THE
FIRST HALF OF Segment I that I have begun for the Cebu Highlands
Trail Project, which is from Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu
City, would be totally unusable when the projected Mananga Dam would
be constructed and operational in the near future. A big chunk of
that route would be inundated under a man-made lake since it cross
many times the Bonbon River and downstream to the Mananga River and I
am planning to revise this route.
So
today, January 3, 2016, would be a good time to make this plan a
reality. Also, today would be the most perfect day to start my
training in preparation for a lot of activities for Year 2016,
especially for the last three segments of the Cebu Highlands Trail
Project, which I aim to finish this year. I know that many people
are following my progress for this particular exploration and it
would make them happy if I am in the best of health so I could
accomplish more.
My
body system has gotten used to treating myself to a hike in the woods
every Sunday and I missed three sessions last December due, in part,
to a vacation to some place in Mindanao. I also have gotten fat,
unable to resist the extravagantly-rich food that the Christmas
season usually brought on the tables of many homes and corporate
offices. I have gained weight and my body squirmed at the uncomforts
it gave of even simple tasks that I usually found easy to accomplish
with a leaner body.
When
you are fatter than usual, you tend to get lazy. That was what
happened when I shook off my pre-set alarm of 04:15 to snooze mode in
favor of longer time on the bed which led me to wake up instead at
06:00, quite late already and I will have to suffer for that later.
Besides, the wife does not like it at all for all the noise it
created every five minutes!
I
purposely deny myself of company for this day and I will be in solo
flight. I am happy with a crowd and I am most happy if I am alone.
You know me, I am unconventional. I am a realist and I do not
subscribe of your idea of enjoying the outdoors. There is so much I
could accomplish if I am by myself. If I get struck by lightning or
by any other means in my wanderings on the mountains, then, so be it,
I die a perfect death the outdoorsman's way. Fatalistic, is it not?
Maybe. But, remember this, you could even die drowning in a bowl of
steaming soup in the comforts of your home.
Anyway,
I made it to Lutopan at 08:00 and I am now in the process of looking
for a bakeshop to buy bread. I will be on survival hike. My fare
would be bread and water. I am bringing my small Lifeguard USA
rucksack with the survival kit and a Trangia alcohol burner set -
coffee is lovely when outdoors. I have my blades also like the
Victorinox SAK Trailmaster, a vintage deer-antler handled Fame knife
and the Puffin Magnum spinoff in its handsome leather sheath which I
will open carry later.
I
start the hike at 08:15 passing by Cantabaco, Camp 8 and Camp 7
(Minglanilla) before taking rest at a store on the corner of Manipis
Road and Sinsin-Cantipla Road. It is exactly 10:15, and I just hiked
for two hours from Lutopan to here. I may take the opportunity of
eating a light brunch instead as the weather is already warm. When I
am done, I buy two sachets of brown Kopiko. At 10:30, I start off
again. I will be at a cross road going to a place somewhere in
Buot-Taup in 45 minutes.
I
am testing a TNF trail-running shoes provided for by my sponsor based
in the United States, Harold Butanas, as his contribution for the
Cebu Highlands Trail Project. It is very light and fits like a
glove. Insides are soft but tight for my toes. I would manage the
uncomforts, if ever there would be, later on. Breaking this pair for
the very first time in a long hike, much of it on unknown territory
to me, is essential.
When
I reach Odlom, I jog very slowly and very carefully, not to be
tempted by gravity. I know that overexertion would take a toll on my
physical condition and my stamina later on which I would need very
badly since I am an in an exploration. It means that the chances of
taking wrong routes and backtracking would be many. I am overweight
and I do not want to bring stress to my lower body joints like the
ankles, knees and the pelvic area.
The
rugged road is now concrete and it goes downhill winding about along
solitary houses, which are few and far between. It helped to my
cause that the skies darkened and wisps of moisture fell. I reach
the crossroad to a gamefowl farm at 11:30 and eat my first bread. It
is a nice feeling to just sit again and enjoy the silence and be
cooled by a passing breeze.
After
rehydrating, I proceed to the bank of the Bonbon River, passing by
the said farm. I am facing the southernmost edge of the Babag
Mountain Range and I aim to find a route over the back of its ridge.
It looks formidable because it is noontime and I am washed in the
full warmth of the sun. I cross the wide stream on barefoot to look
for that tempting route and go to a community to ask for directions.
I
go back crossing again the same stream and return the TNF pair onto
my bare feet. I walk a little and then I feel exhaustion at the
extreme warmth of walking along the bare river bank that bounced
sunlight. I found a shady spot where there are grass and take rest.
I am thirsty. I take my sips carefully, not to be tempted by thirst.
I decide to eat two pieces of bread and wash it with water to bloat
it inside. By 12:30, I go to the direction of the village of
Buot-Taup.
In
the village is a hanging bridge, recently constructed, which would
cross over the Bonbon River to the other side of the riverbank.
There is a dirt road that is ascending. This place is called
Samboryo. Why is it called that I may have to know later on? A few
locals I asked, shudder at the thought of walking it. There are a
few houses along this route and there is a Suzuki Scrum going
carefully down the road.
The
driver notices my open carried Puffin Magnum and asks me what I am
doing here but the difficult road takes back his attention instead.
If he was persistent, I would have asked him of the 25 sacks of
charcoal on the back of his light pickup. I am on a lawful activity
but the driver was not. I presume he is one of those village
aldermen trying to exercise their authority over a lone wanderer.
Such kind of men discourages local tourism. Ignorance and arrogance
are the dumbest mix, don't you think?
The
rugged road vanishes when I reach a small community. I refill my
water bottle after asking directions. I take a trail that goes up
and up. A group of five youths overtake me. They are going to
Cabatbatan which I also am going. The old route of Segment I-A
passes by Cabatbatan, right after crossing the rivers Bonbon and
Mananga twenty-one times. In a post-Mananga Dam scenario that would
be impossible. I follow them for as long as I am able and take rest
at 13:40 when I could no longer bear it. One piece of bread again
washed with water.
So
I am onto the best option available when I discovered this route
which I would officially name as the Samboryo Trail. I do not have
to cross streams from now on except at the Bonbon River by bridge and
the Bocawe Creek and Sapangdaku Creek, later on, also by bridge.
That means, exposure to sudden flash floods would be removed. And no
more wet shoes, socks and feet.
The
trail has many branches and I have to be sure which. I used my
tracking skills to follow the wake of the five youths. It is
difficult as the surfaces are dry and hard packed. Almost always, a
fresh dent would emerge from spots where it is partly wet. Besides,
upturned pebbles gave me hints and some disturbed vegetation above
the ankles kept me updated of their diminishing presence.
I
come upon a spot near a farm where the trail vanish and I was already
exhausted by the heat, by my weight and by the steep trail, now
almost to the brink of becoming drowsy, which is not a good sign. It
is 14:00. I may need coffee to pep me up so I could continue on my
lone quest. Fighting against fatigue, I am able to set up my Trangia
alcohol burner and make it work. The blue flame boils water in my
stainless-steel cup quickly and I slurp my coffee like it is the last
precious thing in this world.
Getting
my act together after a 20-minute rest, I look for the rest of the
trail and found that it traverses the middle of the farm. Going past
it, takes some amount of strength considering I am utterly exhausted.
The coffee and the brief rest gave only a fleeting optimism, my
legendary strength seems to have caused little dent whatsoever on the
mind partly playing it safe against my wishes.
Closing
my eyes as I try to stabilize my breathing, I willed myself to carry
myself to that high peak that has been imposing its existence on me
as well as on locals. Now I know why they called this place
Samboryo? The peak, of course. Mount Samboryo. I follow a path and
then I come upon two forks. Which one? I remembered the local whom
I conversed earlier along the route who said that once I reach the
topmost it would all be easy to Cabatbatan. I choose the leftmost.
I
am happy with my progress without anybody from behind me giving
pressure or a paper that says where should I be on the dot. Just
when I am about to reach the peak, I meet a local who was carrying a
rolled rusty roofsheet. I was sitting at that time with my back
towards him and who could not be happy at this opportunity?
Immediately, I asked him if this was the path to Cabatbatan? No, he
says, it is on the other branch. The trail I am on leads to Bocawe.
I
am tempted on the prospect of going directly to Bocawe instead of
passing by Cabatbatan first but my urge gets blunted when I learned
from him that there is no store nor houses along the route. Well,
why not take this path on another time where conditions are far more
favorable to my liking? Why not indeed? So I follow the advice of
the local and walk behind him back to where I was in the middle of
regaining my composure.
Thanking
the local, I proceed onto the right fork of the trail. There are no
more ascents and I could see the Manipis Road on my right just across
the chasm. Almost immediately, I could hear voice on a sound system
announcing the progress of a basketball game. I look down on my left
and I see a deep valley where there is a community. That must be
Cabatbatan, I am sure. I slowly follow the steep path down, taking
my time as I did when I climbed up to here.
I
reach Cabatbatan (and the ongoing basketball game) at 15:30 but I
need to pass time to a store that sells cold refreshments to me and
my party for so many times in the past. The location of the store
had been crucial to the old route since it afforded us something like
you would like on a quest at the end of a rainbow. Its location on
the new route is still very relevant if I were to choose since it can
guarantee us cold refreshments all the time and the old lady there
even offers her dirty kitchen and firewood for use during cooking.
I
sit down again and, this time, it would be longer because I am buying
a big cold bottle of San Miguel Beer. When I got tipsy, I simply
munch one bread and it is gone. Had a long chat with the store owner
and she happily welcomed recently one group of hikers on their way to
Camp 4, Talisay City a few times. No wonder I get so many readers on
this blog. They liked to share in the joys of the places that I
wrote about. It is like a quest for them too.
I
continue on at 16:20 after paying for my beer and saying goodbye to
the old lady. I would be walking again on paved concrete. I cross
the Bocawe Creek by bridge. This would be the last half of the
journey. The endless rises of the road would sap your hopes should
you wish to hurry. It is better to take your time since it is now
almost dusk and cooler. I reach Bocawe at 17:15 and stop at a store
for cold refreshment.
I
have to tackle one last stretch of endless rises and, after that,
rolling terrain towards Pamutan Junction which I reach at 18:15. By
the way, I also carried my Cignus V85 radio and I shoot message over
the frequency of Ham Radio Cebu but I got no reply. Checked my
Cherry U2 phone but no message either. It would all be downhill from
here and I choose to hike on the road without a light. The only time
I use a light is when I signal a few motorcycles using the same road.
My
plan was to go direct to Guadalupe by trail from Baksan but I am
miserable tonight. My toes are in pain. Blisters are starting to
develop the insides between toes. My knees ached while my right
thigh starts to feel the tell-tale sign of a fledgling cramp. All
these pain are but a part of a realm of nerves that the mind is
gracious to accept and process. All you need to do is flip a switch
and it becomes bearable. So I remained on the road.
Finally,
at 19:30, I reach the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish. Limping to find
privacy in the crowded parking lot, I find one at the new but still
unopened convent. I sat and do nothing but close my eyes and whisper
a prayer of thanks. I could not believe I am here. I count the time
I started since morning up to here and it totalled 11 hours and 15
minutes and this was an exploration where I waste time taking wrong
routes and retracing paths to start again. Opened my phone and I got
a message this time.
Document
done in LibreOffice 4.4 Writer
No comments:
Post a Comment