the wind was bitingly cold as kim and myself lay our backs down on a groundsheet, our hands tucked under our arms as the temperature was dipping to 8 degrees celsius, while our eyes were fixed on the immense black sky, searching, among the twinkling jewels, for the collection of diamonds called the great bear. but ursa major was elusive that evening, and i could only spot the little dipper, an asterism that's part of the constellation called ursa minor, or little bear. there were far too many stars in the sky that particular evening, and every few minutes, one of them would be falling. people who have not seen falling stars, i always insist, are not unlucky; only, they have not looked at the night sky long enough.

of course, evenings are different when you are an arm's stretch from the heavens, when you look down at a sea of clouds from a mound of earth. we were prostrate only a few meters below the highest point in all of luzon, in a saddle campsite under the long shadow of the summit of mount pulag. i came here out of a longing to be at peace with myself, and to lend a hand in the induction of a new set of members to the AMCI mountaineering club.

together with 7 other mountaineers, i rendezvoused with the induction climb team at the babadak ranger station. we left manila at 10pm, and by 4am, we were speeding towards ambangeg. i hadn't slept at all in that bumpy 5 hour jeepney ride. when we reached the DENR office a little after 6am, even after an hour's stop at a roadside vulcanizing shop just past ambuclao dam, i wondered what evil had possessed our driver, or what kind of progress had seized this part of benguet, that our trip had been cut short by as many as 2 hours. at the DENR office, i met 2 caucasians -- an american and a dane. i made small talk with them, and they asked if they could ride for the remainder of the trip to babadak.

after about two hours, we reached the ranger station, and it was no surprise to find gilbert already there. what baffled the imagination, however, is why everyone else wasn't there yet. the previous year, when we did the ambaguio-akiki trail, we hit the ranger station just before 5pm on day 2. but then again, we had somber skies, so exhaustion from the searing heat of the sun was not a factor. but then, i received news that the inductees had been taking it easy, and the hike had none of the elements of the previous IC1 at kalinga. this was cause for concern, and even as we relaxed our sleep-deprived bodies waiting for the rest of the group, eating our packed lunch at 9am, i wondered how the rest of the climb would be. i met the rest of the inductees at the top of the steep climb, and many of them were very mildly surprised to find me there, photographing the horizon. when everyone had arrived, i decided to get ahead and wait for the rest of the team at the campsite. i reckoned a trek of about 4 to 5 hours tops.

it was a day unlike any other, much like the first time i hiked up pulag in 2003, my first climb ever. the sun was an ever-present company, and parts of the sky that had no clouds were the bluest of blue. on my second time to pulag, we hiked to the grassland campsite after dark. last year, on my third trek, it was mostly sunny after we'd left ambaguio, although we were visited by gusts of wind and sprinkling of rain from babadak going forth.

i started out cold. my hamstrings and my calves are always prone to cramps at the early stages of a climb, and i feared, even as i ate up the trail like a horse on steroids, stopping only to take photographs, that i might end up grimacing in pain. but i reached the junction to lusod with about 20 minutes to spare until the rest of my group found me. this is my fourth time to pulag, and i had always wondered what lay beyond the sign pointing to the direction of lusod, which was approximately 20kms away. i put down my backpack and braved the unknown, and it was something i would not regret doing. although i had expected to see more ranges of mountains in the distance, and perhaps a trail that stretches all the way to lusod, i was instead treated to a most unusual sight. on one side were the tops of trees in different hues. striking among them were the white trunks of dead trees. on the other side was a boulevard of clouds, resembling pale cobblestones that stretched forever.

from the junction, the grassland campsite was only about 10 minutes away, and we passed by the nearby water source. after a brief break, we pushed on. we had no lunch to eat anymore (it had been gobbled up at babadak), and it promised to be another 2 hours to the saddle campsite, and between the last water source and the scoop just below pulag, it was nothing but open trail: grasslands turning from green to brown right before our eyes. burdened by all that sun, i pushed towards the campsite with the determination of an ox. i wanted to get there early and get busy with dinner. the many peaks around the summit resembled hills of chocolate, with hints of green peeling away generously. on this good day, the communication facility near the grassland campsite was very visible. it was straight out of the imagination. i know that many have climbed pulag to see its famed sunrise, to marvel at its sea of clouds, only to ride and hike all that way to find a white out, a vacuum filled with featureless fog. i must have been too blessed to have seen all of these beautiful things in all of my visits to pulag.



shortly, we went around the summit and i pointed down at the saddle. "campsite!" i screamed. a solitary tent already stood there -- gilbert's. he'd gone ahead along with shai. together with TJ, kim, miraclecello, bing, and the guide, we descended to the saddle which at that time was still basking in the sunlight of the late afternoon. very quickly, we pitched our tents, put up a tarp, and awaited the rest of the team. when they arrived, i orchestrated dinner. long before sunset, we already had a pot of perfect rice, a pot of black pepper chicken, a small pot of soup, and an excess of comedy. by 5pm, we had all eaten, and having done my part, i left the kitchen clean-up duties to everyone else. while jenny tried to ward off chills and a headache, i proceeded to the peaks on the western face of pulag to watch the sunset: a cliff that dropped down many thousand meters below, and opened up to the halsema highway in the distance. i was decked in slippers, a pair of shorts, my camp shirt, a cheap brown sweater, and a bonnet. it was the exact same thing i wore on that campsite last year except for the slippers. i pulled genie along with me, and we marveled at the artistry of the sun's swan song. the sky just before dusk was ablaze and afire with a full range of bright colors. a glint of pink was stretched across an imaginary line that separated the carpet of white clouds below and the blue sky above. hints of yellow, orange, and red were dancing around the setting sun. a thin fog was swirling and twirling in the gap between me and halsema. when people ask why i climb mountains, i stumble with an appropriate explanation. it is because a sight as beautiful as this cannot be described by a convention of poets, interpreted by a group of painters, or captured by a collective of photographers. beauty is always best experienced in person.

but beauty of this kind also comes with a steep price. not only have we suffered throughout the trek, lugging a heavy pack, the wind blew on us relentlessly. my gloveless hands were freezing, my toes were clawing on my slippers, and i had to return to the campsite and add more layers into my attire and expose less flesh.

when night came, cutebalddiver convinced us to imbibe his cheap drink over the jose cuervo i had stashed in my sigg bottle. i joked about the amount of the spirit being directly related to how much he valued the inductees. tads joined us in our session, exchanging stories and laughs, resisting the temptation to retreat into the relative comforts of our tents where the temperature was more tolerable, although he was charged merely with passing around the shot glass. TJ may be a man of few words, and i had taken liberties on his ancestry, but he got away with a short stab. i asked: "what's the definition of a pedophile?" and though he was mostly lost in the background, his small, sore-throaty voice squeaked: "alman". later on, i would make jokes about TJ having a non-infectious disease that deprives him of the ability to have an echo.

but what defined that evening, really, was the surplus of drama that occurred just prior to 10pm. leo visited us asking about the wisdom behind exceeding the IT -- something we had not questioned at all last year, delighted as we were that we had broken records when we bested the IT by more than half a day. while all this was going on, a very histrionic genie came rushing to our area, screaming, "kiiiiiiim! whyyyyyy!" this was in response to the SMS kim had sent me on the evening we left manila. she had jokingly said that her batchmates were whiners considering they had a much easier challenge, and that the ordeal that was ambaguio-akiki felt a lot like an extended 5-day fun climb. pretty soon, we were served with high-altitude drama: when the confrontation took place, tears rolled down kim's face, apologies were thick in the air, and these two girls kept hugging and kissing. and us guys were stuck in all that mucky cheese, so i had to douse the overdose of awkward responses by making references to male fantasies, like girl-to-girl action, etc. when you are this close to heaven, the weather can play tricks on your little head. kim had felt that she was being alienated by her batchmates because she made that comment, but i think that her comment, though jokingly made, had a point. there really was nothing about pulag to complain or whine about. the ambaguio part may be long and drab and exhausting, but it is nothing like IC1. kalinga is an altogether different experience, and there is nothing about pulag which compares to the depth of the challenges posed to us by the entirety of the kalinga climb as well as the decisions that resulted in our being separated on day 3.

since we had agreed to wake at a quarter to 4 the following day, by a little past 10pm, i went to my tent, cocooned myself into my deuter dreamlite 500 mummy sleeping bag, and tried to find sleep. it was a most difficult task. my fingers were extremely cold, and i had done everything to try to keep them warm. my socks felt like they'd been left inside a freezer, and i would wake many times in the night because of the cold. finally, when my phone rang its alarm, i got up. i must've slept only about an hour.

at a little past 4, the members marched towards the summit, and i along with cecil ferried the remaining inductees of AMCI's BMC2006 up the summit. it was only about 15 minutes, but it was tiring nevertheless. in the blackness of the morning, the only things visible were the streaming lights from our headlamps, as well as the distant lights of highland towns.

i emceed the induction rites, which were presided over by bajay, bing, and TB. this, by far, has been the most smooth and solemn induction rites i have ever taken part in. just as the east behind the members began to bloom like an orange flower, opening the dark sky with slivers of light, 9 new members of AMCI emerged wearing their dogtags. for the next half hour, we witnessed the birth of a new day perched close to 10,000 feet above sea level. as the sun slowly emerged from beneath her sheets of clouds, her brilliant eyes threw a blinding light all across the places close to heaven. to the north, peaks of other mountains jut out above the clouds. the summit of mount pulag is a small patch of earth resembling a teardrop headed south. in this inhospitable yet beautiful place, only dwarf bamboo are able to grow. some of us seek refuge in them, if only to escape the cold. even as the rising sun casts a warm glow on our faces, i looked around me and there was nothing but sky, mountain, sun, and clouds. the experience is humbling because you realize at once where you are in the fabric of the universe, and that you are but an infinitesimal thread, spun temporarily into the yarn.



when the sun rose higher, and the shadow of pulag's summit retreating, we made our descent to our campsite. we prepared breakfast, and i was among the last ones to break camp. between myself and the akiki trail, there stood what mountaineers refer to as junior pulag. when i reached the top of this minor peak, before me rolled ranges of green. just below was the enchanted mossy forest of above the akiki trail. farther beyond are badly browned mountains with strokes of pine. it looked like the canvas of an intricate painting. on my right was a broken rainbow. i wonder what promise was not fulfilled by it. slowly, i made my way to the forest. the trees are stunted, only a little taller than the tallest among us, perhaps. they resemble slender bushes, or tall bonsais, twisting and gnarling in response to the weather being thrown at them. kla asked me whether the descent would go on much longer, and i replied by saying that it will likely get worse.



after the first water source just below the mossy forest, we begin to enter a labyrinth of pine. big log is just below, and this has been designated as our lunch are for the day. with plenty of time to spare, we cooked lunch. another pot of perfect rice and a pot of my thai garlic pork. after having our fill, and having rested well, we continued with the descent. akiki slopes at an angle of between 40 to 70 degrees. the trail does not go down in a straight line, but zigzags from corner to corner. those who climb via akiki might call this a killer trail. and the experience is no less agonizing, or painful, when you descend it. your knees are punished severely when you carry your weight and the weight of your pack all the way to the next campsite at edet river.

i followed our guide closely, and i may have been carried away, since i would take extended breaks waiting for my companions to appear from the thickets. by this time, i was once again referred to as a mountain goat. finally, at a quarter before 3, i was looking once again at the boulder-strewn bed of edet. i crossed the hanging bridge, proceeded to the campsite, spread my groundsheet on a spot where i intended to pitch my tent, and went back to cool my body that had suffered too much from the heat. my lower lip had turned rough and was starting to break apart. but this is nothing compared to the sun's impact on kim. her nose resembled a roasted tomato, although TB had insisted she had a really nice tan. TJ, who for part of the hike seemed detached, aloof, and generally stirred wrongly, looked like a japanese fugitive, an immature mustache growing above his upper lip.

in spite of the searing heat of the sun, the waters that rushed down edet were prohibitively cold. it must have taken me about 5 minutes to psyche myself that, yes, i will take a dip, yes, i will soak my tired body, yes, i can endure the sting of freezing waters. while i frolicked on the waters, stubbing my toe every now and then, i looked up above me, and one by one, they appeared from the wispy pine forest. they can see and hear me, i was sure of it, and i can only imagine the added agony of being so near the river, and yet so far. of suffering some more while others are gleefully allowing their cares and their pains to be taken away downstream. i took the opportunity to rediscover edet, and camwhored like there was no tomorrow.



at around 4, when everyone had arrived, i decided to return to the campsite not 2 minutes away. i had almost forgotten how hard the ground on the campsite was. i was apprehensive about pounding my TNF v-stakes with a huge rock, but the pegs would not go deep into the ground just with the heel of my TNF boots. i placed my tent strategically on a small mound, as was gilbert's and TB's, just in case the area were flooded. for dinner, some of the best campsite chefs i know -- namely bing and myself -- joined forces for an array of pastas. i prepared a tuna alfredo, which was an experiment more than anything else. i had forgotten about the butter, but it was loved by all down to the last drop. shai would later comment that it was her first time to have great-tasting food all the time. TB was all too happy about having perfect rice each time.

our after dinner delights consisted of my jose cuervo and a sometimes unhealthy exchange of jokes and potshots. TB continued on sharing his theory that attached women who join AMCI are likely to end up breaking up with their non-mountaineer boyfriends, because they're perceived to be stronger or more daring or more adventurous. we also discovered TB's talent at repeating what everyone else has already said. this time around, the new members also joined in the fray, throwing in their poisons into the buffet. one by one though, alcohol and exhaustion took its toll, and before midnight, we'd all returned to our tents to sleep.

i woke up the following morning to the sound of the river rushing and to the chatter of birds and mountaineers. we prepared breakfast. TB threw in an excellent macau sausage, while bing's group reheated chicken adobo. by 9am, most of us had packed and started trekking up around the hill between edet and kabayan. along the way, we passed the graveyard under a big rock where skulls of igorots killed during the last war had been arranged. we also walked past the american-sized bench. and although TB tried to block my way, he eventually gave in and allowed me to OT. we eventually reached the school just before 11am and lined up to take communal baths at a faucet with a tin basin and a tin can as a dipper.



we proceeded to the DENR station, then loaded our bags to our jeep, and left kabayan, topload. when we reached the DENR office in ambaguio, the former ms. tamiray welcomed us and announced that she was now a ms. albas or something, the circumstances of which i was not too interested to understand. while we were there, i inserted a brief chat with a solitary mountaineer who was going to make the hike up babadak for that day, and a solitary hike to the grasslands the following day. it's either foolish or exciting, i am unsure. many of us purchased shirts featuring the sign at the tawangan/lusod junction, and proceeded to jang-jang for a very late lunch. the other jeepney, however, encountered problems and arrived at the eatery over an hour later. then we proceeded to ambuclao dam for the requisite photos. they were letting water out when a giant of a bull of a pig came marching down the bridge. its testicles were as large as a human head. a scrawny boy tried helplessly to reel it in and tie it somewhere.



then we left for baguio and arrived with much time to spare. the requisite dinner at o'mai khan happened, where i met 2 amazingly cute and playful little girls who emerged from under our tables much to the surprise of kim. i had mongolian barbecue, and my second plate was disgusting. then we proceeded to kaffeklatsch for coffee and to unwind before our 11.20pm trip. i slept through most of that trip and i felt very very lost and confused when bajay woke me up to tell me that we were already near quezon avenue.

this trek reminds me of my first time to climb mount pulag in 2003, when i knew nothing about mountaineering and was teased about my absolute ignorance about the sport. ever since that time, i began looking at mountains differently. i look at them not merely as imposing creations of earth and rock rising many hundred meters into the heavens. i began seeing them as destinations, as special places for meditation where i could possibly contemplate my existence. during this trek, i managed to steal pockets of opportunities to reflect on my life. last year, when i did the ambaguio-akiki trail, i predicted it would be my last multi-day climb. and yet, mts. kinabalu and ugo happened, kibungan and kalinga took place, i returned to sagada's secret spanish trail. and alas, i returned to the first mountain i had ever climbed. and if misfortune strikes me and i will never be allowed to go hiking again, i would want pulag to be my last.

Tags: 2k6, adventure, amci, induction climb, mount pulag, mountaineering

there are certain events in our lives that we would prefer not to repeat, but which we are thankful for because they leave us with an experience that ultimately makes us better individuals. the first induction climb of AMCI’s batch 2006 might very well count as among those events. what started out as a climb precipitated into an ordeal, a string of unfortunate events, but which, in its entirety, will be remembered and compared to other travails, past and future, all of which, would certainly pale.

at around lunch time on our third day, half an hour after the “dirty dozen” were inducted as members of the club on the summit of mt. binulauan, i took niel’s suggestion a little further and instructed my new members, particularly the boys, that they should learn the fine art of assisting their fellow climbers, i.e., the girls. niel and i were holding on to the edges of our patience while we gave detailed instructions to kim and pie on our way down to the campsite from the summit of mt. mosimos and even the days after, and i felt this was a skill that had to be developed by adonnis and jay (aka hey_jay). besides, i relied on the pronouncements made by TL lovell, that the campsite wasn’t too far away. there was a “slight” change of plans. in consideration of a member who, 3 hours after the first day, showed clear signs of difficulty, lovell sought to find a shorter, if not easier, way back down to tulgao. although we still had ample time on our hands, the summit camp had been called off the previous day because it was almost certain that yvonne and her sweepers would not make it there. night fell early in the forest that dripped endlessly, and anything done in darkness would have yielded unexpected, if not scary, results. furthermore, the trail through dananao was supposedly a difficult descent, so the “circuit trail” was scratched, and another route was considered. the guides -- hunters who trekked in rain boots or slippers or with their soles exposed and whose feet were wide, webbed like that of a duck -- said they knew of a way. a shortcut. so i sped off in the direction blazed by the hunters, following white straws tied to branches and fresh hacks on the trunks of trees. after about an hour, there was a short discussion. in a language too strange for us to decipher, the guides argued about the right way. and although we could not understand a word that was said, we knew that something wasn’t right. we backtracked several times, and paused an almost equal number of times while the guide tried to find a way to a place they’d only referred to as kaingin. the guides were worse than most mountaineers, as their concept of time was warped, which shouldn’t be too big a surprise for people who wear no watches, and who divide days not in hours or minutes, but in positions of the sun. my group, i was confident, was likely to be 30 or so minutes away, and the distance between the lead pack and them might have been a blessing, since they’d naturally escaped the uncertain anxiety of what lay ahead.

then, after following a ridge, i looked down upon a trail that seemed to have been the site of landslides. there were sheer muddy drops, nearing vertical, and each one more than 15 feet high, that at times i felt the rope should’ve been longer. i immediately worried about my girls. there was no chance they’d approach the trail without some amount of fear and trepidation. and it didn’t help that the trail proceeded on like that, getting more perilous after each challenging drop, going astride ravines and even cascading streams, where a misstep might send you plummeting to an agonizing injury, if not a slow and painful death.

the roads leading to this were certainly not paved with grand preparations. i had been a reluctant GL. i had no particular love for the mountains in kalinga, and they didn’t quite strike me as attractive. i had climbed 4 mountains in this BMC, and i somehow felt that it was sufficient to show how much i was willing to sacrifice so that others might discover what i see on the slopes and summits of mountains. i felt that unlike the previous year, there was no rush to be part of the IC. it seemed the BMC itself failed to drum up enough interest among the trainees, and even more so among the members. i think there is a failure somewhere there, which is not solely attributable to the BMC, nor to the character of the trainees, nor to the attitude of the members. but then again, this denouement, as it were, has been the result of a conspiracy -- we all had a hand in it, and must thus accept the consequences. it was already too late in the month, and yet more than half of the would-be inductees were still wavering, not sure whether they could possibly join the climb. it appeared, somehow, that few were excited about the thought of getting inducted. while induction is not an end in itself, i think it still is a goal that one should aspire for. and i felt very upset that there were too many people who so eagerly gave in to the decision not to join, who were swayed to postpone membership, and in the process fabricate, concoct, make up, invent, exaggerate, and insist on reasons to justify why they couldn’t make it on this particular climb. the word i usually associate with mountaineering is passion, and i didn’t quite see that here. it was missing, and hence, it was missing a whole lot.

but even in the most hopeless of situations, even in the darkest of nights, the faintest lights might as well be the only things you need to illuminate your way. there were few of them, and that was all that’s necessary. when miraclecello locked his arms around me, and promised me that i’d be guiding and leading 6 others in this climb, it would have been unreasonable and unconscionable for me to decline. in less than a week, our battleplan had been drawn, and we referred to ourselves as PATH -- papalicious and the hitads. our first day was almost entirely spent on the road. 12 hours onboard a chiller of a rickety bus, and another 5 inside jeepneys in such sorry states. the last five were rather exciting. getting to tinglayan from tabuk was in every respect a miracle. 80% of the road, or probably more, was unpaved, and in fact, left to rot and disintegrate. the upland barangays no longer held the charm and nostalgia that remind us of masferre’s photos, or otley bayer’s researches. the homes were ugly, and the structures awkward.

from tinglayan, there was yet another hour of transit to tulgao. it was easy to miss, the narrow road leading to the other barangays in this 6th class municipality, which inclined at an unimaginable 50 degrees, and had more hairpin turns than than two hands can count. but whether it’s the diesel or the engine, these jeepneys nevertheless make it there, the absence of streetlamps notwithstanding.


on our first night, we holed up inside the ex-mayor’s house. my group all slept in a single row, and if a light had been turned on in the middle of the night, we would have looked like dead bodies wrapped in colorful blankets lined up one after the other. lovell was strict about light’s out, but we still managed to finish the bottle of mccormick green apple vodka courtesy of kim. i woke up with a nail on my forehead. the following morning, we donned our green uniforms, and started the trek. it was sunny. in about an hour, we passed the barangay of tulgao which seemed like it had been plucked from a dreary worlwide campaign for third world aid. along the trail, 2 young people caught up with us and asked where we were headed. “sa mosimos,” niel said, and the guy replied: “sa tingin ko sa inyo, hindi nyo kakayaning makarating dun.” “marami nang bundok na mas mataas pa dyan ang naakyat ko,” was my dry and wry rebuttal. at 2200masl, mosimos didn’t appear to be at all daunting. but i was certainly not privy to its challenges. we just proceeded with the trek. passed rice terraces, swooped down a river, crossed a hanging bridge whose handrails were fixed lower than the knee, and assaulted a ridge towards another barangay: balay. along the ridge, i had caught up with jon. he looked morose, and complained vigorously about his present burdens: his heavy pack, aggravated by the last minute deduction in his group count, and yvonne, who prayed for rest every 10 minutes.

why she was there, desiring to expose herself to the dangers of an induction climb on mountains hitherto unclimbed, i could only speculate. but it was generally thought that she was here for revenge. during the IC1 of 2k3, she was ordered to take an ignominious exit on the second day, because, based on their assessment at the time, she was in no condition to continue the climb. and so i can only assume that her experience was incomplete in the past, and her mission was to succeed where she had failed 3 years ago. but alas, if this mission to conquer kalinga were true, then her foolish enterprise was bound to crumble, or to be reduced into ten blistering toes. one can never exact revenge on a mountain. she decides who sets foot on her, and who walks out unscathed and unbruised. we have no control over her whims or her decisions, and the best we could do is to prepare ourselves for everything -- even the unimaginable. i was not present in 2003, but the way she looked on that ridge, with an undeniable distress painted on her face, her enormous backside blocking our trail, uncertain where to place her foot, and myself and my wards itching to OT, should’ve been enough reason to tell her not to proceed. so why was she allowed? her reason was simple: she passed the 10km qualifying run. of course, if the time is 2 hours, hardly anyone would’ve failed. while i may have some beef about the qualifying runs (since not everyone who showed up in that climb ran the requisite course), it is in itself an insufficient requirement, an inaccurate gauge of one’s ability to finish a climb. making the time shorter wouldn’t have solved it, since i know of many who couldn’t run 10 km in less than an hour and a half, but who could easily outclimb me on any given weekend. and the converse is just as true. jon gave her the option to return to tulgao. she declined. she may as well have signed her own warrant. whatever misfortune she suffered the succeeding days were of her own doing.



we reached balay and had an early lunch there. it was a small clump of houses on a small flat midway from the river and the summit of mosimos. i wasn’t aware, at first, but it turned out the chieftain had prevented us from proceeding. only after our translator and head guide gerald arrived were we given safe passage. from there, the summit was still a long way ahead, and i suffered from a bad case of muscle cramps and IBS. i trekked alone for a short while, until i reached the summit a shade before 4.30pm. there were huge trees all around, and the washed-out sky sparkled up above in the spaces allowed by the thick canopy of leaves. then we proceeded to descend to the campsite while lovell awaited the rest of the team. just after 5pm, it became unreasonably dark. but in about an hour and 45 minutes, we were met by both adonnis and jay. they’d found us a campsite. not the most ideal, i would say, but given the general state of things, it was acceptable. a little later on, cecil and vicky arrived, and in no time, i had prepared quesadillas filled with chicken, cheese, and onions, as well as a really spicy thai red chicken curry.

with dinner accomplished, i retired to my tent. but didn’t quite turn in immediately. kim, jay, and myself sampled my liter of absolut raspberi vodka. over at dinner, we nearly finished the bottle of cheap franzia red wine (it had a resealable cap, for crying out loud) which i asked mike to offload to me, since he looked positively out of it when we saw him at the shed. jay got his slippers, adonnis a can of spam, and i, of course, opted for something i could possibly take advantage of. it started to drizzle that night, so although we were most eager to have socials outside, we moved it instead to the relative comfort of my spacious tent. from the outside, we could hear people talking, and although i didn’t see it personally, i heard the arrival of yvonne and her sweepers. it was an hour to light’s out, and i could hear lovell’s voice reminding us of the long day tomorrow.

the following morning, i woke up when my phone alarmed. i found kim sleeping in my tent, and i wondered whether she’d passed out there. i was a little hesitant about going out the tent. little drops were still drumming on my tent’s fly, and i wasn’t sure whether it was still raining, or the forest’s leaves were just dripping. i opened my lamp and i discovered that outside, we’d been flooded. the tent’s floor rippled and vibrated like a waterbed. but we were completely dry inside. i went out and found out that it was ankle-deep in floodwaters; we’d pitched our tent on a waterway. and worse of it all, all these rotten logs near my vestibule had created a small dam. when i cleared the barricade, the water flushed out, but water from higher places still drained through my tent. it was something short of amazing we didn’t drown inside -- a testament to the quality and performance of my 17-month old TNF talus 23!

it was already way past the wake-up call, but so far, only adonnis, myself, jay, and cecil who were busy tending to the kitchen. rain can be the worst thing to accompany a morning at camp. i whipped up a quick breakfast, and gave instructions to everyone to set some aside for lunch. when i finished cooking, i went back to my tent and left the cleaning-up chores to everyone. we’d packed quickly, but not quickly enough as we fell behind the IT by a mile. i had stuffed many things inside my bag, most of them soaking wet, and the weight of my pack multiplied. streaks of sun were peeking from the roof of trees, thought it was still decidedly wet. we proceeded with the trek, following thin white straws through the forest. we were no longer setting foot on paths frequented by the community, but treaded secret, unknown trails of hunters. left and right were holes with stone rip-rap, some of them covered and camouflaged with leaves and branches, hoping to trap wild boars or some other animal. the lead pack placed large red squares on these traps so we wouldn’t accidentally fall into them. the guides said the hunters would frequent these traps only once a month. i sometimes wonder whether any of those boars would survive that long inside.

at about this time, i began to appreciate the unique character of the forest. it was unlike anything i had seen in my mountaineering exploits. whereas you would often describe one montane ecosystem with something you’d seen previously, my senses were exposed to scenes completely fresh and new. the trees were generally moderate in stature, generally sparse in population, scattered all over and old, like they’d grown randomly at the beginning of time. there were no visible marks here, no abused soil, no roots exposed by the passage of boots, nothing littering the trail. it was easy to get lost, and it was possible to get lost here forever since every inch of the forest resembles the other, i can imagine that without the hack marks or the straws, we’d possibly wander here endlessly and aimlessly.

in time, we chanced upon a raging stream. there was a huge waterfall on one side, and it poured thousands of gallons per second. it would’ve been a huge treat to bathe in its cool waters, but since it’d been steadily drizzling since we’d started, that would’ve been tempting illness. from the falls, there was a vertical ascent of about 20 feet. it would have been impossible to climb without rope. at the top of the climb were two long leaves curled at the edges. gerald said this was a signal that a trap that could possibly impale had been installed somewhere nearby. imagine indiana jones, with flying spears. for a while, i volunteered to pull the bags of kim and pie up to the top. kim and niel may have been so exhausted by that challenge that they got lost immediately afterwards.

after the waterfalls, we found the dry riverbed, which that time, wasn’t so dry. it was at the bottom of a tough descent, where nearly everyone either fell or slipped. we set up a tarp, and quickly cooked pesto for lunch. from there, lovell instructed the lead pack to find a campsite in about 2 or 3 hours. it was just a little past 1pm at the time, so i asked why. he said the sweepers won’t make it to the summit. yet again, one person’s burden has to be the entire team’s bane. the law of averages is thrown out the window, as we cannot compensate for yvonne’s pace. we are only as strong as our weakest member. and that really sucks.

the next challenge was the river trek. this was so much unlike malipunyo, since we hiked against the current. kim had clear difficulty with the upstream battle, despite the water being more or less clear and below the knee. we took a sudden left from the stream, and in about 30 minutes, found our campsite. we had to find little flats in the middle of the forest, which almost extinguished any cheer that was left in me. good thing adonnis found an area to fit all of our 5 tents. it wasn’t even past 4.30pm at the time. the guide kept saying that we could still make it to the summit, and i replied that we weren’t the consideration. the sweepers and their sweepee were. since we were there early, i told my group they could rest a while before dinner prep. the guides had built a small shed just beside our kitchen, placing leaves on the roof and kindling a fire to dry their clothes.

dinner consisted of laing and ike’s binagoongan, which had far too much bagoong for our palates. with dinner having been finished early, we thought of what else we could do, sitting under the tarp, getting smoked, and catching a whiff of the MJs the guides so brazenly puffed at in broad moonlight. by 7pm, we’d proceeded to our tents. the forest kept dripping, as if a big bucket punched with little holes was left hovering over us, sprinkling (not pouring) water wherever we were. we had no idea at the time that our manila contacts were pulling at the ends of their hairs, worried to the point of insanity, about whether we’d been swallowed by a typhoon that was stronger than milenyo. but inside my tent, warm, comfortable, clean and dry, gilbert unveiled a bottle of cheap tequila. at first we agreed to drink only until our liter of chaser was consumed. no one would dare go out, dirty his or her feet, and get wet in the drizzle. but we ended up having 2 more refills of the chaser, and i gulped the last 2 shots with gusto -- i passed out.

when i woke up some hours later, i was just surprised to find kim inside the tent again. i checked if we were flooded. it appeared dry, and i went back to sleep, waking up at around 4am later. i prepped breakfast as well as packed lunch. since we didn’t push for a summit camp the previous day, we were to assault binulauan without our packs. lovell wasn’t about to allow this batch to be inducted anywhere else: not at a basketball court. at 7am, we proceeded to the summit. without our bags, we got there in about an hour and a half. yvonne was in no condition to assault, so she was far from succeeding with her revenge. it rather clearly backfired. the trail leading to the summit looked pristine and savage at the same time. the hack marks were the only visible signs of human intrusion. with its gnarled trees, carpets of moss, and biting temperature, it was the perfect place to conduct the induction.

AMCI’s induction rites are shrouded in some degree of mystery. i was able to guess what would take place during my time only because i had been through something similar when i was inducted as part of pilipinas sierra. despite this knowledge, however, i felt no temptation to divulge what happens to anyone, not even to my closest friends. what i don’t understand is why other members would intentionally dilute the solemnity as well as sanctity that surrounds an induction by sharing the secret to others. i was glad, however, that no one from this dirty dozen had been polluted with the circulating stories. woe to he who first shared the secret. and woe to she who spread it. the induction was completed with sky singing a stylized version of “tatak AMCI”. and despite the rain, i risked injury to my nikon D70s by taking a photo. so with their pair of dogtags hanging loosely and adorning their necks, the new members proceeded to our campsite where we’d left our bags. i waited for them there for about 20 or more minutes. when they arrived, i was told that they’d momentarily lost the way, and jay fell into a boar trap.

that was a first for the group, but throughout the explo that afternoon, falling into traps became a usual affair. buko fell into one filled with water. then he fell a second time when he tumbled down the steep trail. mercy had a whole leg shoot into a trap. before long, at least 4 people were about to change their middle names to permutations of wild boar trap.

by 3pm we’d found signs of human activity. not bad if you think about it, but at this hour, we should’ve already been at the campsite. the guide said that the shed was an abandoned NPA camp. 2 shotgun bullet casings had been placed at the ends of 2 slats of bamboo and planted near where a fire had been made. the news was that we’d get to kaingin in 30 minutes. instead, we find ourselves on a river. then a little later we find that the water had been diverted. this should mean that terraces are nearby. but not necessarily. the canal stretches out far, drops almost a hundred feet down, and stretches again for about 200 meters. there i found the lead pack. sky looked irritated, but it appeared that they’d found a place to camp. it was already past 4.30pm. i went back up the trail, fetched water, and found our campsite in an area that’s been purposely cleared. it wasn’t clear to me yet, but we’d apparently been made privy to a kalinga secret. we’d known this all along and its truth didn’t require confirmation of this kind. officially, it’s denied, as if no knowledge, even of suspicion, exists. but there we were, pulling out stalks that had only been recently harvested. we were going to sleep on thousands of pesos in illegal money, but not if this were amsterdam.

after pitching my tent, i did nothing but worry. it was getting dark, and there were still no signs of the group. we’d clearly been separated, by how much time i didn’t know, but i knew that in that darkness, it was difficult to move. only 15 of us had made the “happy campsite”, the “herb garden”, the “strawberry fields”, the “doobeedoobeedo”, etc. where are the other 21? between niel and myself, we had 2 tents, 1 rice cooker, a stove but no fuel bottle, and about a kilo of lechon kawali, more than half a liter of raspberi vodka, some pasta, pasta mixes, mushrooms, and little else. that night, i settled for a bit of the lechon kawali, a bit of niel’s whole wheat pasta in herb and garlic, and a bit of everything else. like a thoughtful mother, i made sure i had set aside more than enough for when my wards arrive. i’d identified places for them to camp, i dried the empty space inside my tent. but it seemed my preparations were for naught, because when i awoke at 10pm, there still was no sign of them. they must’ve camped somewhere else. it was a good decision, but i couldn’t shake off that feeling -- was it separation, guilt, anxiety, worry, distress? i didn’t sleep well. the trail invited accidents, and i wasn’t with them; their possible thoughts played in my mind. they might feel abandoned. i wanted to be there when they felt like swearing out mountaineering. they were in good hands for sure. but that’s if arnel was in their company. this certainly was not in the plan. lovell said the trek would be 3 to 4 hours. this should not have happened.

the following morning, we ate the pasta we set aside for them, as well as the tasteless apple oatmeal niel found in his bag. then i heard a bird call, i rushed down in my slippers, “to welcome them,” i said. but it was just the guide. he said they were still cooking. i rushed back to the campsite and shared the news: ito was in bad shape, bajay fell but can still walk, and they camped before the river. by 9am, we were out of there. lovell had trekked ahead and he said the campsite was probably just 30 minutes away. but later in the day, i found out it took the others nearly 2 hours to reach the cogon area.

from there, it was all descent. it was very technical, and the only thing you could hold on to were the sharp blades of these reeds. i had no gloves on, so i risked injury to my palms. nevertheless, i made it to the first terraces almost unscathed. others were in far less better shape than i. they’d been nicked, bruised, slashed, bitten, scratched in far too many places. they were still wearing the wounds of battle on their arms and on their legs. on the other hand, i hardly bled. i had not a single limatik bite. and was almost completely free of any scratches. this was an achievement on my part.

before proceeding with the trek, chok left behind some medicine for ito’s amoebiasis. we left it on the shed. as i was about to pick up my bag, i noticed movements high above. it appeared a speck of orange, a dot of white, a sliver of black, moved against the general direction of the reeds. this looked very promising indeed. but i had to continue with my trek. my knees were already starting to hurt from the killer descent, we had to go down all the way to the river, and walk back up to tulgao. at the edge of the bridge, the guides told us that there was a hot spring 5 minutes away. by this time, i had began to doubt the accuracy of the estimate, but i was already there. so along with igue and bojo, i rushed to the springs. perched high above, i looked down on a small tub where 2 naked brown forms were prostrate. i said locals were there, possibly male, and in the buff. bojo and i moved quickly, and if i had timed our rush to the springs, it really would’ve been just 5 minutes. we took off our soiled clothes and very gingerly dipped our bodies into the warm water. i could feel stings on the places where i had suffered bites and minor cuts. it felt good and glorious. it was the equivalent of a long, meticulous massage. it soothed away the pains as well as the cares i had been nursing since the previous night.

after that, we went back up to the bridge. 7 minutes. it was time for lunch. i didn’t have anything. i took a bite from caloy and gerry. then i munched on a bar of snickers. lovell had just said that norman and i should take care of the book donation. locals said tulgao was an hour away. or even 30 minutes. “how about with this bag?” i asked. the girl laughed uncontrollably. on the way up to tulgao, norman and i paced each other. every now and then i’d look at the direction of the descent. far away, i sensed movement. good signs. very good signs. they’re probably 2 or 3 hours away. by this time, i was already very thirsty. you go ahead, i’d tell norman. no, after you, he’d reply. finally, we made it to the barangay proper. kids ran with us, detaching the straws on the trail. they were the birds in hansel and gretel. and in my slow pace, i reached the school in 56 minutes. accurate enough.


there, the children of tulgao looked at each one of us as though we were strange curiosities. i quickly picked up a conversation with the school principal. she asked us how we survived up in the mountains, when a typhoon ravaged the barangay, and presumably, nearby towns as well 2 days previously. she pointed to a tree outside the door to her office. she said it fell due to the wind, and they’d just replanted it there. i replied by saying that i wasn’t aware of a typhoon. we hardly felt any wind up there, nor any raging rain. we had some cursory photos taken with norman turning over the books to mrs. aggalao, then afterwards, we loaded our packs onto the jeep, and trekked up the hill to meet it at the junction. the road was in pretty bad shape, so it couldn’t make it up there if there was added load. along the way, buko and chok provided us with a lot of entertainment. tulgao as well as dananao, were slowly reduced into sad little specks in the distance. it was just after 2pm, but i could hardly heave a sigh of relief since i didn’t know where my new members were. would they sleep an extra night in the mountain? would they make it? i worried some more.

then the jeep met us at the junction and ferried us to tinglayan. we kept stopping along the way because the typhoon had blocked the path. chok pointed out sleeping beauty to us, and how its shape resembled the profile of a woman’s face: her prominent forehead, her perfect nose, her pouting lips, and her chiseled chin. why didn’t we just climb this one instead? in tinglayan, i was the first to catch a whiff of the elusive mobile phone signal and i called up sir oca. this much i was able to report: 17 of us have made it down, while the rest are still on the trail. no one was seriously injured. news of this nature have a way of spreading like fire on a field soaked with naphtha. i received one message after the other, all in the general theme of: where are you? is everyone safe? at one point, 3 phone calls came to me at about the same time. this was really weird, since i wasn’t the only one on the smart network, but i was the one who managed to connect. text messages came pouring in, and nearly everyone there had used my phone to send out messages. i was unaware that there was this much concern for all of us at the time. of course, the folks in manila knew (we didn’t) that a super typhoon lashed at northern luzon, including the cordilleras over the weekend, but the extent of their concern was just overwhelming, if not a little over-the-top. it warms the heart the thought that this many people care for you, certainly, but then, there’s that big snag. i was still very emotional and upset about how little support this climb received from the general membership, while i (and i’m sure others as well) risked not just life and limb for its success, and i couldn’t help but feel that these grand, gung-ho, shades-of-rambo intimations of SAR channeled too much of the all-too-common too-late-the-hero scenario. unless anyone had superpowers, a foolish jump into the dark water on the eleventh hour would not have yielded anything at all. i will not sugar coat my opinions when i say this: if these guys really cared so much about us, then they should’ve have just joined the climb. which is not to say i’m not touched, but then again, i couldn’t help but feel after reading all these emails, that there was stiff competition to be the source of information.

when we arrived in tinglayan, we ate immediately. lovell went back up to tulgao bringing with him some food as well. we took much deserved baths, got dressed, and readied for long nights with alcohol. at the common area of the sleeping beauty inn, we drank slowly, talked about mountains, cannabis, art, highland culture, and the climb. it had all the flavors of a fantastic and historical climb, sans, however, dessert. the rest of the team wasn’t in yet, so although we had the world’s longest buffet of challenges and experiences that mountaineering may have to offer, there was something preventing us from closing down our feast with some sweets: the constipating feeling of not knowing where your friends are, of whether they can still walk on both feet, of whether they’ve sunk deeper than boar traps. then at a little past 11pm, someone said: yvonne. she was taken into the inn, 3 persons assisting her. her eyes were devoid of emotion, as if expressing feelings taxed her body too much (later that night, mercy would tend to her like a devoted florence nightingale, wiping her limbs, assisting her when she needed to slip out of her soiled clothes; she, on the other hand, just flattened her back on the bed, unable to move, like the burnt man with the brogue in the english patient). i rushed up to the street, and hugged everyone, sweat, snot and mud notwithstanding. “you don’t know how happy i am to see you,” i told brody and mike. and i was actually serious. i found my group already inside the restaurant, helping themselves to the food. pie was close to tears when i found them. i apologized, asked how they were, hugged everyone, and was just too happy to find that everyone’s spirits soared higher than any of the summits we’d climbed.

finally, it can be said. now that everyone was safe, dry, and far from injury, the conclusion that i could not yet make until my own disquiet had been relaxed and soothed, was now possible: that despite the bad decisions, the foolish choices, and the nagging desire to go blamestorming, the climb, with all its peaks and lows, all its dangers and challenges, was divine. it was a magnificent and altogether wonderful experience. this is a realization you make, not when you’re on the summit, but when you’re all back down, and looking back at the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished.

the rest of the night was spent swapping stories, reminiscing the previous day as though it took place years ago, and quietly assuaging and comforting friends back in manila: whole team back in tinglayan, ETD for manila 9am, or when the landslides clear. i took care of my group, running up and down between the 2 inns, offering to tend to wounds, sharing alcohol, caressing bruises, both physical and emotional. then we continued drinking. by 1.30am, we’d run out of anything to imbibe, so we slept, while in the other inn, those who were more recently-arrived, lasted till 5.30. in the morning, we ate breakfast and dried our stuff. it wasn’t certain whether the roads could be crossed just yet. we waited. new ETD: 12nn.

then just before noon, jeepneys arrived. signs that the roads were passable again. we sped off for tabuk. along the way, darren complained of stomach pains. he would be the 4th or 5th person to fall ill with LBM or amoebiasis. enough with sharing plates and utensils. upon reaching the provincial capital, our jeepneys were stopped at a military checkpoint. one soldier went on top of the jeep and searched for possible NPA supplies. later, it turned out that they were looking for marijuana “in commercial quantities”. normally, if i had been less cool, i would’ve marched in and said: “abogado ako, violation ng human rights to!” but honestly, if anyone had seen the size of the sweat that collected on the brows of my companions at the time, the search was perfectly legal. they had cause. but then again, we didn’t just survive 4 nights in the wilderness for nothing.

as the bus rolled to manila, piercing through the darkness of the blackouts wrought by typhoon paeng (the little man), i had occasion to think about what had just taken place. the risks surrounding the climb, not just to my life or my limb, but to many other things as well: career, family, and relationships. will i be willing to make similar risks again? i might not consciously plan on doing a climb like this again, but when the opportunity presents itself, i most certainly will.

Tags: 2k6, adventure, amci, induction climb, kalinga, mountaineering, mounts mosimus and binulauan

many paces ahead, as i was wiping the sweat that collected on my brow, and betraying the otherwise breathtaking albeit breathless ascent, was one of my trainees, hey_jay, humming the chorus of "half crazy". we were stuck in that part of the song, and repeated all the eleven words at regular intervals during the course of the trek. the song may very well have described my mental state at the time for agreeing to be a GL, yet again, for a training climb where i had little support from other members. my load was impossibly heavy, and i was terribly wanting in proper physical training, but i wouldn't pass on the opportunity, of course, to return to a place of amazing wonder. i have been this way before, and my return to it a year later was an affirmation of a previous declaration that this would be near the top of my list of favorite mountains. since jay was within earshot, i sang the chorus with him. "'cause i'm half crazy," i sang, with as much emotion as i could muster in that confusing state of difficulty and captivation, and continued, "feeling sorry for myself, half crazy..." and my voice trailed off, not knowing the words that came after. but this last phrase held true for me. i really felt sorry for myself, in a way, because my load was terribly heavy. from the start, i was bogged down by a liter of sauvignon blanc still in its bottle, four liters of filtered water in my MSR dromlite, another liter of absolut vodka kurant inside a sigg bottle, 1.5 liters of white gas in 2 separate MSR fuel bottles, 2 MSR stoves, my TNF talus 23, 2 hard-bound books, 4 notebooks, a pro-lite 3 thermarest, my altec lansing inMotion speakers, my personal effects... i preempted muscle cramps by mixing a tablet of oral rehydration salts with a liter of gatorade. and i had also started on a powebar gel, which i thought tasted a little funny. yes, i was a little half crazy.

but the term could not have described alvin, the climb TL. he had this idea -- which was i think too brilliant it bordered on being insane -- of reversing the itinerary. at first, i thought it wouldn't make much of a difference because the climb was a series of steep ascents and steep descents, akin to the now overused analogy of the outstretched fingers of one hand. but as i contemplated the last push leading to the first campsite after refilling our bottles with water that cascaded down a steep rock wall that resembled a severely-beaten asphalt road, i couldn't help but think of it as madness. he was, in my opinion, crazy and a half.

we had started on our trip to kibungan from chow king along session road. i don't particularly recall how long or how short the trip was during the previous year, only that the bus that took us there now felt a little more comfortable: cushioned seats and a lot of elbow room. but when the mini bus turned left towards kibungan, i felt there was something amiss. it lurched upwards slowly and it snorted at regular intervals, as though it had a hard time carrying its own weight. the views of the outlying mountains were only starting to be revealed, and in the pale morning light, as we entered places where clouds don't hang in the sky but sit on the ground, the landscape turned from stunning to even more stunning. layers of black mountains and strips of fluffy clouds moving in like a lazy river of cotton appeared on our left, while on our right was a wall covered with small, violet flowers. we reached kibungan over an hour behind of our itinerary, and we still had to take a truck to the jump off, at the edge of a road that had been paved unkindly by a sick bulldozer.

from here, it was hard to describe our trek, although there appeared, far away, a scar on the mountain's face, and i assumed it to be the trail. the trek would take us on a counter-clockwise route around the mountains of the municipality, ending 3 days later at the municipal hall. we descended upon a few rice terraces, then crossed a long hanging bridge, the first of many in the succeeding days. from there, it was an uphill climb through reeds and along narrow rice terrace rip-rap. we had lunch along a small stream that spun around big chunks of rock. orange, blue, and green dragonflies with their luminous and bulbous eyes kept us company. while we were there, children were walking towards the road. we pushed onwards with the trek, and it must have been a testament to my poor memory, when i said it would be generally rolling until the water source. in fact, it was not. i will confess that i felt very dizzy at some point, and i thought about disposing of the white wine or maybe the books that we were to donate to the local school.

we regrouped at the water source, even as fog silently crept in, blotting out nearly everything beyond 10 meters. it was already 4pm, and despite the surrounding beauty, the trainees were restless, and asked if we were near. "wag kayong mag-alala," i reassured them, "wala nang akyat baba pagkatapos nito," i paused, and smiled rather suspiciously. "puro akyat na lang." we were already two full hours behind the itinerary, and we estimated the trek to be around 2 more hours, so we asked everyone to prepare their headlamps. i walked behind paulo and brody, the latter making frequent stops at the most inopportune moments, breaking my steady cadence. more than once i'd find my face or my head bumping into his pack, his predilection for pausing interfering with my momentum. the trail was steep, to say the least. crude steps had been carved on faces of rock. i remember it had been a battle of balance going down this trail the previous year. but this time around, the battle was fought differently: it was a joust with gravity, and we were severely bruised, though still standing. brody kept remarking about ugo's tey's revenge being a mere footnote compared to what we were assaulting. i said the comparison was more appropriately made to akiki.

despite the punishing ascent, the views around us were fantastic. behind us, the outlines of distant mountain ranges would intermittently appear and disappear, based on the movement of the clouds. gullies below us rose from unknown depths into inverted green triangles. on either side, we were hedged by nearly vertical walls of rock and sparse vegetation. the peaks of these ranges would turn into islands, surrounded by a sea of clouds. someone had asked about how these were formed, and i started on a lecture about geology. i would keep saying that at the end of the ascent would be the campsite, and i mentioned that it was just up there, up there, at the top. but i myself may have been fooled, perhaps by a sketchy memory of a previous experience, because i was surprised to find myself there, still looking up at a great expanse, wondering when the uphill climb would end. we paused momentarily at a small flat where a few pine trees and some small brown ferns grew. from far away, i would hear someone shouting, "ang ganda!", although the strain in the throat sounded more like a complaint than a compliment.

eventually, i pointed at a fence. there's the campsite, i said. a darkness was already creeping in, and i wanted to make sure to be there just before the last light of day. i sauntered up the trail, calling on my trainees to follow me closely, and found kuya mar, shouting not far away, declaring the location of the campsite. i immediately found space for my tent just as i turned my lamp on, even as jay and kim were discussing how to pitch the tent they'd borrowed. i waited on my tentmates, and before long, two TNFs of the same model from different years stood. i put up our tarp, and by the time everyone had arrived, jay and kim were organizing our kitchen. jay volunteered to prepare a tuna pasta putanesca in garlic vinaigrette affair, and i just kept watch over my wards as the evening draped over the horizon, leaving a few lights twinkling in the distance, possibly homes illuminated by gaslamps.

we ate peacefully that evening, the cool evening wind kissing the parts of our bodies exposed. the putanesca was good, and we paired it with focaccia bread and white wine. after a while, we gathered around the kitchen of sir manny's team to do socials. prior to that, TL alvin just moved lights out to 11pm, citing the delay in our arrival at the campsite. shots quickly circulated, and without much notice, kim was clearly inebriated, speaking in a voice louder than mine, and bugging alvin about 15 more minutes, 15 more minutes. just after 11pm, i decided to shut myself inside my tent. i slept well that evening, and woke up to paulo's alarm. i told them to head out and start on breakfast, and brody whispered "snooze muna". "walang snooze snooze," i said, and pushed them out. when i opened my door, i found out that kuya mar and mawi had slept outside, just under their kitchen tarp. it was a wonderful dawn with a clear sky and many stars in attendance, although any hint of a fantastic sunrise was absent.

for breakfast, we prepared pita pockets with adobo and corned beef filling. it was very quickly prepared, and it was perhaps one of the yummiest breakfasts i have had in the mountains. i won't claim originality over it though, because i'm sure i borrowed the idea from someone else. that morning, the entire campsite was bathed in a clear morning light. the sky was generally blue, with streaks of white and hints of orange and red. pine trees surrounded us, and the air was crisp and fresh.

we started the trek shortly after 8am, and less than 250 meters from the campsite, on more or less even terrain, paulo slipped, used his hands to break the fall, and very clumsily sat on his left hand. he didn't rise immediately and i suspected there was something wrong, because his face wasn't locked in its usual clueless stare. he winced, and let out a silent scowl. i immediately took his hand, felt for anything broken or displaced. i told him to wiggle his fingers. check. move his hand from his wrist. check. i said we'd bandage it at the next rest stop. from the campsite, we descended deep into a small valley where slithered a small stream. and then from there was another steep ascent. the previous afternoon, we were in luck because the sun was not in attendance, and the cool wind accompanied us on our way. this time though, it was really hot. paulo had a hard time trekking because he couldn't use his left hand to hold on to the steps. i kept telling him to look back. the view's fantastic. "may lula ako eh," he said, and kept climbing. below us, our companions looked as if they were crawling up the wall. the sweepers appeared as colorful specks in the distance, distinguished from the monotonous green.

at the rest area, while we waited for signs of the sweepers, sir manny and i bandaged paulo's hand and immobilized it with 2 short sticks. by this time, it had appeared a bit swollen, which was cause for some minor concern. TL alvin's left leg was bleeding from a limatik bite, and the trainees looked seriously worried. none of them had even encountered a limatik in the past, and were particularly disturbed by the amount of blood that was oozing. we proceeded with the trek after the short rest and i promised them that the there wouldn't be any hard ascents until after the lunch area, where we were scheduled to deposit our book donations. we encountered different types of plantlife along the way, like pitcher plants and ferns. although there was no ascent, going down wasn't necessarily half as difficult. it was slippery and dangerous.

just after the stream where we had lunch last year, we entered the mossy walls. they were narrow passageways, more than two persons high and about two shoulder lengths wide, carpeted by moist layers of moss. surely they could not have been man-made. when we emerged from the walls, we saw tacadang in the distance. it had houses spaced far away from each other, as if each house had an entire mountain as its backyard. it wasn't 30 minutes away, but it still felt long. droppings of wild pigs were scattered everywhere. upon reaching the same place where we had kapeng barako and camote last year, we were instructed to have lunch and leave behind our books. in another house was a local who didn't appear to be completely sane: he was wrapped in a blanket, with a deep, penetrating gaze, absorbed in an extended monologue. with what we'd so far done, i wasn't sure who was more mad: he or us.

we ate lunch rather gingerly, and before long, one of the locals had brought coffee and bananas. i was the only one who didn't have any coffee, but i did take a banana. sadly, the same views that were here the previous year could not be seen as a fog had rolled in, surrounding us in what seemed like a white vacuum. then we proceeded to the campsite. once again, it was a difficult descent. my trainees sat some of the way, afraid that they'd slip. we were walking down similar crude steps carved on steep walls. in some parts, there was water that trickled down them. before crossing another hanging bridge, we looked upon an imposing creation of solid rock. on one side, it seemed as if the outer, darker layer had crashed, exposing a lighter, though more jagged complexion. it would have been an ideal place for free climbing, if anyone more foolish than us was willing to undertake it. on our right was another sheer wall of rock or mountain, and in its crevices were coffins, although in the haze of clouds, it was difficult to see. i just told them what they would've seen had it been sunnier.

then we crossed the last hanging bridge for the day, the fourth since we started. as we were crossing, i noticed that there was a hole under the bridge. since we were instructed to load on water here, and since i knew the campsite was less than an hour away, i decided to be daring and jump into the hole. i was hesitant at first. the water was almost completely still, unlike the rest of the stream that rushed down with speed and force. i feared there might be some living creature inside it with fangs. but then, i just wanted to make sure i had an audience. and when they were there, i jumped in. not once, not twice, not three times. i also coaxed paulo and jay and mawi to jump into the pool. it was actually quite deep. and nearly round, possibly 12 feet in diameter. and since i was the first to do it, we joked that it was going to be named after me: alman's hole. too bad it rained the entire time and i had no pictures of it.

after lingering at the water source, we pushed for the campsite, trekking through a thick forest that dripped endlessly in that stubborn rain. i had 5 more liters of water -- more than most -- but knew the worst was over. i will only get a cramp on the first day, and not on any of the succeeding days. i felt much stronger, and could have carried more were it necessary. nevertheless, kibungan is turning out to be the most challenging and most complete training climb for 2k6. it had the makings of a memorable climb: a variety of surfaces, the whole spectrum of climates, an array of difficulties, a whole shebang of flora and fauna, and an omnipresent beauty.

we kept our pace, and though brody pleaded for a break, i said keep going, we haven't been trekking for 30 minutes. we actually reached the campsite around 35 minutes after we'd started. as if suddenly, the house just appeared. kuya mar and ruben were already asleep in its 2nd floor. it was still raining though, and i said we'll pitch our tents when it stops. after a while, our tents stood just beside the big shed with the second floor. it had been built by the municipality for the locals, in case they are delayed during their treks from their farms to their houses, or from their respective barangays to the poblacion. i asked my trainees to change, and brody took longer than patience could stand. we were wet from the rain, and it was cold outside. he said he was nursing his limatik bites which bled profusely. by the time he'd finished, i myself had dressed and said it took me less than 2 minutes.

after that, we tried to organize our campsite. we had difficulty though, with our tarp. the ground, softened by the rain, would not hold on to our pegs, and the tarp kept falling. finally i decided to move the kitchen to the shed, safe from the rain. i just barked orders, and personally cooked a beef in black bean garlic sauce with red and green bell peppers and carrots in the shape of flowers. it was a fantastic dish. "ang sarap nito," jay said. "ito ang pinaka-okay na kanin na natikman ko sa bundok," paulo added. they were great compliments, the downside though is that none of them were responsible for it. i have an altogether different approach to the training, and sir manny and i discussed this while they sat around and their trainees butchered dinner. ours was a quick, delicious dinner, true, but how much did the trainees learn? if not cooking, then they learned something else: operating the stove, cleaning the pots, organizing the kitchen. we kept joking about the incident until a fireball emerged from sir manny's kitchen. "ayan, matututo talaga sila nyan," he joked. "oo nga," i agreed. "pero sunog naman ang kilay."

there wasn't much to clean after dinner because jay scraped the last morsel of rice and the beef dish. we readied our liter of vodka while waiting for the other team to finish dinner and start on socials. meanwhile, ruben forced us to imbibe a really foul-tasting brandy, while brody had a hard time convincing us that his scotch whiskey -- a ballantine -- was any good. eventually, we had 4 different drinks: my precious liter of expensive vodka, the ballantine inside a small flask, the cuatro cantos GSM, and the brandy. and while we scared the trainees shitless about limatik bites and spirits, we finished shot after shot of the alcohol. we were kept company by music from my iPod and my altec lansing speakers. soon, the TL's face started to rouge. he insisted it was sunburn. we kept drinking, and kuya mar was peculiarly absent, having turned in earlier than usual. he was mostly in a rush, running after sir manny, and must've been really tired. by 11pm, everyone but my group, mawi, and alvin stirred, and i showed signs of narcolepsy, falling asleep even as i held on to a shot glass. so after that last shot, i decided to turn in.

in the middle of the morning, i woke. i felt cold. i wasn't able to close the tent's door, only the vestibule. as i was about to close it, brody talked in his sleep, murmuring something about his acads grade, and snored immediately thereafter. between us was paulo. his head below me, moaning as though he were complaining from something. i went back to sleep. but it didn't feel like i had slept because after what seemed like a short while, paulo's alarm was off. brody wouldn't get up, and paulo later said that he is the only old person he knows who doesn't get up early.

i left the tent ahead of everyone, and we quickly prepared breakfast. it was another wonderful morning. dry and refreshing. we were inside the forest. paulo left to answer a major call of nature. i was looking out into nothingness, when two faint lights, like little floating matchsticks on fire, coming from the direction where paulo hid himself, floated towards the campsite, slowly at first, then with speed, disappearing just as i was craning my head, following them with my eyes. i was certain that they weren't fireflies, whose lights blink. they appeared to be flying insects on fire. it was strange, and unfortunately, no one else had seen them.

for that morning, we heated pre-cooked beef tapa and chicken tocino. i said it was up to them what to have for either breakfast or lunch. i told them as well to hurry so we can proceed to the viewdeck and enjoy the sights. but it was a slothy morning, and things moved in slow-motion, that we'd finished at 8, when we were supposed to start our trek. i led the way to the viewdeck, stood at the edge, and marveled, once again, at the painfully beautiful landscape that is kibungan. although i was many paces from where the rock suddenly falls steep into a cliff whose end can't be seen, the seniors were very concerned. when we had our pictures taken, they'd shout, almost in unison -- kuya mar, sir manny, ruben -- to be careful! be careful! no further step!

after the requisite photos, we returned to the shed and were about to start our trek. locals passed by and they spoke to us. they thanked us for the books and the notebooks we'd donated -- the same ones i wanted to get rid of during the first day. in a place almost totally deprived of mobile communication, word travels fast, and sincere gratitude, even faster. i smiled silently and bade them goodbye when i started walking. i was instructing my trainees on what to expect for the day: a steep descent on primitive steps along the mountain's rock face, an ascent after the bridge, a long descent along a craggy trail, and then one final ascent towards the municipal hall. i predicted we'd be there by 1pm.

but things aren't always as you plan them, and not everyone walks with my speed. the first descent was slow. most of the trainees proceeded with a lot of trepidation, careful to slip lest they find themselves plunging headlong to the depths below. it really was a lack of confidence and experience more than anything, and what slows you down is putting fear ahead of yourself. the lanagan stairway had flowers sprouting from its wall of solid rock. down at the bottom, we crossed our fifth bridge, and then went up again, to the ridge. there, we contemplated the experience, munching on trail food. lester and rico initially thought we were within IT, mistaking the massive rock formations as midrock, the globular chunk of geology sticking out of the mountainside. but i said it wasn't. it was further away. so we sped off. i pointed out to the trainees where the crampsite and midrock were, and if i had checked my itinerary, we would have learned we were way behind it. i just knew, while i was walking, and looking at the great challenge ahead -- because the trail going back up to the municipal hall was clearly there -- that alvin had not estimated well. reversing the IT wasn't as easy as adding a few hours to the descent, and slashing some minutes to the original ascent. hence, the miscalculations. we reached mang gorio's hut at past 1pm, where we had a hurried lunch.

we left quickly, as i worried about what time we'd reach baguio with our pace. about 15 minutes later, i realized i'd left my camera at mang gorio's hut. i was confident the sweepers wouldn't leave it behind, but i was more concerned about missing out on many photo opportunities. so i ran back for it. i ran uphill, and when i got there, joyce was just about to stuff the camera into her bag. i said i knew you'd sweep it but i didn't want you to carry any extra load. then i ran down again to where i dropped my bag. with my normal pace, i caught up with my group before the last bridge. this is perhaps the most dangerous of all the bridges, only because it is the one perched the highest. the raging waters rested about 80 to a hundred feet below it. from there, i warned everyone of the last challenge: it's all uphill from here. and here lies the irony. perhaps this is the only climb there is known to me where going home consists of going up. and it was a long ascent that consumed all that was left of my patience. i ran out of it because i felt our pace was too slow, and it was raining, and the itinerary was far from accurate. alvin's not to blame, really, but since an IT sets your expectations, you tend to think that you'd be at a certain place at a certain time. so this delay basically blew away most of my plans. but we pushed on, resisting the temptation to stop too often. just when i expect to see the road, instead i see another uphill climb.

finally, concrete stairs! and a store. i purchased a lukewarm royal true orange and shared it with my trainees. the municipal hall should be 10 minutes away, i said, and i continued walking. immediately, i took a bath outdoors, with the view of the mountain that i had just climbed hazy behind some thin clouds in the distance. it felt good to rub soap on my body, and to apply shampoo on my hair. and i finished quickly, with the rest arriving after i had slipped comfortably into dry clothes. there is a temptation, after all that physical exertion, to stare blankly into space and contemplate the experience, but then there is as well the pressing need to get home, to return to the spaces we'd temporarily vacated. i sought out kuya mar and found them having some beers and a very late lunch at a store where on the other table, locals were already very drunk. a man slept on the floor. at the other store, an argument broke out and a drunk man punched a mirror, leaving his hands bloody. i invited myself to kuya mar's treat and ate.

then we loaded ourselves to our minibus, and since it was already getting dark, i just lulled myself to sleep, hoping to be in baguio city by 9pm. but it wasn't meant to be, and we were met with a string of unfortunate events. first, the bus's engine died and wouldn't start again, some problem concerning its fuel line, i was later told. not 100 meters away was a truck, going the other direction, also dead on its tracks. this must've been some kind of a bermuda triangle or twilight zone for large vehicles. the delay cost us around 30 minutes. then an hour later, a flat tire. it took another 30 minutes. then after an hour, another obstacle. a jeepney had blocked the path, its front wheels stuck in mud. and it came down to us mountaineers to provide the solution, but not after another 30 minutes or so. with our help, the jeepney was pulled out of the ditch giving us enough space to continue with our journey. not once during any of these many, long stops, did i go down from the bus. only later did i realize that we were already getting down at the victory liner station, at the ghastly hour of 11pm. o' mai khan was now definitely out of the question.

one might think the journey as well as the experience would douse any hint of further adventure and would only result in an interminable longing to get home, such as sir manny who seemed in a frantic rush to get the first bus out of baguio, but instead of following suit, and in spite of work that waited the next day, a few of us opted to take the 1am trip, only so we could chill and relax and at least for a fleeting moment, forget about having to rush, having to be always in a hurry. we agreed to stay at kaffeklatsch for a full hour, munching on pasta, pizza, fries, and a crab wrap, soothing our bodies with coffees and beers. i had planned on sleeping during the entire trip on the way back, although surprisingly, i wasn't quite as sleepy as i had expected.

even after the climb, the song of the moment was still "half crazy". we hadn't gone beyond the first three lines of the chorus, and were still very much stuck with the 11 words we could remember. regardless of how possessed by madness our unassuming TL was in his little experiment, we were nevertheless relieved that we'd finished the climb unscathed, and ultimately happy that we were able to take part in something that's best experienced than talked about. i can only do so much in sharing my ordeals and my epiphany on the mountain. but it is altogether different to actually be there, to sit on a flat piece of rock, mute witness to the unfolding beauty, like the blossoming of a flower or the mutation of a butterfly. there is a sign on the gate to the municipal hall which says: "i love my hometown kibungan". how i wish i could say kibungan was my hometown, so at least i could claim to be always going home to a place of beauty. but hometown or not, it is certainly something i most dearly love.

Tags: 2k6, amci, kibungan mountain range, mountaineering

i didn't feel particularly satisfied with the way i had prepared my group for the climb. unlike the previous TC in malipunyo, we just had 3 meetings prior to our departure that uneventful thursday night, and i had to miss out on one of them. when i first looked at my list of trainees, my immediate reaction was: the line-up's a little healthy, but this should be fun. bumps were scattered all along the road to TC3: malvin pirated 2 of my members on false pretenses, rendo backed out at the last minute, and there was a very confusing last-minute rigodon that reflected much lack of coordination among the folks who run the BMC. rhyan proved to be my savior. i had to SMS him several times to ask if he was going to join my group. and when he was finally certain, my next question was: what's your tent? and even before i could ask him, he very gamely volunteered to accompany nette.

the battle plan was very hurriedly made, but grounded, nevertheless, on sound principles espoused by sun tzu. i already knew the "enemy" and "myself", since i had been this way before. so i felt that "victory" was mine to claim. the enemy, of course, is not the mountain, but the challenges along the trail as well as our personal limitations. and myself referred not just to me, but to my entire group. victory didn't mean conquering the mountain -- but achieving the goals (in this regard, the itinerary) you've set out for yourself. with this healthy dose of optimism, we took a long and cold bus ride to aritao. i had difficulty visiting the land of dreams, because the film united 93 by paul greengrass, a docudrama of the (supposed) heroism of 9/11, was showing. at this point, nette told me: "ngayon ko lang narinig yung 9/11. ano ba yun?"

"competitor yun ng 7-11," i replied. as the movie played, i would weave in and out of a shallow slumber. nette was encroaching on my part of the reclining seat, and i was nearly pushed to the window. earlier, i had volunteered to adopt her and kim in my tent -- in all the previous B2k6 TCs, i've always had 2 other girls in my tent, and we all slept rather comfortably, and i didn't feel ill at ease. but now, i doubted whether there would be room enough for all of us. i amused myself with the knowledge that the nipping weather on the mountains of the cordilleras welcomed crammed conditions.

upon our arrival at the shell station in aritao, we loaded our packs onto the truck. there were precious few seats on the enormous vehicle, and most of us had to be herded like cattle onto the back, and our bags were piled, one atop another near the front. i quickly occupied the roof above the driver along with janet, which necessitated some very agile movements, dodging branches, and ducking from low-lying wires. the road towards kayapa has so far evolved from my last visit to ugo. while there are parts that are still rough, a good stretch is paved with smooth concrete. and a bridge now stands, crossing the nearly-dry riverbed. a few minutes before 8, and we were already ordering breakfast at a carinderia in the public market.

since this was a training climb, the jump-off was going to be the steep trail a few meters away from the humbly-built municipal hall. previously, the pangawan trail, a little farther up the road on the way to baguio, was where i started the trek. we moved gingerly up the trail, moving with little haste. there was much to appreciate along the trail, as the hulking green shoulders of the mountain ranges rolled off into the distance, capped in many parts with imposing peaks. we also innovated this climb with a map-reading activity, although this part, quite honestly, left much to be desired, as i violated many times, my rule not to do the triangulation for the trainees. but many of them came unprepared, not knowing where to start.

we pushed ourselves up and stopped only on occasion to do the map-and-compass activity. it was a hot day, and the sun was beating down on us with much intensity, although dark clouds were hedging us from both sides. i followed kim closely, her bright, red backpack cover drawn with hibiscus flowers bobbing up and down in front of me. then, at around 11am, it started to rain. i do not know, sometimes, what to make of rain during a trek. often, it is seen as an ally, because i tire less when i'm wet. but i see it also as a boon, particularly to photography, and when it makes you cold and you slip many times because of the mud. finally, just a shade before noon, we reached indupit, in time for lunch. i whisked out my jolly hotdog and a jolly chicken torpedo, and munched quickly while inside the community chapel. i asked my team to load up on water -- i was already burdened with more than 5 liters of water (not including a liter of vodka, and 750ml of fuel). i informed my group that between indupit and the fourth waiting shed at the start of tey's revenge, that there will be little to fear in terms of battling gravity. for certain, it was a leisurely walk, with the terrain, dropping down many hundred meters down, and rising again many hundred metes up, always painted with different hues of green -- at times myrtle, at times viridian -- while the sky was a swirling cavalcade of somnolent dark clouds.

at the second shed, we encountered cattle. they had blocked the path, and weren't keen on giving us the way. they're not the usual kind of cows you find depicted on a milk drink. their colors were either brown or black, some cream. while they didn't have the alarming horns of the brahman that chased me in batanes, i didn't want to risk disturbing these cows, lest they trample upon me with their hooves. besides, i was the one invading their grazing spaces. little did i know that the best way to let them go away is to just clap. finally, we reached the third shed. the summit was already visible in the distance, swathed in a wet, gray coiffure. but the trek leading to the fourth shed was going to be the longest. we continued without stopping. by this time, the mud had soiled my pants up above my knees.

upon reaching the fourth waiting shed, the groups were already taking out their headlamps and raincoats for the storied ascent that we call tey's revenge. i shunned the poncho, thinking it was deep inside my pack, and posturing myself too macho to be needing one. i've never worn a poncho during a trek, actually. but this was different. as we planted one foot after the other on the slope leading to the summit, a thick fog and an unrelenting cold wind swarmed in on us from all fronts. it wasn't as difficult an ascent, as i had dreaded, although a cramp was possibly knocking on either of my legs. before long, i was feeling too cold to even stop momentarily. when jhoana complained that she didn't know the way, i volunteered to lead the pack. i just said "follow me", and trekked without talking through the thick forest after the clearing where i last camped, leading to the summit. then, not far away, i heard TB's voice and caught a glimpse of his lamp. he pointed in the direction of the mt. ugo marker. he said the campsite was that way. behind me, the trainees were only starting to emerge from the dark shadows of the thick forest. i started to shiver, and my feet shuffled quickly towards the direction of the arrow on the ground. past the sign, the trail disappeared underneath ferns and grass and shrubs that clasped down high above me. i fell somewhere here in my haste. then the plants disappeared, and before me were lonely trees scattered along a gentle slope. i had hoped to see signs of camp, but no. i found it a little down the slope.


when i reached the camp area, i quickly tried to locate space for my group. there were precious little flats in the area, and some groups had reserved places for their tents even when their tents weren't there still. the ground was completely uneven, as though a machine had plowed through them. much later, we would discover that the culprit behind the bumps were cows. when i identified a spot, i waited for kim and dexter to arrive. and they did around 10 minutes after i did. by this time, i had already worn my poncho, which, after all, i tucked into one of my bag's side pockets. i pitched my tent. normally, i would hand over my tent to the trainees, and just give them instructions. but i am not completely irrational, and the situation called for a different tact. i just asked both of them to hold a piece of tarp above me while i put my tent together. in around 5 or so minutes, my tent was already standing. nevertheless, it was a little damp inside, but not flooded, at least. i told kim and dexter to change while we waited for the rest of the group. 10 minutes later, aries and ai arrived. i helped aries pitch his TNF heron 23. then, a few ticks after 7pm, and just a shy off the IT, the last of my groupmates arrived. the same process: with the trainees holding up the tarp, rhyan pitched his brand new blue TNF tadpole 23. i also did the kitchen tarp, employing many of the learnings that i have acquired in the many climbs i have had in the past. my group had 3 trekking poles, so it wasn't absolutely necessary to find sticks to set-up our tarp. other AMCI members, drunk perhaps on the idea that they are masters in the training, would not have lifted a finger to do many of these tasks, but i have an altogether different tack: if my own comfort and enjoyment would be compromised, then i had better do it myself.


when all our tents finally stood, neatly lined one after the other, i began my tirade of elitist jokes about us being the north face avenue, an upscale neighborhood, while everyone else shacked into poor, rundown shanties. of course, this mingled with the earlier joke that we were the pugad baboy group, that our group's combined weight was more than any of the other's. at this time, the rain stopped, and the sky started to clear. the moon, which was full just the previous day, was glowing behind a few straggling clouds, and threw a dark blue cast over the horizon. but just as the rain disappeared, the cows appeared as well, almost as though they'd been summoned by the moon. they went about eating grass here and there, threatening our tents and any of the things they could possibly munch on. i tended to dinner, and fixed our group one of my classics: a nasty chili con carne sans the spicy spike. "this has been the most satisfying meal i've had in a climb," kim said, midway into her mess kit. the rest merely grunted in agreement, too busy perhaps bringing their spoons to their mouths. it was, in fact, a really good meal which we finished with a nice fruit salad.

after dinner, we started on the tequila. there were only a few visitors to our tent, and i guess, after the 10-hour trek, the team was a little exhausted. i had gone around the campsite to see what was going on with the other groups, but many of them had checked in early for the night. what a bunch of wimps. so although there was a no lights out rule for the evening, i still slept early, just before 11 pm. i found my space a little too cramped, that i had to sleep sideways. the next thing i knew was my tentmates, nette and kim, rousing to shoo some cows that had invaded our area. i wanted to tell them to just go back to sleep, but i heard a ghastly moo as though it had been shouted into my ear. still, i didn't budge until a few minutes after wake-up call. the whole team was already busy with heating water for coffee. they fumbled with my stoves a little, but they were both up and running and i preoccupied myself with photographing the campsite which appeared unreal in the blue morning light. for breakfast, we had tuna and cheese omelet.

breaking camp was a little slow, though, and i had to restrain myself from nagging my trainees too much. previously, i had been warned about dexter as being major pain: lazy, unwilling to contribute, with primitive ideas about gender-specific tasks. generally, not a team player. it was hearsay as far as i was concerned, and that ought to be underlined since he one of my brethren in the bar. but while i was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, i was nevertheless thinking of a script at the back of my head in case he did turn out to be pasaway. surprisingly though, he worked without being told what to do, and without complaining. i knew that the trek to the old sawmill and then to lusod was one paved with great views and a leisurely trek. but then again, this was, after all, a training where the trainees had to build on a discipline. after some photos at the campsite, we proceeded to trek up to the marker. we had a group shot there, which nearly went awry, since after pressing the timer on his camera, rhyan leaped without looking, and fell into the hollow just in front of the marker. it is a huge hole, possibly 6 feet in diameter, and around 4 feet deep, populated by plants of all kinds. he fell there, and we all stopped for what seemed like eternity, and the next thing we heard from him was an "uy". immediately after that, we all broke into irrepressible laughter.

after that short episode, we proceeded to the bigfoot memorial, which stood at the base of a steep descent that was hedged by the sharpest blades of grass. my fingers and palms were nicked in several places. we emerged from the grassy slope and reached an area rife with photo opportunities. photoshoot here, photoshoot there. at this time, ike, who was a little ahead of us, from out of the blue, reminded me of something which i would rather forget about. he mentioned, probably because he thought i would be amused by it, that he was the one responsible for editing a BBBS picture, superimposing my face on 2 kids. i was not at all happy with the result, and was less happy that the person responsible for it was someone who didn't know me at the time. i told him, i'll kill you ike! and he must've thought i was kidding. less than 10 minutes later, we reached the group resting near the bigfoot memorial, where we remembered AMCI members who had gone ahead of us. the memorial -- a humble assembly of charred wood, rocks, acorns, and friendship bracelets -- was made in memory of bigfoot yanga, one of the most loved sweepers of AMCI, so-called because he hardly wore shoes, even in the toughest of climbs.

it was already way past 10am, and then we rushed towards the lunch area with haste. although we were the last group to leave the campsite, we were nevertheless the first group to reach the lunch area. the old sawmill might itself look like a campsite. it sits in the middle of an area where huge pine trees stand like sentinels of a long lost memory. not too far away is a structure -- sleeping quarters perhaps. by the time the others started trickling in, we had comfortably taken off our shoes, had set up a tarp, and were busy cooking lunch. other groups had opted to eat packed lunch, but we wanted ours piping hot. the downside, though, is that we had to pack again for the trek to the campsite. for lunch, the guys cooked rice, and i took care of the pork teriyaki, which i sprinkled with sesame seeds, and what else. we also had potato wedges garnished with herbs. a quick yummy lunch in a nice place.

then we walked towards lusod. the path is winding on red earth covered by browned needles of pine. trees were scattered all over, although it is characteristic of pine trees to be wispy, unable to blot out the sky. in just over an hour, we reached lusod to refill water. here, we were received by bossing. and here as well, i received most shattering news: the barangay councilor hadn't stocked on anything, and we were left dreaming of coke. after loading 4 liters of water, we started our trek to bajay's campsite. just after the rice paddies, just beyond the short ascent, it started to rain. before me, the terrain unfolded. the narrow, muddy brown path snaked into the fog in the distance. pine trees that grew randomly were sparsely scattered in all directions. there were steep slopes on either side, although no views could be seen. after around 20 minutes, i caught a glimpse of the campsite. it was still raining. but at least, it was still a little early. when the rest of my group arrived, we started pitching our tents, with our kitchen in the middle. we were warned that we had tied our clothesline onto a haunted tree. i believed in no such nonsense.

just before 5pm, nette started on her meticulous dish, which she simply called pasta italiana. it had a really complicated list of ingredients, and her methods were just as numerous. she started with the fresh tomatoes, and the herbs, and the garlic, and the onions, and the pre-cooked beef. just after nightfall, with all 7 of us cramped underneath the low-lying tarp, nette's glorious pasta creation was starting to take shape. i remember meeting nette at the diagnostics, and i had to hold back a mix of disbelief and amusement when i first saw how big she was. she most definitely looked like a candidate for giving up early, or at least, for being regularly in the company of the sweepers. but that she was there, at the 2nd campsite, on her 3rd training climb, was a testament to her sheer grit and determination, her "pouch" notwithstanding.

and finally, dinner was served. at half a kilo, there should have been more than enough. but we gorged the dish like there was no tomorrow. suddenly, bing's expensive puttanesca was relegated to a near second. this was a really really mean pasta dish. i loved it and probably had too much. so loved was it, that we almost completely forgot that we had dessert. by the time we had discovered the lemon squares, we were already through with the half liter of jose cuervo tequila and had started on the absolut mandarin vodka. only the best alcohol for the most upscale neighborhood in bajay's campsite. every now and then, neighbors would drop by, asking for salt, oil, onions, garlic. we'd started our socials, and yet others were still not done cooking. but we were generous with our drinks. we crammed ourselves into that small space while it was gently drizzling. i wasn't feeling cold, and laughter floated in the air amid stories and sharings of our triumphs, travails, and trails. it was a steady evening which i was enjoying immensely, and which extended till very late in the evening. before i even noticed it, and while a rather serious discussion about BMC ensued, noise started to gather in a nearby corner, as xenon announced his top 5. our group wasn't interested, since we were having a great time all our own. i kept hearing my name called out. it was janet, apparently, and she had gotten rather out of hand. more than 5 times, malvin and eubert came to me and pleaded that i take her to her tent and get her to sleep. i didn't want to because i worried about getting wet. but when janet dove into our campsite, tipped over our camplamp, tripped over our guylines, and generally made a silly, embarrassing mess of herself, i had to intervene.


i pulled her out of the circle and brought her into her tent. she was guzzling barely intelligible remarks about her expensive TNF thermal pants which had been singed, complaining about the weather being too hot, and saying that she was about to barf. she was so completely drunk. i saw her suunto advizor somewhere and strapped it into her wrist so it wouldn't get lost. a little while later, leo was brought to the tent. he snuck his head in, looked at me, and asked, "sino ka? tent mo ba to? pwede makitulog?" he entered the tent, still in his wet poncho. i took it off, and then wiped his very muddy feet with a towel i found inside. yes, i am such a devoted slave. i'm used to babysitting drunkards. so there i was, in a small dome-type tent, with 2 drunk people, and pie. i told her to sleep between them, and as i made myself out, leo mumbled something, and appeared to be on his way to sleeping.

i returned to my area. we still had alcohol. we finished it and were rounding up our evening. earlier, i had already sent nette crawling back to her tent. bajay asked how my group was and gave him a thumbs up sign. he said that the socials was turning unruly, and that he was going to call a lights out. i started to fix our kitchen. then, somewhere in the distance, very audibly, i heard sheena berating bajay that he was not the TL, and the tonyboy cutebalddiver had said that there were no lights out. after a while, all else fell silent, and i was already inside my tent. nette was already fast asleep, snoring gently, producing sounds not unlike when you're clearing your throat. i worried that the noise would prevent me from sleeping, but the moment i laid my back on my thermarest, and with the aid of a mix of vodka and tequila, i was soundly asleep that evening. i woke only later when either nette or kim needed to go for a minor. i mumbled something, half-awake and half-asleep. when you're prostrate on comfort, the likelihood of waking in the middle of the night for no particular reason isn't too high. they left my tent and probably started on breakfast, even before TB blew his whistle to announce the wake-up call.

by the time i decided to rise and shine, my MSR whisperlite was already humming as rice cooked. i basically just went around the campsite, said hello to the people who were drunk the previous evening, and admired the peaceful warmth that had descended upon the campsite, after a noisy evening filled with raucous laughter. our breakfast consisted of really great-tasting palm corned beef. while i was very satisfied with our meal, i also had occasion to visit other campsites. i tried the focaccia bread in francis's camp and the cold cuts and white wine in malvin's. then, for the first time since we set off for the climb, i heard the call of nature. i had to take a major major, and i heeded it. along the way, i found janet, sitting on a pine stump, forcing herself to belch out the poisons from the previous evening. not far from her, i sat and contemplated the universe. but my concentration was disturbed by claire and jaybee. "shoo! go away!" i told them, and finished my business. how embarrassing, to be seen in the predicament.

after that, we began, once again, the tedious process called breaking camp. it was again pretty slow by my standards, but i patiently waited on my wards to dismantle the campsite and leave it as we found it. one by one, the spaces had been cleared. the tents had been folded, and the scattered cigarette butts had been picked up. from the chaos and the order of the previous day, the campsite appeared once again as one would find it without campers: a green, flat pasture with enormous trees. after a group photo, we started our trek to tinongdan. it was already 9am, but i knew we'd still make it in good time.

we walked gleefully to our wash area. without the burden of over 5 liters of fluids, my pack was decidedly less heavier. we took the opportunity to make many stops for photographs along the way. the descent was just magnificent, with ravines and the duplicating ranges unveiling themselves in the distance. we didn't hurry -- that was unnecessary. rather, we just allowed gravity to take its course. it was an easy trek. hot, but without too much pressure to finish sooner than necessary. the banghouse was clearly within reach. before long, we'd reached the community, where kids were in attendance to welcome us with their mellow, inquiring eyes, and their innocent, sincere smiles. these are very beautiful kids indeed. after the community, we crossed an immense hanging bridge -- perhaps the longest i've crossed. 5 minutes from there, we'd found jeepneys waiting to take us to the barangay hall. i opted to stay behind, wait for the rest of our group, and clean up behind the store. they'd very hospitably offered an area beside a pigpen and covered by patches of rice sacks, as our makeshift wash-up area.


at the store, aries decided to buy everything that was cold and could be imbibed. we were given 9 sun-glos and 2 packs of yakult. deal. at around 2pm, we finally finished taking our individual baths, and the jeepney chugged and pulled to bring us to the barangay hall perched high above, overlooking the rest of its constituents. from the top. many several peaks jutted in the distance. one of them must be mount ugo. we had lunch at the hall: basic, but hearty nevertheless. the barangay chairman spoke about the history of mount ugo. we were all just very sleepy.

the ride back to baguio was just over an hour, and we were all delivered to the victory liner bus station a little before 5pm. we deposited our bags there and decided to meet later at o mai khan for dinner and post climb. since it was nette's first time in baguio, we took her to the market, where she insisted on buying broccoli and fresh strawberries. it was too late though, for the latter. then we walked our way to o mai khan. the meeting went smoothly, even as i once again experimented on the mongolian barbecue. the trainees appreciated the experience, cold rain and tey's revenge included. there's not a lot of bad that you can say about mount ugo, and the experience she promises to give you, provided you regard her with the respect she deserves, is precious.

at a quarter to 9, most of my group hurried towards victory liner, while pie, kim, jay, glenn, and myself, decided to stay behind to chill out, in a way. i decided to take them again to kaffeklatsch. since it was glenn's birthday, he bought us pizza, beer, and coffee. there was a couple playing in the café, and finally, i got my chance to sing. i chose stevie wonder's "knocks me off my feet", although, very honestly, i think i gave the guitarist a difficult time chasing my tempo. before we noticed it, we were running out of time, we had less than 15 minutes to rush to the bus station, before our seats are given out to chance passengers. nevertheless, we made it just in time, and even before the bus left the station, i was already asleep. i woke up 4 hours later, already approaching the toll gates of the smooth NLEX. i got home in no time, and was asleep by 5am. that was some weekend.

Tags: 2k6, amci, baguio city, kaffeklatsch, mount ugo, mountaineering

on the sunday before the weekend climb, i received SMS from niel asking me if i would be interested in joining his group, as everyone else had unceremoniously backed out for one reason or another. my initial reactions were: was the offer first made to me? and who are the trainees? i had already settled in rather well with bossing's group, and we had everything all figured out, but here was a batchmate in distress. so i figured, as long as we have meat on the menu, then i'll make the move. vince had earlier informed me that he'll be joining me, so at least niel was assured of the support of at least 2 members.

so after a rushed wednesday pre-climb, it was all systems go for malipunyo. i had no doubts that my team was going to be well-prepared for the challenge. niel had placed a challenge on the table: he'll be treating us to a post-climb dinner in any restaurant if we don't do any night trek on both days. it seemed like a really good incentive to manage our rest stops well. but, there's a catch, of course, it was any restaurant with vegetarian food. even before the climb, i was suggesting circles.

as usual, assembly was at ayala. we had a bus and a van. we picked up niel along SLEX, and reached the jump-off a little late. being group 1, we trailed the lead pack closely. the trek started on a dirt road that ended very suddenly at the foot of the mountain range, where leaves the size of modest umbrellas, and ferns almost competing with coconuts rose from the ground. a small stream appeared. the water was milky, in a way, and it slithered around slippery moss-covered rocks of all sizes. it was pointless to avoid getting your shoes soaked. wading through these shallow cloudy waters seemed inevitable. a pipe ran alongside the stream, and i wondered whether there was an easier way, rather than clambering up rocks.

eventually, we arrived at the first obstacle. a steep wall of pure, jagged rock, probably 12 feet tall, stood above a small pool. its texture resembled books carelessly stacked on top of each other. a rope had been affixed to assist us, and there were a few footholds here and there. water run parallel to us, and sam was thankfully present to pull us up. after my turn, zaza came next. but her foot slipped, and she slammed her knee on the wall. free rock-climbing would be the order of the day, as similar obstacles presented themselves along the way. while this wasn't nearly like the japanese garden of mariveles, the challenges were sufficient to make the climb a lot less dreary and boring.

the next challenge was a little more daunting, as it involved scaling the water line. rope ladders had been placed exactly where the water fell, and upper body strength accounted for getting past it. it must have been a little more than 15 feet. once on top, water that fell down a big, vertical rock like a beaded curtain provided some opportunities for photography. i instructed some of my companions to make yoga poses. i was a little reminded of the pic i had taken at the papaya river in tarak ridge.

this would be the last of our water trekking for the day. the trek was very steady, and we were informed that insofar as our group was concerned, we were far, far ahead of the itinerary. by at least 3 hours. our group closely trailed the lead pack, even as we were taken to the area that had been described as the nampucha trail. before long, we had reached the first peak, where we had an early lunch. i munched on a burger from jollibee. the other groups followed not long afterwards, but as they started eating, we picked up our bags and resumed the trek. 3 hours ahead or not, we weren't taking chances on our free dinner.

the trail wound through the lush lowland forest that had all sorts of plants and wild orchids. the ground was lush with an assortment of greens and insects. i fell and slipped on occasion, but never before have i fallen so many times only because the tree or branch that i held on to fell with me. before long, the trek became more or less routine. putting one foot ahead of the other, holding on to something to prevent a bad fall. but the variety of things to see, and the escalating difficulty of the trek, chased away the prospects of boredom. nevertheless, once we were past sky's window, and were at the last stretch of the trek, an unnerving feeling came upon me. it felt as if i had been there before, as if i had been going around in circles. the feeling is not supernatural in nature, but one brought about by sky's reputation. it really did feel that we weren't subscribing to the rules of geometry. but then, that's sky. by the time i reached the saguingan, i got extremely bored and tired. it wasn't physical exhaustion, per se, but a frustration over the route we were taking. what does it profit sky to be going around in dizzying circles?

since i paced the group, i called for a 5-minute break in a clearing. niel insisted we were maybe 20 minutes from the campsite, but we lingered there nonetheless. we'd managed our stops well, and i received few complaints from my trainees, despite going on without rest since 2 hours previous. when we pushed for the final stretch, we entered a dense cogon area, where blades of grass swayed high above our heads. it felt like i was in a horror movie. niel was wrong, after all. because we reached the campsite in about 5 minutes from where we last rested. we were there at exactly 3.30pm. almost 3 hours ahead of IT.

the remaras campsite resembles lamot in that it is a field of cogon. in order to pitch a tent, we had to trample on the grass, and make a clearing for our campsite. we pitched a little farther away from the lead pack. after a while, bossing's group arrived, and they set-up camp just beside us. because a fence of cogon blocked our view, we weren't sure if any other team was arriving. little did we know that some of the groups weren't even complete by the time we'd started on dinner. niel whipped up a mixed veggies dish, while i experimented on beef with black bean garlic sauce. both were very good. after dinner, which we finished early, we were talking about the socials presentation. i, for one, was very very exhausted from not having had an hour of sleep since friday morning, so i said i'll just sneak in a nap. then may came along to announce that there will be no socials presentation. all of a sudden, the vodka appeared, and the regulars were in attendance. while other groups were still busy with preparing dinner, we were already trading stories. genie visited our campsite and she poured vodka for all of us. i manage to goad sir manny into talking about his near-death experience at the basecamp. i also elicited stories from marc about his scar, and about his ties with jomen (which is still pretty incomplete). when we finished the sky vodka, we simply went where there was alcohol. sir manny had just moved lights out to as late as 11pm, so we had time to go around.

we moved to other groups, and i was pretending to be very drunk, when i was only a little tipsy. after mawi gave me my last drink for the evening, i almost literally crawled to my tent. i must've slept well that night, and woke up at the sound of the bell. "2 minutes", i faintly heard zaza say, and i opened my door. adonis was already up, and i saw that our parawing had survived the howling winds of the previous night. it was now time to prepare breakfast. we'd planned on skinless longaniza and for lunch, pesto pasta and fried chicken -- a perfect combination. we were barely finished with the longaniza when it started to rain. i am well acquainted with rain during climbs, but this one was ridiculous. the amount of rainwater that poured wasn't quite the clincher. it was the furious wind. it had a desire to take us out of the mountain. i quickly fetched my cheap 20 peso poncho and gave instructions on what to cook and how to operate my stoves. so while the trainees busied themselves with breakfast and lunch, i went inside my tent, and began to pack. by the time i had rolled my thermarest, the rain hadn't stopped yet. so i went out again, changed into my trekking pants, and continued to stuff my bag. all that was left to do was eat breakfast. i stood out in the rain waiting.

by 6am, we were all finished eating, which we all did in a hurry. the rain paused briefly, and i made the mistake of stuffing my poncho deep inside my bag. but when the rain resumed, i had fixed nearly everything, save the tent. bossing's group was also in a hurry to pack, but niel and i encouraged our trainees to finish ahead of everyone. so by 6.30, we'd loaded our packs, and proceeded to the lead pack's camp, where we half expected them to be already impatiently waiting. much to our surprise, they were still there, gingerly eating breakfast. and us, well, we were left feeling the wind and the rain. it took the lead pack another 30 minutes to pack up, which meant i was exposed with nothing save the orange salomon shirt on my back. i was moving around, trying to feel warm, wondering why, by this time, some groups were still busy cooking. i wondered whether we were non-recipients of some bit of news.

we finally gained some ground at 7am when sir manny and sky left the campsite. the rest of the lead pack followed shortly, and we were close behind. we took the trail to the banana plantation once again, and an innocuous bend marked the start of that 10-hour trek to laguna. it started out really steep and really slippery, with some dangerous drops. we were cautiously descending down a gully, and i had occasion to explain to ai and zaza what this part of the mountain would've looked like if seen from a topographic map. we moved slowly, and didn't quite stick to the 5 minutes for every hour of trekking rule, until we found an area that seemed like a good place to munch on trail food. little did we know that 2 minutes ahead was the lead pack.

it was a long stop, where we waited for other groups to arrive. shortly after we arrived as one team, the group led by francis came in trickles. then bossing's group arrived, one member at a time. it was just a little past 11am, and sir manny said that all the other groups will most definitely be doing a lot of night trekking. then sky pointed out the exit through the horse trail. i didn't even consider it. one of the reasons i participated in the climb was to feel every painful hour of river trekking. and of course i'd heard of the back dive. shortly after we left the head of the river, we reached what they called the slide. they instructed me to loosen my hipbelt, sit at the top of the rock, and just let the waterfall push me down. i fell on navel-deep waters without submerging my head. then others followed, and following tradition, each one of them performed the slide. the pool where the slide poured into was decked between a small gorge with nearly vertical walls on either side. since it was a quarter to 12, we decided that it was a nice place to have lunch, while awaiting the others to perform their slides. after a quick, 20-minute lunch, we resumed the trek.

the gully where the water started as a trickle, then gained momentum as a stream and collected as a small river is a winding stretch of rocks of all sizes. on either side are usually steep embankments with lush growths, that wading into the water seemed the only way to go. there were times when i had to subject myself to the indignity of sliding myself down a rock, since the water didn't quite allow me to gauge if it was deep, or if anything, like spikes, or rocks were underneath. at times the stream poured down gently, with a number of rocks exposed here and there. but at times, it tumbled down with force. since i had to slide down many times, my backpack cover would come undone, and adonnis, many many times, would say, "alman, your backpack cover." even he could not escape the english-speaking virus that had infected our group. even medi fell victim to the scourge of the outbreak. it got so bad, that very early on, we were being described as the call center group.

after a while, we came upon the back dive area. it must have been the deepest part of the river. i assumed the position, turned my back around, and said a spiel about greg louganis. then i asked zaza to push me, but she wouldn't. so with some trepidation, i plunged myself, backpack first, with arms outstretched, down to the pool. this is where i took my last picture of the trek. since not once, between here until the road, did we stop longer than to figure out what we were to step on. i only felt a bit of fear when i went down the pipe, not able to see where to put my foot. towards the end of the river trek, adonis and i came upon a big rock, and a pool, about 15 feet below it. it was higher than the back dive and the slide combined. we wanted to jump, but were uncertain whether anything in the water would hurt us. after vince inspected the water with his stick, adonnis jumped first, and i followed. of the 70 climbers who took the route, i think only the two of us had been foolish enough to even consider the jump. so foolish, that even zaza didn't dare look.

after we emerged unhurt, i saw in the distance, a post carrying wires. "highway!" i screamed, and shortly thereafter, the last of the trailsigns on the river, pointing to a muddy path to the left. it was just after 5, and we were beginning to celebrate our arrival before cover of darkness. when we reached the road, up ahead, i saw bajay and jay tongga. it crossed my mind: had we been fooled, and all the other teams took the shortcut? it turned out that michelle had injured her knee, and needed 2 sweepers to guide her through the exit. we'd just been trekking for the better part of 10 hours. this was my cue to break down. or to celebrate. but i could not do it. other than myself, vince, and zaza, the rest of our group was still nowhere in sight. we waited. patiently at first, when stragglers from various groups arrived one after the other. each one of them we asked if they'd passed niel along the way, and they said yes. i began to doubt whether niel was intentionally delaying reaching the road while there was still some light so he wouldn't have to take us out to dinner. i began to worry when it was 10 minutes to 6, not so much for their safety, but for the free dinner that just slipped my hands. then, a stroke before 6, and without taking out their headlamps, the last of our group arrived. we ordered the jeep to take us to the wash area where we had chicken arroz caldo and a soda. i took a bath outside, under a coconut tree, behind the tents left to dry. by 6.45pm, i was already offering beers to the lead pack. before long, we had purchased and imbibed all the 4 grandes available, and focused our attention on other liquors, like the grand matador. jomen started concocting drinks, then passed the role to TJ. but goodness. it was already 10pm, and only 3 groups had been completed.

i couldn't help but wonder how they endured the hours after sunset. trekking in daylight was already difficult to begin with. how much more in darkness? apparently, GLs were given instructions to stay put and bivouac at the stroke of midnight. then, at 11.40pm, cheers resounded as the last jeepneys arrived, loaded with the last remaining groups. some of them still managed optimistic smiles. others appeared too tired to even answer questions about how they were.

the malipunyo climb, much like the mariveles experience last year, will dictate, quite accurately, who among the trainees are likely to be seen in the succeeding TDs. if you survive this ordeal, you're likely to survive nearly everything else. the climb was a test, not so much of skill, but of dogged determination. the end of the trail is somewhere there, up ahead in the distance. whether you break apart in the process will depend on how prepared you are, physically and mentally, for the difficulties. for my part, i was more than happy to have found myself in a group of strong-willed individuals: persons not afraid to fall, who put one foot ahead of the other, with caution, but with confidence; persons not guided by fear, but by the wisdom that crying before getting hurt will not likely make anything less painful.

Tags: 2k6, adventure, amci, mount malipunyo, mountaineering

during last sunday's BMC, i lectured a third of the land navigation module, on mel's request. when i volunteered to help him facilitate the lecture, i thought i was going to hand him maps and assist the trainees in reading the baseplate compass. but late thursday night, he shoots me an email, asking which part of the 3 powerpoints i'd like to talk about. i wasn't interested in doing the lecture, for fear that we might be compared, and in the end, i'll be thought of as inferior, which i was, in so far as all these knowledge of maps, terrains, and compasses was concerned. but he assured me that i'd do well, and that i seemed to have the eloquence for that sort of thing. when he said that, i relented.

i didn't even have time to study the lecture, and just proceeded to makati university with some maps i have at home (i happen to love maps), and one of my mom's white sheets. mel is by a mile, the most competent speakers of the BMC, and he tackles perhaps the most technical of subjects. but he did heap some praise on my otherwise amateur attempt at lecturing on maps. the bad thing about the lecture was the intrusion of some unwanted guests. yeah, mel invited them to help out, but they were seriously not sights to behold or to hear. apparently, a lot of people had more or less the same reaction to them. feelings were so mutual about their undesirability that i had to apologize they were there. anyway, mel just sent email again today saying he enjoyed listening to my lecture, and that i should do more of the same. strangely, those who are inept or nowhere near his brilliance would probably disagree.

anyway, after the lecture, which finished early, we began the evening with some rounds of beer at trellis market! market!, which ended up with a few more rounds at JC's. i paid for the beer there! i really should be saving up for my birthday. nope, no bash of any sort. just a gift for myself. haha. selfish brat.

Tags: 2k6, amci

i went out with my friends last night to watch the semi-final match between portugal and france at the national sports grill, which i learned that night had transferred to greenbelt 3. i hesitated at first since i don't have any strong feelings about football, particularly the fifa world cup, because my country isn't playing, and because the game was scheduled to start at the ungodly hour of 3am. while my interest in the game is nothing derangedly fanatical, i do find myself reading about it a lot, wanting to know who's won, although i am not supporting any particular team. this morning though, i decided to root for portugal, because it appeared to me that they were the underdogs, and well, because i wanted to tick off my friends who were cheering for france. oh, also because of ferdinand magellan.

when the game started, i started clapping and cheering for portugal. there were pretty girls there with portugal shirts, and they're probably portuguese, but i don't know, although the majority of those who kept vigil inside national sports grill were on the french side. those who wore the maroon jersey were mostly stationed outside. luis figo's and cristiano ronaldo's faces flash on screen and i hoot and cheer. then they show zinedine zidane's mug and this guy behind me practically shouts at my ear. i ignored it at first, thinking, he must really be a fan. as the night wore on, i get really irritated by him.

he kept shouting viva la france! viva la france! fine. cheer. but last i heard, they don't speak spanish in france. and yes, you know all the players of france. big deal. dinibdib mo siguro yung football for dummies na pinamimigay ng libre sa national sports grill. and please stop your jokes about it'll be open house at french baker and le coeur de france after zidane scored that penalty kick. sana dinagdag mo na rin ang delifrance para hindi paulit-ulit yung corny mong comment. walang natawa, kahit yung babaeng kasama mo na mas lalong hindi fan ng football. and let me remind you, it's le coeur de france. at nagsuot ka pa ng t-shirt na may french flag. galing penshoppe, mukhang bagong-bago. you know, i have no problem about you cheering for france, but why do you have to shout it at my ear? at parang pag pinapalakpakan ko yung portugal pag nakakalapit sila sa goal, bakit sinasabihan mo ako ng "no way jose. no way jose." hindi ako si jose (how-zey). tinulugan ko na nga ang kalahati ng second half, ginising mo pa ako nung muntik nang maka-score ang portugal. "walang makakalusot kay barthez!" hindi naman tayo magkakilala, pero parang pinipersonal mo ako, eh wala naman akong pakialam talaga sa football. nagpa-interview ka pa sa solar sports, sablay naman ang english mo. don't even let me start on your poor choice of words and your accent. and your logic defies convention: you tell us to support france and respect it because it beat the crap out of the world champions brazil. eh ngayon? just because it beat brazil we should change loyalties? and by we, i meant, non-france fans.

well, i'm not sure if i'm going to be a football fan henceforth, but i am considering the sport, since it has less post-colonial and cultural imperialism underpinnings compared with the NBA. it's still 4 years till the next world cup, which will be held in south africa. i did play a bit of football when i was in elementary school, and i come from mindanao where football is huge (i have at least 2 cousins who went on full scholarships playing varsity football), so i could probably get myself interested in the sport. my friends were actually surprised that i was rather knowledgeable of the current world cup considering i confessed i wasn't much of a fan. but that can change. like my previous view of badminton. amazing how your friends can influence you.

anyway, so many things are taking place. i administered the quiz last night for AMCI's BMC 2006. it was wildly different from previous quizzes, because this one had narratives! haha. reading comprehension required! i enjoyed making it. it was a lot trickier, than say just regurgitating memorized phrases. some guys did get perfect scores, so that just means the quiz wasn't totally impossible. i must admit though, that despite my liberal checking, some guys still got really disappointing scores. also, i'll be assisting beng for TC1 as her AGL. my group has chito, glenn, jomen, adonnis, genie, and michelle. i wonder how this one turns out. it'll be in mt. lamot in calauan, laguna. flashes of the UPLB rape slay here. so far, we only have 3 tents! good luck. i also already have the details of the san mig light adventure race. i asked my teammate jenny to attend the briefing, and after the organizers described the course, she said it'll be a cinch. haha. good luck again!

Tags: 2k6, amci, football

i saw "superman returns" last friday at the power plant. kuya mar called me up and said he had extra tickets to a screening sponsored by deutsche bank for their clients. although the movie was scheduled to start at 9, cocktails were being served at mati. so i braved horrendous friday traffic and showed up at power plant. i asked for directions and a guard told me that i should turn left at kenneth cool [sic]. the food was really good at mati, and i don't remember tasting chicken as tender as what was served. i asked about mati's theme, which apparently was greek, and not mediterranean as i had suspected. and then i asked the question: so what's the connection between superman and greece? the waitress shrugged her shoulders. i answered my own question by saying: well, superman is a god. and then i gave myself helpings of all these treats whose names all sounded greek to me. quite surprisingly, lex luthor did actually refer to superman as a god (the part where he said something like gods fly around in a red costume while talking to lois lane onboard the gertrude).

anyway, i was just so happy with "superman returns". more than anything else, it was a magical, nostalgic trip for me. i was immediately reminded of a time when i was a schoolboy, in a public elementary school in quezon city, squat on the floor, watching the first superman on the small screen. i was reminded of how fascinated i was with the idea of flying. i was reminded of a time when i took out blankets from the closet, tied it around my neck, and jumped off tables and chairs. i remembered how i longed to be the last living survivor of a dead planet, endowed by the yellow sun with superpowers. i remembered all those things, and more. of course, my companions said that the movie lacked something. kuya mar just complained that his sleep was interrupted.

after the movie, i successfully convinced kuya mar and mardel to agree to having a round of drinks at the fort. i accidentally left my iPod on my table at the office and had to go back and get it.

* * *
then last saturday, i finally got to test drive my new nike badminton shoes at MSE's gators center. now i won't say my game has improved by leaps and bounds, but i think proper shoes will really have a profound effect on your footwork. if only i can smash stronger, all i have to really focus on is my backhand. then i can start taking badminton seriously. this august will mark my first year of playing the sport. has it all been worth it?

after badminton, the group proceed to som's noodle house and introduced other AMCI folk to its tasty treats. spices exploded in our mouths, and beads of sweat cascaded down our foreheads. and it wasn't because of the heat! then we moved to top grill. we walked to jupiter and i stubbed one of my toes while i was looking at a TV screen inside an "english" bar showing the england v. portugal match. it bled a little. although i had promised to only have 1 bottle, i had 2 more, and got home after 2am. i woke up less than 2 hours later. i still had to pack my deuter backpack as if i were going to climb, and lug it all the way to makati university as part of the lectures at BMC. good thing i got to hitch a ride with jenny. i talked very briefly about personal gear and group equipment, and asked the trainees to identify and distinguish the personal and group equipment down on the floor. after the lectures, we pushed through with my suggestion that we have stations where trainees actually get to pitch tents and operate stoves. my talus 23 was pitched and dismantled at least 7 times that day.

earlier that day, i also took my TNF gulper for a test drive and ran a 5km course around fort bonifacio. it was a good thing i got to experience running while the sun was out, because i'd almost forgotten that it was a lot different from plain running at night. it was so damn hot that day, and if i ran the extra 1km, i might have collapsed! i loaded my bladder with a liter of water, and it was kept cold till after the runs. although i have to admit that the sound of the water sloshing and jumping inside my hydration pack really irritated me. of course, lack of sleep and a slight hangover don't add up as a good prep for a hot run. and then i have to remind myself to bring a towel, goggles and swimming trunks next sunday. i swam 50 meters at the pool of makati park. it was a good workout. maybe next week i can do 2 laps! that is, if i'm not too tired from enduro. which reminds me, i have to get me a bike helmet.

Tags: 2k6, amci, badminton, fitness, nostalgia, superman