neared, tears welled in my eyes and i was just overcome with emotion. i was a trainwreck! i had to fight back the swelling joy and pride for a batch that i've seen grow through several wednesdays, a few sundays, and 4 climbs. it was just not right to be crying when the event demanded celebration.


but the day wasn't over yet. we had to deal with the backpack rafting activity, then lunch, and then going home. i'd have to admit that they rafted no more than 150 meters. it was the shortest rafting activity i could remember. we floated on a still river for more than 30 minutes, towing others in our group! and because we had a pre-rafting inspection, no one came out of the water with water inside their bags! finally, it was time to go home. we walked to the pier, loaded our bags onto the ferry, and i stayed awake for the 2-hour trip, being evil. haha. i thought i was going to hit the sack early, but i was called to seaside in macapagal for early dinner!


and that's what happened to me during the weekend. i still have a backlog of things to write about. maybe tomorrow. or tonight. we'll see. in the meantime, my warmest congratulations to batch 2k9. this early, i'm already looking forward to the mountains i will be climbing with you.

Tags: 15k, 2k9, adventure, amci, aquathlon, bmc, corregidor island, orienteering

while wading through shin-deep floodwaters in bgy. de la paz in biñan, laguna, a young man clutching onto some donations paused to speak to a young woman who had just purchased some canned goods from a make-shift store. the man complained that the woman has not given him any animals; she replied that she'd sent over a banana tree, an elephant, and a cow, and that all these gifts would be received if he also sends over something. the man promised to send over a plant. the two were talking about farmville, a game application in facebook. there is no visible plot of land within their 10 minute radius where they could possibly plant anything that cannot grow on a pot, as the rising level of the laguna lake has turned surrounding villages into virtual water worlds. seven days after ondoy poured a month's worth of rain in less than 6 hours over metro manila and its surrounding provinces, communities are still submerged in flood, and families continue to live on the second level of their homes, and get around on anything that floats: canoes with a single outrigger, giant inner tubes tied together, watertight drums festooned under wooden planks, the carcasses of old refrigerators, and bunched up styrofoam.


the fact that the two were talking about facebook does point to a filipino fascination with online social networking sites. but the fact that they were talking about it in the midst of misery and devastation points to another quality of filipinos which i cannot quite put a finger on. others may call it resilience. some may refer to it as happiness. i wonder whether it is something under the category of surrender and resignation.


on friday night, several members and trainees from the AMCI mountaineering club, inc. gathered at the residence of mannie dela serna to repack water bottles, rice, canned goods, noodles, used and new clothing, into approximately 250 bags of relief goods. there was a discussion whether the deployment would take place the following day, when typhoon pepeng (parma) was scheduled to make landfall. eventually, it was decided that saturday would be the day to distribute whatever we have collected. more than the number of expected volunteers showed up: there was nothing for any of us to gain from the endeavor, but many were willing to allocate a portion of their time for the efforts. earlier in the week, some 300 bags were already handed out in san mateo, where flash floods ravaged communities and leveled entire homes. laguna was chosen on the basis of reports that many villages remain submerged in floodwaters from laguna lake. karl called up some contacts in biñan, and shortly after lunch on saturday, we were entering narrow passageways that had visibly been affected by the flood.


when we reached de la paz, tricycles and makeshift flotation apparatuses gathered at the fringes of a muddy street where dry land and flooded by-ways met. we immediately planned on going to yatco, at the far-end of the barangay, which is still under 6 feet of water. while we transfered our bags onto tricycles, a woman inside a van asked if we could facilitate the distribution of the relief goods they collected. instantly, our stock increased by another 250. she said that she would rather have outsiders take care of whatever they collected, than entrust the distribution to local officials. apparently, she has also read about barangay officials opening sari-sari stores at times of similar calamities. and shortly after, another two cars handed us their goods: an additional 100 bags. they didn't bother asking which outfit we were from; it was sufficient for them to see that we were outsiders willing to help, and also willing to brave murky waters to reach out to those most in need. at the time, locals had already milled around us, and we were half-concerned that we might fall victim to an angry mob. we routinely plucked burly men from the streets to act as our bodyguards, and secure our relief goods, and ensure the safety of the volunteers.


initially, i forded through the murky floodwaters, confident that my gaiters would keep me more or less shielded from whatever diseases that may be floating on the water. visibly, commerce goes on: the boats aren't there as some form of assistance. they've taken the place of tricycles and jeepneys which are obviously not amphibious. the boatmen, who may either use paddles fashioned from wood and the cover of a can or alternately push and pull the canoe, are also businessmen, trying to eke out a living from the disaster. some families have already decided to evacuate: furniture and appliances are being shipped out, but there are many who still insist on staying. at the beginning of the trip to yatco, several women already inquired if we were giving out tickets, or if we were going to visit their areas. a few of them tried to convince me that they were affected worse than others.


after a few minutes, we found yatco, or at least, what remains of it, 5 feet upwards, floating in trash, debris, and a mix of gratitude and greed. the water in some parts reeked of a foul odor. i began to think about sanitation and the spread of disease. maybe we should have been handing out antibiotics as well. from our little canoes, bags were handed out to families peering out of second-floor windows and sitting useless on their roofs. many of them were profuse with thanks. others were adamant and insistent that we give them more, and do not seem to have gratitude in their vocabularies. some women overly dramatized their plight, saying that they had nothing to eat, when they were surrounded by fully-stocked stores that still functioned despite the flood. i gathered from one man that the area gets flooded every 6 years, but this one was the worst since 1988, when the waters drained only in january the following year. this makes you wonder why people insist on staying, when lives are are completely altered by the rising tide. but then again, when the coming of a flood becomes a cycle, a routine, you tend to wonder whether they have an entirely different concept of normal.


so people say that filipinos tend to cope with disaster in a manner that is characterized by hopeful cheer and unparalleled optimism. i wonder whether that is a quality that is unique to our culture, or whether it is because we are so used to misery, whether wrought by natural calamities or induced by human neglect, that we are so accepting of the temporary disruption of our lives. perhaps it is because we have seen worse, or expect to see much worse, that we are able to laugh at, and laugh despite, the most dire of circumstances. is it because a high quality of life and a functioning government are things which lay beyond our normal expectations, that we are always ready to deal with situations of emergency? these are questions we need to ask ourselves, and this might pave the way for a better tomorrow for all of us, devastation and disasters notwithstanding.


after handing out all our bags, we silently moved out of yatco amidst cheerful goodbyes and thankful waves from individuals who said that we were the first to reach out to them, despite the hisses and whispers that we were selective in giving out help. certainly, not one person has a monopoly on misery, and we were not qualified to make a determination of who appeared to be more needing than others. we did what we could given our limited resources, out of a pure desire to help: we did not desire fame, and doubt very much whether we would gain any from our actions. it was sufficient for us to see genuine gratitude and sincere smiles in the midst of tragedy. we are among the lucky ones, virtually unaffected save for a number of inconveniences which pale in comparison to those still living in the squalor of the flood. and everyone fortunate enough to have been spared should celebrate by donating a portion of his or her time, wealth, and prayers to rebuild the lives of our beloved countrymen, and birth the future of our beloved country.

Tags: culture, metro manila, tragedy, weather

for the last four nights, i have been struggling in bed, unable to sleep. the basement parking of the building where i live was flooded by at least 17 feet of water, trapping 9 vehicles including a luxury sedan, and leaving us powerless since saturday. i have kept my petzl myo XP headlamp handy, as walking through pitch-black corridors can be a little daunting. i have been told that the situation will likely last until next week after they dry out all the cables and inspect the wires and circuit boards. despite my open windows, the heat has been unbearable, and i have to constantly wake every hour to fan myself with a piece of cardboard. my sheets and my pillowcases have been drenched by sweat, and the circles under my eyes are proof to my lack of good sleep. i have put my mountaineering equipment to good use: i turn on my black diamond camp lamp when i need to go through my routines at night and in the morning. when i arrived last monday, the refrigerator was a stinking mess. everything that could possibly rot inside it has perished, and i will likely give up many more things. despite that, i had given up a good portion of my groceries from the previous week to my mountaineering club's relief efforts: about two weeks' worth of stash, consisting mainly of a lazy bachelor's inventory: canned goods and noodles.

i have decided against going home to my parents' house in QC, as i have grown unaccustomed to the 2 hour stressful commute each morning. i still have running water, and food can easily be had within 2 minutes. i am able to charge my phone and other gadgets at the office, and internet is available. despite the lack of quality sleep, at least, i still have a dry, warm bed to plop down on every night. so no one has heard me complaining about the situation here in makati. it would be shameful of me to whine about the little inconveniences i have to deal with when so many others have to contend with far worse conditions. thanks to facebook, the inquirer, and gmanews, i have kept myself updated of the goings on, post-ondoy.

when the worst rains experienced by manila escalated into the worst flooding in the last 4 decades took place, i was up in the mountains, faced with difficulties i have decided to endure. when i arrived at the campsite late afternoon on saturday, we were instructed to inform our loved ones in manila that we were fine. we had also received news that manila was flooded. completely detached from the precise details of the carnage that swept through manila and its nearby provinces, we laughed off the news and partied with the sound provided by my altec lansings. it was only the following day, when successive messages reached me asking about our safety, that i began to be inquisitive. and still, the picture wasn't complete. only upon our return to baguio close to midnight on sunday were pieces of the puzzle appearing.

i am used to hearing about flooding in parts of metro manila. it is a regular occurrence along españa, and in villages along riverbanks and near the sea. i would have kept laughing it off until i began hearing about the loss of property, the loss of livelihood, and the more tragic loss of lives.

and i was away while all these happened, all in the space of a few hours. could i have made a difference? i am thinking of where i would have been had i decided to stay in manila. i would probably have just stayed in my building, waiting for the rain to stop. what a difference that would have made.

right now, i am inundated by stories of the scale of devastation. i have read accounts of tragedy in the past, but it has always been impersonal, many times removed: testimonies from people not known to me, anonymous names flashing on the screen or spelled on print. but it is different this time. this time, the stories are intimate. i would count friends whose lives have been altered by ondoy, but i do not seem to have enough fingers. homes and other valuables have been ravaged. for many of the people i know, it is just a matter of cleaning up, a chore that might last a week, or maybe even two. but picking up the pieces afterwards might take a little longer: rebuilding the lives altered by this catastrophe would take years. so far, the worst stories i have heard from the people i know is having to shovel out mud from inside their homes. i have not yet received accounts of death, and do not know whether i am prepared to hear them.

and while reports of tragedy number in the tens of thousands, accounts of selflessness and heroism from the simplest of individuals number in the hundreds of thousands. in an earlier blog, i said that the worst times bring out the best in all of us, and while i may have been talking about a mountaineering experience then, the light of the human spirit shines brightest in no other situation than now. i am actually ashamed that i have at best been an armchair volunteer. work has banished me in front of a computer and on top of a chair, and the best i have so far done is sacrifice a few groceries. i am embarrassed by that fact. the last that i have volunteered for any serious relief efforts was in high school, in the aftermath of the july 1991 earthquake, when we helped to repack goods and used clothing for the victims. i want so much to be a part of something. i want so much to make a difference. i want to celebrate the fact that my family and i are unharmed, by God's grace, and i would like to share my good fortune with those who have been hit the worst. it is not that i want to count myself among countless heroes who have given up a part of their safety or a portion of their wealth to contribute to something greater than themselves. i just want to express my gratitude.

and also, i want to celebrate my heritage. ironically, it is during these most trying of times that i am most proud to be filipino.

Tags: metro manila, tragedy, weather

last saturday i showed up at a "meeting" with high school batchmates for a reunion being planned for december. a lot of us showed up: 29. that's already an impressive number considering that in many previous homecomings at the trinity high school grounds, there were instances that only 3 of us came. many times i have said that those of us born in 1976 are quickly approaching an age where nostalgia becomes natural, and we pine for memories of carefree days when we were more concerned about the amount of gel or hairspray we applied onto our heads, or managing the pimples that erupted on our faces. but now that nearly everyone of us has unwittingly (and in some, less gracefully) adopted new roles and responsibilities, the changes have been remarkable. i have to confess that when i belatedly showed up, i couldn't recognize most of the girls; the guys still look pretty much the same, though for most of them whom i have never seen since 1993, they have rather comfortably shifted from thin and awkward teenagers to beer-bellied uncles. in general, many of us have willingly settled into spouses, mothers, fathers, and sleep-deprived workaholics. and it's only been 16 years! someone brought along our yearbook, and other than the goatee and a little extra weight, i haven't changed at all. although there were also many surprises. one batchmate was untouched by time: he still looks like a tweener. another batchmate gained about a foot in height (seriously), but his legs look strangely long. most guys have decided to look as different as they did in high school, and this meant putting on a lot of weight, a lot of stress, and some facial hair. if anything, what has remained constant among many of my batchmates is their behavior. it surely felt like a rowdy, noisy, night, except we were allowed our alcohol. but could some of them please mature? it looked like a JS prom, with the girls in one corner, and us guys on the other! smoking and videoke were the only things that united us!

i decided to facilitate the meeting without anyone asking. if i hadn't done so, it may not have pushed through at all. we belong to a generation of nurses and IT professionals, and maybe more than a third of our batch has either migrated abroad or is gainfully employed there. we'd like to entice them to come back with this planned "big" reunion. in 9 more years we celebrate our silver reunion, and that means hosting the homecoming at the high school. i wonder how much more different we would become then.

so here i am celebrating fountains of youth, all these changes, and all the differences. cheers to growing old gracefully. and i may not necessarily be talking just about me!

Tags: nostalgia, reunion, trinity college of quezon city

this is a tale of two mountains. the first is about my initial foray into mountaineering, where, despite having neither skills nor training, but with virginal interest and enthusiasm, i fell in love with the sport, and decided that i would like to keep returning to the mountains. the second is about my most recent climb, where, despite years of experience and deep pockets of wisdom earned from more than 70 excursions to the outdoors, i was on the verge of desperation.


but in fact, i am speaking of the same mountain, my first and my most recent, but definitely not my last: mount pulag. it was on this mountain, in february of 2003, about two weeks before the results of my bar exams were released, that i sat on a hill overlooking the campsite: a brown, flat patch of land, transforming into a many-colored village of tents. hunched over a sheet of blue tarp, i ate some of the best meals i have ever had anywhere. unbeknownst to me then, this meal would set the standard for all the dinners of my future climbs. more than seven years later, i returned to pulag: my eighth visit to this place of beauty and wonder, and for more than 12 hours, i stayed awake inside my wet tent, constantly in prayer, worrying about my rainfly either getting ripped apart or being blown away.




but it didn't start out that way. although it had been raining continuously in manila on the week of our departure, the early dawn in baguio held a lot of promise. i couldn't sleep throughout the 6 hour bus ride and its many stops, even much less inside the bumpy jeepney ride to kabayan, but i was still full of energy. i was part of dennis's group, AGL for the third straight time. i had piqued the interest of the members of my group with pictures of puffy clouds at my feet, and a sky pierced by rays of sun. i had brought along a tie to match my trekking shirt, and had also lugged my UWA to get even more breathtaking images of the famous sunrise.


from the jump-off at the school in edet, after i led the prayer, we began the climb gingerly: the group numbered more than 80, and walking single-file, we marched through the wondrous pine forest with great cheer and a positive outlook. the TL, in all the pre-climb meetings, had assured everyone that the climb was going to be lots of fun. and we certainly looked forward to it. after a short while, we reached the campsite beside edet river, which roared in the distance. i had only decided to pitch my tent on a small mound when a steady drizzle began to descend from the heavens. the area we had designated as our kitchen was a mess, and the areas where joven and dennis pitched their tents were flooded. before long, i had cooped up inside my tent unwilling to go out even for dinner because i didn't want my jacket to get wet: i was keeping it dry for the bitingly cold weather at the saddle. at the time, and despite all indications, i was still extremely positive.


the slight rain eventually let up when darkness fell, and although i had all but given up hope on the kitchen, we ended up uncorking spirits to celebrate the improving weather on the mountain. little pools had gathered around our area, and a moat had in fact surrounded my tent. pretty soon, having been the group that carried the most alcohol (i alone had a liter of tequila, 6 lemons, nearly a liter of bailey's, and a liter of tropicana), naturally, the crowd was drawn towards us, and the music provided by my altec lansings. when we instructed the trainees to retreat into their tents for lights out, mannie was trying to bribe me to sacrifice my liter of tequila, which i had set aside for the second day's socials. i prematurely decided to sleep while the rest continued with a more subdued drinking session under sir manny's huge kitchen tarp.


i slept peacefully with no blanket, and woke up when bugsy came to rouse the trainees in my tent. when i finally crept out of my tent, it was a dry, crispy morning, and we dutifully worked on the kitchen: we were a large group: with the lead pack joining the meal plan, it was difficult to manage, and we ended up not cooking everything we had planned, with some people settling for a strange pairing of danggit and focaccia bread. italy meets cebu. we were among the last groups to pick up our bags from the campsite, and begin the 8 hour ascent to the summit. in all my 7 previous climbs to mount pulag, i have punished my weak knees by descending akiki 4 times. they call this a killer trail because the steep incline usually results in many dead toenails (surprisingly, i have only killed toenails twice: the first time in amuyao, and the second time only recently at cristobal). and this was one reason the climb excited me: it would be my first time to attack akiki from edet. slowly, despite the lumbering weight of my 70-liter pack, i steadily ascended the trail, even as an ever-present drizzle accompanied us as we crossed the rickety hanging bridge.

i was weighed down by at least 20kg, by my estimates. i had carried heavier before, that's for sure, but for how long can i keep the charade? i am not as strong as everyone thinks, nor am i as strong as i would want to be. i would have wanted to sprint towards the saddle, past the pine forest, its erect trees and its winding trail, and carve out a nice campsite for my group. but it wasn't meant to be. although i forged on until after the lunch area, when i finally reached the last water source where joven and i sacrificed and loaded 5 liters of water each for the grand socials i imagined we would have, a pair of muscle cramps had gotten the better of me. i was licking salt off my palm, and it helped only a little. inside the mossy forest, there were instances when i could no longer put one foot ahead of the other. and when we finally walked out of the forest and its gnarled, stunted trees, a fog had enveloped the entire scene that there was no way i would survive the remaining trek without a shell. so i fished out my jacket from deep inside my bag and endured a howling wind for the final push up the campsite. by this time, the trail had become a small gully where a the waters of a chilling stream flowed down, and i could imagine my toes shrinking into pale prunes.

by this time, joven had left me behind and i was trekking with 3 girls in my group. we were silent for most of the time, with our heads bowed and our vision locked onto the trail. there wasn't much to see. it was a face of pulag i was most unfamiliar with: i've always been lucky with this mountain, and have always been blessed with great weather. but someone's bad luck had cancelled my good fortune. the campsite only finally unraveled when we were 20 paces away. very quickly, we identified a spot to pitch a tent. there was no use waiting for the rain to stop, although it was only a little after 3pm. while they held a groundsheet overhead, i quickly set up my marmot bise 2P, and in less than 4 minutes, it was already standing. i kicked off my shoes and snuck inside and called everyone inside, a wet floor be damned. i only requested them to take off their boots. eds was already crying and shivering profusely when she went inside, and before long, there were 7 of us inside the 3-season, 2-person tent: myself, eds, jackie, ming, dennis, bugsy, and joven. it was also providential that most of my things were within arm's reach, so i managed to open my tequila, and we allowed the substance to warm us down a bit. after a while, i devised a plan for us to move out of the wet clothes that still clung to our bodies, without anyone having to leave the tent and get wet. it was the equivalent of having a blood compact in the mountains; instantly, i had 4 new best friends, with whom i have shared the most intimate of moments. in the meantime, joven devised a tarp over my vestibule so i could at least attempt to cook dinner.

so with what was available, i managed to cook 500grams of the penne pasta, and throw in most of the aligue as well as the mussels. the ingredients were incomplete, and i kept apologizing about the pasta not being al dente, but my cooking has never been more appreciated before. i would have wanted to cook something more because i felt that two scoops of pasta were certainly not enough, but alas, i ran out of energy, and the eerie silence of the night suggested that everyone may have gone to sleep. i could hear nothing but the vibrations of my vestibule and the drumming of the rain on the fly. we had done the best we could to stay dry: i wiped my floor clean, and we crammed 4 of us into the space available. it was when we decided to sleep that things had turned from miserable to unbearable.

zipped inside my dreamlite 500, with only a portion of my face exposed, i could hear the violent clapping of my vestibule against the onslaught of an omni-present wind. it came from all directions, battering my unstable shelter with gale forces. i had to unclip the brow poles and watch helplessly as the spine bent with such drama, it caused the mesh of the body to touch our heads. at this time, i tried to make adjustments: double staking my doors which unzipped from the sheer force of the wind and manually supporting my poles, while reciting a silent prayer. all throughout the night, i was praying. at first, i asked for better weather. but i realized that one shouldn't make demands from God, so i changed my tact after repeating the same pleading. i then asked for strength to endure the night: in particular, i prayed that my tent survive the storm. as the winds pounded the rainfly, it scraped against my poles, i feared it might burst open and expose all of us to the rain! although the tent shook and flattened as though it were being trampled upon by large, clumsy feet, we were at least relatively dry and considerably warm inside: none of us shook violently, and my girls appeared to be feigning sleep despite the ruckus that was taking place. although the wind howled and swooshed, i noticed that someone was snoring in a nearby tent. i suspected it was inside my TNF talus 23 which was steady despite the little whirlwinds that assaulted the campsite. i repeated my prayers for my tent to make it through the night, until i realized it was already morning, and i heard arnel's voice call out my name: "alman!" he cried out. "ano?" i barked back. "uwi na tayo." it was already half past 4 in the morning.

almost immediately, i squeezed out of my sleeping bag, put on my jacket and moved out of the tent to see what else i could do. barely 10 seconds out in the cold, i jumped back into the tent. i couldn't bear the cold! i waited for some sun to come out before i actually did anything, although i managed to pack everything into my bag without leaving the tent. when i finally crawled out of the tent, i saw the carnage of the night's storm: tents bent into strange shapes, equipment scattered all around, and genuine fear etched in the faces of my companions. the only sustenance we had for that morning was a can of pineapple chunks. chaos theorists say that things fall apart, and this was one of them: none of us had emergency food available. very quickly, i squished my tent into the bottom compartment of my bag, picked up a lot of stuff that would've been left behind, and started trekking for ambangeg. the wind was still unrelenting at this point, and it was a difficult 30 minute push up the side of the summit towards the open grassland where we were open target to the sour weather. the weather conspired against us that moment and the wind grabbed drops of rain and pricked our faces. walking through that carnage felt like being slapped by a prickly curtain. although normally the trek would be a pleasant walk through endless mounds of grass, we were focused on watching the trail, and turning our faces away from the source of the wind. it was slow moving all throughout the grasslands, and i had barely noticed that i was pushing the tail-end of our group. there were many times that eds and i trekked hand-in-hand, and at one point, i had to drag her along to gain speed.

after about an hour-and-a-half, we reached campsite 2, but i said that resting would just cool our bodies. besides, reaching ambangeg earlier would mean a warm meal. dangling that promise seemed to work because our pace quickened, and we forgot about the aching muscles on our shoulders and continued the trek to respond to the complaining movements inside our tummies. we rested a while at the shed near campsite 1 and i proclaimed that the remaining trek is only 2km: the longest 2km many of us endured, as the final 20 minutes seemed to be interminably long. and then i told eds that we were already at babadak. i zoomed to the ranger station and looked for my group. some of them had already bathed and changed. there was a lot of screaming from the toilet. janice asked me to prepare dinner, so i ordered everyone to take out their food load, their pots, their stoves, and began to see what i could do. i cooked rice, heated the adobo and the beef bulgogi, and within 10 minutes, had several pita pockets to share. then, janice lorded over the chicken curry and mercy took care of the sweet and sour pork, and i managed to do number 2 and take a bath. it felt great to be dry and warm, but my duties at the kitchen were far from over. we still had lots of food to cook, and i basically shared whatever we had with anyone who was there. i have never heard that many thanks in the span of only an hour. i even managed to slice some spam for the sweepers, before cleaning up, while many others had retreated into a small room, imbibing the many spirits we failed to open the previous night.

when the last person had finally changed into dry clothing, we loaded our packs onto the jeepneys and began the bumpy ride back to ambangeg, then onwards to baguio: a journey that would take us about 3 and a half hours. inside the jeepney, i was fully awake. it was sunday, past 3pm. i had been awake since 4am of saturday. do the math.

i have repeated many times that i have joined over 70 well-documented climbs since i first took up the sport in 2003, with 7 of them spent on the slopes of majestic mount pulag, but none of them compare to the experience of the second night at the saddle campsite. all throughout that evening, given the particularly controversial circumstances of this climb, i wondered whether any schadenfreude was taking place elsewhere. i always hope for good weather: it's an essential part of the prayers i usually say on behalf of the climb team, and i would never wish for anyone to have to endure something as difficult as that. but for some strange reason, i was rather happy that this took place and i experienced it. i couldn't compare it to anything i've had. i've been in miserable conditions before: i've experienced endless rains, freezing weather, and gale-force winds. but not all three at once. in fact, i was somehow delighted that 2k9 went through the ordeal so early into their mountaineering. it makes us realize many things about ourselves and about the sport we have chosen: it teaches many things about being prepared for doom even when everyone says it's going to be fun, but more important is that it also imparts a few of of life's lessons. i could list the things i realized about me, and all of them could have applied for all the previous climbs i've so far had, and i'm certain will define how i prepare for any future expeditions outdoors.

normally, misery breaks us apart into little pieces that can't be put back together. we cease to function properly, and the worst in us surfaces: we regret our decisions, despise our friends, and are drained of any energy. but although it would seem that nothing could be worse than what i had just described, all the same, nothing could be better. it was sweet misery: we all dealt with a looming crisis smoothly. the hidden leaders inside each of us very naturally revealed themselves, and we managed great cheer despite the unsavory conditions. i may not want to go through that ordeal again, but if it does happen again, i know exactly what to do. should i find myself in dire situations again, i could always remind myself of that evening at the saddle of mount pulag and proudly say: i've been through worse, and survived smiling.

postscript:

i used to laugh at people who wear those pretentious shirts saying that they survived sagada, batad, or pulag. i always tend to ask if their lives were in danger in any of those places, and the answer really should be no. but after what i've been through, i want that shirt. i, and about 80 of my companions, can all proudly and truly say that we all survived the worst of pulag.

Tags: 2k9, adventure, amci, bmc, mount pulag, mountaineering, survival