I
ALWAYS IGNORE THIS trail whenever I do a reverse of the
No-Santol-Tree Trail. I find it unnecessary to go over a peak in
order to go down and climb another one. Why make life difficult?
Common sense always win over me. On the other hand, this particular
trail was not here when I embarked on an exploration frenzy around
the Babag Mountain Range in the years 2008 to 2011. I just noticed
this in 2012.
Anyway,
I promised my adherents at the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild
today, May 10, 2015, that we would be doing some little explorations
in the hills between Kalunasan and Sapangdaku. I have not even
thought of this trail when we begin from the trailhead at the
Kalunasan Road. We are fourteen people – all men – and it is a
very warm day. It is already 08:30 and not a very good hour to
start.
I
stare at this trail and I begin to get interested. I would have to
drag my feet though to make life comfortable for those who are not
used to walking rugged terrain or the lack of it. Behind me are Camp
Red regulars Jhurds Neo, Ernie Salomon, Jerome Tibon, Dominik Sepe,
Eli Tambiga, Mayo Leo Carrillo, Nelson Orozco, Justin Apurado, Bogs
Belga, Mark Lepon, Jonathan Apurado and Nelson Tan. A mix of the
serious, the amusing and the outrageous.
Most
are in their best earth-toned clothes and bags and we looked more
like spec-ops guys instead of colorful gadflies. Gadflies? Well, we
see them from time to time usually on the parking lot of Guadalupe
church or in our favorite dirt-time place and you would not know if
there are males among them. Well, today, I do not expect to meet any
of them, much more so on this trail in the heat of the day.
I
look up the trail and I barely see green. The trees and thickets
have wilted and are opaque brown and in different shades of it.
Worse, the hillsides are scorched by grass fires of a few days old!
So on we walk with sparse shade on a ground that is loose and dusty.
I forced myself to move like a snail. The strongest walkers are
impatient behind me but we are not in a race. We are in a
humanitarian hike. It is humanitarian to be kind to the slowest
walkers, is it not?
We
reach a point where there are two tamarind trees. It could barely
give a shade. The NST Trail branch from here while this trail that I
am planning to explore is on another branch. Right now it is
beckoning me up. I clear the path of dry wood and other debris. I
do not want an accident. People tend to overlook a lot of things
when they are subject to fatigue and heat which they could have
noticed when under good conditions.
I
have not carried a big knife although I open carried a smaller knife
but it is of no use against dry wood. You simply cannot hack and
slash with it. With both hands, I drag the wood one by one, moving
it on the side of the trail. It is difficult because these are dried
branches that have tangled against each other and I have to use
considerable strength which I am supposed to be conserving.
Being
generous of your energy in a harsh condition like today would drain
you faster than you could recoup it. The secret thing here is you do
not overexert. The dust rise as I drag the dry wood to the side
while maintaining good balance on a steep terrain made difficult with
loose topsoil. Good thing I have covered my head with a “krama”,
a checkered clothe popular in Cambodia which Jonathan had given me a
week ago. I looked like a fierce follower of Pol Pot of the Khmer
Rogue.
We
pass by a couple of tamarind trees that had been cut down a few weeks
ago. I still could not comprehend why some people cut down fruit
trees that had given them an income for some time? I remembered the
51 sacks stacked higher than a standing man along the road that we
passed by an hour ago. I let go a sigh of frustration and stare
heavenward. Up ahead is a lone whitelead tree (Local name:
biyateles) surviving a grass fire. One half of its foliage is
green while the rest are scorched.
I
reach the top and it is shady. It is 09:30 according to my Guess
watch. Wow, I cannot believe it took me one hour to reach this place
which is just about 300 meters in length! I am indeed humanitarian.
The place is a ridge with another ridge going southeast. I notice an
orange paint sprayed on a trunk of mango. So, this had been used as
a race route. Anyway, this is a good route for runners but just be
careful going downhill.
I
waited for the rest and I am sure where I would go next. Up ahead is
the steel hulk of a transmission tower looming above the trees like
an alien machine and the trail goes there. The guys take a rest and
begins their conversations. I ventured alone to that other ridge to
have a look. It goes downward to a series of lower hills where, I
believed, there is a community. I go back where the rest are and
proceed to the tower.
The
ridge is planted with mango trees and I see traces of
chemical-spraying activities here: orange-colored rubber hoses, blue
PVC water barrels, small water pumps hidden under tarpaulin, paper
with Arabic literature, ropes, bamboo ladders and empty pouches for
chemical compounds. Over the side are plots of roses, another plant
that people shower with generous amounts of chemical. Ferns thrived
under them mangoes while algae are growing fat on their branches and
barks.
I
go down a saddle where the steel tower is located and go up to the
rest of the ridge. Immediately, I see the route where I had taken my
team last January that led me to a cul-de-sac filled with a forest of
roses. It was some mistake which I do not want to repeat. We go up
where there is a farm shed and shady trees and then I heard water.
I
begin to look around and I see water pouring out of a black PVC pipe
into a big hole filled with clear water. It is clean. There are
small fish (gurame) swimming in it and some golden
Japanese snails (kuhol). I wonder where the water came from
because it flows very briskly in this mild El Niño. I look
again at my watch and it is now 09:45. I decide to make our
“dirt-time” here. The place could accommodate us all and a
different place would induce good conversations and plans.
So
we find places for our backpacks and begins to disembowel it of our
pots, knives, tools and the food ingredients which we will prepare
and cook here. We gather dry firewood and tinder as we set up our
fireplace. It was quick. Fire begins to appear. Water are plenty.
We could use it generously in our cooking but there should be coffee
first. Even on a very hot day, warm coffee is very welcome.
I
see another hole where water flows from a green rubber hose. Water
is cloudy and is not of good quality like the first. Jonathan and
Justin set up hammocks near this hole. Bogs and Eli cut the meat,
onions, potatoes, cucumbers, green pepper and a vegetable pear with a
Mora and an antler-handled knife made from Sheffield. The second
knife is a gift given by Alan Poole of the United Kingdom to me.
This is the moment where it will be tested.
Ernie
concentrates on the fireplace while Mayo, Mark, Nelson and another
Nelson assisted him. Jhurds secretly pour cold Pepsi in a cup while
Dom and Jerome secretly are in a middle of a personal discussion.
When all these guys are not doing something, they swap places and
strike conversations with anybody. It is a healthy atmosphere and I
am amongst them taking photos or testing equipment like my new knife
and a Suuntu MC-2 Mirror Compass given by the same donor.
I
found this place a very great campsite for a “Survival Day”
activity – if ever its water source is working all the time – and
there are bamboo groves nearby. Although quite shady, it is not a
good idea to make camp at the top of a hill because it is exposed to
winds and you get easily skylined. Instead, you would have to set up
shelter down a saddle where there are mango trees because bushcraft
is about blending with the landscape.
By
now, the food had been cooked. As always, another kingly banquet for
hungry bushmen. After a prayer, the boodle-fight starts. Open for
decimation are grilled pork sliced in bite sizes; “pancit” - a
popular noodle meal; steamed potatoes; rice; and a side dish of raw
cucumber dipped in spiced vinegar. Many trips to the food had found
me full and the dining place a puzzle of blank spaces.
There
were some food left and a kilo of uncooked rice which we left to the
farmer's wife who unexpectedly came while in the last parts of our
lunch. Then we begin to clean the dishes and pots and pack all the
things into our respective bags. The journey continues. We go down
the hill into copse of mangoes where the trail wind among it and
crossing other trails. I post familiar places but my adventure
juices prefer the unfamiliar ones.
I
take a route going south and east and south and west, passing by a
long narrow ridge, then standing below another steel pylon. I end up
on a flower farm and a farmer shows me a way to the rest of the path.
It curves into another ridge that goes down into a dry waterway and a
small marshy area thick with birds of paradise. The route goes down
once more into a stream, which I later understand as the Sapangdaku
Creek. We cross the stream and come unto a small flat valley.
We
all take a rest here since it still 14:00 and very shady. Jhurds
introduce me to a woman living in a single-room house with a small
child. She carries a surname Labrador and I remembered her at the
Roble homestead last December where we had an outreach. His husband
is away but I could not dismiss the good location of this place. It
could host a good number of people as it is not a fragile environment
and can be used as a bushcraft camp.
The
place is called Kangsi. It is nearby a stream and a natural spring.
A small rainforest is across it with groves of bamboo and is perfect
for a plant ID lecture. The Napo Main Trail is just above us and
this makes it friendly for bulky people and senior citizens. I walk
to the water source and fill my bottle. When I got back Mayo is
doing something with a discarded but still green bamboo pole while
the rest are hitting a target with their catapults. I lend mine to
make it five.
Jhurds
is carving a bamboo to make sheath for a local boy who carried a
knife with a flimsy cardboard one. He secured two pieces of bamboo
with packaging tape and gave a piece of his paracord to tie the
sheath with knife to the boy's waist, eliciting a thankful smile from
the boy. Meanwhile, Mayo made bow limbs and another shorter piece to
support the longer one. He is making a Penobscot bow. This type
provides good power for an arrow if used with ordinary wood, in this
case, bamboo.
For
almost a good two hours we made the place into another playground but
it would not be our last here. For sure, we will be coming back. I
like the place and I would like to spend a night here sometime. We
leave for Napo at 15:45, following a route that goes downstream.
This is a difficult route because it passes by water and it causes
rocks to be slippery. Besides, I never like to walk along streams.
Ultimately,
we reach Napo and made a mad dash for Red Hours, our favorite water
hole. It was a good day. Our little exploration snared us to two
good places that make our patented dirt-time as good as those we
spend most often. It was a good time also to prepare the rough cuts
extra sharp for the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp this June.
Document
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