Luzon 321 Chronicles (Day-Three): Tawangan Trail (to Mt Pulag)

Sunrises always give me ecstatic feelings, like the one I woke up to on the third day of our hike. The sunrise gave us hope that we could see the famous sea of clouds from the summit of Mt Pulag. We thanked the locals for the warm accommodation. 

Since I did not read about Tawangan, I did not have idea on its characteristics and difficulty level. The locals kept taunting us about “maliliit na aswang.” They were referring to limatik.

The guides told us that there are four peaks prior to the vicinity of Mt Pulag. But they never mentioned river crossings. I almost got injured from keeping myself dry while doing rock-hopping in one of the river crossings. I did not notice that the rock was loosely anchored. So when I stepped over it, it flipped my left foot that made me run like a bull ready to attack a matador.

We reached the first peak, Halong, with some of us already struggling.  We shared loads. I offered myself to carry one whole bag, which was really easier said than done. 

 And limatik bites were not helping. I got two on my lower legs.

We originally planned to eat after the third peak but due to exhaustion, we took our lunch before the second peak, Al-al. 

Rain started to pour and before reaching the third peak, Gatmoan, I was already looking like soaked in water. Before I knew it, I already had seven limatik bites on my scruff.

I lost Cris on my desire to cope up with the leading pack. I literally ran, as if there was something invisible running after me. Where is the lead pack? Why are they so far? Come on, Garfield, are we there yet? All funny things that I could reminisce have flashed in my mind to introduce the end of everything like in disaster and tragic movies.

The rain temporarily stopped when we reached the Junior Pulag, where you could see a glimpse of the majestic Mt Pulag. 

I tried to remember the trails from my first Mt Pulag experience in 2005. But everything was so fuzzy. All that came in my mind were those in pictures I had. The grassland, domineered by Yushania niitakayamensis, seemed so endless. That after a mound of them came another one, which was gladly introduced by thick fogs and cold wind. The drizzle was inconsiderate.

As the natural lights went out, I began to wonder where Cris was. I left my trail buddy. I hope he was fine. I became a liability because of my poor vision. I had to hold on to the lead pack, or else I would be left in the middle of nowhere.

The limatik bites..

Luzon 321 Chronicles (Day-Two): Mt Tabayoc

August 18. The coldness of the air made me reluctant to go out and excrete the water in my bladder. With my two tentmates tucked on my sides, I stayed still and tried to sleep again. When I walked out of the tent, everything was so quiet. The headlight of an approaching motorcycle let me see the fog that blanketed the lake. The grasses were glistening with rainwater. After my session with Nature, I immediately went inside the tent because it was so cold. My body was trembling with the frozen temperature.

We commenced the hike to Mt Tabayoc’s summit with high hopes for clear skies. Being not so well the night before rendered me weak. The sad thing was my inability to fix my whole body in sync with the prevailing environment. My knees trembled just by stepping over rocks with trappings of algae and mosses. With my sensitivity to the weather, I armoured myself with triple layer of upper garments (including a raincoat and jacket). At first, it was good because the layer trapped the heat released by my body. Further cadences produced heat that was incinerating my whole system. So I removed the two outer layers. However, my muscles shivered so easily with the flow of rainwater on my spine.

The summit of Mt Tabayoc is better than that of Mt Timbac. The locals installed a viewing deck over the canopies. Unfortunately, fogs dominated the surroundings. So there was nothing for us to see but eternal whiteness. It must have been marvellous standing on the viewing deck looking over the sea of leaves.

The descent back to the campsite was quickly accomplished. We were sliding and gliding with the slippery trail. After taking a bath with cold water, we boarded the jeepney for another washing-machine-ride. It was late in the afternoon when we reached the jump-off point for the Tawangan Trail of Mt Pulag. A wagwagan sign in the town’s centre cued us for the hunting of cheap goods.

We were allowed to stay in the barangay hall for the night. Electricity is generated via their local hydroelectric power plant from 1800H to 0600H the following day.

Luzon 321 Chronicles (Day-One): Mt Timbak

I arrived at Victory Terminal in Cubao two minutes before the call time. Since it was a long vacation time, many people have planned to go to Baguio. Lines for tickets were long. It was good that we bought our tickets days prior to the actual trip. Along the EDSA, some of our friends were stuck along with the traffic jam. So we thought of trading or selling some of the tickets to other passengers. There were six of us who proceeded with the 2000H-trip and the rest waited for another hour. Travel time to Baguio is 6 hours, enough time to sleep.

There were a lot of distractions so I was not able to sleep. While waiting for the others to arrive, we were instructed to go to the market and buy the things for the hike, including food.

When we returned to the assembly area, I was surprised to see Mang Elias as the driver of the monster jeep (colour: pink!). I met him when I did the Bakun Trio hike.

The pink monter jeep.

Slippery and winding road. Fog, fog, foggy morning!

Mountain terraces for rice.

The highest highway point in the country.

After lunch.

The day started with a travel to Atok, Benguet for our first mountain - Mount Timbak. We were warned to maintain proper behaviour as the locals do not like unnecessary noise. Though the trails were easy to follow, we had a hard time finding the summit. We had to go through 3 summits before successfully finding our way to the correct one. Those who had been to Mt Kitanglad were telling the rest of the group that the two summits are similar in terms of the presence of antenna and towers. Not far from the summit is an area that looks like a sacred place to locals.

Beautiful!

After a short picture-taking session, we boarded the jeep again and proceeded to a burial cave with mummies. The guides told us that framing the mummies in cameras is not allowed as per the National Museum. Going into the cave, you must bend down to fit into the hole. Before doing it, I had doubts and health issues in my mind related to the air circulating inside the cave as it might be infected with something from the exposed mummies. But since they allow people to go inside and the guides themselves go too, I thought it to be safe. I do not know if I correctly identified internal organs in one of the mummies. There is also an infant mummy.

After that brief encounter with mummies, we began the journey to Kabayan, Benguet. It was a long ride on rough roads and I felt like a dirty clothes in a washing machine. Sitting in the air from being tossed up and down is never a good one. I held onto the bars inside the jeepney very tightly. There were times when the jeepney seemed on the edge of tumbling down into the roadside ravine. But thanks to the expertise of Mang Elias, we survived the muddy holes and steep slopes.

It was a relief when we reached the town’s centre.  We registered and arranged for our guides. While waiting for everything to be settled, I roamed around. What’s with the stares? I found a wagwagan store and it was here where I found a pair of thermal pants, which was on sale at 80pesos. I handed over my 500-peso-bill, but she told me that she has no change for it. Since I badly need the pants, I offered my 59 pesos. To my surprise, she accepted it.

When we reached our campsite near Lake Tabeo, I was already groggy and dizzy. All I wanted was to sleep inside the jeepney. Even the slightest movement registered a painful kick on my head and puking is and will never be an option. After a tent became available, I gathered my things and went inside of it and dozed off to Dreamland. No dinner, just the thermal pants encased on my lower appendages and my sleeping bag wrapped all over me.

Mt Tabayoc Jump-shot

The Super Lomi of Malvar, Batangas

 

One Sunday morning, me and Jerry decided to go to Malvar, Batangas to have some lomi.
I did not know that he ordered the Super Bowl. So when the order was put on our table, I almost screamed because of the size. It's the KING of bowls!

Toppings 101: Pork; Liver; Chicharon; and Meatballs.

Try the Super Lomi at TDA's Lomi House and Kitchenette, along the national highway in Malvar, Batangas.

Of Peaks and Pals

It was a year ago when I picked up again the pieces of my passion for mountaineering. Putting a verse of my earthly existence in sync with what I think I should be doing, I decided to finally retrace my paces to high up there in the mountains. That monolithic Pico de Loro was like the best appetiser in any great feast of rocky roads and tantrum-titled trails. 

Do I need to elaborate more on the delightful desserts – captivating corollas, fascinating floral fragrances, amazing animals, pleasantly perplexing paths, and of course, that much-sought sea of clouds? Just in case you need more for you to feel the king of your own world, search for the place where the raindrops end… and witness how seven colours beautifully form an arch.

It was in Mount Makiling where I met a group of mountaineers for the first time. Since the majestic mountain literally and figuratively formed my career, I was more than enthusiastic to see its enchantment beyond exposition. Prior to setting my foot over its earth, I was given a guide to its trail components – mossy branches and trunks, slippery passageways, roped routes and that rather friendly extended exit walk. The organisers did not invite me. I invited myself through a friend, whom I thought also invited herself to the event through one of the friends of the organisers. In short terms, I joined with a limited knowledge on the event itself. The hike went well and my mountaineering realm started to get peopled. 

But I felt a bit of discomfort from the way they addressed each other – Sir and Ma’am – which is completely and logically incomprehensible from my point of view. I think of such endearments as signs that there are hierarchies or castes – that I translate as manifestations of oppression.

Hiking rendered me weak to the calls of sunrise and sunset. Many times, I failed to repel the temptation of natural spectacles. To which I do not regret until now. With these aesthetic cravings I caved into, I can still reminisce how my eyes flickered with the bright night lights around Mount Arayat. 

Three is never a crowd as the Bakun Trio provided me picture-perfect panoramas. It was at this journey that I came to know about the trading trail in Mount Tenglawan between Benguet and Ilocos Sur, with a portion passing through pines near an ancient burial site.

 

I even did not mind the pouring rain and strong winds over the Tarak Ridge of Mount Mariveles amidst the strike of typhoon Falcon. This, by the way, yielded me a scene of strengthened Papaya River and seasoned waterfalls along the way. 

Tagged as sacred by some Filipinos, Mount Banahaw remains to be one of the popular hiking destinations in the country. Its lush landscapes never fail to surprise guests. Trekking through loose rocks and boulders, maddeningly slippery trails and strong water currents in the middle of a typhoon (again!) made me realise that life indeed is worth living for. 

Mount Batulao, from my own experience of green peaks adorned with white panicles, is undoubtedly one of the most picturesque places I have ever seen.

With all the climbs I did, disappointment never visited my heart even at the slightest tick of time. I offer not a single remorse over the five hypothermic experiences I had with the possibility that any of those could have warmed me under six feet of clayey soil. With all the happy faces I saw under the scorching beams of the sun and, sometimes, soaked in rainwater, I did never expect that the tale of the Roman Empire coming to its end could unfold right before my eyes. Everything is so blurry now. There are moments that I clamour for a ray of light flashing all the happy memories. I even commenced connecting my carabineers to other hooks just to fill the growing desire to see the view from up there.

The paucity of bond between us is precious. Let us make mountains the harbours of our camaraderie beyond imaginable intensity.