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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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




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


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

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


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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


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


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



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


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


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

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


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


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


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


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

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

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


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




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


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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

postscript:

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

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

"bakit natin ginagawa to?" frank asked as we dragged our boots along a muddy incline just beyond the papica-jerez boulder, while the narrow trunks of trees filled my field of vision, and i was busy locating yellow strings. "hindi ba to delikado?" he continued.

"ano ka ba," neri interjected. "delikado naman talaga ang mountaineering eh."

"iba to eh. pwede ka nang mamatay dito. pano kung magka-landslide? pano kung magkaron ng flash flood?" frank mused, recalling the morning's routine of fording through the shallow paniquian river.


at this point, having seen my marker and finding recent footprints on the ground, i jumped into the conversation with a lot of scientific BS. i explained that the selection of the mountain is the result of careful study: its rocky characteristics are such that the ground is a lot less likely to hold on to water which may in fact cause sudden, if not violent erosions. i didn't know jack about geology, that was for sure, and i knew much less of the geology of the mariveles mountains. whether in fact my explanation afforded frank some measure of reassurance, i wasn't certain either, but since the beginning of the climb just before the break of dawn that day, the challenges had been escalating in difficulty.

i played the role of AGL to my batchmate joven, who less than 3 days prior shook me with the possibility he might not be able to come. i had no desire to be a GL for TC2, if only for the fact that i dreaded having to take on the role of sweeper on a trail that was too technical, it bordered on the insane. we had already mapped out a strategy: i would be part of the lead pack to ensure our group a choice piece of real estate on the campsite between magellan trail and the japanese garden. but the best-laid plans have a way of going awry, and very early in the day, just after the gate, i was at the tail end of our group, with a metaphorical broom on my hand, pushing our trainees, as well as a few adopted ones, towards our goal.


i have been to tarak ridge many times before. in fact, i have been on the paniquian trail twice: in 2005 when i was an AMCI trainee, and again in 2007. the trail this year more or less followed the same trail as ours, which has now acquired infamy because several of my batchmates never made it to the campsite. the joke is that people crawled out of their tents early in the morning and found some of our batchmates decked in their battle gears, with their headlamps on, and were told that they were too early for the descent. the response was that they had just arrived. drawing perhaps from this scary experience, which we now hark back to with much fondness and humor, this year's trail was carved in such a way that no one would be doing a repeat of that near-catastrophe. while none of us was injured, the terror of being stuck on the spine of a featureless mountain in the black of night is not something you would wish on anyone, even though that experience has proven to be our greatest teacher, and our best inspiration.


we were mostly ahead of the itinerary, and by the time that we had moved out of the forest and witnessed the thundering roar that was the paniquian river's ungentle cascades, there was plenty of time to bathe and enjoy the cool, clear waters of mariveles. many groups spent long periods of time splashing water onto each other. it really was something to behold: water rolling into small pools, and on the cheeks of rock faces, beads of pure mountain stream fell. after only a few minutes, i received orders from my GL to forge ahead. paniquian river was much like it looked like in 2007: shallow, silent, gentle, meandering through a serpentine gully between steep walls, exposing boulders to the sun, while butterflies and dragonflies fluttered, and birdsong competed with the slow rush of water. it bore no resemblance to the menacing, white, frothing monster that drained us of our courage and robbed us of many things, tangible or otherwise, in 2005. anyone more nimble than myself would have kept his or her feet completely dry during the trek. our group was more or less intact at this point, and we saw few problems ahead: our greatest fear, which was to be trekking under cover of night, was still a distant, unimaginable threat at the time.


and then we came upon the start of cox's wall. it was a slow and difficult ascent, as the trail was pretty random. this was an unnecessary detour, whose only purpose was to expose the climbers to the difficulties of climbing, because pushing onward along the river would have taken us to more or less the same destination. on any other climb it would not have been completely appropriate. but here we were, like pipers leading half-asleep children away from their homes, and into the depths of danger. i am all too aware of the dangers of climbing, having been through more than 5 very difficult situations in mountains. i myself have fallen, slipped, let go. i've been cut, wounded, scratched, bruised, bitten. but i'm one of the lucky ones, i would suppose, because each time, i've survived and have managed to talk about my near-misses with a lot of exaggeration. but all throughout these ordeals, i have realized that i have come to appreciate my life and the lives of my loved ones even more precisely because i have found myself in places where a miscue could result in dire circumstances. i have never felt more alive than when i felt that my life was under constant threat. and that is the lesson to be learned here: more than just being a venue for learning valuable skills that could be put to good use in future climbs, i learned to embrace these difficulties as necessary evils, for the cost of appreciating the little things that i have always ignored is after all small. if people find remarkable the patience with which i deal with the travails of life, i point to the mountains as my greatest teacher.


so even though cox's wall had found us cursing at the heavens and at sky, i found myself drawing words to hopefully inspire. dan's exasperated interjections describing the female anatomy may have had its purpose. even when bugsy held on to dear life at a thin nylon rope at the end of the long and arduous challenge, i was confident that while she may have been holding on to the last straws of her courage and patience, that she will find more with the benefit of hindsight. i don't really wish to compare between 2005 and 4 years later: the circumstances are different, and the composition of the batch, much more unlike, but when faced with these things, i always just tell myself: i've been through worse. we allowed bugsy to collect herself, shore up some confidence while drawing ripples on the river, before we moved on to the SLAJJ waterfalls where we continued lunch. the last time i saw the falls, it was a column of white noise that we could not approach. but this time around, it had a nearly musical quality that drew us close to it. the trunk of a dead tree protruded from its glistening pool like a sundial, and many found themselves feeling the blood of the mariveles flow through their bodies: it soothed away the pain of the memory of cox's wall, although admittedly, i didn't get wet at all. i had my camera bag slung over my left shoulder, and i feared that water would blur my ultra-wide lens. it was an experiment on my part: bringing a camera with a lens whose focal length was 12-24mm. nevertheless, it was a decision wisely made.


after frolicking on the river, we pushed forward for the last stretch of our first day's ordeals: papica-jerez boulder and magellan trail. i was asked about the names of these trails, and i'm usually the wrong person to be asked because i always have an explanation to everything, which may actually be sound, but aren't necessarily correct. the boulder, not aptly chosen, i would say, is a slice of rock wedged into the mountain, it is a wonder how a trail was hacked through it. we mostly crawled through its rocky and slippery surface until we found ourselves hugging trees again. at one point, nelle slipped and even lost her hat to the cliff below. very shortly, we found the loree-jen stream: it flowed through a gully with fractured rocks, making a series of geometric patterns along the trail. at its end was the last watersource and the beginning of the magellan trail. i assured everyone who was within a few paces from me that we would be at the campsite by 4pm. i apologize for the miscalculation, because i stood on an area where i estimated our tents would fit at exactly 4 minutes past my prediction. one by one, i shook the hands of my groupmates as they trickled into the camp, where the lead pack and one other group had already pitched tents. before 5pm, everyone in the group was present, and the goal for day 1 was achieved. we quickly set up our tents, and changed into fresh clothing, to at least give us a semblance of civilization.


we prepared dinner while some light still filtered in through the dense canopy overhead, and even offered morsels of affection, scraps of encouragement, slices of fish, spoonfuls of chicken tikka masala, and heaps of rice to our friends who at nightfall still felt orphaned. we feasted on our meals under the combined glow of two black diamond lamps, and while a steady banter caused laughter and cheer. even though there remained yet another day, we had all began laughing about the mishaps that plagued our travails earlier in the day. finally, we uncorked our alcohols, and pretty soon, i was too tired and too inebriated to even inflate my therm-a-rest. the last thing i remember is dreaming that eubert was massaging my back. it turned out not to be a dream after all.


at a little after 4am, i was out of the tent watching the trainees take care of most of breakfast. i volunteered to cook the rice again, because i could very cranky if it weren't prepared properly. the weather had cooperated with us because the evening was warm, and the morning was dry. cleaning up was done quickly and pretty soon, we had all loaded and even managed to have a photograph with sky, who at this time, had been the most hated man in mariveles. oddly enough, he enjoys hearing about all that suffering, and relishes from all that scorn. after i led the morning prayer, we hauled our backpacks, unburdened by at least 4 kilograms, towards the remaining challenges of the day: the japanese garden, and the traditional trail to tarak ridge.


we plowed through the forest vertically, and the ensuing build-up was such that the next climber was always less than 2 meters behind. after about half an hour, we came upon the start of the japanese garden. i had heard that it was no longer as beautiful as it had once been: the terraces of rocks and the bonsai-like plants that grew alongside them had been obliterated by the natural movements of the mountain. but still, the landscape that unfolded before me when i crawled out of the shaded forest was amazing. the rocks now formed the rough spine of a serpent, curving and crawling upwards. there were many things to hold on to, and footholds to secure our step. it was breathtaking to have an unnamed mountain rising on our backs, while the sun blindingly winked ahead of us, looking back, it was as if i were staring directly down at the climbers below me, whose bodies were in close contact to the ground. far beyond was the island of corregidor, surrounded by the waters of manila bay. in the foreground was the town of orion. so this is what lay beyond the fog. it is the irony of this generation that one must endure hardships of an unimaginable scale in order to witness beauty such as what the weather allowed us that day.


after reaching the peak, we began the equally difficult task of descending, until the forest opened up with the view of tarak ridge, which seemed to point its way towards roxas boulevard (on clear nights, it is actually possible to see the faint lights of the baywalk). it was already 11am by the time we reached the ridge campsite, and the sun was beating down upon us with fury, so rather than toast under its unrelenting shine, we continued to descend towards the papaya river. along the way, i found eds limping due to a sprained ankle. alen and malvin were patiently egging her on. after about an hour, we finally reached the papaya river to break for lunch and to grab one last chance to bathe in the river. afterwards, i set the pace towards the end of our journey, trekking through the forest and out into the open where sky placed his last marker to indicate the end of the traverse: was he merely teasing or begging for violent reactions? he certainly will not get one from me, as i've endured him when he was stronger.

the rest of the trail was more or less familiar to me, although i have to confess that the fallen trees on the trail confused me a lot. before long, we were already at the "DENR" station for buko juice, which at P10 a pop, was the most refreshing thing within a radius of 30 minutes. after 2 glasses, yayi and i continued towards the hi-way, pining for ice-cold anything. the first thing i did upon my arrival at the MC lodge was to sequester a case of beer. i felt it appropriate to celebrate my group's safe arrival with a foaming bottle.


this climb was designed not so much to improve the climbing skills of the participants, because these things are developed over time, and with experience. but unwittingly, the genius of the trail lies in the fact that it imparts character and the right attitude, more than what its plotters intended. all of us may have finished, some not necessarily in better shape than others, but the true measure of success is not about who finished the earliest, with less slips, less cuts, and having cleaner trekking shirts. it's about how quickly one recovers from a bad fall, and realizing that no amount of complaining will ever get us closer to our destination. i am happy to have taken part in this climb because i have once again established beyond doubt the alacrity of the human spirit. i am proud of my friends, for leading the charge, for taking on responsibilities they vocally deride. i am proud of this new batch of future mountaineers, who rose to the occasion, and who despite their reservations and honest concerns, partake in the celebration of their lives through the purity of adventure.

Tags: 2k9, adventure, amci, bmc, mariveles mountains, mountaineering, tarak ridge, training climb

with only a week between two climbs to the same mountain, it seems that there is little left to say. the mountain remains the same, yes, but the experience of climbing it is always different each time, particularly when the company changes, and more so that during this training climb, i trekked as part of a contingent more than 100-strong. i belonged to a 10-person group, with janice as my GL, and JC, karl, howard and jessie as members. our trainees were composed of bugsy, enrico, renelle, and macoy. i had done half of the marketing for the climb, so very early on saturday, janice picked me up along with my backpack and bags of groceries. at 2am, the usually busy fountain area of ayala tower 1 was eerily silent. until everyone showed up. it had been raining the days prior to the climb, and at the last minute, many groups had been whittled down by large numbers. effie's group was down to 1 trainee: donna, who appeared to be positive despite the decrease in numbers. we boarded our buses, and it was the first time that the configuration was 3 by 2. it wasn't very comfortable, and there was little space in the compartments below. after about 3 hours, we were dropped off at the gate of bato springs resort, and i had a quick breakfast: a smoked ham and tortilla roll. i had lavished it with cream cheese and a slice of cheddar. pretty good, if i may say so myself.

6 jeepneys then sent us to the jump-off. ours had difficulty chugging up the hill, and finally ran out of steam just outside the mystica cult. it had a huge metal gate with flags of countries, some of which no longer existed. after a short while the jeepney was fixed, and we found all the other groups already waiting. after a prayer, the lead pack left, and i hurriedly joined them. it would be a short liaison with these guys, since they seemed to hate slowing down and despised rest areas. i'm no longer as fast as i used to be and with my tendency to overpack, i was loaded with gear that preferred a relaxed pace. i wasn't in a hurry at all, since my purpose in the climb was to record footage. so although i didn't rest as much i did the last time, i paused several times when i found insects, plants, trees, leaves, rocks, roots, mud. by the end of the climb, i would end up with more than 8gb worth of videos, or enough to last an hour and a half.


it was easy trekking for me most of the time. by my pace, i had calculated to reach the campsite by lunchtime. along the trail, i found emil, a trainee, trekking by himself. it doesn't matter how experienced you are or how good a mountaineer you are, but trekking alone is not ideal. i always tell myself that, because i do tend to break away from other people, lost in the forest of my own thoughts, solving the world's problems with my ideas. but in this sport, where dangers abound, it is best to always have a buddy, just in case something goes seriously awry. i accompanied emil from the ridge, all the way to the final steep ascent, and the technical portions of the trail until we ended up at the crater where i found my former club: pilipinas sierra. i still know people in the club, it was a merry reunion for most of us. i informed the other AMCI people that our campsite was still 20 minutes away, and i led them through the narrow trail leading to the ridge campsite, until we followed some hack marks that ended in sabatin. emil remarked that i moved like a mountain goat, leaping on the trail with giant strides, given my average height. i had heard of that before: it's starting to catch on fire, i think.

the sabatin campsite was busy with activity. people were hacking away at the little plants to make way for a campsite that would fit an excess of 40 tents. when i first saw the area i knew there was no way in heaven we could fit more than 30 tents there. and sure enough, at 3 groups had to go beyond the hill to hack another campsite. but surprisingly, we managed to level the forest and build a tent city there. it was a metaphor for urban creep, which makes you want to question our ideas of progress: does it mean intruding into the last pockets of nature, and clearing areas for humans and their destructive activities? it's a debate which i do not want to get into. nevertheless, i had already managed to pitch my tent before 1pm. i still had to wait for over an hour for my groupmates to arrive. unfortunately, when we started to pitch their tents, a brief spell of rain began to pour, and it soaked my sleeping clothes. i sneaked into my tent to steal an hour's nap: i hadn't slept since the previous night.


i stepped out only in time to prepare dinner. mine wasn't extra special: i had asked my mom to roll us some bangus lumpia, and i brought along the special fish sauce i bought in viet nam. renelle dutifully prepared a chicken mao po tofu dish per my suggestion. she also improvised a lemon chicken dish with lemon wedges as garnish. of course, i took care of rice, which, as john once said: is always perfect. i made an impromptu lecture on cooking rice in the mountains:

• first is selection. i tend to choose dinorado, because it's been milled well, hence no need to wash.


• the next would be to boil the water first. i boil the water in order to equally distribute the heat, which prevents having a 3-layer kind of rice: burned at the bottom, cooked in the middle, raw and cruncy on top. now this could be a little tricky because how much water do you boil for a certain amount of rice? there's no rule. i tend to fill the pot 3/4 of the way, and just pour enough rice so that there's about an inch left to the rim.


• third is mixing. i mix the rice about three times: once just after i've poured it, another time after a few minutes, and finally once it's boiling. the reason behind the mixing is in order to evenly cook the rice.


• once the pot begins to boil and some of the water absorbed, you can lower the fire. in filipino, this is called in-in. the closest to english i could think of is simmer (now that wasn't too hard). normally, you should just leave the pot, but it might do some good to open it once or twice to check on the water level. it may need a bit more water, or could do with draining off a little. this in itself is a skill that comes with experience.

and there you have it: perfect rice.

dinner was pretty good, and we cleaned our mess kits and pots afterwards. i love it when nothing goes to waste. then i introduced a new kind of dessert: instant smores (this one i borrowed from kerwin of UPM). i lit my stove, roasted marshmallows, topped it with chocolate, and sandwiched it between two graham crackers. it was a hit. a bit of work, but still pretty good. then we opened our alcohol. we had more than 3 liters in total, and we just sat there quietly inside our 3-walled kitchen, sharing anecdotes and jokes. we even invited niel's group to join us briefly before it was time for the trainees to hit the sack. before turning in, i invited to karl to see what the other group was up to. it turned out that ver and momoy were mourning over maxie's 1-person tent. it had a sloping rectangular roof which ver with his off-track imagination, construed to be a coffin, hence the wake. we surrounded maxie's tent while he passed around shots from inside his "coffin". i found the situation already weird, with momoy and ver shouting half-funny jokes, and only marris laughing at most of them, and all of us laughing at marris' reactions. it was too strange for me, so after 1 shot, karl and i left and slept.

i may have been very tired because i fell asleep immediately and woke up only at around 4am when i felt that karl was covering me with his malong. apparently, i was already shivering from the cold. uncharacteristically, i omitted my malong from my pack, and a few other things, hoping to cut-down on weight. i've never been a light-packer, but with my advancing age, i really should be able to identify the essentials from the accoutrements. at 5am, i left the tent to assist in the kitchen, i found it to be in disarray. thankfully, there are no wild animals in san cristobal, at least, none that the naked eye could see. i helped with heating water for coffee and milk tea, and finally, breakfast and lunch. while i fried the tuna longganiza, the trainees went to the summit window to look at banahaw. we packed quickly and then began the trek down back to the jump off.


it was a slow descent, and we were frequently caught in traffic. we had allowed some very brutish and uncouth climbers to overtake us. breeding is the world's rarest commodity. although normally, i would be running down, i decided to slow down and sweep enrico, whom i noticed was running quickly out of patience when he slipped often. at one point we instructed him to adjust his pack and one of the buckles snapped. ack! that's my pack. hopefully, deuter would have it fixed. we were all steady-eddies until montelibano, and we devised ways of preventing a knee injury along the paved road. after a while, we arrived at the bato springs resort and immediately rinsed so we could take a dip in its cold pools. that was refreshing, not unlike drinking a can of soda. i always find it odd that immediately after a climb, the first thing we look for is a carbonated drink. it's probably not the best thing when you're thirsty and dehydrated. but it serves its purpose.

when all the groups were complete, TL flinn asked me to host the presentations. by this time, i had already imbibed beer, white rum, and gin, so my humor was in full steam. most of the group's skits and dances won't be remembered, really, and they're in a lot of luck that these were conducted at the wash-up area rather than up in the mountain. at least they had a microphone and music to accompany them. at least us members had a great laugh. but what stole the show was when JC, jay and a few AMCI boys danced to the wonder girls' "nobody". allen was not about to allow them to be the stars though and he reprised his sexy dance to everyone's delight.


after all that, we loaded onto our buses, laden with beer. for the next two and a half hours, our bus got really drunk, wild and happy. to think that we had just finished a climb, you'd think everyone would be snoring (in the other bus, apparently, nearly everyone was asleep). but not when 2k5ers and a lot of happy people are around. things tapered down only when we reached bicutan.

so there will be some learnings from this experience. i'm still on my way to perfecting the art of packing light, and hopefully, by induction time, i would already be able to bring the total weight of my pack to 85% of what i usually carry. i have very few pictures from the climb. in the end, i have to realize that i cannot make a movie out of everything. most of the 10 or 20 seconders that i recorded will never be seen. youtube only allows me 10 minutes, and at an acceptable resolution, it still takes half a day to upload videos. so the preferred medium still has to be stills. but for whatever it's worth, i strung together my recordings for a 9-minute clip of the climb. here it is.


finally, let me just emphasize that what was climbed was mount san cristobal, and not just mount cristobal. for a person who works a lot with words, i tend to nitpick on such things. but precision has its rewards.

epilogue
i didn't expect the post-climb meeting for TC1 to be particularly controversial. compared to many of the climbs i've joined, this one was relatively smooth and hitch-free. there are always areas for improvement, but one group's arrows were way off the mark. i think many of the points that they raised were uncalled for and one trainee's values are largely misplaced. in addition, i would like to place emphasis on the matter of members being well-prepared and not to be additional burdens to the trainees. we're there to support them, and not the other way around. nonetheless, i am well aware of the matter of noise. being visitors, we should make it a point to minimize the sound that we make on the mountains; too much of it could be a form of pollution as well, and could severely and adversely impact the environment. but at the same time, i don't think the people should curse at my ability to speak. lastly, some people have strange ways of defending their shortcomings, that they defend themselves by finding faults in others. when you run out of arguments, so the saying goes, insult your opponents.

Tags: 2k9, adventure, amci, bmc, mount san cristobal, mountaineering, quezon province

this year's BMC batch has just finished its first training climb to mount san cristobal over the weekend, and during the post-climb yesterday, it was announced that the venue for TC2 will be the mariveles mountain range, through a trail similar to the one that was done in 2005, my batch. the trail master contradicted himself when he said that the trainees need to triple their efforts, but that the trek would not be difficult. i won't be part of the recon team, so i will have no idea just how insane this trail is going to be, but if i were to contribute something to set the expectations of the trainees, it would be my blog entry fresh from that difficult experience. so i'm reposting the entry, now complete with the photos i took: i managed to expose only a roll during this climb, because it was wet, wild, and worrisome. even i had to read this entry all over again, and it brought back flashes of fear and frustration. good luck 2k9.

i had deliberately omitted to wear my arm sleeves, thinking that the absence of sun would do no damage to my my exposed arms. but instead of tan lines, what i got are superficial scratches. one is particularly bad, and looks like a wound left by a whip. it may not look like it but the mariveles climb was perhaps the most perilous experience i have ever had in the mountains.

the fated journey began several days after strong rains poured over the island of luzon. a tropical cyclone had just exited the philippine area of responsibility, and was making landfall in hong kong when close to 140 climbers gathered in ayala triangle. someone in my group was prevented by her parents from joining precisely because of the weather, and if i were a little more obedient, the same thing would’ve happened to me. i vainly tried to get some sleep inside the bus, and in a few hours, we were already in alas-asin. there was a drizzle. i took out my breakfast: a squished hotdog and a tasty torpedo from jollibee. while i was halfway through them, i led the prayer, which i did in filipino. someone mistook me for a still-practicing born again christian because of it. i say there still are shades of the pastor’s kid in me.

we started even before 5am, and the trail to tarak almost seemed unfamiliar wrapped in all that darkness. i would look behind and i would see this file of lights like unflinching and unblinking giant fireflies, bobbing up and down the trail. after a brief stop at the “DENR” outpost, we proceeded to trek just as the sun stretched its first light over mariveles. it seemed like my batch was really strong, and paused but once at the gate. this is the junction where the fork to sky biscocho’s trail begins. it turns left when the traditional trail goes right. at this point, we were assaulted by strong winds. so strong that i was blown around 2 steps to the right. so strong that alexis’ glasses flew from his face. it was cogon for a short while until we entered a wispy forest.

the trail is more or less established here, and many boots and shoes seem to have gone this way in the past. a distinguishing mark of this trail is the abundance of water sources gushing from the mountainside. or it may have been because of the past few rains. my group was more or less intact at this point. i was with some of the members, sharon and tads, and alexis was not far behind with bojo and dindo. two hours after we left the resort, and i am still singing and cracking jokes. someone was betting i’d be less cheerful by 1pm, and i wanted to take her up on the challenge.

all went well until we came upon paniquian river. there was a yellow rope tied from one tree to the next on our left side facing a steep fall. i could hear the river pouring loudly over a cliff onto some rocks down below. at this time, we were still only about 20 minutes behind schedule. with two ropes on either side, and around 3 men lending a hand, the first river crossing was a cinch, notwithstanding the fact that the water level reached my chest. my camera beltpack was slung over behind my neck. we stayed there for a while taking photographs. there was an abundance of interesting and rare scenes, like water gently dripping like a beaded curtain on an almost vertical rock wall. i know i stayed there long thinking it’d be the only river crossing involving ropes. but it was just the first of many, and it may not necessarily have been the hardest. there was a second river crossing. then a third. a fourth, a fifth, until i started losing count. i think the river may have looked a lot gentler on previous days prior to the rains. but what may have looked like a steady stream during the recon climb looked more like a huge, white, frothing menace, tumbling downstream with rage and force at hundreds of thousands of gallons per minute. many many things were swept away by the river, like bottles, a TNF jacket, a bush hat, and courage. drawn on the faces of the people who were there was remarkable fear, and a pressing concern that one false move might lead to a deathly experience rolling over big rocks downriver.

regardless of the difficulty of the series of river crossings which soaked my shoes, i was still smiling, taking pictures. i was appreciating the trail. it upped the ante, so to speak, and allowed us an experience worth talking about in future meetings. and the river itself, were it not so perilous-looking, was a fantastic sight. the waters that had been poured over the mariveles mountain range were now returning to the great ocean, and i knew that enduring difficulty of that magnitude was necessary to be able to witness such unspoiled beauty. then we came upon cox’s wall. by this time we were two hours behind the IT. the river trek took longer than we expected, and we were looking up at the next challenge. and the delay builds up, in a way. the last man should be several hours away.

i looked up at cox’s wall and couldn’t identify a distinguishable trail. save for the rope tied around the trail, i couldn’t quite tell that this was anything a normal person would do. already, i was wondering if the trail master was outside the sanity scale, but then again, what does that make me, following his lead? several times, i had to take one hand off the rope and put it over my head as rocks of varying sizes were falling down, sometimes with a thud louder than was comfortable. after an ascent which required some upper body strength, we began descending. one might think this is somewhat easier, but it is not. the trail was so wet, muddy and slippery, that some people literally sat on the trail and slid down. i didn’t want to suffer the indignity of using my butt to get down, and i employed some agility and experience to get down. for this entire climb, my greatest achievement is not so much reaching the campsite before sunset, but for not having any falls. yes, i slipped, but never fell. in fact, once while i was just waiting for my turn to go down, standing on what i thought was firm ground, i slipped. and continued slipping as the grip of my exposed hand on a tree branch was not enough. had i continued slipping, i would’ve been found dangling far down on a tree stump.

eventually, we reached the SLLAJ waterfalls of lunch. we were able to reduce the delay to an hour, and i munched on my oriental chicken repacked in one ziplock. the waterfalls was huge and impressive, and i would’ve wanted to stay longer, but i hadn’t even started to digest my food when i was ordered to load. so load i did, and looked up at the papica-jerez boulder. it was an ascent which required us to be on all fours 90% of the way, holding on to exposed roots. by this time, it required just as much faith as it did strength. my mind may have started to numb since i failed to realize that we were no longer trekking, but crawling. and crawling upwards. for the last few hours, mind you. i would catch glances of the magnificent vista around us, but one fails to appreciate all that beauty when you’re locked in a state of fear. my life now depended on whether or not this piece of root no bigger in diameter than my thumb held.

we almost got lost at some point but rediscovered the trail. a thin piece of straw was tied to a branch somewhere. even in broad daylight it was difficult to spot. from here, we found the loree-jen stream which led towards the last water source where we loaded at least 4 liters each. i was thinking about how this trek was difficult but was one which didn’t find me huffing and puffing. because of its innate difficulty, and the huge jam in the trail, rest stops came naturally, and for several hours we would be pushing forward without putting our bags down.

after the last water source is the magellan trail. and this promised to be the longest stretch. per the IT, it was supposed to be an hour and a half. we took it in over 3. here, i found mosscake confessing he just had a “this-is-not-for-me” experience. and i couldn’t say he’s given up. the trail was insane. it invited danger, and i encountered several near-mishaps myself. my buddy sharon whom i kept in front of me till we reached the campsite herself fell several times and i’ve had to use my foot to stop her fall. our lives were under a huge threat. it’s the kind of trail where, without bending down, you can actually kiss the piece of earth where you’re supposed to put your foot. it was scary, and its length was burning my patience fast. but then again, the length of my patience is the philippine coastline.

we had a brief respite along the magellan trail. mosscake was providing some humor to distract all of us. we were tired, exhausted, and under some pain. but we had to push on. when patrick announced that we had reached the japanese garden, we found a few people resting, and we overtook them. rope had been tied near the start of the trail, so-called because it looked like a series of rocks stacked one atop another. but a garden it was not, and the colors around were a monotonous green. after we had run out of rope, we came upon a boulder which was as tall as me. sharon had it easy since i pushed her up. after i took my first step, wedging my foot in a crack, i was gripped with amazing concern. i’m just about to fall, i thought, and my knuckles were getting stiff on the piece of rock i was holding on to. i was making love with a huge piece of rock whose girth was beyond the length of my outstretched arms. i glanced behind me and i saw nothing but nothingness. my heavy pack would assist my quick descent to death! i closed my eyes, whispered a prayer, and raised another foot. praise the Lord, i whispered when i found myself, both knees and both palms on a flat piece of rock.

after the japanese garden, we reached the vintana towards tarak peak. it was pure cogon here, and with no natural barriers, we exposed ourselves to a really angry gust of wind. from here, it was pure descent to the campsite on cogon and rocks. and in all that fog, we couldn’t quite feel the life that had gone ahead of us. the trail was very slippery, and i off-trailed. finally, i reached the first bunch of tents. it was halfway till 6pm. i reached the campsite before sunset: mission for day 1 was accomplished. loree led us to our campsite, which was about twenty minutes away! i passed through a few more campsites. we were very scattered indeed.

at our campsite, we found the other members’ tents pitched on flattened grass. i had chosen a spot that was the best given the circumstances, and sharon helped me pitch my TNF talus 23. it stood nicely there, and we gathered to prepare dinner, until we realized there was very little to prepare save for soup. since we distributed the load, all our ingredients were incomplete. we waited, thinking the last group might arrive by 10pm. tads arrived at around 8pm. rain fell exactly as we were supposed to put the lights out, and i proceeded to my tent to get some cover. so we all decided to sleep without dinner, surviving on the soup and the grower’s peanuts. inside my green tent, my orange prolite 3 therm-a-rest was laid out on one side. sharon was in the middle, bent like a small animal. imee was on the other side. i tried to get sleep. i was excited to use a mattress in the mountains for the first time. but a clump of earth right under the small of my back and the downward slope from my waist to my feet made for a far-from-ideal contour. i couldn’t sleep. my back was beginning to hurt, and i worried about bojo, alexis, and dindo. where were they? i would wake at the slightest movement, and each time a light passed my tent.

finally, at 3.30am, just before the wake-up call, some noise was building outside the tent. i found my tentmates awake. we began joking about preparing both dinner and breakfast, and i said i’d volunteer to cook everything once everything was there. then we heard a voice. it was bojo’s. he was up on a hill trying to figure out how to get to us. i went up to meet him and before long, i was performing my job as camp cook. i ordered people to do this and that. i cooked the mushroom and cheese omelet with my secret herb: basil. people seem to like my omelets since they look very pretty and are very tasty, but i actually don’t like carrying my mom’s teflon skillet (yes fab_ab, i am crazy; i brought my mom’s pan again!), but i don’t know how else you can make perfect omelets. i also cooked the chicken longganiza and some of the thai garlic pork. both were very good, but for hungry people, even grass might taste good. so i don’t know if i’m really a good cook, or i’m surrounded by voracious people. either of the two, at least i won’t be getting a “it doesn’t taste like anything” encounters. even elmer, who usually just subsists on powerbar, had a helping of what i prepared. and i have got to say i never liked elmer since that “so you’re the infamous aRman” incident, but it turns out he isn’t as bad as his first impression.

preparing the food so exhausted me that while sharon campkept, i slept again. that is, until alexis arrived at 5.30am. i met him again, ordered him to take off his gloves, shoes, and arm sleeves. gave him wet tissue, unpacked for him and put his clothes and stuff inside the tent which tads and eugene pitched. the poor alexis though, who now belongs to a more-or-less exclusive 24 hour trekking club, was falling asleep as he ate, his hand with the spoon freezing in mid air. his fingers have stiffened like he were holding on to an overturned bowl, and sometimes he would shut down looking like he were mashing someone. then alexis proceeded to his tent and tried to rest. he was complaining: “alman dumudulas yung tent.” i barked back: “hindi yan dudulas kasi naka-peg yan. mataba ka lang talaga.” that early in the morning and in spite of the exhaustion and hunger, i was still my old, funny, jolly, bitchy self. elmer remarked i was like a version of fabian, who was very blunt, but in filipino. ey, i could do insults in english too you know!

then, we packed up, and at 10am, we started our descent. this is the only part of the trail i’m familiar with since i’ve been to the traditional tarak route before. i knew it would be a cinch after what we were just through the previous day. and we reached papaya river by noon. the path to the small falls was blocked by felled trees, and the jacuzzi looked like an overflowing pool. it was actually a little scary. i soaked myself there for a while since it was hot, and as we progressed, there were more mini-pools and falls along the trail. hot trek after a wet trek the previous day. i say that’s a recipe for sickness.

in a short while, we reached the gate, and by this time, eugene and i were practically running the length of the open trail. we reached the DENR outpost at about 2pm and tweet and i had buko juice. sharon had fallen a little behind, accompanied by joven. either sharon was in a hurry to catch up with him, or he was trying to slow down so she’d catch up. so i’ll stop there.

finally, i reached the resort at half past 2, and immediately had lunch, which disappointed. a lot. i rummaged through my things and waited for my groupmates so i could cook the chili con carne (which should just be con carne since it had no spice at all). and when they did, i whipped up something which brought a lot of joy to those who were lucky enough to taste it. it was gone quick. and since i don’t eat what i cook, i was left still very hungry.

finally i took a bath and slipped into a fresh set of clothes. the sky blue trekking shirt was starting to look like a completely alien object: smelly, dirty, and beginning to take on a life of its own. it felt good to wash away all the grime of that killer trail. all other killer trails should be renamed since they have not had sky “the mad mountaineer” biscocho hacking a way. to think that being very tired and all we’d be spared the socials (too bad too since we prepared for it), but we weren’t. okay, JC and moss can get star of the socials award. i can’t compete with them. i can’t beat their acts. all we had was my penis-shaped microphone and funny hat. we didn’t have wigs and leather pumps. haha.

finally we left for home. we were all very eager to sleep but not after 1 small bottle of gin was finished. of course joven and sharon, who were in front of me, were busy reacquainting themselves with each other. i wonder what they were talking about. gosh i’m malicious.

with TC2 over, my batch is now thinking of a party. it was an emotional climb. it wanted to break us, but it didn’t. it wanted to defeat us, but we won. it’s time to celebrate. i’ve never had anything more technical than this. to compare the first day of this climb to my second halcon climb, i’d say no day in halcon, taken individually, was ever this hard. or perilous.

Tags: adventure, amci, mariveles mountains, mountaineering, tarak ridge

when i stuffed my 70 liter pack with an overdose of knick-knacks and bric-a-brac for a climb to the summit of mount san cristobal in dolores, quezon, i had no inkling that i would, in those two days, learn one of life’s most important lessons: that no matter how many times you fall, what’s important is that you get up immediately, and keep on walking. the pain and the shame are ultimately temporary, and you are measured by how well you recover, not by how long you wallow in an imagined disgrace. and perhaps too, i needed to be brutally reminded of my limitations: that i should never rely completely on the strength of a previous experience. regardless of how many times you have been to a mountain, each climb is always a new one.

my two previous treks up mount san cristobal have made me rather complacent, and while it has never been my habit to underestimate mountains, i was humbled by this silent mountain, which sleeps under the dark shadow of mount banahaw. as i have said before, san cristobal is perceived by many as a mountain filled with evil, as a counterpoint to banahaw’s holy slopes. whether or not this is true, i cannot truly say, for i haven’t had the privilege, or the misfortune, of encountering anything of the supernatural while i was there.

i returned to san cristobal as part of the recon team for AMCI’s BMC 2009. it has been chosen as the mountain for the first training climb, which traditionally has been designed to introduce trainees into the sport of mountaineering, and is supposed to be a venue for nature-appreciation. i am an extremely visual person, and although i respect the callous, if not savage appeal of san cristobal, not much can be said about it in terms of raw, astounding beauty. from the montelibano house until the campsite on the crater, there is absolutely no view. the trail, which crawls up the mountain, passes a saddle, teeters on a ridge, and ends on the crater, is enveloped in an eerie kind of forest. near the base, the trees are stout and high, and they are whittled down to smaller ones wrapped in moss and fungus as you gain altitude. strange sounds from unseen birds and colonies of insects fill the trail, and there is hardly any view of the sky. when you look up, you see wisps of forest cover, and the sun winking through cracks in the canopy. blades of orchids hang overhead.


the trail is narrow, and quite steep in parts. although we never used ropes during our climb, it was obvious that two weeks hence, we may need to attach ropes in at least 5 sections, where even the most experienced among us encountered difficulty. i am certain that it will be a long and challenging trek for most trainees and the members supporting them. fears will be awakened and doubts will be stoked. but this is a fantastic baptism to the uninitiated, one that is rather rude, not unlike waterboarding or electrocution.

we began the trek at past 9am. it was only about 30 minutes to the montelibano house (850masl) along a steep paved road. the mountain itself is supposedly no higher than 1480masl, but we only had the ballpark approximations of our altimeters. the cemented sections proved to be the most difficult. at the house, we watched as a monster dog filled its mouth with the feathers of chicken and began beth’s language lessons. after a few years in the philippines, she’s decided to learn filipino, and we gave her a head start. at one of the group’s many rest stops, i asked her if there was a word she would like to know the meaning of, based on what she has heard from our conversations. so she asked: what does sabatin (se-BAH-tihn) mean? i was perplexed, but she said she heard me say it.

the mystery behind the word sabatin would never eventually be solved, and it evolved to mean everything and anything: sabatin is the mosquito which carried elephantiasis-causing bacteria (or the mosquito with the powers to make things big); sabatin became the name of the campsite; sabatin was the monster sleeping in the lake who has not fed this year; sabatin is anything. sabatin is everything we could not explain.


we reached the crater (about 1350masl) before 3pm. there were already 2 groups that sent advance teams to claim real estate, worried perhaps that there would be no campsites left. even the AMCI ridge campsite (1420masl) had been marked, some with just pegs and rope. this didn’t bother us in any appreciable way because we had planned to push for the summit. with an average of 100 persons traditionally joining AMCI’s TC1s, the crater and the ridge combined couldn’t accommodate more than 20 tents. but after a futile search around a cogon-covered summit (1479masl), we were forced to resort to bladed weapons: we cleared portions of the mountain inhabited by what the local hunstmen described as damong gubat: twigs no more than 2cm in diameter.


after 10 minutes, we had space good enough for 10 tents. but what of the rest? even as the afternoon faded when shafts of light pierced our campsite, (1440masl) i kept worrying about an area for the group i would join for TC1. there simply isn’t enough room. not for 40 tents. not even for 30. maybe if the crater and the ridge were included, then the whole team would have ample room, but the identified campsite is at least 15 minutes away still. i drowned my worries by busying with dinner, and before long, we were having very good pasta with garlic tomato sauce and schublig and a nice korean beef dish. nothing to crow about, really, because both bojo and i were too lazy to think of anything more complicated for dinner.


we finished the evening with gin and a sweet and tarty martini, as we avoided ghost stories, fearing we might attract uninvited guests to the campsite. so far, we’d been very lucky. the weather cooperated, and it was overcast almost the entire time. the air was cool inside the forest when i finally took cover inside alvin’s oddly-shaped tent, and i slept soundly until the following morning when girls took care of breakfast. clean-up and the matter of breaking camp were completed swiftly, and pretty soon, the clutter of the many colored campsite was restored to an empty space under the shade of trees. we spent the next 30 minutes clearing the forest to make space for the deluge it should expect in 2 weeks. but still after the slash of bolos and the stomping of many boots, i fear that come TC1, there will be groups wallowing in misery, complaining of not having enough room, of having to settle for surfaces far from the ideal.


at 9am, we began our descent. aaron, jepoy and beth took off pretty early, while we reviewed all the areas build-ups are likely to form. the primeval forest of san cristobal unfolded itself before us: wet, green, and many-leafed, it bristled in the cool breeze. sometimes, flowers popped along the trail, but there were also instances that i felt i was trekking alone. after around 2 hours, we were back at montelibano, and by lunch time, had descended upon a restaurant in kinabuhayan for a meal and wash-up. only when everyone had finished did the rain begin to pour.


our business in delores, however, wasn’t over yet, and being the recon team, we still had to find a suitable wash-up area. our driver suggested a resort near the highway, and he could not have made a better recommendation. tucked far away from the bustle of the streets was a sprawling property of towering coconuts, cascades, cold pools, and restrooms inspired by tolkien’s novels. it was love at first sight for most of us who stepped into the bato springs resort, and i prepared an argument in its favor should the TL explore other options. in fact, i even joked that i might just decide to stay at the resort and “prepare” it for the climb team’s arrival the following day. i already decided that i would do a sprint on day 2 in order to completely enjoy the comforts and the benefits of this gem in the wilderness. joining the climb (or at least, being at the wash-up area) will be difficult to refuse once members find out that there’s a videoke machine in the gazebo, and that beer is also available.

and so here ends my fourth climb for the year. it has been a rather slow start for me, but i’m glad to have my complacent muscles complaining from the pain. it reminds me ultimately of my humanity. while others declare conquest, i find reasons for humility. where others decide to race, i choose to sit quietly in observation. mountaineering teaches many of life’s more important lessons. but not everyone listens.

Tags: 2k9, adventure, amci, language, mount san cristobal, mountaineering

it is with much sadness that i sit on my desk, writing about my trip to the island of potipot in zambales. i didn't do much research on our destination, and regretfully, didn't have the luxury of time to speed off for UP diliman to attend the pre-activity meeting at the UPM's old tambayan at the UP main library. i just wanted to be surprised by the experience. indeed, i was surprised, and not in a good way.


there were nearly 30 of us who took part in this island getaway: an opportunity for UPM to share its advocacy for the environment and also to recruit members. since people in my club are currently preoccupied with things that do not involve things which i would identify with the great outdoors, i jumped on an open invitation of vince: an old collegian colleague of mine. besides, i had heard of potipot before, from photographers mostly, and i haven't been there. besides, i still cannot get over the fact that inclement weather forced me to call off our trip to calaguas island, so this was a necessary pill. i volunteered to do most of the meal plan for our group, which at the last minute included genie and karlo, and supposedly 5 others, which later on was whittled down to 2. i was pretty excited when i went off for jollibee in philcoa, a place which still brings back memories of my years as a student.


so we crammed ourselves into a yellow coaster, and left for uacon at close to midnight. before sunrise, and apparently, after getting nearly lost at least twice, we were getting off at the edge of the beach, watching as the rising sun painted the horizon in the west a mix of mauve and salmon. the island of potipot was right before us, and if i were better geared, i would probably have taken up kerwin's challenge to swim to the island: it wasn't even a kilometer. but i hadn't slept well inside the coaster, and so the minute i arrived, and after munching on the raisin bread i purchased at cinnabon, i put up my hammock and slept. under closed eyes, i could hear the unending roar of boat engines coming and leaving the island. when finally i decided to get up and prepare for lunch, the island was already teeming with over a hundred people: families on day trips, and barkadas on camping escapades, with their coolers and beer bellies, their board shorts and their kitschy sunglasses. i was aghast. was i the last person to have heard about potipot island? i hate crowds with a passion, and one of the reasons i escape the city on weekends is because i long to be lost in the wilderness of my imaginations, be deafened by the sound of leaves scratching against the branches. but potipot island, which has a huge sign with the words "private property" in bold, red letters painted on it, was already equipped with tables, bungalows, a tree house under construction, two reciprocating hand pumps, a store, and even someone who collects P100 per visitor and persons to rake in dead leaves and collect trash to throw them into a garbage pit at its western end which gets burned during the weekday when there are less tourists.


the sight of people took out much interest in me to explore and photograph the island, particularly because a camera club was even there to snap shots of potipot while under the infernal heat of the sun. instead, i stayed close to our area, swam a bit, and even dared to go into the deeper parts of the sea until the demarcation rope and its yellow buoys. it was only upon kerwin's invitation that i did a walk of the island, and it didn't even take us more than 20 minutes. on the other side, where the sand is finer, there are even more people. facing the west are rocks which border the edge, it looked as if they'd been arranged. the trunk of an enormous fallen tree rests on its side here. i returned to our area and prepared dinner, and paused only to try to get some good shots of an unimpressive sunset. that night, karlo helped me prepare my aligue pasta dish with tuna, capers, and black olives. afterwards, some of the UPM people did some fire poi dancing, and then kerwin and ria (whom i met in bagasbas last year) taught us how to make smores from graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate, and a stove. i did a cooking show out of it. i was also a bit surprised to find out that the UPM folks sleep pretty early: ria, kerwin and i were the last men and woman standing. for a change, i didn't have to crawl to my tent, and i woke up, surprisingly without a cleaving headache.


that morning, more visitors were dropped on the island, it seemed like any beach in batangas. i suppose, with something this accessible, word gets around pretty quick, and people are always drawn to places that are supposedly new and different. but my disappointment with potipot rests not in the fact that it isn't beautiful. it has its charms, surely, but because it was not how i imagined it to be: i desired a feeling of being marooned, of being out of reach, a castaway, if you will (jijit of survivor philippines was there with us). but i had none of that. potipot is not pristine, far from virgin, and definitely not undiscovered. we were the last to hear about it.


my inclinations tend to draw me far away from the city, to places disconnected from the rest of the world, and isolated from everthing that is urban and its decaying attributes. and i have been to many such places, but i hunger for more. but what i find troublesome is that many more people are getting the same ideas: pursue adventure and experience the outdoors, but are unwilling to come without the bad habits they've developed while prowling and hunting in their concrete jungles. on potipot, it seems clear the there are many desiring to be with nature, but do not care whether nature can endure them. by the time we had left the island the water in the showers had been spent, trash sprouted at the base of trees, empty plastic bags tumbled in the wind, and the kingfishers have departed for places with more trees. for anyone like me who would like to see potipot island before it booms, i would say: it is too late. the next time i find a new place that satisfies my cravings for departure, i will think many times over about publicly sharing details about how to get there. the world is getting smaller, and even for my archipelago, it seems there aren't that many islands anymore.

Tags: adventure, beacheneering, camping, potipot island, travel, wanderlust, zambales

the grains of my vacation have not even settled when i decided to stuff a backpack with a tent, a thermarest, and clothes for my third climb of the year, which is actually alarmingly low, but comparatively decent, if we were to survey other members of my club, whose predilections and inclinations have slanted them to pursuits other than climbing mountains. so although there was laundry and souvenir t-shirts the size of haystacks to sort through, i was happily leaving for the central post office in lawton, for a climb to parrot's beak in cavite.

i last climbed pico de loro in june of 2003. it was officially my second climb since i picked up the sport in february of that same year, and i basically hooked up with complete strangers whose club i became a part of much later on. i had no idea about the mountain at the time. i only knew that i wanted to climb mountains. i have both vague and vivid recollections about that trip, and although i hadn't started to blog at the time, i can retell my experience with great detail, and i wonder now why it had taken me this long to return.

this climb was organized by 2k7, and since i had been to the mountain, i was asked to be the trail master. i made a caveat that it was 6 years since i was last there, and made no assurance that i would remember the way. as it turns out, every fork on the mountain has a sign pointing towards the summit of this mountain. so after a slow ride on a rickety bus, we were deposited somewhere in maragondon for a tricycle ride to the jump off. along the way, our driver complained about the magnetic hill, and he mentioned that there was a giant magnet somewhere making the ride up to the jump off a bit of a struggle. although the climb was plagued by last-minute back-outs from flakers with fabricated excuses and others who felt sorry they couldn't come despite having genuine reasons, we still had enormous fun.

we began the hike at half past 11, and it was overbearingly hot. we reached basecamp 1 for a brief rest and to pay the second registration fee "for better coordination" so claimed the sign, although they didn't bother to ask for our numbers. we had already paid P20 each at the DENR's PAMB office 200 meters from the jump-off (it was declared a protected area in 2007). no receipts are issued so it is a wonder where the money goes, and whether they're put to any good other than providing a brief rest stop for easily dehydrated climbers.

we pushed on, and the trek was slow and easy, although the sun scorched high above us. a bit after noon, we proceeded to the waterfall, but the pool that poured down had dried up, and we had lunch under the spotty shade of wispy trees. we continued the climb, aware that 3 other groups had already gone on ahead of us. initially, we wanted to camp at the foot of the mountain, and decided to just assault the summit at some other time, whether that afternoon or the following morning. karlo, who had been to pico more recently than i have, assured us that we were going to the campsite we had in our minds, but i doubted it as we gained more elevation. the ascent and the heavy pack conspired, and i chugged more water than i normally would and should have. along the trail, we encountered hikers on a day hike descending. i asked one of them how the view was, and one replied that it was good, although near the summit, it was a bit "steef".

the more helpful reminder was just to follow the trail signs: plastic bags tied around trees and stacks of 3 rocks placed along the trail. a sudden descent near the campsite nearly cost us a lot of time, but we managed to find a cool clearing under the shade of leaning clumps of bamboo. but karlo pointed out that the better campsite was just 15 meters away, with a view of the summit and the south where the provinces of cavite and batangas collide, all the way to the sea between luzon and mindoro island. under the haze of clouds must be halcon. we staked out areas for our tents, and we were considerably far apart, thinking other than the "christians" from UST, no other groups would arrive. we referred to the other group as christians because they introduced themselves as members of singles for christ, but this is not to suggest that we were either heathen, pagan, or atheists. the campsite of pico de loro is a scoop of land between two peaks. the saddle spreads out horizontally, and faces a sheer wall whose steep (or "steef") drop i didn't bother to explore. it was burned black at the edges, and was annoyingly littered with every imaginable piece of trash: from empty bottles of water and alcohol, to plastic bags, to discarded underwear, to opened and empty tin cans, to burn rice. it was in an extremely sorry state and i don't recall it being this dirty 6 years ago, although admittedly, we didn't even stay long at the campsite the last time.

at 5pm, with the possibility of rain, we assaulted the summit. the observation that it was "steef" was accurate enough, although the other approach would have been less dirty. one of mike's guests ended up soiling everything from her knees, to her butt, to her arms, and she discovered that dust and sweat may combine for mud. nonetheless, the view from the top was priceless, it almost made me forget about the trash that had collected a little below us. the summit is completely bald, and there was a view of everything, from sea to valley, to hills. wayward pillars of smoke joined heavenly clouds, and you get this feeling that you're above everything: nothing is higher, not even the column of rock which earned for itself the name: parrot's beak. it is officially listed to be 664masl, and my suunto core's reading was only 6 meters higher.

pops decided to climb the rock, but i preferred to just sit there and watch for him suddenly appearing on top of the rock. when he got back, he was panting like he had just dashed the last 200 meters of a race. his heart was racing, he said, partly for the fear of falling, and partly for the "steef" return to the summit. after lingering on the summit, we descended and presided over the matter of dinner. at about this time, more groups had arrived, and pico de loro began to look like another maculot, another manabo: rising to fame, but plunging into filth and neglect.

i had no participation in the meal plan, but the result was not something i would so much as complain about. karlo's beef steak was pretty good, and we also had soup which i prepared. i am very proud of my soup-preparing skills. we also had pesto pasta which i didn't even get to taste, and when we finished with dinner, we indulged in some socials. we only had a liter of tanduay rhum and another liter of gin, and with only 9 of us sharing, it was enough to draw us into honesty and happiness: peachy prattled about her dislikes, while mike's guests exclaimed their joy. we didn't manage to tease genie and karlo, because karlo is a man of very few words, and genie crashed even before we finished the rhum. when we finished the gin, jewel insisted that we go around to beg for alcohol, or steal it, if necessary. we found a group in the bamboo forest and they shared some shots of GSM. it felt like sipping turpentine. although, honestly, i don't even know what turpentine is.

jewel retreated into my tent, and i accepted an invitation from the group that carried a one-year old baby to the campsite for a few more shots of turpentine. when i felt i could no longer stay awake, i went to my tent and found jewel sleeping on my thermarest. i could not remember the last time i slept on nothing but the tent's floor and the groundsheet underneath it.

i woke up the following morning to find pops contemplating the view. we decided to start breakfast. we had fried bangus, spam, genie's pancakes, and my perfectly-cooked rice. by the time we had finished, all the other groups on the campsite had already descended. nevertheless, we overtook many of them along the way, including the young people whom i helped to pitch their tent which was the size of a cathedral. it was possible to stand inside without hitting your head on the ceiling.

the heat was terrible, and since i had offered all my water for the campsite, i was courting with dehydration. but i reached basecamp 1 and immediately bought 2 cans of coke. 15 minutes later, we reached the road, dropped by the DENR where very rude people already agitated from a bad experience on the mountain complained that we were capable of speech, decided to go instead to maragondon for a bath, lunch, and our ride back to manila. before sunset, i was already in makati, collecting my dirty laundry. it felt really good to climb. i look forward to the next one, even if it's someplace i have been to. as genie said: it's the same mountain, but it's always a different experience -- it's time to make new memories.

Tags: adventure, cavite, mount pico de loro, mountaineering