BUSHCRAFT BUHISAN XLVII: Mending Fences

THIS IS A NON-BUSHCRAFT article or entry. I just placed this activity under the “Bushcraft Buhisan” series. This is a guided hike which I am doing for my friends from my former club, the Cebu Mountaineering Society, on December 28, 2017. Yes, it comes at an inopportune time after Christmas Day and before New Year’s Eve. I may want to spend this day like other normal person would but I have my own reasons to go out of the lazy zone.

We met at McDonald in Mambaling, Cebu City in the early morning. Boy Olmedo, Lilibeth Initan, Mon Corro and their three new members were there and we walked to Punta Princesa to ride a tricycle to Buhisan. It turned out the tricycle was only good on level ground and refused to accelerate on steep roads toward the Buhisan Dam. We were walking towards the watershed area when a government vehicle stopped to accommodate us after trying to hitch a ride.

After thanking the people who rode on the vehicle, we start to follow a path among a man-made forest of mahogany trees. This used to be my playground more than 25 years ago but I did not find it suitable as good for outdoor activities, for the very reason that it was dangerous here due to rampant hunting of birds which could easily injure you from a wayward bullet. This is also used as a refuge of people running from the law and becoming a convenient garbage dump from a nearby community. Lastly, the forest itself is fake. 

I was just here for this day upon the request from my friends. They are preparing for a climb to Mount Kinabalu and this is the first day of their training and wanted to take it slow on the first time and gradually become harder on the next few weeks. Yes, they would also avail of my terrain knowledge for another session next year, that would be just a few days from today. Anyway, I just follow an unfamiliar route and I believe it would connect to another bigger trail, which it does.

We crossed a small stream and came upon a wide level area which, I also believed were used as a picnic area for locals. Upon a small ravine, I saw a tiny waterfall and it has a lot of empty shampoo sachets and stones which has bits of soap that had adhered to the irregular surfaces. Come to think of it: the Buhisan Watershed Area is the source of potable water for 15 percent of Metro Cebu’s total household consumers.

The Metropolitan Cebu Water District neglected to protect it from vandals and pollutants and this is criminal. Or is this the mandate of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources? Whichever, this has happened for as long as I could remember and both entities has people that are all suffering from an extreme case of bad eyesight, close to blindness. If these were a forest that bear money, I am sure they would have built a high concrete fence complete with machine gun posts.

By this time the stream joined another stream and the trail forked out into two. In the denseness of undergrowth, I could not assess of what is beyond on one easy trail but the higher of the two would make it possible. I followed that and it goes on higher ground and I could see the man-made lake of Buhisan full of water. At other times of the year this is bare. It is so strange seeing the Buhisan so watery today. Its edges are marshy and this is referred to by locals as Pagatpatan. This is where hunting is rampant.

Most common tree that could survive and thrive in watery ground is the Leichardt pine (Local name: bangkal), whose flowers resembled that of pin cushions. I saw this same trees growing in the same conditions in Lake Lanao, Daanbantayan. Just the same, it resembled that of another hardy tree called the hambabalud (Sp. Neonauclea formicaria), which grew in rocky hillsides and bare soil. Far from the water’s edge are many young Philippine ebony trees (kamagong, mabolo) planted in between other common species.

We were now on drier ground now and more trails forked but I always took the leftmost, to be away from the lakeshore. I was rewarded of a familiar view of the catchment basin and we are out in more open terrain and sunshine. We followed a dried-up stream but I know there is another stream underneath us. We followed upstream and came upon three smaller rocks stacked above a bigger one. People do not really know the purpose and meanings of leaving trail signs.

Using the rock as a trailsign is adopted in the Boy Scout and leisure hiking. It is borrowed from the “talking rocks” used by Southwest Desert Native Americans when communicating with each other. It is left alone until such time when the recipient received the message. What the Boy Scout failed to appreciate was how to dispose the rocks after the recipient of the message – the last person – received the instructions. It is not left in eternal splendor. I threw the rocks aside because it is the most proper.

Right on the sandy ground are vandal lines which formed into a word, to which I do not like to perpetuate here in this article because I have better breeding, unlike that embarrassing cockroach that ruled this country like a madman. Two canines “ambushed” us for company and scouted the yards ahead of us. They really thought we would reward them with food with their unsolicited “help”. Sorry doggies. Thank you, but, no thanks.

Water appeared suddenly and it became a real stream finally. Why is this place called Buhisan? There are many versions actually and one version came from the word “buhis” (tax or tribute in Tagalog) which is very absurd. Buhisan actually refers to an old and large python that rarely moved because of its size. Because of its age and sedentary nature, moss and fungi grew on its scales and created a camouflage effect. It hunts by simply waiting for a prey to pass by. It lies itself like a log or hanging like a vine.

But the old folks called this place as Lensa instead, which in Cebuano is referred to as the rainforest. By this knowledge learned from the locals, I named the stream from its original name of Lensa Creek and the circuit of trails found here as Lensa Trail, instead of something Greek. There are many secret places in Lensa and they are given names by the locals who made their living here and I know some because bushcraft is not just a skill but also a repository of wood lore and history.

Upstream are many boulders and a big pool, made deeper by damming with stones. This is also a popular picnic area by locals but, today, they are absent. I looked up at the sky and I frowned at the sight of dark clouds passing. Droplets of moisture drop on you but it is not rain. It is just the behaviour of a rainforest. We move on and arrive at place where Lensa Creek divides into two. A headland between two forks, there is a trail and we would be in safer ground. For a while.

We may have to pass through another mahogany forest, this time with those treacherous rattan palm tendrils which could freeze you on your tracks. The barbs are very painful if it is caught on your skin and disastrous for a branded dry-fit top. It passes on a narrow path with nothing on one side but space and rocks below. Slowly we reach the same stream and walked back a little downstream to gawk at the bottom of the Buhisan Waterfall from its headrock. That legendary snake was found somewhere near here long ago.

This is now the limits of my new playground. I do not do anymore a walk on lower ground and among streams here and today is but an exception. We walk upstream and a smaller tributary joined the bigger Lensa Creek but it is not yet the one. Trekking on we reach the fork of the Banauan Creek but it is difficult terrain. The next stream – Creek Bravo – would be better. We took it and walked a little upstream and took a rest.

I just test their local knowledge here and one of their member could not retrace or remember the route and it made them disoriented. I took over again and led them to higher ground and better trails. Although I am very protective of my camping grounds but, this is one of those times where mending a fence with my former club takes importance. I usually do not take people here outside of my circle in bushcraft. But not so today.

 

We climb up a ridge and once there we follow the back of the mountain gently and easily  in a forest of mixed exotic and native trees and shrubs. Birds flew in and out and sang of their presence. The trail climb up more gently and gently until we came upon a rare open space. We are now on the sacred ground of the Camp Red Bushcaft and Survival Guild; the fabled place called Camp Damazo. They saw for themselves how a Moluccan ironwood tree (ipil) looked like and what distance you would give to a stinging tree (alingatong).

From Camp Damazo, we go straight ahead and took a trail on the right that goes into thick jungle vegetation. I showed them Caramon Spring, a good drinking water source which had provided my bushcraft camps water for more than five years and it had not changed in volume since I found it in 2012. We crossed a stream, climbed up a steep trail slowly and safely, crossed another stream and followed the rolling terrain until we reach a road: the Baksan-Pamutan Road.

I showed them another trail across and it goes downhill among farms and orchards and quite tame from the ones we walked before in the morning. The dirt path goes down to Lanipao and then a road that goes to Napo. The day ended at 12:00 noon which was a good workout, inhaling good rainforest air. From here we transferred to Guadalupe on motorcycles. I promised my friends to bring them to another playground of mine next year.

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BUSHCRAFT BUHISAN XL: Lost in a Weekday

I STILL POSSESS A MINDSET as if I have a day job and waited for a weekend before I engage in a joust with the outdoors.  I tried to think it over and over and I laugh at myself for taking change so slowly.  In fact, I have left that job on the last day of 2015.  I seem to be busy on weekdays doing nothing and, yes, wired to an electrical outlet.  It is indeed strange for someone who found the great outdoors home!

I got guests for this coming weekend and I need to prepare a campsite deep in the hidden jungles of the Babag Mountain Range today, November 10, 2016, a Thursday.  Yes, today is a weekday but I do not have the same enthusiasm I showed for a weekend.  I need to pressure myself to move out of my comfort zone and, when I did, the sun was already high and warm.  It is always like that.

Like now.  It is already 10:20 when I arrive at the trailhead coming from Guadalupe by motorcycle.  The good thing is that when I am in my environment everything changes so quickly as if I am a different person.  I am instantly transported into a weekend mood.  My mind shifts from conventional to native idiosyncrasies.  The smell and sounds of the forest changes me.

I follow a path down to Lensa Trail.  The vegetation all around me is very healthy except on a wide patch of Burmese teak forest where every tree is healthy and the rest are not.  You could not even hear the buzz of a bee.  People come here to gather firewood.  Indeed, this wood is good for furniture.  It is impervious to termites and is prized by wood carvers and demand a good price.  I see a baby serpent slithering away.

The trail goes down and, after walking just a few meters, I espy a slender arm of bamboo, much thicker than the bagakay variety and those crawling ones called bokawe.  I did not saw it before and it grew on a dry ravine where all indigenous species thrive.  I approach it.  There is running water on the small ravine and the bamboo is of the butong variety.  It is healthy and seems to have not been touched yet by humans.

I am elated at this discovery for I would have another source of bamboo in this mixture of man-made forests and naturally-thriving jungle, which is really rare.  I reach Creek Alpha and I follow it downstream.  It has running water and it flows briskly where there are cascades.  Here birds make its presence felt.  A Brahminy kite (Local name: banog) called overhead thrice while a yellow sunbird (tamsi) fleeted by infront of me.

I see fresh footprints of three individuals, a few hours old, and it came from downstream.  One is deep for a small person – a woman’s – and it could have carried something heavy, firewood perhaps.  I always love this moment, trying to unravel a tale, a puzzle, by the mere study of trail signs like footprints and what humans leave behind.  You should try this and it would be good to develop your creativity.

I left the stream and I am onto dry ground.  The first trace of human activity here other than footprints meet me.  They were harvesting leaves of young fishtail palms.  The leaves are used as decorations of flower bouquets.  They were also cutting long leaf stalks of wild ginger called galangal and used this as a mat to sit on when they were working on the fishtail palm leaves.

I go down a path to check on the state of the campground of the old Camp Damazo.  I used this place the last time in January.  I did not bring people here after that so it could recover.  It had recovered very well and so is ripe again to host a camp.  This would where I would bring my guests this Saturday.  Everything is okay except that I have to forage and stash firewood and old and green bamboo poles as well.  Then I would need to find a good place for the latrine.

I begin my work on the firewood first.  I do not need big pieces of wood.  What I would need are just dead branches that have fell where it has still dry twigs and leaves on it.  I found many on Lensa Trail and drag the best ones to as near as possible to the campsite and place it above ground.  It is humid here and I would know it would rain starting this day onwards.

At Camp Damazo, I walk a few meters downstream where there is a tree that had fallen across the stream.  There is a path on the left leading to a cleared ground.  Around it are good places to answer the call of nature.  I marked the clearing with a shred of yellow plastic tied to a young tree and another shred of white plastic tied to another young tree to mark the path to there.

When I was finished with the latrine and the firewood, I proceed to Creek Bravo where I could see the state of health of my prized water bamboos.  It is a warm day and I have to walk easy.  I do not have had breakfast nor a slurp of warm coffee.  I do have bread inside my Lifeguard USA rucksack but I reserved that for a simple lunch.  I would boil water when I get to Creek Bravo.

I arrive at the next stream and I immediately study the foliage of the bamboos.  This is a rare spot of the jungle where there are groves of bamboo.  About seven of them.  Almost all of these have not recovered well from a destructive human activity of three years ago.  Only two groves are healthy and are producing poles of normal growth and width.

I would not cut one today and I would reserve that for Sunday – the second day of this weekend’s camp – and searched instead for a dry pole.  Usually, I stashed leftover poles above the ground when I cut one that is too long and I found one, a leftover of the Bonifacio Day Bushcraft Camp in November 2015.  It is not perfect but it would do during a firecraft session.  I cut a small branch with roots on it so I would introduce bamboo in Creek Alpha.

I go down the hill with the pieces of dry bamboo and the young branch and walked upstream where there is another smaller stream that branched into Creek Bravo.  On this watery junction I will boil water for coffee.  I retrieve my Swiss Army emergency stove and make it ready for a fire.  From nearby dry twigs and from tinder scratched from the old bamboo, a fire begins inside the chamber of the stove.  Water I get from the smaller stream and start boiling.

After almost an hour of tinkering with the simple gadget, I have my coffee break and my bread.  It is wonderful to just sit still and enjoy warm coffee in a very humid jungle alone.  How many people would do this on a weekend, let alone a weekday?  None that I know of.  In silence, I have peace.  Water cascading on rocks is like music to the ears.  The clouds becomes dark and wisps of moisture fall down but it did not last long.  Sky starts to clear and a raptor just crossed overhead while ground pigeons scamper to safety.

When you are into bushcraft, you could see everything.  You are far better than all these adrenaline junkies who think they are the fastest sperms in the planet.  Hand it to them their exploits but when difficult terrain and bad weather begins to claim them, they would discover late in the day that they had not used their brains well.  Bushcraft is a cerebral activity.  It is zen happening in the woods.  It uses the brains and patience more than it uses strength.

My existence and lifestyle justifies the need for Filipinos to look back to where they came from and learn some bushcraft skills.  Never ever stereotype the Aetas as bushcraft for bushcraft is broader than you think.  What the Aetas are doing is showcasing their culture and their hunter-gatherer society and urbanized people (I do not call them civilized) had taken advantage of the Aetas for entertainment and making money in their behalf just like whites did to Native Americans in circuses and expos.

After my simple meal, I go back to the old Camp Damazo to plant the bamboo and to stash the old pieces.  I notice that the path I used in 2011 in coming down here have been also used by the locals and now has an appearance of a trail.  I follow it and I climb up a ridge where there is still an existing trail.  I am now at the top of Boy T’s Hell, a hill that had given Boy Toledo nightmares during an exploration in 2010 here.  Across me is Starbucks Peak and I would love to visit it again someday.

I go down the hill and followed a thin ridge that linked to another ridge.  I looked for the trail that led to here but it is gone.  Mind you, this is the part where you miss a trail and it brings you far from your destination.  I remembered my trips here the previous years where me and my party travelled off-course from our intended objective.  I looked again and I opt a path that I thought would lead me back to the trailhead.

The trail I am following begins to lead me off familiar territory and dumped me back to Creek Alpha.  I followed it upstream and I found the trail back to the trailhead.  It is 15:00 and I have to go early to prepare my things and my unfinished tasks for the Saturday.

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