SPIDERS
ARE EVERYWHERE AND I have to rise up earlier than usual. Jonathaniel
Apurado have been searching for these in the half-light when night
gave in to morning. The comfort and warmth that the Therm-a-Rest
provided me during my sleep was unbelievable. I know because I was
here without one and I was deprived of sleep that time. Thank you
Michael Schwarz. Anyhow, the Therm-a-Rest would not protect me from
the bite of a hairy wolf spider. Today is February 1, 2017.
I
do not have a fear of spiders like most people I know even though I
have experienced its painful bite. I just drowned a black one on the
sink today. I shake my shoes and clothes before wearing it. You can
not be too sure. I retrieve a Blend 45 Barako sachet and disemboweled
its contents on my secondary pot lid which I used as a cup, then I
poured hot water. Ah, coffee, in the interim before breakfast on a
cold morning is most welcome. Jon is busy cooking rice and the Knorr
soup. Soon we would have a meal.
The
blisters on my toes are getting better. The much roomy Hi-Tec Lima
shoes may have to do with that. Just a year ago, this pair was
provided by the Lavilles Family of Australia for my adventures. They
simply enjoyed what I do and it makes them connect to the old
country. Even so, the wear and tear of my weekend activities and the
exploration hikes of the last three segments of the Cebu Highlands
Trail last year have taken its toll on the shoes when the adhesive
material that gripped the rubber sole with the upper nubuck leather
gave away. I simply have it sewn by a cobbler.
The
new Lorpen hiking socks may also have contributed to the healing.
Four pairs were provided by Viajero Outdoor Center of Cagayan de Oro
City at a special price where it is divided between Jon and me at two
pairs each. It is thick and gave comfort to my injured feet. These
same pairs were used during the southern leg of the Cebu Highlands
Trail. I have worn my first pair since Day Twelve and today would be
its last day.
At
08:45, we start our journey for Day Fourteen. Yesterday and the day
before that were eye openers of how difficult the northern leg would
be. Two physical obstacles removed from the Thruhike. Today, I would
face another obstacle. It would not be the difficult terrain. It
would be people. During my Segment IV Exploration Hike in October
2015, I and Jon’s son, Justin, were subjected to interrogation in
one of the villages here, by their officials who were under the
influence of alcoholic drinks.
We
were denied sleep in their village hall when we requested that, we
were able to find ways and so finished our exploration. Today, I
hope, they would not be tipsy when we meet again. This part of
Balamban, beyond the tourist circuits of Mt. Manunggal, Mt. Mauyog
and Gaas, are places where a stranger is bound to suspicion. People
here have bad memories of experimenting in a foreign ideology many
years ago. Although times have changed, the memories are painful.
This
part of Balamban has a lot of wide open spaces, very scenic, and it
would be a waste if it should be off-limits to tourism. The populace
could gain from local and foreign tourists visiting their local
attractions. There are many here starting from the hole on the hill
at Sunog, Balamban where there is a trail beyond. We were about to
take the trail when somebody familiar took our attention. She was the
woman last night who awoke from sleep and told us the trail to Mt.
Manunggal.
Her
name is Belen Corbo. She has a farm planted with ginger somewhere
along this trail we are about to take. She would be harvesting some
of it and she is waiting for her husband. Jon gave her a small pack
of Titay’s Liloan Rosquillos after she said that she had not taken
breakfast yet. There had been an attempt to make this trail a road
but, nature claimed it back. Landslides caused by rains make it
impassable to motorcycles. Even foot traffic have a hard time.
The
soil is red and loamy clay. It is soft and stores water. Running
water on its surface have scarred it. Try paving it and you waste
money. This cannot be tamed easily. A dog followed us as we follow
this beautiful trail into forests. Sometimes it overtook us when it
smells something unusual up ahead. The trail wove like a ribbon among
hills and cross small streams with running water. Traces of animal
droppings, tamed and wild, compete my attention. You can spot a dog
easily because it has plastic.
The
weather is mild with a bit of sunshine alternating with passing
clouds. The terrain is rolling and the dog seemed to like our company
although we did not gave it something to eat. I simply discourage
that. It is not unkindness to dogs, I just do not like dogs change
their eating habits. It should be with the ones who regularly feed
them and not with strangers. Anyway, walking with a dog who is not
afraid of other humans is reassuring enough. Like building up a phony
feeling that you are from here.
I
do not know the names of these places while walking this trail for
there simply are no locals to ask. I just presume that this high peak
is Mt. Matun-og for it is very imposing and gives an impression that
it is in league with Mt. Manunggal. Beyond this mountain is a scenery
that you would not see anywhere else in Cebu. Right before you is a
vast land with endless mountains to the north as far as the eye could
see. Unlike other mountaintops, you would not see any semblance of
the sea from here.
Across
me, sitting squarely on a small mountain range, is the village of
Matun-og, Balamban. I would not be going there. The trail became an
unpaved road starting from where I stood to inhale the majesty of the
vast scene. We take a short rest here, just to regain strength by
rehydrating and then munch on my trail food of mixed nuts,
marshmallows, coated chocolates and raisins. We will be going to
Cabasiangan, Balamban. It would be more empty spaces. God simply
forgot to put people here.
The
dog, if I leave it at its whim, would be a long way from its master.
We need to part from each other. Forcefully if that need be. It
ignored me many times everytime I shooed it away. It pretended to run
away but, when you are not looking, it sneaks silently until you
notice its presence again. With a good-sized pebble thrown at 20
meters, I hit its rib and it ran away yapping. We proceed on our
journey. I look back and the dog is wiser now. It had simply lost its
appetite.
The
unpaved road is not the same one that I walked last time. It had lost
its right to be called one. The rains have made this unusable. I do
not see a motorcycle for many hours now. The landscape is so silent
save for the sounds made by our shoes and our breathing. Movement is
limited only to grazing animals and tall grasses dancing before the
breeze. The road wove in and warped, most of the time, with a deep
furrow on the middle.
The
hills have markers on top indicating that this vast place is part of
the Central Cebu Protected Landscape. It is reserved as timberland
but I see no timber. Some of it are farmed but a lot of it are just
open spaces, meadows and bald hills. However, in deep valleys, trees
have choked these forbidding spaces. I see a few houses but, most of
it are abandoned by their occupants who, I believe, would be toiling
on the fields or, if they be children, inside classrooms.
I
have to thank the very cooperative skies for it gave us good weather.
Remember this is open country without forest cover. We arrive at a
crossroad where there is a store. It is 12:00 already and just about
perfect to spend noonbreak. The village official who interrogated me
more than a year ago is here. He is not drunk this time. There is
gambling right under his nose. One is the card while the other is the
coin-toss. It seems he maintains a small racket.
Me
and Jon just rest under a tractor shed, eating our meal of Fitbar,
crackers and the trail mix paired with cold Mirinda. We are now in
Cabasiangan. This rough road will lead us to it. The other end of the
road will lead to Lusaran, Cebu City. We just spend thirty minutes
here, for the itinerary says that we would have to camp at Ginatilan,
Balamban. We just want to be there before dusk sets in. We need to be
there during official government hours. This is a different place and
you need to play safe.
The
last two days found us sleeping without the benefit of calling on
village officials. This time we would. I will make it sure that we
would, at the earliest time possible. Noon times are moments when you
see nobody, except a few. But I noticed old people resting under the
shades of Mexican lilac trees. They were four of them, two old
couples. They were smiling not because they were happy. They were
smiling because they find us odd walking with big burdens upon our
backs at the unholiest of hours. Why are we walking? They would ask.
Gave them our honest answers as we stayed for a few seconds with
them.
Pushing
on, we overtook a group of more senior citizens. We found out on this
one group that they would be receiving a government stipend allotted
for older people aged 60 and above. Somebody from the municipal
government would be coming over to distribute cash for them at the
village hall of Cabasiangan. We arrive there and the village head is
calling in a session. The one who interrogated me last time
introduced me to their chairman.
There
is a bulge of rainclouds coming from the direction of the coastline
and it is beginning to threaten the good mood of the day. I hope
those senior citizens would get here in time before the belly of the
clouds open up. On our part, we did not stay long. We proceed to
another unpaved road that goes up a mountain. The moments before the
rain comes, are moments that are quite so welcome. A gush of cold
wind turns the air around us instantly cold and then the single drops
of water spaced far among each other came.
I
brought out the rain fly to shield my High Sierra Titan bag while Jon
unleashed his own rain fly, his poncho and his magic umbrella. The
Trailhawk who disdains wearing a raincoat meets the dry Saint. The
rain with all its might and volume for that day washes away my smell
and my optimism. Although I have complete trust of the quick-drying
qualities of my Silangan hike pants and CHT jersey, the bottom of
where rainwater spills down is where I most worry of. I am talking
about my shoes and socks and the blisters that are still tender.
Slowly,
I climb up a mountain which seems to have no end until I reach a
public school. We are now in the village of Ginatilan and, further
down the path, would be the village hall. We arrive there at 14:30 to
the beat of the Sinulog that was performed by a group of
schoolchildren practicing for a town festival. I introduced myself
to the village chairman, Hon. Eva Villamor. I asked her if we could
spend a night in their village and I went into the matter of
explaining the CHT and the Thruhike. I seem to favor the old village
hall down the place where the road end by the banks of the Lusaran
River.
I
immediately got her approval and a glass pitcher of cold water. I am
wet. The weather is cool but I am thirsty. The presence of cold water
in this far land during a Thruhike is a rare opportunity that do not
come often. Thank you very much. When we got our fill, we continue on
our journey down a paved road to the former seat of Ginatilan, which
is found at the very bottom of the mountain that we just climbed an
hour ago.
We
arrived there and a place was arranged by the villagers for our use
as billet area. It is a community storage house. There is a bamboo
cot but we prefer to sleep on the concrete floor close to the
four-foot concrete walls that would partly shield us from wind chill.
Curious children began to arrive and see Jon cooking. They marvelled at
the small alcohol burners. Jon taught them knife safety to entertain
them.
When
the kids transfer their attention to me as I tinker with my Lenovo
A7000 smart phone, I decided to entertain them with videos that
entertained very well my grandson. I propped the phone on my plastic food
containers and the show commenced. For a full 20 minutes, their
attention were glued to the nursery rhymes until the battery ran out.
Thankfully, there is an electric outlet to charge our depleted
batteries.
The
village is silent after supper and lights are turned off from each
house. Cold begins to creep in through the iron grills which is part
of the wall. As the night wore on, rats starts its business of
survival by foraging on the stocks of corn kept in an inner room. We
already expected that and we have secured our food far from their
reach. I thanked Providence for steering us away from trouble for
this day. This northern leg is harder and there will be more
obstacles to encounter as we travel northward.
Distance
Walked: 15.14 kilometers
Elevation
Gained: 955 meters and a low of 156 meters
Document
done in LibreOffice 5.2 Writer
Some
photos courtesy of Jonathaniel Apurado
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