A “RETURN OF THE COMEBACK” STORY

SEA TRAVEL TO NORTHERN Mindanao and Southern Leyte are cancelled tonight – March 21, 2014 – due to an oncoming tropical depression entering the Philippine Area of Responsibility.  However, my trip to Baybay, Leyte is not cancelled, so I gladly run my Sandugo Khumbu 40L backpack on the rubber conveyor of the x-ray machine before I entered the terminal of the Port of Cebu.

With me are my buddies from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild – Aljew Frasco and Christopher Maru; and old hands from the Cebu Mountaineering Society – Boy Olmedo and Boy Toledo.  We are on a Jungle Environment Hike and Expedition so we could find and create a new route to Mount Pangasugan after some trails had been washed away by Super Typhoon Yolanda last November.

All of us had been to the jungles of Mt. Pangasugan, at one time or another, and had considered this peak as something that had gotten away.  Boy O and me came here with a large party of climbers in 1992 on a different route; Boy T with his club on that same route in 1994; and Aljew and Christopher on a video documentary project here in 2008.  We all failed.  But, this time, we hope, we will bring home the bacon.  Call it the “return of the comeback”. 

Although I had climbed a few minor peaks before I visited Mt. Pangasugan, I consider this mountain very special for me.  For one, it had marked the beginning of my passion for the outdoors and the environment.  Also, it had given me that rare privilege to witness a Philippine eagle in the wild at close range.  In short, Mt. Pangasugan is my benchmark when talking about terrain difficulty and richness of flora and fauna.

Without much funfare, the MV Sacred Star set sail at 21:00 in wet climatic conditions for the Port of Baybay.  We arrive in rainy weather the following day (March 22) at 04:00 and we proceed directly to our host, which is at Cienda.  After a light breakfast and procuring food provisions of two days, we walk to a tree nursery farm of the Leyte Reforestation Project where we register our names and our purpose and getting briefed of the area that we are hiking into.

We are introduced to our guides: Procopio and Ruben.  Ruben is a small fellow approaching 50.  Procopio is the older of the two at 60 years.  He still practices the old way of chewing a concoction of lime, tobacco, betel leaf, cinnamon and a palm nut.  Me and Aljew try this, out of curiosity, but we were warned that this will make you light-headed.  Indeed, it had, but it is as if I had just brushed my teeth after I had gurgled out the ogre-looking liquid.  

We start our journey at 08:20 under a light shower.  Aljew, Christopher and I carried openly our knives by our side like our guides do.  We traverse over rice fields and then engage our first river crossing of the Tubod River.  Current is strong but water is clear enough to see the stones underneath.  I have a heavy load – about 28 kilos.  Once I tripped over a stone and fell, that load becomes close to 40 kilos!  I paid dearly to carry extra with my carelessness.  

I may have to find wooden staffs to aid me, Boy O and Boy T in our river trek.  Ruben the guide, produce two mature bamboo staffs while I picked up a wooden stick for myself along the way.  Aljew and Christopher are both still flexible in their balance, being much younger than us and do not need it.  The sticks would later make a difference on us old citizens, except for Ruben and Procopio, who both are in their natural elements.

Tubod River is wild and brisk marked by uneven levels and different obstacles, which needs to be overcome.  The rocks and boulders are fine with hiking shoes, even with rubber Spartans (local brand of rubber flip flops), but appearance of surfaces can sometimes be deceiving but it is not a hindrance, as it had been for many times in the past, for both Procopio and Ruben, who both walked barefooted. 

All the while, it rained; from light to moderate, back to light to moderate and so on.  My senses peaked another notch.  My observation skills becomes sharp noting regularly for any deviations of water color and ripples of the current.  My eyes scan everything even to the extent of observing the awkward footing of those who are ahead of me.  My skin is constantly feeling wind velocity and rain intensity.  My ears catching every sound.      

As we tackle the river upstream, the riverbanks are now closer and it becomes a gorge.  It is much wilder here, the river more noisy.  Tributaries come from all sides.  Typhoon Yolanda had created a lot of damage on the landscape; uprooting trees and causing landslides; and routing new water channels when the original ones are filled with debris or blocked with huge boulders.

These conditions are a threat to our activity and the longer we stay on the river by the hour the higher the risk.  We reach a huge rock overhang and we decide to rest here from the onslaught of constant rain and from a shivering wind that came upstream. We decide to eat our noontime meal here but, in these conditions, a hot meal is best.  I understand that both Boy O and Boy T brought packed meals but that is not enough.  What about the guides?  

I still do not know yet how far we will walk or how many obstacles we will clamber up and how long we will keep our body heat to resist nature’s pounding.  For the greater interest of this group, being the expedition leader and safety officer, I decide we eat our meal hot and, that means, cooking it in an open fire in spite of this inclement weather.  I would rather sacrifice time for that.  

As was practiced and done by Camp Red in every outdoor activity, Aljew, Christopher and me proceed to forage dry firewood (which is now rare) and produce fire (which is now difficult) then cook rice in two pots hanged on a tripod.  Boy T help with the cooking of a mixed vegetable soup on his camp stove.  Meanwhile, Ruben and Procopio are shivering as they watch our activities.  When lunch is ready, all shared evenly the hot food. 

After the meal, we proceed on to more difficult terrain.  That infamous typhoon obliterated of what used to be a continuous trail going to the Chapel, the LRP Bunk House, the waterfall and to the ridge at Marabon that lead to the summit of Pangasugan.  For that, we are now confined to more river crossings, more daunting obstacles and more risks to flashfloods, landslides and rockfalls.  My dependable Rohan hiking pants opened up on the crotch during a scramble for a foothold.

Facing us is a small cliff.  It marked the joining of two rivers.  The rightmost is the Tubod River while the leftmost is a smaller but turbulent stream.  We follow the rightmost one.  Above this headland is a gang of Philippine macaques (Local name: amo, unggoy) swinging wildly among branches, probably attracted by our cooking.  On my first trip here in the Leyte Cordilleras, I did not see a single monkey but today they are many. 

We proceed on into some of the most dangerous obstacles that Yolanda had left for humans to overcome but we are persistent until we reach the site were there used to be a chapel.  What remained of are four roofless posts.  But behind the ruin is a hidden chamber that house a plaster statue of the Virgin Mary which was not washed by floods.  Ruben says people from San Vicente come here to celebrate Holy Mass to honor her every September 15th.  Amazing!

Procopio announced to us that the bunk house would not be that far, just a little more than an hour of walk – by their standards.  We slip past a cave-like opening among rocks and go into another part of the river where the water is calm but it is almost a dead end save for an opening ten feet above us.  Procopio propped a hardwood log and hacked steps into it so all would climb up the notch.  It is difficult as rubber do not grasp well on wet wood and then balancing your way up with a heavy load on your back.

I weigh about 102 kilos plus an almost 40 kilos of load on my back.  It just amazes many people why I still climb mountains and go on in extended hazardous trips at my age and bulk when most of my peers would rather slouch on their sofas and watch DVD movies.  When I think the obstacles are just too much for me as time goes by, I would just remove my backpack and pass it on to those above of me.  I do this several times because it is better that way but putting it back needs Herculean strength.

I walk up the log with my backpack on because I know it does not break in the middle.  When I climbed up the notch, another much more formidable obstruction faced us.  This is in the form of an old river pass that Yolanda filled with all sorts of debris 20 feet high!  That meant we have to overcome slippery wood that do not work on rubber and where the chances of some debris giving in to weight is high.

Procopio devised another system of poles to act as a bridge from one part of the debris to another higher part.  This would had been madness were it not for the 35-foot utility rope I brought for this hike.  Once the rope had been tied on to the steadiest of logs, one by one, in slow but deliberate progress, we overcome this greatest of obstacles.  Above us are Philippine hornbills (Local: kalaw) flying from tree to tree while a yellow horned toad (Local: baki) waits for prey as it perch on a stone. 

I heard the cry of a boar (Local: baboy ihalas) from about a hundred meters before I see its sign.  The boar burrowed on roots by the riverside and did not notice us until we are so near.  We came downwind and the rain hid our man smell.  The boar must have heard us talking and ran as fast as it could and then belch out a warning whine.  If I were hunting that day, it would had been a good and glorious chase.  Then rain started to fall heavy and we just forded the last of the river crossings.

It is 16:45 when we reach the LRP Bunk House.  It is a wooden structure constructed through funds coming from the German aid agency.  The storm might now be approaching landfall somewhere in Mindanao considering that the weather becomes so grim and discouraging.  We from Camp Red immediately start a fire and started cooking the rice and make ourselves comfortable.  Procopio and Ruben, who both were shivering from cold and exhaustion, gladly welcomed the heat.

We are all exhausted and approaching mild hypothermia but the promise of eating another real hot meal dissipate away the worries and fears, especially to our two guides.  I start slicing the pork meat and the vegetables with my Victorinox SAK Trailmaster.  Boy T volunteered to cook the pork adobo and the mung bean soup.  The hot meals are our saving grace and soon the morale of the men are back despite the leaks on the roof.

We celebrate our success and our good fortune today by drinking local brandy.  We carried the contents of the two bottles here just for this occasion.  We decide not to push through with the hike to the summit tomorrow because of this uncooperative weather.  We were not supposed to be here, in the first place, because of that.  I have arrived at a conclusion, after witnessing close hand, that the topsoil of Leyte are not that stable and are prone to landslides.  We chose to cut our journey to the summit also because of this.

The brandy gave us warmth for the most part and a chance to open up worthy conversations.  I showed my thinning black bonnet which I first brought here in 1992.  It had coaxed up interest when I start the tale of how it had also been with me at Mount Apo, at Mount Dulangdulang, at Camp Damazo and on every worthy peak.  Procopio is a wonderful fellow to be with around a campfire with his good knowledge of woodlore and churns out local names of plants and animals, both familiar and the unheard.  Lights out at midnight. 

I wake up to a distant boom of a falling object.  The ground slightly shook.  Strong gusts of wind carry spray into the insides of the bunk house.  Rain is still heavy.  It is 02:00 of March 23.  Too early to make noise and I sleep back but wake up shivering at 04:30 as the first light of dawn showed on the window.  In a couple of hours we will be packing our things back in our bags.  The rain had not abated ever since.  On the river below is a huge tree.  It was not there yesterday!

After drinking coffee, we prepare the food ingredients for our early lunch.  It seems that the weather had slackened a bit and we have to take advantage of this by leaving at noon.  I help Boy T in the preparation and cooking of escabeche (dried fish cooked in tomatoes) and eggplant strips fried with egg.  Everyone take their fill knowing that these might be their last meal.

We leave the bunk house at 12:00 but we turn back when the Tubod River is unaccommodating.  It is now brown hiding visibility below; it is now ten inches higher; and the current too strong to fend off.  Procopio do not want to entail risks crossing the river at these conditions and everyone agreed.  When all had returned to their places inside the bunk house, I decide to look for firewood.  I use both my AJF Gahum heavy-duty knife and my tomahawk to chop and split firewood. 

For a whole day, the men are in a gloomy state.  Talks of rescue is the main topic and Boy T becomes worried about our diminishing food supply.  I am really not worried about all these.  This is just a temporary inconvenience that only affect our schedule.  For us at Camp Red, survival is our game and we had prepared for situations like this unlike Boy O and Boy T who are more oriented in packaged activities that their club usually undertake.  Although both had attended a bushcraft camp under my tutelage, both did not practice, in their own free time, what they learned.  Lacking that, you lose self-confidence.

I do not worry about food.  There is food for the taking in these dense jungle if you know where to source it.  I have an advantage because of Procopio and Ruben and they could complement my knowledge anytime so the rest could eat.  I have foreseen this delay and I could live with it.  Without everyone knowing, I have two packs of pork and beans and a kilo of deep-fried pork secretly stashed in my backpack.

Rain fall hard again and seem endless and it added to the misery of the men.  I jot down the conditions for this day in my small notebook.  It is getting cold again.  By early evening, the men devoured the leftover food from our lunch.  I open a pack of pork and beans to the fray to perk up the mood.  The last of our procured coffee is gone and everyone settled back to their sleeping spaces.         

At around 22:00, something huge fell nearby our camp.  Constant rain for three days had caused soil to melt and I worry the high ground above where we stayed might slip also.  The bunk house is silent and cold, a far cry from the other night.  We sleep early but I toss and turn on the floor.  It is cold.  Winds seep in the cracks while rain water splatter everywhere.

On the morning of the third day, March 24, our collective effort produce a mixed coffee-and-chocolate drink and a loaf of bread and these becomes our breakfast.  It is a good start.  Surprisingly, the rain had stopped.  The shrill whistle of a Philippine squirrel (Local: kansik) can be heard clearly.  Across us, the hillside is scoured by last night’s landslide.  We cook the last of our rice and intend to eat it somewhere downstream at noon. 

The river is now clear and it subside down to almost the level the first time we trekked it.  We hurdled the first of the several river crossings back to where we came two days ago.  The difficult obstacles, if taken from upstream are easy.  You either have to slide on your butt down the rock or create a route on the steep hillside.  For several occasions, we rather hack away dense jungle than take risk stepping on unseen rocks or logs.  It might be slow progress but it is safer.

Finally, we reach the rock overhang and we decide to eat our meal here.  I retrieve my deep-fried pork and everyone devour it with much enjoyment.  After that, we continue on and reach the tree nursery farm at 15:30.  Immediately, we open cellphones and receive a lot of worried messages from Cebu.  I replied mine that we are all alright and safe.  Well, unknown to us, a search and rescue party would have been organized if we remain unheard of at 15:00 today.

We just crossed 28 times the Tubod River and overcame 25 obstacles on the first day and repeated these today.  We are tired, hungry and cold but we deserve cold beer which immediately appear.  After changing to dry clothes, we leave Cienda for the port area to secure boat tickets and to eat a good supper.  I bring six Philippine ginseng plants and cinnamon barks which Procopio foraged for me.

As the motorcycle I am on cruise the Pan-Philippine Highway, I see from a distance, Mt. Pangasugan, dark and foreboding.  On the foreground are six egrets flying in a V formation.  Three more joined in mid-flight.  I have learned long ago that there is more to a mountain than just bagging peaks.  I have always considered this mountain as a friend and it showed me its power and its gentleness.  

We leave Baybay at 20:00 for Cebu on board MV Rosalia.

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

REMINISCING MOUNT PANGASUGAN

ONCE UPON A TIME, I had been a part of a large party of a Cebu-based mountain club trying to climb Mount Pangasugan (5,650 feet) in Baybay, Leyte, Philippines. It was my first time with them and my first and only time to walk this virgin jungle. We were 36 people coming from Cebu plus 14 people from a local outdoors group. 

  

That was in August 1992 and two weekend days were just allotted for this activity. If it were held today, I would not have went with them. Not because I am a lover of LNT¹ (I am not); but because I organize outdoor activities and I know it is a nightmare when the SHTF² time comes. I will reminisce this event and see it from a bushcrafter's eye.

Okay, we arrive at Baybay in the early morning of the first day and we transfer to the Visayas State College of Agriculture (VISCA)³. There was a low pressure area spotted east of Samar and it made its presence felt in the form of dark overcast clouds at a mountain range where Mt. Pangasugan is located. Everyone were quite alarmed.

We crossed our fingers hoping the rainclouds is just a state of the mind and will dissipate sooner than the time we approach the trailhead leading to Pangasugan. I stand out from the rest of the Cebu-based hikers for I am not attired and equipped like them. They carry branded mountaineering backpacks, boots, clothes and other gears designed for the outdoors.

I have with me a cheap backpack that I refitted with additional body straps and re-stitched at the vulnerable points. I have a pair of work boots re-soled with tire threads, an A-type tent, a sleeping bag with Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck prints - all borrowed. A pair of Rayban Wayfarer gives me a sense of genuineness though.

My bag is heavy with eleven canned goods, a kilo of rice, water, a pair of jeans, etc. and I thought the shoulder straps would give way. I am wearing basketball shorts, cotton t-shirt, ballroom-type socks and carry a heavy insulated water bottle that hang in my neck like a pendulum! Carrying of knives were forbidden (crazy idea) but I managed to secretly bring a small folding knife for emergency.

I am in the middle of the party but have overtaken several people when the trail became steep and difficult. A local guide had been hired and I know he is there ahead leading our party through this beautiful wilderness. The jungle is very dense and avian life abound on most branches and trees. Competing space are a few visible snakes and a million leeches.

On a rare clearing, the tail of the advance group rested on logs and rocks and I rest as well. There were about eighteen people here and half of them were balancing on one huge log for picture-taking. Everyone saw something moving below the branches of ancient acacia trees and I turn my head to the direction of their attention.

It is my first time to see a Philippine eagle in the wild and it just floated majestically towards my direction. It is so surreal. The ground where I stood dimmed when the raptor passed overhead and released one tail feather that dropped effortlessly into my right palm. My hair stood on its edge as I try to comprehend the purpose of this chance meeting.

I inserted the feather on my bonnet as if it is a trophy and continued walking. I followed the gist of the direction like a tail following the body and head of a snake. I overtook a trio of resting hikers, already pale and winded, and one pirate had the gall to pass me two flat bottles of Tanduay Rum for safekeeping. No complaints there for the additional weight.

On top of a grassy hill, I ate lunch with the rest of the forward group. This hill is called Guintangisan, according to the guide. The air is filled with the echoes of a multitude number of hornbills croaking one after the other and it sounds like a running chainsaw. Leeches made the urban dwellers shriek and jump but, to me and the local climbers, it is nothing but ordinary and a fact of life.

We stopped by to camp near a stream when darkness almost overtook us. Everyone unfolded their expensive tents while I tried to set up mine in a hidden corner. I switched on my cheap flashlight at the brook and saw a lot of fresh-water shrimps and crabs at its bottom and banks. I even saw some crayfish of some kind. I listened to the night sounds of the campsite and around and it was a pleasant one.

In the early morning of the second day, I heard distant bleats from a deer answered by other deer. We cleared camp and continued for our destination. The terrain became more rugged and the jungle more dense. Worse, the guide lost the trail and was now hacking at the thick foliage. I saw some recent deer and boar droppings along the path.

I took lunch at the trail on a high ridge overlooking a sheer valley. Everyone were exhausted and I was behind the guide now and our pace is slow. I took a chance to conserve my strength and slept beside the path. I noticed people calling me when they pass by me until I ignored them and I book me a time with Lady Dreamland.

When I opened my eyes later, it was so eerily silent except the clash of leaves and branch shaken by the breeze. I tried a shout and a reply came from somewhere far down below me. I studied the terrain and the path everyone took goes winding down on a long loop before going in the opposite direction and passing about 300 meters below me.

I decide to do an Indiana Jones and slid myself off the mountain on the seat of my pants so I would reach the main party come what may. So down I went on an unknown swath of path that I am making, inflicting myself so many cuts from rattan palms. I suffered a slight cut below my right eye and it was such a close call as I landed between two hikers who never knew from Adam where I came from.

I see people on the verge of exhaustion unable to trust their bearings and balance and rely more on their hands and their weight afraid to tumble over the slope and it makes a slow progress. For just a short time, I am able to master the most basic of trailcraft like balance, gait, timing, eye-to-muscle coordination, breathing, observation, improvisation, sense of direction, etc.

By now, everyone where resting more often as their water supply begun running out. I still have a little water in my pendulum jug and a full liter hidden inside my backpack but generous enough to surrender the bottle to a pretty lady. Meanwhile, water could be heard from a distance and it is torture to someone who is water-starved and they stayed where they sat and waited for the night to come.

When I felt I have found the best campsite for me I will stay. I have chosen my den above the trail where a root of a giant tree gently curled itself. It is the best place at that moment while there was still light. I took an early dinner on my last slices of bread, liver spread and canned juice. A little while, the guide came back with bottles of water and I drank about a cup and shared the rest to others.

In the morning of the third day, I see fresh boar droppings on the trail just below my sleeping quarters, probably, attracted by the smell of my last night's meal. I walked just a few meters after I consumed a breakfast of pork and beans and another can of juice and I reached the forward camp. They were eating uncooked noodles. Poor critters!

They showed me the source of last night's water that saved everyone's throat. It was just a small pool of stagnant water that got collected itself from rain runoffs with wrigglers going about among submerged debris! Joe Avellanosa(+) proposed the idea of straining the water through two layers of socks before dropping a chlorine tablet for each bottle. Just about right. Just about right.

Trailblazing a route to the peak would entail a huge amount of time and energy for the whole party, notwithstanding, to the fact, that almost are suffering from dehydration and fatigue. A condition that Joe and the expedition physician - Dr. Abe Manlawe - have foreseen in the event it rained and there would surely be casualties.

Anyway, the guide happily led us to a small valley from whence it led to a dry watercourse and then a small spring. I passed by several of these clear spring pools and they were populated by a number of fresh-water shrimps, fat and unafraid of humans in broad daylight. We follow the creek until it became a river and fell into a high waterfall that became the first obstacle. This waterfall is about 50 to 60 feet high.

We stood at the headrock to find a way down until the guide found it just underneath it. But going in with big backpacks are a bit of a problem so the first backpacks were thrown from above and waterproofing plastic burst during the impact. Joe and the rest devised another way by tying a rope on a backpack and drop it slowly, one by one, but it is time consuming.

I decide to suggest to have the backpacks slide along the rope with carabiners from one high end to another end secured to a tree below. This process made short work at much less time. The second obstacle is another high waterfall almost of the same height. We found the same kind of passage and we repeat the process of hauling backpacks to the next level. Deja vu?

The last three obstacles were three 20-30 foot waterfalls and a petite lady made short work of this by plunging from the headrock of the first waterfall to the water below that set off a stampede of waterfall jumpers. Everyone enjoyed these moments of excitement except one person.

One tried to slid off a rope from above into the pool but the water current below a fall creates a whirlpool that force the rope end to travel with it and it swirled around the calves and legs of the guy almost drowning him. Fortunately for him, me and three others were very near him and we saved him with lots of time to spare.

Recovering our wits, we continued on our river trek. You follow a river and it will lead you to the ocean. That is the standard survival maxim and it remained true to that day as it led us to a coconut tree and more of this kind. Coconuts meant people and people meant a village or a community, then civilization.

Finally, we reached VISCA at 2:30 PM but we do not have enough time to board the boat for Cebu that day. We decide to celebrate our feat with the two bottles of rum that someone gave me at the trail which I carried up and back to where it was bought in the first place. Anyway, my Mickey Mouse sleeping bag became the butt of jokes as it play host to the most piratical individuals of this group.

We stayed the whole day of the fourth day doing nothing preparing for our departure for Cebu that night. My wife got pissed and I got marked absent for two days in my work. But the most painful thing was missing to watch the early games of the US Dream Team in the Barcelona Olympics.

OBSERVATIONS:

1. The wilderness of Mt. Pangasugan is best for two to five persons. More than that and it will spook wildlife away.
2. The knife and other blades are standard equipment for bushcrafters. It is insane to go into the wilds without one.
3. I didn't know that I had already practiced bushcraft in 1992 when I improvised on cheap equipment and gears to give me optimum performance. Bushcraft is about improvisation and acquiring expensive gears is a distant option and unnecessary.
4. There are many sources of water in Mt. Pangasugan yet most of those who came were not mentally prepared to accept that drinkable water could be had anytime anywhere aside from what you carry.
5. The late Joe Avellanosa is really a bushcrafter by heart. I have seen him do things that only bushcrafters would normally do and he shared ideas and things to me that he don't want other people know.
6. My encounter with a Philippine eagle was a vision quest and has spiritual significance.

Document done in Libre Office 3

1Leave No Trace. It has 7 principles that outdoor clubs and individuals follow by heart.

2Shit Hits The Fan. Standard word acronym used by bushcrafters and survivalists when something goes wrong.

3Now known as the Leyte State University.

POEM #3: Path to Mount Pangasugan (The Agony and the Ecstacy)

Far across the seas off Camotes,
Unto the land where the sun rises,
Behold! mighty Pangasugan towers,
Over VISCA campus' plains and rivers.

Come my fellow climbers and join me,
As we assail its commanding height,
Whose misty crown invoke mystery,
That beckons all to savor its lofty sight.

But scaling its walls were no easy feat,
Nor blazing its trails where none exist,
Grasping, grunting and gasping for breath;
Groping through thorns to reach its crest.

Ahhh! What a joy to behold and discover,
A forest untouched and of great splendor,
Nourished by God through sparkling rivers,
Teeming with wild delights and wonders.

There I saw a Philippine eagle hovering by,
So majestic among ancient dipterocarps,
Awed by its huge shadow as it passed by,
Parting and leaving a feather for keeps.

Sliding down to camp as dusk neared,
Towards a stream of marcucran delight,
Dipping in its water all my thirst vanished,
Amid the myriad resonances of night.

Packing up amid the call of hornbills,
Weaving through rocks of epic proportion,
Hopping down falls and doing some rappels,
Trekking downriver towards civilization.

Victory snared despite sheer exhaustion,
Licking my wounds like shining medallions,
‘Tis every mountaineer’s dream and passion,
Be one with nature and climb another season.

Looking back I saw an unspoilt Eden,
Where I left little mark of my passin',
Such scene I’ve relished and witnessed,
Of nature’s last bastion unscarred yet
by man’s greed.

ORDEAL AT MOUNT PANGASUGAN

MOUNT PANGASUGAN (5,650 feet above sea level) is the first adventure trek which I had with the Cebu Mountaineering Society or CeMS. At that time, I was not yet a member but trying out to be one and on July 31, 1992 we left Pier 3, Cebu Harbor on board M/V “Pink Rose” for Baybay, Leyte at 8:00 in the evening to achieve one of the many requirements for membership with a major climb at Mt. Pangasugan, with or without a typhoon.

My rag-tag gear then were composed of a cheap day pack, which I hurriedly bought for this trip, a borrowed A-type tent, a borrowed “Mickey Mouse” sleeping bag for kids and a borrowed pair of work boots resoled with threaded tire. (You know what, that shoe really held its own against expensive and branded trek boots in the treacherous terrain of Pangasugan.)

Stuffed inside my pack and within its four different pockets were the tent, twelve assorted canned goods, four t-shirts, a pair of shorts, a pair of jogging pants, 2-1/2 kilos of uncooked rice, a kilo of cooked rice, a sweatshirt, a Minolta 110 camera, a loaf of bread, 2 one-liter bottled water, a plate, a cup, fork and spoon, three noodle packs, packets of coffee, sugar and powdered juice, a small Eveready flashlight with two AA batteries and a pair of flip-flops.

The sleeping bag I fastened above and outside of the cover flap of my pack in a Boy Scout manner. Man, it was heavy and I thought that the shoulder straps would give way, but, thanks to God, it held fast for the duration of the climb. I carried a plastic insulated 500 ml. water drinking jug which I slung around my neck which was quite heavy and moved like a pendulum as I walked. I looked goofy with my gear and I stood out among my peers, who carried or wore branded backpacks, gears and equipment all suited for the sport of mountaineering.

We arrived at dawn of August 1 at the quay of Baybay and proceeded by bus for the Visayas State College of Agriculture (VISCA – now the Leyte State University) from whence Mt. Pangasugan is within its exclusive administrative domain. We started off by 8:00 in the morning and what was an otherwise a promising and golden sunrise turned later into a gloomy state as dark stormy clouds generated by an oncoming tropical depression began to appear on the horizon.

With mixed feelings, I trudged on along the upward jungle trail following the long line of seventeen members of CeMS and fourteen from the VISCA Outdoors & Recreation Group (VORG), led by Mr. Toto Antopina. Our guide then was Manoy Berting, a former CAFGU, a para-military civilian-volunteer component of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) tasked to fight communist insurgents. (Mind you, the area that we will intrude into is not yet cleared of armed communist fighters and a week before that an encounter between CAFGUs and these red fighters resulted in casualties on both sides.)

After an hour and a half of walking, I and Manoy Berting reached a rare clearing in an area otherwise abundant of very thick foliage of diptherocarps and undergrowths. This clearing is criss-crossed by several giant fallen old logs and some old giants stood by to give shade with their high branches. We both rested here and then others arrived and did likewise.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a fully-grown Philippine great eagle appeared from below these branches gliding. So majestic it came to my direction and I noticed the ground where I sat dimmed as he neared, whose spread wings I estimated, could be seven feet, more or less. So near I could almost touch his talons and as he passed by me he left a lone feather that fell exactly where my hand was. It was so perfect and I was so awed and so shocked that I was not able to scramble and draw out my camera from my bag in time! Looking up to see where the eagle has gone to, I never knew where it went. It just went pffft!...gone!...disappeared!

The presence of my eagle only affirms the rich bio-diversity of the area in and around Pangasugan. Calls by a multitude number of hornbills echoed and reverberated on the mountainsides like a running machine and have added to the staccato of countless other bird and insect sounds and bleats of wild deer. Amid that cacophony of pleasant noise there were fresh droppings of deer and wild boar, as well as, molted skins of all sorts of scaly creatures like monitor lizards and snakes.

Carrying my prized feather in my bonnet we trekked on higher ground and, by noon, we reached a grassy clearing on the top of Mount Guintangisan and stopped by for a quick lunch. I passed by three resting CeMS guys: Bebut Estillore, Tony Cabigon the CeMS president and Patrick Ng; and one of them requested me to carry an extra luggage – two Tanduay Rhum 375 ml. bottles – to my already bursting day pack, to ease Patrick from some load, who appeared to be greatly fatigued.

We then traversed a saddle and up a ridge then down to a brook where we pitched our tents for the night. I, however, never used my borrowed tent because there was no ground for the tent's stakes to be pierced into and, mostly, I'm a bit embarrassed seeing others owning tents with names like The North Face, REI, Marmot, and so forth. Miraculously, it never rained on that day and on that night, as well!

It seems, on my first day I passed my self-evaluation by consuming only a liter of water, two canned goods and a kilo of the cooked rice; trekking, more or less, 10 kilometers of slippery and precipitous trail and despite the weight on my back which, I doubted, only a few grams had been shed. (Or added. Remember the 2 rum bottles?) How's that for a newbie?

The second day of our trek was hard. The guide lost the trail. He had to hack away at the thick foliage to create one. It was hard work trailblazing. What made it harder is that the vegetation is a lot wilder and thornier and there were no water source. Rattan vines and other thorny thickets abound on the route we created, our clothes and packs got snagged each time a thorn clung and it hurts when your own hide got stuck to it. By this time, people started to complain of thirst, of fatigue, of pain.

There was a breakdown of poise and self-control as the single line became spread out thinly and scattered in groups instead of one continuous line. (It was old-growth jungle and visibility is good only for five meters or less.) Some forgot to take their daytime meals afraid that they might be passed over by others and be left behind. I lunched on my loaf of bread and a canned food and canned juice, happy to relieve of the unwanted weight, but, overdone it by offering one full bottled water to a beautiful lady. Gentleman's habits die hard, don't they?

I was following the guide and thought I had a good head start and took my siesta near a rock overhang, but, I overslept and when I awoken I could hear no more movement or some rustle of vegetation. I called out and I heard a distant reply way, way down below. Getting rattled now as the sun was nearing four in the afternoon, I decided to risk danger by sliding down the mountainside that is overly grown with thick vegetation, including that pesky thorny rattan vines! (I lost my treasured feather here.)

Whew, that was a race that ended in luck for me as I landed in front of Dennis Legaspi, just missing a cliff by a few meters but got tagged with several superficial wounds and scratches on my skin instead. Tough luck! Winded of my travail I almost gulped empty my only remaining bottled water.

After an hour of crawling pace, we ran out of water and some could not move forward anymore due to extreme fatigue caused by dehydration. Luckily, Manoy Berting came back just before sundown for us and carried bottles of “fresh” water to relieve and quench our thirsty throats! I drank a half bottle and shared what's left to others. By that time, it was already dark and I decided to make camp just by my lone self above the trail cradled by a curled root of a giant tree twenty meters behind the forward camp. I ate supper on two canned goods without rice and without water. Lucky me, it had not rained that night.

Feeling refreshed the following day I moved up to the forward camp and, to my dismay, that “fresh” water we drank last night was just a puddle of stagnant, wriggler-infested and debris-filled water in a rock hewn out by spring run-off that went dry. Anyway, it saved my butt and those of others, as well. Hehehe!!!

We were now just a few hundred meters below Mt. Pangasugan's crest and separated by an impenetrable wall of thick vegetation. But, then again, seeing the condition of our companions, we decided to divert our goal – which is Pangasugan's peak – and try to reach for Guinatanguisan river, about two-and-a-half kilometers distant below us, and abundant water!

In almost two hours we reached the headwaters of the Guintanguisan and followed it downriver for VISCA and civilization. But, it wasn't easy sailing for us.

Guintanguisan (in Waray dialect it meant “teardrops of pain”) refused to let us go without first negotiating two very high falls having an elevation of around 50 feet, more or less; and five (5) lesser falls having drops of between 20 to 30 feet! In this trek where we never ran out of good fortune: the two highest waterfalls we discovered have the same passages underneath their headrock and both have similar caverns under, or behind, the waterfall itself like that scene of that movie, The Last of the Mohicans!

The five minor falls we either jumped far below (the girls started it) or by rappelling down. Here, Sir Menmen Paredes almost got drowned when the rope he was rappelling with got swirled by the current so hard that the rope coiled and got entangled around his legs and his body leading me and Etche Bongbong to rescue him in time.

We arrived at VISCA at around 3:00 in the afternoon and we rested at its sandy beachfront whiling away time finishing the two bottles of rum (which I carried up in the mountains and back from whence it came!) with Bebut, Patrick, Dennis and Tony; joined now and then by Ben Lao, Matt Lao, Etche, Sir Joe Avellanosa (+), Daddy Frank Cabigon, Dr. Abe Manlawe, Sir Rex Vecina and Sir Menmen and by the ladies: Arlene Lee, Joy Yap, Lilibeth Initan, Ann-ann Ragaza, Anne Vidal and Cla-cla Abrahan.

That misadventure we experienced at the fastness of Mount Pangasugan closely bonded us so well that in the following months that I get to know more of my climbing companions they became almost like family to me, be it huddling inside tents of some bleak and cold campsite or at 16 Kabahar Street, Guadalupe, Cebu City – the CeMS unofficial headquarters then and meeting place and, sometimes, our watering hole.

We slept soundly that night at VISCA and the following day we spent another whole day at the campus nursing our bruises, scratches and minor wounds, leech marks, muscle pains and all other body aches. By 4:00 P.M. we left VISCA for the pier of Baybay to board our boat for Cebu (and home at last!) that will leave Leyte at 6:00 in the evening. In the meantime, I got marked absent for two days in my work. Well, that's okay. It was worth it.

Self Assessment:

THE TREK AT Mount Pangasugan has given me good insights of how to improve on the following areas where I find it most wanting:

Better Gears. It doesn't have to be branded or imported and, therefore, expensive; but, rather, it should be sturdy, durable and dependable. But, mostly, cost does have its advantages over cheap gears and that brings me back to square one – the branded and imported ones.

Big Backpack. The day pack I used, it seemed, is not suited for a multi-day climbing activity. It's just too small and too frail for my frame and pace. I would replace it right away with something big that would accommodate all my gears inside and strong enough to withstand the weight and sudden jerky movements.

Waterproofing. So far I have been lucky on that climb at Mt. Pangasugan: that it didn't rain for the whole duration of the trek or that the water level in rivers where we trekked have not swelled higher and are not deep enough (crotch level). I have not had the slightest idea about keeping all my cargoes dry by insulating it against water by stowing them inside a large plastic bag that's thick enough to withstand force and pressure.

Portable Stove. What if I got separated from the group? How would I prepare and cook my own food? This one's a priority.

Earth Pad. A camping accessory that should not be ignored also.

Racing Mentality. I kept looking over my back who is following me and too eager also to overtake somebody who's in front of me. I have to teach myself all over again that this is not a race and everybody crosses the finish line as equals, irregardless of who's first or who's last.

Accountability. Sleeping beside the trail speaks of an irresponsible demeanor. I have never had the idea that the group would be held accountable if ever I would be found missing. I am accountable, not only to myself, but, to the whole group as well.

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer, Trebuchet MS font, size 12.