NAPO TO BABAG TALES CXXIX: Camp Preparation

PREPARING A CAMPSITE for bushcraft or a survival training camp is one that I have done many times and I always have a checklist which needs to be followed. In the early days and on a few occasions of late, I do it alone. I love working silently. I have mastered this aspect and it also involves identification and selection, borne out from discovery of places.

More often now, I am with my people from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild and it makes camp preparation quick with so many hands helping out. However, in a noisy crowd there is always someone dedicated to cooking the meals and preparing coffee. Even when the day is warm, these things, in an outdoor setting are heavenly.

Today, March 18, 2018, I am going to Sapangdaku, Cebu City to use again the campsite I used last year for a wilderness training course done for an outdoor club or maybe find an alternative. I am considering another location beyond the old campsite but it remains to be seen which one would be better.

I am not alone today. Going with me is Ricky Petiluna. He is organizing next week’s Basic Wilderness Survival Course for friends which he would also attend as one of the participants. We would meet at the parking lot of the Our Lady of Guadalupe and then proceed to the trailhead in Napo on motorcycles.

I am carrying my old-school Lifeguard USA canvass rucksack but inside it is my folding seat, which I love to call as the “SOP”; a US Army-issue folding shovel, a trowel, the AJF Gahum knife, the William Rodgers bush knife, a Victorinox Ranger, a Swiss Army can burner, a Nalgene bottle, my fire kit, a headlamp, whistle and cotton gloves.

It begins to go warm and humid as I led Ricky from Napo to Kangsi. The ground is dry from lack of moisture but the greens have not wilted. Sapangdaku Creek is noisy and robust, despite the absence of rain for many days. A smaller tributary, Sarapia Creek, joins it. The small stream still has water and that is a good sign that the “tub” will be good for bathing.

 

From the stream, we follow an ascending path that lead to an abandoned house. We rested here for a while to munch on water apples (Cebuano: tambis). From there, we proceed up the trail, passing by the old camp. Showed him the camp ground with all of its green meadows and ancient mango trees. 

This is the primary choice. Its advantage is it has a clean natural spring, a nearby stream with a small waterfall, bamboos on its lower slopes, abundant firewood, an established campfire ring, abundant vegetation for plant ID, trees for shades and my own personal bathtub. Its disadvantage is it is not hammock-friendly. It simply has too few places to accommodate hammocks.

After the inspection, we walk uphill, following the same trail to look for a local farmer whom I befriended a few years ago. He is not here yet. Maybe later. Instead of waiting, I brought Ricky down to Sarapia Creek to check on the condition of the water source. There is a newly-installed bamboo trough that channels the water flow. Very nice.

I check the stream where I think would be off limits to people, especially on a crucial moment like nocturnal hunting. I found it downstream where thick vegetation obscured the view of what is below it. That place gave me the creeps. It was dark and perfect for venomous snakes to hide. There have been sightings of Philippine king cobra (banakon) within the environs along Sapangdaku Creek and its tributaries.

We walk upstream and the water cascade down the small waterfall. After crossing the small stream we climb up a steep path and stood above the waterfall and examine the foliage of an ancient but wild johey oak tree (marang) which the locals mistakenly assumed for a long time as a tipolo tree (Sp. Artocarpus blancoi).

A path leads more of upstream. I need to check my personal natural bathtub. I am disappointed. The last strong rains have filled it with sand, pebbles and silt. Although I have a tool to dredge it, it is not priority. I have but a few hours of morning left, which I would use to inspect a secondary camp across a peak and dig latrines.

 

I retraced my path back to the marang tree and follow another path towards Mapawon Peak. It is a kilometer away and passes by soft disintegrating ground where the trail passes by. Since it is a peak, it is moderately steep and it takes some effort to reach the place. There are two holes where water is fed in it by two separate PVC pipes.

There are many trees here and it is great for hammock camping. I go down to a saddle where there is a giant power pylon. The ground is wide enough for five tents but I have second thoughts. It is susceptible to lightning strikes since the steel structure is a long conductor. I liked this place because but it could not host a big camp.

We go back to Sarapia Creek and then to the main choice of camp. The farmer is there also and he let me borrow his digging iron after I consulted him of using the place again for Ricky’s activity. I also mentioned to him of digging latrine holes since people would have to poop and I do not want the place and all around it spoiled.

We did not do much for the rest of the day except dig three rectangular holes very far apart from each other, on two opposing sides of a ridge, two for males and another one for females. The digging iron was most useful as the soil was hard, but the folding shovel made a big difference. In the old days, I would have crafted a digging stick and it demands lots of energy, which I am wont to expend when the sun is at its zenith.

Ricky was much satisfied with our working excursion and gets to learn camp selection and preparation personally from me. The checklist left a few blanks after that and the bushcraft camp is ready for next week. We finished earlier than we thought it to be and an early rest is more welcome.

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NAPO TO BABAG TALES CXXI: Campsite Hunting

THERE IS NO GREATER EXCITEMENT in the outdoors than that of hunting a campsite. It rivals a little with exploring a route, which is the most challenging. A campsite used for bushcraft differs so much by those used in mainstream outdoor activities. Bushcraft prefers places that is not conspicuous and flashy. The heart of finding a bushcraft camp is the discovery of a clean water source which should be farther away. Access to a stream is its other consideration and, of course, bamboos.

It is April 23, 2017, sunny and warm. I am not alone. I am with the guys and gals from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild. I am leading the small party. We just left Napo and I have my sights to Camp Xi. This campsite which I always favor nowadays is accessible and easy on all ages and physically-challenged people. Camp Xi is a complex. It has many levels with good campsites and are inconspicuous when observed from the main trail.

 

Although I had already identified four possible campsites previously but I am not the one who is satisfied of first impressions. I need to search further for the best camping site. A gentle slope goes up from the Sapangdaku Creek and you only have to follow a trail. We stop by an abandoned house and plucked water apples (Local name: tambis) and star apples (kaimito) to refresh ourselves.

A cloud passes by and I resumed my uphill walk. I had been here a few times, the last was on September 4, 2016, and during that time, I noticed a good campsite. I did not stop to look around then as I was just passing through. After 20 minutes of huffing and puffing, I found the place. What I saw last time, I thought, was the whole area. I was wrong! It is bigger than I thought it was. To know the place better you have to walk into it.

Uphill of me would be another trail that goes down a small creek where there is a small waterfall. I could have plenty of water from there. Boil it if it makes it safe to use. The stream has bamboo groves and firewood are plenty. Well, I got all I need and I do not have to search far and wide. The new site is perfect. It has shades from mango trees.

 

Basically, it is ground good for tents and simple shelters. Places for hammocks are almost absent except for one or two places. There is a natural lecture area and there is a place to build a campfire. This is a good camping ground for next week’s event that I am hosting free and another one in May for a survival training camp. This is it.

The ridge I am on is actually bounded by two streams, the names of which I do not know. Maybe the farmer who farmed uphill would give me that information. I hope he is present. I walk uphill but the farmer is nowhere. I decide to go down the stream and prepare our meal somewhere there as it is now almost 11:00. We cross the stream and climb up a path beside the small waterfall. There is a huge marang tree (English: Johey oak) that grow here and it is quite shady. We will rest and cook food at the headrock of the waterfall.

I am quite amazed at this tree whose presence was not even appreciated by locals. They misunderstood it with something else – a tipolo – a close relative of the breadfruit. This tree could may well be an heirloom species, an original resident when Cebu was lush with indigenous forest. While the rest were busy preparing something to cook, I need to take a nap on the bosom of the marang tree as the day is very warm.

I must have slept for about 15 minutes. The guys are still in the middle of their cooking. They used tin fire boxes and aluminum Swiss Army burners for better management of fire. I fold my cheap laminated nylon sheet which I used as ground sheet and stow it back inside my Lifeguard USA rucksack. I decide to visit a small pool located upstream. The coolness is so inviting but bathing is not in my plans today. I went back to the guys.

I go down to the foot of the waterfall and goes up to the ridge where there is a small flower farm. The farmer is there and we talk. The stream where there is a small watefall is called Sarapia Creek. The other stream on the other side is Lungnan Creek and, beyond another ridge, is Busan Creek. The ridge I am on is called Kampredo and a hill across where there is a lone steel tower is Mapawon. My education today is answered.

I take note of these things because I am a writer and an outdoors educator. I need to be accurate with my facts. To those who sat in my camp classes and to those who read my blog, you only learn from the best, as I strive to be that, to satisfy your thirst for knowledge. I thanked the farmer and go back to my buddies. The meal is served just in time. It is another feast for these hungry bunch.

After lunch, as part of our entertainment, we parade our blades on a piece of log. The blade porn, is a bushcraft tradition which naturally sparks off good conversations and good camaraderie. We in the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild have adopted it here in Cebu and introduced it to the rest of the outdoors community as a novel activity. There never was like this until I pioneered leisure bushcraft here in 2010.

We washed black pots and dining implements and slowly packed it inside our backpacks together with the extra blades. We would go to Mapawon Peak and we took a trail that only few people use. I have walked this trail a few times and I liked it because I do not have to meet the mainstream outdoors crowd. I liked it that way and it is exclusive, for the moment, to my bushmen. The trail passes by a small flower farm and goes down a small gully.

We pass by an abandoned farmer’s shed and this place is mango country. There is a trail on our right that goes downhill and another on my left but I focus on the one ahead of me. It wind along the contour gently and the trail goes steep a bit as it climb up a hill. We arrive at Mapawon. On the peak is a dilapidated hut, long abandoned, and there are two big holes filled with water. Two PVC pipes separately supply water to the holes.  

 

It is also a good place to make camp here due to the presence of water which were piped from somewhere along Sarapia Creek. It has trees that gave shade and to set up hammock-and-shelter sets. There is a ground down a saddle that could host tents. One of these days, I would also use this as a bushcraft camp.

We go down from the peak to the saddle where there is a power pylon. We pass underneath it and climb another hill which the farmer said was called Katugasan. There is a stunted avocado tree that bear shiny-green little fruits. There is a trail to the left that led to a rose flower farm but I am not interested of getting snagged with thorns and touch substances like chemicals.

We reach a tamarind tree that marked another trail to the right but I am interested only on the main trail which I have been following for more than an hour. Then the vegetation disappeared. Right before me is the trail but all around it is a bare hillside and it is quite steep. It would have been easier if we walk from down up to here. Going downhill is kind of complicated. There are no vegetation to hold on to as anchor.

I got two fat guys with me and two females. The rest are regular guys who spend some good time outdoors. The path is now loose because there are no more green things to retain ground moisture. I hate mindless cockroaches who wantonly cut trees and shrubs just to make charcoal. It took us almost an hour on this part to see all landing safely at the trailend. We are now on the road and we walk a kilometer more to reach the parked Fuso Canter.   

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NAPO TO BABAG TALES CXVII: Sapangdaku Creek

I AM UTTERLY TIRED TODAY but it does not mean that I will not honor a commitment. I have to else I will suffer credibility. I woke up late but, nevertheless, I have to move. It is already 08:00, when I arrive at the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish. It is Sunday – September 18, 2016 – and there are many churchgoers. I have not taken breakfast but there is a bakery.

I remind myself not to overexert. A few days from now I will complete the Cebu Highlands Trail Project by walking its last segment that will start from Nug-as, Alcoy to Liloan, Santander. An earth-shaking hike not for the weak-kneed. Anyway, the guys from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild, I presume, will be going to the Napo Trailhead and that is where I am going now.

I arrive at Napo. Another group of hikers just left. I do not want to follow in their wake nor would I overtake them on the trail. I will give them space and distance and their privacy. There is one option for me: hike along Sapangdaku Creek. I do not like to walk on streams nor encourage people to do so. It is one of those moments that I will take a chance.

I remind myself again that I am an ancient relic now and possesses no more agility to leap over stones midstream. I go down a path before the footbridge and walk along a bank of Sapangdaku Creek. The water is robust and noisy for it had been raining a few days ago. There is a bend up ahead and a big rock, ancient and covered in moss, faced me. It had been there since it was swept downstream during prehistoric floods.

Man-made water holes, washing wells, fishtraps and footprints complement boulders, sand, pebbles, vegetation, debris and deep pools in the character of the stream. The sound of rippling water constantly hum in your ears and sometimes disappears for a few seconds before it emerges into a stronger resonance. All those times, my awareness are at its edge, never wavering nor retracting into complacency.

The water passes on a small channel where current is strong but crossing the stream is easy here. I clamber over rocks when passage forward becomes tricky. I have to be careful of where I place foot over the other without neglecting other concerns like venomous reptiles and harmful plants. It is always like that. Scan the places first high and low before reaching out for a handhold or placing a foot. All done methodically.

I see few people on the stream. A farmer crossing a stream unaware of my presence. Two women with a small child washing clothes by a bend. Another woman with child doing the same chore on the mouth of a small feeder stream. However, human presence are everywhere. Unseen people talking and laughing nearby. A smoke flares up with somebody tending it. Invisible children playing, their voices echoing on the narrow confines of the stream. Someone feeding the squealing pigs. Pebbles gathered by somebody and abandoned.

The stream passes by a community and sewage pours into it. Stench is revolting. Water looks sinister. Vegetation grows thick and fat on the water channel. Few spots to walk and the only places are nearby canal outlets. No choice except hold breath and make an exit quick. At other times, it passes by thick vegetation where both sides were linked by a bridge of vines that is so low, so dark and so suspicious-looking.

When I am on an open field, the stream looks so glorious in the morning sunlight. It is as if I am in another world. Upstream becomes a conduit of much cleaner water and enchanting scenery until the channel is blocked by felled trees. The dried leaves and branches cover everything what is below. Would I step on stone, water or snake? I hope my feet touch dry ground always.

There had been reports of Philippine king cobras (Local name: banakon) escaping from a government-run zoo in nearby Kalunasan. When you are a snake on the loose, the fastest way to travel is going downhill and, when you reach a stream, you got all the food and the coolness you need, and then work your way upstream. Aside that, there are cobras in the wild also and this is still their habitat. I had not seen one but I had seen other kinds of venomous and non-venomous snakes.

There is that faint splashing sound that catches your attention which is different from the usual ones made by a current ricocheting its way on rocks and debris and shore. It grows stronger and stronger as you approach and you discover it is a cascade, sometimes mistakenly described by the many as a waterfall. A waterfall is a straight drop of the stream from a height while a cascade is but a stream rambling on solid rock from a height.

So this is the one that caused so much racket everytime I walked the trail above Sapangdaku Creek but I suspected it at first as a waterfall. I do not have a name for this stream landmark nor I have people to ask of. I have noticed that there are two pools created by the drop. One on the bottom and the other on its middle. Besides that, there is another separate pool on its side, created by an overflow.

There is a passage going to the top of the cascade but you would have to climb a 15-foot wall of rock, which I did, thank God, I can still do it at my age and bulk now. Scrambling rocks and boulders is no stranger to me for I learned rock climbing in Cantabaco, Toledo City in the ‘90s, back in the days when I was lean and strong and young and fearless. But now, I am afraid of heights.

There is another pool but narrow and above it is a chute on the rock that channeled the stream at its swiftest current. This is a good spot to take a bath since it is hidden. Maybe later. I walk upstream and more of the wonderful features: pools, small cascades and crystal-clear water with schools of guppy in it. Farther, there is a trail built on a man-made pile of rocks. Motorcycles came down here often as seen on the different wheel tracks. I just want to travel along the stream.

There is another deep pool, another set of big boulders and children. One of the boys, who was crouching and unaware of my presence, dropped his excess load into the swift current. The stream, like any other streams in the Philippines, is a repository of everything, like animal wastes, chemicals, garbage, sewage and excess loads. This stream is polluted but people wash their clothes and dining utensils and themselves with water from here.

I am able to keep my shoes and my feet dry by my sheer wit in choosing where I walk. In my experience, it is not wise to walk with wet shoes unless you have no other choice. There was a time when people were crossing Marbel River up to their crotch on their way to Mount Apo, there I was leaping among boulders midstream over their shoulders, not because I was showing off but because I am uncomfortable with wet shoes and socks. That was dangerous! I was able to accomplish that because I had a wonderful pair of shoes and I was a fool.

The clear water becomes white. Chemicals! I could hear a small engine from afar. It is used to power a water compressor for spraying mango trees. The sound gets louder as I approach and I heard another sound, that of water being sprayed. Up on the branches of a mango tree, a man is spraying the leaves and flowers. I held my breath and made another quick exit. Cebu’s mango industry is the number one pollutant of rivers! Next are the flower farms. Just look at the abnormal growth of algae.

Once upon a time, Cebu mangoes were the best in the Philippines and our mangoes found its way to the US, Europe, Australia, Japan and other countries. Not anymore. We are now overtaken by Guimaras. You know why? They grow it organically while ours use chemicals. Food standards are now high and very strict and, what was once Cebu’s market, are now verboten. Sapangdaku Valley is mango country and trees dot the landscape like broccoli. How I wished growers go back to the basic and be less greedy.

There is another deep pool and, above it, is a chute of water. I walk on and there are sandbars. Two men are shoveling sand into empty cement sacks. I walk past them and an abandoned spoon in sand. Another small feeder stream joined Sapangdaku Creek. Passage quite tricky but I saw a track of a person going upstream. Reading a track is a skill. Most tracks are imprints on soft ground. That is the easy part. Following someone on hard surfaces like stones and boulders is extraordinary. I just love it.

Arrived at a big pool with a good chute. The pool is dammed with stones to make it deeper and to fence in fish. I go around it and am now in familiar ground. Just 300 meters more upstream would be where those crazies of Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild would make their dirt-time, if I am correct on my presumption. I walk past a natural rectangular stone that could have been used by a local for sharpening blades.

I am at the spot of where they are supposed to cross the stream and climb up a trail but I saw not one trace of them. Disappointed, I drank my first gulp of water. I laughed at myself of why I went to the great length of stealth-walking on a stream only to find that they are not here. Well, it happens. Yes, it happened that I walked that part of the Sapangdaku Creek where I have not had the opportunity to do so. I am glad of my debacle. It was a great day.

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NAPO TO BABAG TALES 100: Wet and Wild

AFTER MY YESTERDAY'S boo-boo, I finally got over it and go, once again, to the parking lot of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish. Today, August 23, 2015, is real, for sure. The biology class of the University of San Jose-Recoletos are coming over. According to their professor, Ryan Ymbong, there will be twenty of them.

Unfortunately, Ernie Salomon will not be with me. Another from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild – Nelson Tan – will take his place but he will be late. Fine. For the past few days, weather patterns are beginning to be predictable. Rain will pour hard during noon and another sequel in the middle of the afternoon. Well, I am ready for that but I am worried about my guests.

I waited. Killed time by listening to the MP3 feature of my Cherry Mobile U2 phone. A white passenger van arrived and out comes Prof. Ryan, I presume, from the front seat. He instantly recognized my khaki Silangan Predator Z backpack prominently placed on the concrete pavement. My worries stretched into a frown as most of the students are not wearing proper footwear.

That would really be a problem when the ground turns muddy but, as long as it does not rain this morning, that difficulty will not be much of a problem. Anyway, I join the professor on the front seat and the driver took us to the community of Napo. As we arrive, I immediately gather them all and gave them a short briefing of the terrain and the rough estimate of the distance to our destination.

Noticing that some were carrying heavy things inside big plastic bags, I requested these be equally distributed to others. I myself volunteer to carry the heavy bunch of rice cooked in coconut-leaves (Local name: puso) and the breakable items. At least, for now, the load carried by hand would be tolerable and there would be no danger of the plastic bags getting torn by blades of grass. Sturdy plastic bags, I noticed, are beginning to disappear, replaced by those brittle biodegradable ones.

We start our activity with a prayer by Prof. Ryan. I lead but I walked like someone who is strolling in Plaza Independencia under a pale light of a full moon. Yeah, that slow. I believe (and I know) that some pairs of feet would get skin blisters soon considering that I saw bare skin above shoes indicating no socks at all. Oh well, what a great way to learn plants and of hiking – later. That is why I walk slow. I see a stinging nettle (daw-daw) and I begin my own version of Plant 101.

I am interested to learn more about plants since I teach people about bushcraft. I have only a limited data of it right in my head learned from the nuances of growing up, from books, from the mil and from my late grandpa, who left me alone time and time again in a forest, usually at dusk or at dawn, during his tireless journeys, mostly in Bohol, while I was five and seven. I learned so many things from him and what I learned I share.

I may know some plants but it is limited to the local names, the features and its uses. I do not have time for its scientific names but, later on, through self-study, I begun to know its English equivalent and, to a much difficult degree, their Latin conundrum. Those that I have discovered recently, I turn to professional advice in the Web but, mostly, site administrators are as stupid as I am and so unaccommodating, leaving you more ignorant.

However, perhaps, I may learn a thing or two from this bunch. Prof. Ryan had read my blog and had requested me to guide them to a good site at the Babag Mountain Range. I know places there where vegetation are thick and would be a hoard of treasure to a biology student. It is where streams pass and you do not need people to wreck havoc on their bodies by leading them to difficult terrain.

When you are into the business of wilderness guiding, improvisation matters. It is different to mountain guiding where elevation, adrenaline and scenery afforded by peaks are its main pursuits. I had been guiding people for some time and I find the latter too dangerous and too boring for my age. In the former, I found fulfillment. It is that which people tend to appreciate your skills, your knowledge and your time.

The path is wet and parts of it are muddy which is bad enough. It will get worse when rain comes falling. I change paths and follow the trail going to Sapangdaku Creek. We follow it upstream until we are on a level ground above the stream. This place is called Kangsi by the locals and a lone family lived nearby. This would be a perfect place as it had been previously in several activities that I organized.

Prof. Ryan began instructing his students, which are composed of the purely BS Biology discipline and those of BS Education with major in Biology Studies. They had with them their instruments in aid of their field study like a GPS, thermometers, ropes, iron pegs, Petri dishes, glass jars, cameras, pencils and journals. They are divided into four groups.

The area is divided into four quadrants and lengths of rope are unrolled to delineate each quadrant from the other. I assisted each of the four groups establish their own quadrants, especially the ones that has the ropes go over the thickest vegetation. My big AJF Gahum knife did a lot of work to clear a way for me to bring one end of a rope to its farthest reach.

Three of the quadrants cross streams while one covered steep ground. The groups then collect their specimen, which are then documented after several guessings of its taxonomic category, including the GPS coordinates where each is found. Aside from plants, they also gathered three kinds of grasshoppers, some crickets, a mosquito, different butterflies and two varieties of fresh-water guppy.

The rain came as expected, near noon, and all collecting activities stop to concentrate instead to the preparation of their pre-cooked meals. It is not safe to work on the streams for fear of flash floods. Instead, I produce three banana leaves to cover the ground where the food will be placed. The rice in the “puso” are many and I could not believe I carried it all. Viands are the Tisa “siomai” (Chinese meat rolls), “pancit guisado” (local noodles), pieces of fried chicken and canned goods.

We eat our lunch under the onslaught of rain. Fortunately, Nelson arrived just in time to set up a tarpaulin sheet over where the food is laid. To those who cannot be accommodated below the shelter, to each his (or her) own to find some semblance of cover to justify a human necessity of providing nutrition to self, like me. I have been into this situation many times and it does not matter with today's inconvenience.

There is a lull in the sky and we were even afforded a glimpse of sunlight yet I expect rain to come back with a vengeance later. The specimen collection continues at 13:30 and everyone proceed to their assigned quadrants. The stream had risen a bit and the current brisk. Everyone pursue their work with wet clothes while I and Nelson stand guard. I keep a special attention on the stream and on a shooting suspect on the loose named Timoteo Gabasan.

By 14:15, the rains come back earlier than expected but it had stopped after about thirty minutes. The students ignored the inconvenience and concentrated on their field studies. At 15:30, the rains struck once more, and again, at 16:15. When Prof. Ryan sees that his wards have had enough of specimen collected, he called a cession to their activity and everyone obliged and repacked all their equipment and other things.

We leave Kangsi (it rhymes like Camp Xi) at 16:30 under the cover of incessant rain. The going was tough for those who wore rubber flip-flops, ladies' sandals, espadrilles and all sort of improper footwear, which almost were. They have to negotiate a slightly steep path from river bank to the main trail which looked like a crude imitation of a water slide and the main trail itself has pools of water along some stretches where there are depressions.

Prof. Ryan was exhausted after the hike back to Napo and he was the last one to arrive. Their transport have arrived earlier and waited until such time that everyone were accounted for. I take my usual place on the passenger van where I got dropped off at Guadalupe. Nelson, meanwhile, took his motorcycle and was already gone when I arrived. I would part Nelson his share of the fee when we meet next time.

Anyway, I accept people who requests of my services in guiding them to the mountains but, mostly, I refer it to my subalterns if it is for leisure hikes only. I would personally engage if the purpose is of a higher calling like today. I used to be a freelance mountain guide many years ago and I find no satisfaction in that because it demands technical skills and the risks are great with which compensation does not tally well with your efforts and the gears you invested.

As a wilderness guide, the risks are not that great and does not demand expensive gears. You have to have a different set of skills quite different from those activities done at higher elevations and is much in demand and, therefore, a bit expensive than usual. Guiding an archeological or a scientific expedition is one such example where the professional wilderness guide should be extraordinary and possess a high-level of expertise and ability.

Whenever you have such need of a guide for a planned Philippine expedition project, I can be contacted and be hired directly through my mobile numbers at +639172035101 and +639333225005 or you may email me at pinoyapache (at) yahoo (dot) com. If you so desire to see my credentials, I can attach it in my email in PDF or JPEG, whichever you prefer.

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