A MOUNT NAUPA STORY: Second Visit

I RECEIVED A TEXT MESSAGE from someone I do not know asking for a guide. Of course, I always receive the same kind of messages and they are regular, sometimes annoying, but I have to reply, nevertheless, even if they do not push through at the last minute. But this one is a bit different. They are very insistent to visit Mount Naupa. The peak is found in Naga City, Cebu and it is not on my usual haunts. I camped there once though upon an invitation back in April 2012.

We settled on a date – it is to be an overnight – on February 10 and 11, 2018; and agreed on my professional fee. My asking price depends on the difficulty of the terrain (it is easy – 2/9), the length of walk (a kilometer maybe) and the number of individuals (31 – too many). Doing the math I come up to something less than what you would have expected. Believe me, it is LESS. Since it is a massive climb, I have to have an assistant and I settled on Christopher Ngosiok.

I do not mind parting a considerable amount from my fee for an assistant. What I am after is satisfaction of a client by providing them good service, to include their security and safety. Christopher is one of the best assistants I know. He is a registered nurse and knows everything from self-defense to wilderness first aid to bushcraft and survival, even blogging. Yes. We do maintain blogs because we have tales to tell. Real tales and not some fancy K-Pop contents.

This is one of those times where I have to look the other way when it comes to managing and guiding people up a mountain. As I said before, this is a “massive” climb. There are 31 individuals plus Christopher and me. The most I would do in ordinary circumstances is lead not more than ten people. The trail to Mt. Naupa, however, is a well-beaten path. Besides, it passes a quarry site that got overgrown with vegetation.

Despite that, Naupa is still a very popular destination for weekend campers. Locals take advantage of the numbers by selling food and beverage, perform some kind of service (fetching water), or exact disturbance fees when passing by their properties. I would not mind if our presence improved their life economically. Let them be. After all, they appreciate your visit and help made their living worthwhile.

We arrive at the trailhead a little after 15:00 on the first day (February 10). I am not familiar of the trails here since the first and last time I was here, I was walking in darkness. Darkness as in no flashlight. That is my signature. However, the trail is easy to follow as it winds among the hillsides and going up to a community where there is shade. I was assured that the participants were briefed properly of what to expect today.

All the hikers worked in one business process outsourcing company and I believed it is a company-sanctioned activity. “Team building”, as some would call it. I do not know what is inside BPO company operations nor have I any idea how people worked inside that same environment. But I do know that these people needed some outlet to let go of stress since BPOs operate, most of the time, on a graveyard shift.

The last stretch is a bit steep but it is very manageable. We pass by a fenced house and there is a log book to register the names of visitors. They also require you to pay a fee of some sort because you are passing by their property and so have disturbed their landscape and their serenity.  Beyond is the trail to the campsite. Two enterprising locals lets you choose either of their own staked grounds.

 

Both campsites are exposed and have no forest cover. I discouraged their leader of camping on a high ground and so we choose the lower of the two. We do not need a high location to ogle at exhilarating scenery. What we need is the least exposed ground so the campers can be comfortable. It is cold out here during nighttime, mind you. Everyone set up their tents. Good!

I looked for my own location and found one beside the only tree that was left to grow here, although a bit stunted. I used the trunk as anchor for a shelter ridgeline that goes to an upright stick that was held taut by the line to a buried peg. It is a textbook ground-hugging simple shelter designed to offer less obstruction to the howling winds that would come later at midnight.

Foraged dry firewood along the extremities of the camp grounds. I would not worry about the wind on my fire. I would make one inside a Swiss Army wood burner. A very efficient equipment, I would boil water for my customary afternoon coffee and, later, for my meal of Japanese miso soup. I paired the soup with bread provided by Christopher as I joined him near his tent.

The campers cooked food after dusk. The evening wind goes colder now and the warm food helped to stave off the slight chill. At 19:00, their leader called everyone and they begin to form a circle. A team-building activity began to unravel and the company was very lively and sounds of laughter began to dominate the circle. I kept a distance to give them privacy.

While I was talking to a storeowner, I noticed many locals coming over the hill on the back of us. I learned that another set of campers are staking a campsite on a faraway mountain across us found in Lanas. I also learned that the campers were doing a medical-dental mission and all the village peacekeepers here were detailed there leaving none to watch over us.

I noticed earlier that children were roaming on our campsite and they were still here at such late hours while a new set of campers arrive after dusk. These were locals who are on an excursion of their own. This one is livelier than ours and they have bottles of local brandy with them. They even carried a portable sound system and making so much noise with that unpalatable “budot” music which they danced with so much feeling.

My campers might have noticed that these newcomers are beginning to get rowdier by the minute that they started to disperse and made their way into their tents. I watch over this group, not in any way entertained but observing with utmost vigilance. They camped about five meters away from our farthest tent and their bad drunken behaviour might cause friction from our side. Their distasteful music already had. Budot! I hate that sound.

Christopher was also in a vigilant mood, watching these drunken locals from beside his tent. The clock ticked at 21:00 and it is getting colder and I need to be away from the wind for a while. My shelter offered no resistance from the cold but it shielded me from wind chill, which is good enough. I may not chase a good sleep in this setup but it is enough to keep me half-awake to keep tab on that rowdy crowd.

As I go back to the store, I noticed some children sleeping out with nothing to protect them. I asked them why are they here and they said they were from Lanas going with the older ones to that other campsite on another mountain. More locals came but they just pass through on their way to that other campsite. The spectacle of tents and camping are already a big thing with these children and is a form of entertainment for them.

The noisy locals ran out of brandy but they buy more from the two stores on the campsites, this time rum. I just watch them and praying and hoping that they would tire out. The more I do that, the more intense their revelry without any consideration to other people trying their hardest best to sleep through their mayhem. Budot music, who the hell likes that? Good God tell me, please.

Seeing my futility to hear them subside, I go back to my shelter at 22:30. Staying out on the cold without a jacket was just too much. Although I have my own flat bottle of rum from the store to warm me up, I do not intend to add another bottle just to keep me on this idiotic vigil. My shelter was most welcome when I finally lay down on the thin laminated sheet that I used as a ground sheet and a ground-beholden hammock as another layer.

 

I awoke an hour after midnight and I could still hear that foolish music and people talking in toned down voices. The latter were the campers I accompanied and a few of them were still awake. The dancing devils are still alive burning with their dervish music laughing and merry unmindful of other people trying to chase sleep. These people I am with worked in times when you are happily snoring and they deserve their rest.

I tried to catch sleep once more but I could not. It is so cold. Fogs have clasped the campsite in its grip and breathing in colder air melted away my resistance to cold. Even as I wear my shoes lying down with a cloth covering my head and ears. I lapse into unconsciousness once in a while but waking up now and then shivering. I thought I missed something during those moments. Budot was gone. Good riddance!

 

I wake up on the second day – February 11. The campsite is still asleep. I stoked a fire one more time in my Swiss Army wood burner. Boiled water for coffee and, later, for Japanese miso soup. Warming up and making subtle noises, I successfully awakened half the campsite. Sounds of zippers reveal poking sleepy heads into daylight. They asked me to lead them to the peak.

We follow a trail over a bare grassy saddle and up to a still forested ridge that goes steep over rocky paths. Ah, the view that matters most to all: Sunrise and “sea of clouds”. I doubt at the latter but it was there an hour ago when they were all asleep. Sunrise really mattered most and the warmth that came with it. It is a blessing after a long cold night and budot music.

 

After breakfast, we break camp and started downhill. Our noisy neighbors were very quiet. In an hour, the campsite would be scorching hot for want of a tree. Good luck to them. They need that. That would be the best time to play their unintelligible music and sweat it out. We arrive at the trailhead and motorcycles are waiting for us. I let the campers go first but making sure they are properly seated.

Christopher and I were the last to arrive at Tungkop, Minglanilla and everyone are all accounted for and safe. The hikers are quite satisfied with their weekend experience even with that annoying budot music. That kind of music associated with drunkenness is not welcome in my playground. Then we all take a KMK Transit bus bound for Cebu City.  

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THE 1ST PHILIPPINE CONGRESS OF ST. JAMES THE GREAT

THE ARCHDIOCESAN SHRINE OF SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA of Compostela, Cebu gets invited to the First National Congress of St. James the Great Parishes and Devotees. The date is February 6 and 7, 2018 and it would be held at the St. James the Great Parish, Alabang, Muntinlupa City. To date, the country has 46 such parishes dedicated to St. James the Apostle (the Great) spread throughout Luzon, the Visayas and Mindanao.

 

Cebu has three such parishes and the two others are in Badian and Sogod. The gathering is initiated by the Alabang-based Confraternity of St. James (CSJ) and would bring together these 46 parishes for the first time, introduce their parish priests and devotees to one another, create awareness on the life of St. James, be involved in developing local Caminos, be informed of the CSJ and its mission, and to become one evangelical community.

Fr. Scipio Deligero would lead the contingent from Compostela. Going with him are Hon. Joel Quiño – the incumbent municipal mayor of Compostela, Jem Montesclaros, Mizar Bacalla, Roger Montecino, Alvie Rey Ramirez, Jonathaniel Apurado and this blogger. We were the pilgrims that have completed Cebu’s first Camino de Santiago last July 2017. Another pilgrim – Roderick (Jem’s husband) – could not join us due to his job.

We leave Cebu early on February 6 by plane and touched down at the NAIA at 07:45. Bro. Francis Choi of the CSJ Transport Committee fetched us and we were billeted at the Bellevue Hotel in Alabang. We missed the opening Eucharistic Celebration of the Congress but timely enough to be seated on one of the tables and be recognized during the introductions. We found out that we were the only ones representing Cebu.

The Cardinal Sin Hall became the main venue for the full two days where the representatives of more than 35 parishes converged. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, along with morning and afternoon snacks, were served courtesy of the CSJ, led by its President, Bro. Benjamin Bernardo and by the event chairman, Sis. Conchita Arau. The hosts made it sure that everyone is comfortable as possible as the Congress unveiled the different programs and activities.

First to speak is Rev. Msgr. Pedro Gerardo Santos, Executive Secretary of the CBCP Episcopal Commission and concurrent Parish Priest of the St. Peter and St. Paul Parish of Makati City. Msgr. Santos talked about “St. James as Apostle, Pilgrim and Caballero”. Next to speak is Rev. Fr. Francis Eugene Fadul, Chancellor of the Diocese of San Pablo. Fr. Fadul talked about “Promoting Devotion of St. James and Making Him Known”.

Main speaker is Orlando Cardinal Quevedo. Cardinal Quevedo is the current Archbishop of Cotabato and he talked about “St. James and the New Evangelization”. Since there was still a surplus of time before the next program, I volunteered to do a presentation of Cebu’s own Camino de Santiago which the Cebuano contingent had walked for 10 days across 175 kilometers of rugged mountains from Badian to Compostela.

After noonbreak, the delegates were grouped by regions and each was given a checklist of fourteen activities that each believed should be most acceptable and worthy to be held in their own parishes. In this workshop, the majority opt to have a Pilgrim Walk, a Novena to St. James, and a Fiesta Translacion – all tied for number 1 – as their choice. Next came the (2) St. James Prayer and (3) the St. James Hymn.

When the workshop was finished, everyone settled down and the whole congress would have to choose from among them of who would host the next edition for next year. Cebu was chosen and Fr. Scipio accepted the challenge after conferring with Mayor Joel. Alabang has set a high standard when it came to organizing and hosting the 1st National Congress and we have to do our very best to, at least, replicate this.      

Everyone prepared for a Eucharistic Celebration at 17:00 which will be concelebrated by Bishop Jesse Mercado of the Diocese of Parañaque; Rev. Fr. Rolando Agustin, Parish Priest of St. James the Great Parish of Alabang; and the delegate priests of the other St. James the Apostle parishes of the Philippines. Homily was given by Bishop Mercado. All the priests were provided brand-new vestment with the red Cross of St. James embroidered on the back. Each parish received a third-class relic of St. James the Great, sent from Compostela, Spain for this occasion.

The hosts of this national congress – the Confraternity of St. James – treated the delegates to an evening of songs and dances, good dining and red wine. The hosts have successfully welded a community dedicated for St. James the Great (or the Greater and the Apostle) and their preparations and hard work turned out so well. We shall be bringing the goodwill of St. James the Great and the CSJ to the far provinces where we will focus from now on. The night ended on a high note but we will have to rise early the next day.

Scheduled for the second day – February 7 – is the Camino Walk in and around Ayala Alabang Village. Our delegation came late but it does not matter. We only have to quicken our pace to catch up. We finished all the ten stations designated by our hosts but we did not catch any early bird. We were that late and we suffered for that with more sun on our crowns. We all got our passports stamped and earned our scallops.

We were the last to arrive and some of the delegates were having a grand day on the facade of the St. James the Great Parish taking group pictures and individual selfies, both handsome and beautiful wearing the blue Camino t-shirts with a bold golden-yellow arrow print that forever point left. The Camino was the highlight of the first congress and it is this particular activity that the deeds and sacrifices of St. James are fully appreciated.

Gaining from the experience, appreciation, humility and the wisdom, we returned to our hotel knowing fully well that we would not be seeing again our new-found brethren until after another year. A community has been born from this congress and friendship and network has just been cemented. We are all pilgrims of life and we followed the Light that had been wrought for us by His Blood and St. James holding high the banner that we are in the right direction.

See you in the 2nd National Congress! ¡Buen Camino!  

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AN IRISH COUPLE IN OPEAK

EVEN THOUGH I HAD A two-week inactivity, I still consider myself physically fit and I could outwalk, outpace and outlast any wannabe twenty-five years my junior. I have completely regained my stamina walking the same trails on the Babag Mountain Range in Cebu City almost every weekend for eight straight years after I made a comeback in 2008. I believed  I am even now better than when I was 25.

My Thruhike of the Cebu Highlands Trail for 27 days in 2017 was life-changing or, should I say, a paradigm shifter. That walk was made for me. My destiny. I can count of only a few fingers on my right hand of contemporary Filipinos who tried and hiked a long trail in their own country in one straight journey. My stamina and my fortitude gave me success and my bragging right. Deny me not.

Cebu do not host many mountains that go above a thousand meters. What it has is a long and rugged sierra running along the middle axis of the island province from south to north. What it also has is a weather that tries to melt all your resolve. I tamed the two or, should I say, understood the challenges very well. But if you like to just hike up a trail to stand on a peak, that would not be difficult.

Try Osmeña Peak from Mantalongon, Dalaguete. You can instantly have a bragging right, climbing Cebu’s highest peak at 1,015 meters above sea level. Everybody does that nowadays. Take a quick selfie when it is not too crowded or roll in Facebook Live to your wall in real time. The view of craggy hills, the seas on both sides of the island, and the farmed little valleys are just amazing.

For me, I would not take that route though. To better appreciate Osmeña Peak, you need to climb it from the other side, in Badian. That is what I have been advocating since the time I returned there solo in 2013 after a long hiatus. I brought all my guests and friends to Osmeña Peak from Badian only. They could either continue to Dalaguete or go back to Badian. It can be done with just a dayhike.

On January 23, 2018, after the Sinulog, I got two guests. They are a couple from Ireland. The husband is in his 60s while the wife is in her middle 50s. Based on their ages, it would not be hard for me. Or so I thought. What is more, they would stay overnight at the peak. The only thing that got me worried is the two Silangan Rev20 tents that I would carry for their use and mine. Apart from that, I have everything under control. No big deal.

I fetched them at a resort in Moalboal where they were staying and introduced myself. They are Jerry and Gillian Dawson. Both are very fit than I previously thought they were and looked much younger than their age. They must have lied about their true ages but that is absurd thinking. Anyhow, I got to give them the best guideship service in this whole danged country, with my carabao English.

Seriously, I could now engage in an understandable conversation with foreigners which that ability was unthinkable when I lived in a cave. My English may not be perfect to an English-speaking national but to a non-speaking one, I can be mistaken sometimes as a native speaker. Sort of. Yes, many years ago I do not have the confidence to speak to foreigners but I overcame this fear as I learned on my own public speaking skills.

Lest you misunderstood me, I do not guide people to the mountains, like everybody else is doing. I am not a mountain guide. I am more of a wilderness guide. Even when the places I bring people to are not anymore wilderness, the methods and interactions I used and engaged for my guests lean more towards a wilderness setting. It is a different field and it is not for everybody to acquire or learn.

Now going back to the hike at hand, the Irish couple is ready and excited. The resort has contacted a tricycle to transport us to Badian. We pass by first to a fast-food outlet on the way and order nine hamburgers for the three of us. The couple did not prepare the food I advised for us but they have their own water. I brought my own water also and my Mil-Tec rucksack is heavy.

At Badian, we take another tricycle to the mountainous village of Basak and start our walk at 09:00, following the Malagaring Trail. The lower hills are hot and humid but the couple is fine. The rocky slopes are farmed with bitter gourd, squash and corn and farming communities dot the landscape. On the back of us, the coastline of Badian begins to be appreciated as we gained elevation.

After an hour, we were now at the community of Malagaring and taking a brief rest. From hereon, the trail will pass by uninhabited areas which would be where the treeline is. Despite my deliberate control of the pace, I begin to feel exhaustion and the backpack seemed heavy for comfort. I stop often to give myself a break and, at the same time, I would not remiss on my duties to entertain my guests.

My hard breathing cannot interfere with my conversations and it takes great control to do that. It is difficult to engage in such while walking and gaining elevation. Much more so with this Irish couple. On one of these breaks, I learned that they participate in adventure races in the UK and across the Channel. They lived an active lifestyle and their preferred diet are vegetables and fish. They have no choice with the burgers and they will burn it anyway.

They never seem to tire. They carried day packs and in it were the burgers divided amongst themselves, cold-weather clothing, a liter of water, bottles of Gatorade, chocolates and bananas. Aside from the two tents, I also carried a 3-liter Camelbak bladder, a cook set, spoon-fork set, 250 ml of denatured alcohol, a Trangia burner, an IFAK, my fire kit, a Cold Steel Bushman, a Mora Companion and a Victorinox Trailmaster.

When you get in the treeline, the trail goes up and up and the weather changes from hot and humid to mild and cool. The path snaked in among craggy slopes and forests and there are always topics to talk about, if you just use your imagination, just to give yourself a brief moment of rest without letting them know that you need a break. But when the pressure behind me is too great, I would be honest enough to raise a white flag.

The constant gain in altitude also cooled my body and the chance of overheating due to overexertion is negated. We reach the most remote village of Patong and, good for me, there is a store here that could provide me a cold bottle of Coke. This is one of the luxuries of hiking this trail: there is always a cold Coca Cola near the end of the rainbow. It is like an ace in the sleeve.

Happy to have powered myself with sugared beverage and ten minutes of rest, I am now game to accept the pressure from their non-stopping pace. We arrive at the base of the peak at last and the couple proceeds to the summit while I remained at the only store selling softdrinks here. While enjoying the drink, I learned from the lady storekeeper that she owns the three small red cottages across us and it is vacant.

If I set up our tents, most likely it would already be crowded on the main and secondary campsites since it is a weekend. Besides, it might be very noisy on the campsite which might leave an ugly impression on my guests. Added to that is somebody from the side of Dalaguete who would be asking payments for camp use and garbage collection. Both Dalaguete and Badian claimed Osmeña Peak as theirs.

If you come by way of Dalaguete you will be charged a guide fee when it is quite idiotic to utilize a guide since the peak can be walked by yourself easily even with eyes closed. The lady storekeeper found the fees extracted by Dalaguete as unfair to both Badian and the visitors. They are taking advantage of this because of the easy access to Osmeña Peak from their side.

The lady storekeeper told me this because she happens to serve for a long time as the village chairperson of Patong. I understand her statement very well since I know, for a long time, that the peak had always been a part of Badian since the time I first visited it in 1992. That is why I always start from Badian because I honored their ownership of Osmeña Peak. I told you I am no ordinary guide. Besides that, I write for this blog.

When Jerry and Gillian came back, I mentioned to them the three little red cottages owned by the lady storekeeper and they were much happy when I also mentioned that it would be noisy on the other side. We would not have to set up tents and sleep in it. The Irish couple claimed one while the other was provided free for me, courtesy of the very kind lady storekeeper. She also provided a thermos with hot water and cups should we drink coffee.

We dined on hamburgers. They with Gatorade and water. I with coffee, Japanese miso soup and water. As is with this time of the year, the northeast monsoon brought winter colds of Siberia and Japan to the tropics and it would be cold, much more so with the wind chills. We opt to retire early but, once in a while, I would answer the call of nature outside. I did at 22:00 and at 02:00 and each time I still see people going up the peak.

When I woke up at 05:00 the following day, January 24, there is no shortage of visitors to the peak. I wonder how much money Dalaguete collects from these unwary people. It is indeed unfair. We eat the last of the hamburgers for breakfast and everybody had coffee. I keep the place as tidy as possible by burning all our small garbage last night and bringing the rest down to our next destination today.

We will be going back to Badian, taking the same route we did yesterday but, this time, it would all be downhill. We leave early at 06:30 and Jerry and Gillian loved the early morning walk when the birds are most active with their melodies. We walk lazily, enjoying the silent moments and keeping our footings as steady as possible. We meet no locals just like yesterday at the forested zones.

When we reach Malagaring, mountain life begins to be felt. We take a different trail and reach the Basak Elementary School. We hired motorcycles to take us down the highway. Once we are there, we board a bus bound for Cebu City. Jerry and Gillian would have to go back to their hotel in Moalboal while I would be going home. The Irish couple would be travelling to Palawan tomorrow and we parted ways when the bus stopped at Moalboal.

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NAPO TO BABAG TALES CXXVII: Three Raptors

FOR OLD TIME’S SAKE, I accommodated a request from my friends belonging to my former club, the Cebu Mountaineering Society. Actually, I had done so for them in July on a climb to Mount Babag from Napo and, again, just last December 28, on a hike through the Buhisan Watershed Area to Napo. This time, I would do so again for them from Napo to Bokawe to Guadalupe. Today is another brand-new year, January 2, 2018. Happy New Year!

The opportunity to go out again to the mountains instead of snoring through the party fats of the past few days brought about by holiday goodwill is most cherished. Without any second thoughts, I came first at the parking lot of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish and waited for my friends. They came and they were Lilibeth Initan, Mon Corro, Paul Morgia and two ladies who, I think, are new members, since it is the first time I saw of them.

It was already 08:30 when we start from Napo. I would surprise them today by bringing them to my playground. They were indeed surprised when I brought them to a different trail right after crossing the foot bridge. The Manggapares Trail, from its very trailhead, is known by the locals only and my people from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild. It goes up upon the very moment you step on its path.

There are a few houses here and a flower farm at the beginning but, once you get past it, it is a very lonely trail. It is very shady. Mexican lilac (Local: kakawate), cassia (bistula), alom, beach hibiscus (malibago), Java plum (lomboy), mango, tamarind and bauhinia trees abound here. The ground is hard and rocky. Shrubs, herbs and grass line the path and elevation is forever rising.

Tagaytay Ridge is just one of the many ridges of the Babag Mountain Range that extend far to the east and it had been used for many years by the older generations when travelling to Mount Babag and beyond. Manggapares Trail is really an old trail that I once trod in the early ‘90s and have been forgotten when I laid low from the outdoors scene for years. I only rediscovered it in 2011 but, by that time, there was an earth-moving activity on the ridge. 

Yes, there was a crude road made so that heavy equipment and trucks could be brought up. Big holes were dug from the ground and a lot of cement were poured on it. These were the anchors for a series of steel towers that would soon be erected. My heart ached at the sight of these but, after many years, when the ground settled down and nature reclaimed what was theirs, I accepted the presence of the steel behemoths.

We reach the first of these towers. It now has high-tension cables over it, relaying electricity from a power plant in Naga City over the mountains and down the line from here across to Mapawon Peak in Kalunasan and beyond to the distribution facility in Cabancalan, Mandaue City. The second tower is on a higher elevation and is 200 meters uphill. We follow a path between a field of wild-growing sweet potatoes and yams, hoping not to disturb any reptiles snoozing among it.

The third tower is a bit of difficult to reach since a path to it is steep. Once you are below it, a row of Mexican lilac trees provide you shade from the sun. However, at this time of the year, there is no need for that. Northeast monsoon winds carrying the winter cold of Siberia, Manchuria and Japan reach the tropics making the weather very mild. The cooler wind is most welcome.

The path is now rolling terrain and we stop to rest at an abandoned backhoe. Why it had been left there to rust against the elements is a question which I have not had a credible answer as of this time. According to my local friends, it had fell twice on the side of the mountain but was salvaged each time. They were even more mystified than I am when the workers left it even if it was not broke.

It became part of the landscape and a landmark of sort. It is a natural magnet of conversations and people naturally rest here like we are doing now. We have just overcome the hardest part and it would be easy walk from hereon. Yonder is the fourth and fifth tower and a sixth on top of a hill. As we were going to the next tower, I happen to scan the sky and, above me, is the unmistakable silhouette of a rare Philippine falconet.

Tried to take a photo of the small raptor but the distance was just too great. My being close to nature all the time, have developed my observation skills to a finer edge. I can see many things that most people do not see, the finest details, and I am awed at such spectacles. The spectacles I yearned are not the landscapes and scenery but the ordinary ones which do not elicit a second look from a mainstream hiker.

Everything on my path is interesting and each rock, plant, footprint, soil, stream, insect, bird, or creature tells a story. It gives me joy to see all these in their proper order of things and that joy increases if you could see something beyond the ordinary. The outdoors is better appreciated if you would only relegate your ego to the background and put yourself into your most humble form.  

I am now approaching the fifth tower and, in a few seconds, would walk past it to the next one. If I was with my Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild, we do not walk past the fifth tower. There are trails here which we use just for ourselves. I do not often share these secret places to the mainstream, although sharing now the Manggapares Trail is already a favor. Must be their lucky day.

I walk to a high saddle where one of the peak hosts the sixth tower. It is a cloudy day and the lower hills and the metropolis are covered by fogs. The wind roared, bringing with it the cold winters of the temperate zone. Mon and the rest are trudging up the trail towards me. A familiar cry overhead changed my attention to the sky. Another raptor. It is not a Brahminy kite. Then it must be a serpent hawk! It is!

I am quite elated to see two different kinds of birds-of-prey today which are not so common in Cebu. Both were wedge-tailed and flew effortlessly! I developed a keen sense of amity for raptors after I had encountered a great Philippine eagle in the wilderness of Pangasugan in ‘92. It glided in my direction then under the forest cover and dropped a lone feather which fell on my opened palm. The ground around me dimmed when it passed by.

A path lay before me as I studied the landscape on the other side of the saddle. Bokawe. It is a big mountain district yet it is not a village. In fact, one huge part belonged to Pamutan and another smaller part to Sapangdaku. I could be wrong but the absence of boundary markers could be the reason. A road that I dread lay in wait for me below the mountain and I believe this path would lead me there.

We reach the road and, good thing, we walked just a couple of kilometers of paved concrete to the junction in Pamutan. Locals called this particular place as “bagsakan” - a term which meant as a place where the farm produce are collected, before being brought to the market. This is now a very popular place for hikers where they take rest and eat meals. There were five when we arrived and we took a table to feast on cold soda drinks.

More hikers arrived. A few recognized me. The shorts-and-black-leggings crowd. That is how they look now. Appropriate for a girl though, but… Only Paul and me are wearing long hiking pants. Mine is made in Cebu by Silangan Outdoor Equipment. Thin, stretchy and quick-drying, my pair of Silangan pants have proven its worth during my 27-day Thruhike of Cebu last year and to so many dirt times with the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild.

On this junction, four roads crossed each other. From the north is the road that we just walked in from Bocawe. From the south is the ones coming from Buhisan and To-ong. From the west – Pamutan; and from the northeast – Baksan, Sapangdaku and Guadalupe. We will go to Guadalupe and so we will take the last road. It goes downhill between a man-made forest of Burma teak.

The afternoon sun appeared faintly but we are now in a shaded road and would soon disappear into jungle. We reach Managobtob and transfer to a trail into the Buhisan Watershed Area. This is another of my well-kept secret paths which I am sharing to this group. I do not have to worry of their second coming, They cannot remember a thing nor any landmark anyway. This is the famed Lensa Trail which passes Camp Damazo.

Camp Damazo is holy ground to the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild and I have just committed sacrilege by introducing non-guild people here. It is okay as long as you do not tell them that. The path goes downhill and we take it very slow, warning them of the slippery surfaces. We cross a small stream and another before I let them rest near a water source to rehydrate.

Jungle travel is different from a normal mountain hike underneath a forest. In jungles, the air is stuffy, the heat so humid and your thirst doubled. Once we resumed our hike, I warned them again of harmful plants. There are so many on Lensa Trail and there are also many plants that they are not aware of but actually are growing here like the stinging tree (alingatong), Moluccan ironwood (ipil) and the Madras ginger (galangal).

The trail took us to a stream – Creek Bravo, and follow another trail that goes around a mountain until we come upon another stream – Banauan Creek. We take a rest here and showed them a small cascade, never knowing that this was the first site of the first Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp held in 2011. I tell them tales to distract and to refresh them since a jungle environment can be so demanding on your stamina.

Tales should be craftily woven to suit to a certain mountain and a person’s experience and when that person is an acquaintance, the moment, or should I say a forbidding peak, then becomes light to surmount. The humour to the story is what goads a tired hiker to discover for himself or herself the actual physical attribute that have almost waylaid that certain individual. The interest offsets the fatigue. I am talking about “Boy T’s Hell”.

This is a low peak but steep and this is the best exit to take in the hours when the shadows are now longer. Inside jungles, 2 o’clock looked like four. I follow a path where I can only see and the rest followed me. The good thing about a high ground is that you get all the light you need. The shadows disperse and you can see the skies clearly, almost without obstacles. We reach the peak after two false ones and take a deep breather.

We must follow a trail east of us that has long grasses to reach another mountain. The trail follow a long ridge, steep on one side, and goes up to link to another ridge. The northern branch goes down to a phoney forest of Burma teak and then a road. We are now at Baksan and we have to walk a paved road for a few meters before electing to transfer yet into another trail.

Again, they do not know this trail existed and it would take them all the way to Guadalupe. The path goes to a mixed forest of native and fruit-bearing trees like mango, Johey oak (marang), cottonfruit (santol), Java plum, breadfruit (kulo), currants (bugnay), star apple, tamarind and coconuts. The forest becomes a stunted limestone forest. This time, vegetation are cleared and fields of corn, cassava, lime grass and horseradish tree are planted.

Then we come upon the bare slopes of Guadalupe Hills – the one I loved to call as “Heartbreak Ridge”. Another raptor appeared from out of nowhere and, this time, it is a Brahminy kite. This would be the third one and it is the least kind of raptor that I would want observed. This is also the most common and it does not instill a sense of awe that I would have given to other kinds.

We pass by a hole in the ground. I explained to them that this whole range we are on was a battlefield during World War II and the hole was a vent from a tunnel made by the Japanese. The dome of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish is clearly visible and anytime from now we would be back to the parking area where we met in the morning. We did reach that at 16:30 and everyone were very happy of the long walk. I am too.

  

The best thing is to reconnect with them for we are not getting younger. The more time we have for times like this, the better. Maybe in the next episode, I would tell them all the secrets I kept. But, for now, it is best that we toast this New Year as a Good and Happy Year.

Document done in LibreOffice 5.3 Writer