SEGMENT
1-A OF MY Cebu Highlands Trail Project is the most used route I take
whenever I engage people to a cross-country day hike. This route is
also used as a requirement for membership into the Camp Red Bushcraft
and Survival Guild. This route then satisfies the adventure
adrenaline of most, as a selection hike for a chosen few and torture
for someone who had been on this six times.
Today,
October 26, 2014, would be my seventh. I do not like to do this all
the time for the simple reason that my ancient body could not keep up
to the demands of what the brain imposes. Just walking and crossing
the Bonbon-Mananga River System twenty-one times for 2-3 hours is
enough to feel the pounding of my water-soaked feet to stones that I
stepped on and to sand grits lodged inside shoes and socks. The
heavier you are, the more pronounced this foreign objects on your
feet. I weigh like a pygmy rhinoceros.
But
I have to do this. I am a different breed and I possessed a
warrior’s grit and spirit. I want to leave a legacy. I want to
mold warriors from this pampered generation and then teach them how
to deal with pain. Pain is a nuisance but it is a a fact of life.
Pain creates character and fortitude. Without it you will always be
walking meat. The stretch of this route, which used to start at
Lutopan, Toledo City, is mind-boggling to achieve in twelve hours but
it is just a state of the mind.
Today’s
activity is delayed by “Filipino time” and further delayed by
people who still needs to be baby-seated all the time. We leave the
assembly area at Citilink, Cebu City at almost seven. We took a
public jitney to Tabunok, Talisay City and then procure ingredients
for our noontime meal at its public market. Long ago, we used to
take a bus bound for Lutopan and you have to be early because the bus
took an eternity to reach its destination.
Today
we will ride motorcycles for hire. It is not safe but it cuts away
travel time. The Manipis Road is still undergoing facelifts caused
by recent landslides. There are no steel railings on a lot of
stretches and you can feel your soul beginning to break away from
your physical body as you cast your eyes downward into the distant
river below. Stretches of unpaved road, muddy and wet, causes tire
wheels to skid and run on snaky patterns! Shucks.
Jhurds
Neo and Nyor Pino, veterans of this route, are the first to go; then
the father-and-son tandem of Jonathan and Justin Apurado; then
husband-and-wife, Mark and Marisol Lepon; and me, as last man. While
the motorcycle I rode took a refill at a gas station, I saw Jingaling
Campomanes, in a quandary of looking for missing people, asking
locals about us. I cut away her worries by calling her and offered
her space on the small 100cc motorcycle. Our entourage now feels
like a scene from a popular TV adventure race.
When
me and Jingaling arrived at the Sinsin junction of the road, nobody
was there. How could Jhurds and Nyor miss this place? I looked, I
asked locals and I sent text messages of the missing six. Meanwhile,
minutes tick by, further aggravating the itinerary. It is 08:00 and
we have a schedule to catch. Fortunately, Jhurds, on the prodding of
the driver, called me. We meet them halfway between Sinsin Junction
and Odlom. It is 08:25 and I have to brief them so there would be no
mistakes this time.
The
road from Odlom cant downwards to Buot-Taup, an upland village of
Cebu City which is located nearby Bonbon River. My plan does not
enter the village center but it takes a detour to a trail going down
onto a small tributary which we follow downstream into the bigger
Bonbon. I remind everyone to get used to having wet shoes and socks
because there are no other ways to get to the other side. Some did
not get my message right and tried to be Indiana Jones. Their
futility leads to water just the same and a sprained ankle on one.
Streambeds,
which you see as flat, hide quarry holes, which you may notice only
when you are on its edge. I do not want people walking where they
choose and inflict injuries through carelessness and ignorance. I
remind them again to walk single file and follow me. When excitement
and adrenaline controls your mind, you tend to overlook the finer
details of the surroundings. You tend to reject common sense. I
remind Nyor to stay at the tail and keep the ears glued to the
slightest deviations of the river’s rhythm.
Meanwhile,
I grudgingly welcome the walking on water. Personally, I really do
not like to thread on streams and I was taught to travel smartly so I
could keep my feet dry. Walking on streams exposes you to a lot of
dangers. Flashfloods are your main concern. Then your soles soften,
exposing you to pain underneath. Stones, whether exposed or
underneath, are slippery and you lose balance. But this is the best
training ground to increase your outdoors awareness. I am serious
when on rivers because I have seen its power many times.
By
10:30, we got past the place where I previously stop to prepare a
meal. I think our pace is just too slow. Too many stops along the
way to accommodate a limping member caused us precious long minutes.
It had been fair weather when we start and I see dark clouds from the
east. It does not matter for it only bring rain. What I worry are
rainclouds from the west or north. Slight drops of water begins to
appear and everyone is worried. I am not but I am quite worried of
Jhurds. I need to stop to make coffee on a sandbar.
The
water boiled just as Jhurds and Nyor arrived. There is a slight
drizzle yet coffee time goes on. Jhurds needed that. Very much.
Sitting on a rock made me better. The change in weather cooled the
oven-hot streambed. We resume our journey. The slight rain caused
water from the Manipis Road to cascade into the river system by way
of storm ditches. The water is brown. It joins the Bonbon making it
brown but, as time goes by, the great quantity of clear water won
over the effuse.
We
pass by the fork of the river system where the Bonbon River becomes
the Mananga River. The stream becomes wider and becomes dangerous.
Additional tributaries increases water volume like the Maraot Creek,
where water current come strong, by virtue of its location from a
much higher elevation. I evade the place where the Maraot joins the
Mananga. Bad memories. With that, the trailhead to Cabatbatan would
not be far. It is almost twelve noon and I have to change route:
from the river bed to drier ground.
We
rest underneath a mango tree at Camp 4, Talisay City. This is the
halfway point of our journey. Long ago there used to be a big acacia
tree here which gives a better place to rest. It is now gone, cut
into pieces for no apparent reason except to cash in on charcoal. We
stayed and boiled water for coffee. We needed this. Some of us do
not have the luxury of breakfast. Me, I bought two binangkal
(English: ball pudding) at Tabunok. I ate the first and would have
eaten the second when a Bajau girl appeared asking for alms.
Yes,
the coffee would be a big help because Cabatbatan Trail is an
unforgiving trail. How many of my party suffered cramps here in the
past. I remind all not to keep up with the strong pacers. The weak
should walk at their own whims. I tasked Mark to count the number of
concrete footpaths. I am leading the pack and I am relentless here.
I seldom stop but I have to look back once in a while. I really am
concerned of Jhurds, of Nyor, of Jingaling and of Mark.
I
met a lone hiker in the middle of this route. He is clad in a
trail-running outfit but he is wearing thong sandals. He also has an
alpine cane. It is the second time I see such kind here. He came
from Pamutan, he says. I told him I came from Sinsin Ridge and will
exit to where he came from. But I am challenged by his footwear. It
is not threaded and the man is slight of build even though he is
tall. He would leave almost no trace on the trail and that is where
my excitement is focused. I will look for it and study if I found
it.
It
is slightly raining again. It would certainly disturb his fresh
tracks which would be indiscernible. Beyond a lone tamarind tree, I
saw his sandal print. The right foot made a slight indent near the
grass. He was travelling light and I did not see another print until
I pass by a muddy stretch. Obviously, he is oriented to walking
along the middle of the path and he has no knowledge whatsoever of
trailcraft. As I was doing that, his alpine pole left a series of
perfect holes on the ground.
I
reach Maraot Creek and take a rest. Justin and Jonathan arrive not
long after. I just bought a Cherry Mobile U2 mobile phone.
The manual says it is waterproof, dustproof, shockproof and encased
in a floatable material. I tossed the phone on the stream. It hit
bottom then it floated to the surface and was carried by the current.
I took pictures of this wonderful gadget which had been so true to
its packaging. The gear test were witnessed by father and son.
Jingaling
and Marisol came after five minutes. Nyor, Mark and Justine after
eight minutes. Mark counted 1,860 steps. Very good and thank you.
Jhurds seem to be okay but he felt his ankle beginning to swell. It
distracts his walking and he favored only one foot. Well, Jhurds,
this is not your finest moment. You got to walk, pain or without
pain. I cannot babysit you at this stretch of the game. We cross
the stream and proceed to Cabatbatan. Yonder is the only store that
sell cold drinks between Sinsin Junction and Pamutan Junction – a
distance of roughly 15-16 kilometers.
We
pass by small plots cleared for farming, a homestead and, on a clear
glimpse below, clearwater pools of the Maraot Creek good for swimming
and bathing. Small tributaries and ravines are alive with water
where before were not. The beautiful banilad tree is still
standing but it is threatened by clearing. A part of the trunk is
being scraped, maybe used for home medicinal remedies. With my AJF
Gahum heavy-duty knife, I freed several young soursop trees
(Local: tsiko karabaw) of strangling vines. We reach a
headrock of a waterfall and we rest.
A
path leads to the store above and we believed we would have those
cold refreshments soon. At 14:50 we occupy the benches. I pulled
out my blackened pots, rice, storm sandals and a dry T-shirt.
Wearing something dry, especially, freeing my feet from its wet
stranglehold, improves my well-being. Justin takes care of lighting
the fires on a “dirty kitchen” offered for free use to us, to
include the stocks of firewood. Jhurds provided a kilo of salmon
belly. Soon we will have a hot meal of salmon soup (Local: tinola,
towa) and rice.
We
eat our meal at around 16:00 and it was very satisfying. A hot meal
is essential for a body deprived of heat and energy. I had always
been espousing cooking over pre-cooked meals. Even though it eats
time but a meal is the most important activity of a human being in a
day. In the old days and even today, a man has to hunt or find his
meal the hard way before he could eat and there are days when the
stomach goes on empty. The opportunity to eat a meal then is a
blessing unlike today where it is relegated as a consumer product.
We
left Cabatbatan at 16:30 and follow the winding road up to Bocawe.
Dusk overtook us. Sinsin Ridge and the rivers that we had passed by
hours ago are deluged with spectacular scenes of a sunset and a
thunderstorm. Darkness had obliterated the vision of never-ending
road rises and that bodes well with our psyche. One of my knees do
not take kindly to the walking on concrete pavement, much more so, my
feet soles. The roads are abandoned and people here sleep early. It
is still 18:00 when we pass Bocawe.
In
my group are Justin, Jonathan, Jingaling and Marisol. Unseen from us
and far away behind are Nyor, Mark and the limping Jhurds. When the
big city lights are in view, the morale of the rest begins to liven
up. Smile begins to cross their faces yet they do not know that it
is still a long way to go. Jhurds pass us by astride a motorcycle
with an even bigger smile. He is finally “rescued” by a willing
driver. His safety is my main concern and it is as if a big needle
had been removed from my back!
We
reach Pamutan Junction at 18:45 and we wait for Nyor and Mark.
Meanwhile, Jingaling has to leave. Husband called. She goes when a
motorcycle passes by. When Nyor and Mark arrived, we six walk the
road down to Baksan and then to the Sapangdaku Spillway. I had to
shelve the direct route to Guadalupe offered by Bebut’s Trail as it
is quite late and our passing might disturb communities. We will go
the long way using the road.
We
arrive at the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish at 20:10. I personally
congratulated each for their steadfastness and for braving the pain,
the fatigue and a hundred other concerns. We immediately proceed to
Napolitano Pizzeria to cool down and to end the activity with
discussions over cold glasses of beer. Although we were not able to
reduce our ETA nor beat the deadline of 20:00, it is okey because all
have enjoyed the walk and there was no untoward incident.
But
I have another plan for the future. I have seen a possible route to
cut travel time and, maybe, I would utilize bread and coffee as our
meals next time.
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