THERE
IS ANOTHER WEATHER disturbance named “Henry”. It is not a
hindrance to me on my outdoor sojourns. It may be a nuisance to
others but it would never ever be a reason to postpone an outdoors
activity just because it caused one a not-so-perfect day. A wet
disposition, a cold atmosphere or a muddy trail are the least of my
concerns. I just focus on the totality of the journey and bad
weather can only lend a color to it. Nothing bad.
It
had been raining since last night and this morning of July 20, 2014
is a bit cold. I will have to “ride” out the storm then. I am
leading five others cheerily up “heartbreak ridge”. Rainclouds
are a blessing up here on this exposed ridge of Banawa Hills whose
features imitate the back of a giant lizard if you see it from
Mandaue. The power pylon now sports a signage with a smiling skull
which seemed to relish at the word “DANGER”.
Behind
me are Jhurds Neo, Jingaling Campomanes, Nelson Orozco, Ernie Salomon
and Nyor Pino. The bottom of the ridge where there used to be a
cairn are now behind us and so is the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish
which we had left at 07:15. We got past the tower and the World War
II tunnel vent and met three perspiring youths with firewood on their
shoulders going to where we came from.
We
are now among farms of cassava, lemon grass, horse radish, corn and
sweet potato but the hard packed trail cant downward and I take it
slow as it is slippery. Ripe fruits from a Chinese laurel tree
(Local name: bugnay) provide us something to relish. Old
fruit trees populate the path but it is not the season for mangoes,
tamarinds, star apples, breadfruits and Spanish plums. Met a man
carrying a sack of avocados on his head. The route goes into
different saddles until we reach the place called “the Portal”.
It
is 08:30 and I need to reach our destination, which is Camp Damazo,
before 11:00 but, infront of me, is the old trail that lead to it.
Ernie insists on using it. It is long, difficult, gloomy, wild and
it is a trail that I had last walked in 2012. Sounds foolish when I
had already been using a shorter route. Well, I do not have to
switch to “Plan B”. We take a muddy detour for Baksan Road. All
of us are wet and I am happy to see that no one is wearing a rain
coat.
Rain
coats, for me, are for school children, for higher altitudes and for
corporate people. Bushmen do not wear such, not in a tropical
jungle, and they improve their resistance by adapting to the elements
of nature. Exposure to rain and cold prime up my senses and I do not
want it in another way. If you want comfort, then do not go out of
your house on a rainy day. Watch TV on your warm sofa and drink hot
milk.
We
go down the trailhead where it led to a dry stream then go up a
ridge. We are now at the teak forests of Baksan. I follow another
ridge going down a low saddle and then into another ridge that climb
up a hill which I liked to call as “Boy T’s Hell”. Ernie takes
a dig at Boy Toledo, who is not present, as he recalled the latter’s
dark skin turning white after climbing this low hill from another
very difficult route. Very amusing story since I was there and it is
worth telling. With a laugh!
We
cut straight branches from teak trees so we could use it as walking
sticks. This type of teak planted here is not an indigenous species
but originally are from Burma and are not very receptive with birds
and insects. It is a boon instead of a blessing. It does not make
the soil fertile and does not like to share space with native tree
species. Even with that, we carefully choose which branches to cut
that would result to an even healthier tree.
We
go down the hill and I looked for my trail sign. Found it and I see
the route I took last July 5. I was alone then engaging on “Survival
Day”. Three teak trees growing in between, I used as springboards
to aid people during descent, after which it cross two small gullies
and weave in and among low trees and shrubs until you reach a trail
beside a stream which I designate as Creek Alpha for want of a name.
Vegetation are now wilder here with different varieties of indigenous
plants and trees.
I
cross the stream and I see a single footprint on the sand. It
belonged to a small man. Beside it is a paw print of a dog. It is a
couple of hours old. I am now on the other side of the stream bank
and I follow a path. I go down a branch of the trail which lead to
the same stream. I need to check on the old location of Camp Damazo.
I see a deep imprint of a paw, most probably of that same dog. I do
not see traces of the man. Perhaps it is a dog trained to hunt.
Dogs like that move a lot without waiting for a signal from its
master.
The
old campsite is just a small tongue of even ground between the
confluence of two small streams. It could accommodate about five
tents but during the first Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp of
2011, it was filled with nine tents housing fourteen participants,
which Ernie and Boy T were part of. Water source then came from
water holes dug beside the stream.
I
do not like crowded campsites, that is why I transferred Camp Damazo
to a better but safer location and that is where I am going to now.
We leave the old campsite and go back our way but I change direction.
The ground and foliage are so moist that we found it hard to look
for dry dead leaves. I found dead branches with dead leaves hanging
onto it. I select dried ones and we fill up a small plastic bag.
I
follow the trail as it wind along the contours of the terrain and I
see the same footprints. The hunter placed overturned rattan leaves
on the ground. It is purposely done that way so he could find his
way back and the lighter shade of the leaf’s underside could be
seen better in dim-light conditions. It reflects light better when
probed with a LED torch. The man used his head well or it could be
that he learned it from others.
Blocking
the path before me are two slender branches of a teak tree bent
towards the other side. I thought it at first as a spring mechanism
for a snare but I do not think so. Teak wood are not stiff and would
easily bend but does not snap back when released. I looked closely
and I see no cords but he placed crawling ferns over it. A debris
shelter! So he must have waited for a prey and, that means, he is
armed with a hunting rifle. So that is why his footprints have deep
imprints?
I
looked all around to guess where would he aimed his rifle sight?
Surely it would be high on a tree but which tree? I see traces of
somebody sliding down a steep hillside. So he must have hit his
prey, probably a jungle fowl. No fool would go down that steep
ground where I stood at without something to gain from. As I see all
these series of events reading the tracks, I expound it to my
companions, including a trail sign commonly used by “other people”.
We
reach the second stream which I named as Creek Bravo. Somebody just
harvested three bamboo sprouts (dabong) here where it is
peeled on the creek bed. It came from the groves of water bamboo
(botong) located just above us. There is no visible water on
the stream but there is one underneath. Growing and clinging on a
mossy stone are two young plants with glossy leaves which I suspect
to be Philippine ginseng. Strangely unbelievable but I based on the
peculiar design of the leaf edges but I could be wrong.
Nevertheless,
we have to go. It is now 09:25 and the sky starts to open up with a
slight sunshine touching the tips of leaves on the highest
elevations. The path is muddy but all behind me knows how to deal
with it. The Leave No Trace teaches people to “walk single file
even if it is muddy”. We do not do that because we always think,
we improvise and we adjust well to a situation. Common sense is much
better than following a foreign ideology that had been ruthlessly
made a rule by corporate outdoor clubs instead of as a guide.
I
saw many muddy paths turned into “water slides” when people
without real-world skills follow that dictum and gave locals a hard
time to travel from their farms to the market and back and also for
the children from their homes to their schools and back. That is
really careless and downright aloof without regard and respect for
the locals living on the mountains just because you want to portray
yourself as a champion of the environment. Remember, they had been
content of their lives for years until you came one day and made it
miserable.
Anyway,
we follow the path ascend to a ridge. In a short while we would be
at Camp Damazo. My wet Silangan Greyman pants snagged on a
rattan tendril and I slowly remove it. Steadily, we hike uphill and
come upon a reddish cuckoo dove (tubaon) foraging on the
ground. The small dove had not noticed our coming until we are near
and it flew. We collect firewood as we walk until I see the “gate”
of Camp Damazo. PIBC products - Ernie, Jhurds and Nelson, had
learned well and all used their wits.
Dry
firewood are hard to find, especially during rainy days, and it is
rather difficult for people without basic survival know-how. I
taught people how and why everytime I convene the PIBC or you may
study my trail habits and be attentive when I am on a day hike. I am
very generous when it comes to sharing knowledge and I always explain
when I think there is an importance or I may find you very interested
in what I do.
This
campsite had been found and chosen during PIBC 2012 and revisited in
PIBC 2013. Outdoorsmen from Luzon came here to learn bushcraft and
survival on those two occasions and this place had produced the
finest products yet of the PIBC. When coffee seedlings were planted
here, I decide to respect the locals who nurtured these and
transferred the 2014 edition in Sibonga. Besides, the campsite had
widened during brush clearing by locals for their coffee seedlings.
As
I meticulously break off dry twigs in pencil-lead sizes, pencil sizes
and thumb sizes, Jhurds chopped small branches with his Spyderco
Forester bolo. Nelson and Nyor make a “bird’s nest” of dry
tinder and kindling. With a spark from a ferro rod, the tinder emit
smoke and Nelson blow it to life. I placed my smallest twigs over it
as the smoke thickened. Fingers of flame sprouted and it blazed more
when bigger twigs are placed over it. Ernie automatically work on
the food ingredients while I produce blackened pots.
We
boil water for coffee first for hot coffee gives you heat, quenches
thirst, makes you think better and unload a lot of tales. Nelson
provide a small fire placed on a different location. Its purpose is
just to provide thick smoke so mosquitoes and ants do not torment us.
A pot hang suspended from a tripod and over a fire. In it is a kilo
of rice. We will be having another “feast”, especially with
Ernie around. Cooking on a dayhike is a trademark activity of the
Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild.
We
do this because we do not hurry. Haste creates waste of quality time
and energy and exposes you to accidents. Quality time is learning
new ideas and knowledge from people and learning to appreciate nature
better. Ernie cook a mixed-vegetable soup and blood clam (litob).
Jhurds provide entertainment. Jingaling takes care preparing raw
cucumber in vinegar while local sausage (chorizo) is grilled
over coals. We eat lunch at 13:30 under a very breezy condition.
We
leave after storing back our things to our backpacks. Oh, yes, I
carried the Silangan Predator Z today and so is Jhurds with
his Predator Alpha. We reach Baksan Road at 15:15 but we
continue on to Lanipao and take refreshments. We proceed to Napo
where we end our walk by riding motorcycles-for-hire for Guadalupe.
We did not tarry long and we all decide to omit the post-event
discussions as everyone are exhausted.
Although
doing an outdoors activity during bad weather is not advisable, but
you would have to do it sometimes. You have to prepare yourself
physically and psychologically by training in a real-world situation
because the really bad ones are those that hit you where you least
expected it. “Murphy’s Law” is a demanding adversary which
nobody had gained advantage of yet. But a prepared mind knows how.
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