2021-013 | THE SIGNS OF THE TIMES

WHEN NEWS OF THE VIRUS spread its infection from ground zero in Wuhan to the rest of China and over its borders, I was quite alarmed because the Philippines does not have a very efficient health-care system. On a scale of 1 to 5, where 1 is weak and 5 is strong, my country is down there hovering between 0.5 to 0.8, nowhere near those countries where we thought are weaker than ours.

That is because we have a very large population broken into islands and regions where each has a disappointing bed-to-population ratio with its unique set of problems which may cause the prevention and the containment of the virus very difficult. The Philippines is simply not ready for a pandemic and the government lacked people with sufficient experience, knowledge and skills who could tackle this problem head on. 

This was a medical problem that needed medical solutions but the final decisions were from the retired generals and politicians who insisted on treating this as a military campaign. Our doctors and men of science were relegated to the background and bawled over when they insisted on their scientific-based opinions, just like what China was doing to its scientists. 

I could never fathom the meekness of my government to China and started accepting Chinese tourists (while others closed their borders with China) in the most vulnerable time of the pandemic. In fact, a Chinese woman from Wuhan started the circus here when she appeared in Cebu in early February 2020 and infected everyone who came into contact with her. That news placed everyone in fear and uncertainty and that was a bad sign of the times.

 

I am a reluctant prepper. I advocate prepping but not the type of prepping that is beyond your means. I have been prepping myself, my family and my home for all calamities, natural or man-made, if and when it comes knocking in our time. This pandemic tested me and, so far, in my self-assessment, I am slightly better than my neighbors. Simply because, I am a prepper and I follow protocols.

The “new normal” screwed people so hard that they find it hard to adapt to this and discard their old habits with which their comforts are dependent on. Likewise, the government is so inept and does not have a long-term national plan to combat this pandemic. Fake news floated in social media and added to the confusion. Everything seemed to be going against us as lockdown after lockdown were imposed to contain an invisible enemy. 

Lockdowns, known here as Enhanced Community Quarantine, Modified ECQ, General CQ and Modified GCQ, jumped back and forth, according to the severity of the statistics of a city or province. Cebu City became the “center of the pandemic” as government kept on pointing fingers at anybody except themselves. The inner suburbs indeed has people who disdained the safety protocols and have added to the problem.  

It was in these times – at the beginning, during and the current stages of the pandemic - that I braved the streets and “broadcast” my opinions, criticisms, observations, apprehensions, satires and appreciation in Facebook as “El Bandido”, in my pandemic-long “syndicated” SIGNS OF THE TIMES. I used the same hash-tags over and over: #fortresscebu, #wuhanvirus and #apocalypsis. 

FORTRESS CEBU. It is a jibe at government, and later, businesses, for taking a heavy hand on the population, creating rouge fortresses and backyard kingdoms out of fear. People too became midget castles of their mind. Travel, for a time, out of your home was forbidden as well as of people visiting you. All access to communities were barred. 

We have seen how our government reacted to the pandemic. You shake a head. Sometimes you are amused but, most of the time, you swear at them with contempt. This swirl of the pandemic in this country was caused, in the first place, by our government’s negligence, ineptness and cowardice to tackle a problem called China.   

 

We lost our advantage of isolation because of our government’s subservience to the wishes of China! We are already suffering from their deadly experiment and yet their nationals come and go as they please. Our local leaders are overruled by those traitors in Malacañan. These people placed more care on Chinese nationals than us Filipinos! 

Because they could do nothing against Chinese nationals, they locked us down against our wishes. We complied with that when it is for the common good. In fact, I encouraged people to follow safety protocols at all times; the wearing of masks; the observance of physical distancing; personal hygiene like frequent washing and self-isolation; and correct people who believed the pandemic is a scam!

 

Adapting to the pandemic, I added items that would keep me protected, as much as possible, from infection: an elastic neck warmer with two medical masks as backup; an alcohol-based spray disinfectant; and a hand tool for opening doors and punching elevator keys. When the need arises, I wear a tinted “vanity” face mask or a safety goggles. And, of course, frequent washing. 

WUHAN VIRUS. As much as people, government and media would like to refer to this deadly virus as COVID-19, or novel corona virus, I would use “Wuhan Virus”, because it starts from there in Wuhan, China. To remind people with short memories, that the greatest pandemic of this decade came from there – CHINA.

Wuhan Virus is a biological weapon manufactured in one of their secret laboratories. It is meant to harm people and nations; to destroy their military and economic capacity. China do not discriminate when it wages war. Civilians are still active opposition and mouths to feed. We have seen how they committed genocide in Tibet and on their own citizens in Tiananmen Square. It is a ruthless country.

 

It is so easy for them to impose their draconian measures against their own population but we should never do that on our own. We are a nation of many faiths, whose population are absorbed with their own spirituality. We know our very own human rights and we know where we stand. It is against our rights then when our own government exposes us to harm.

Opening our borders with China for many months during the pandemic, despite a great clamor, was a collective violation of our rights. So was converting public schools into isolation centers for people suspected of Wuhan Virus infections – a PUI or person under investigation. These schools are in close proximity to thickly-populated neighborhoods where aerosols could go over barriers and distance. 

Every cadaver were treated as a PUI even when each have died of natural causes and accidents. When your own dead loved one is a PUI, the dead must be buried within 24 hours, foregoing the usual wakes and other rites reserved as respect for the dead. People suffering from simple ailments would never go to a hospital, afraid of being treated as a PUI, and would rather self-isolate and inhale steam. 

This Wuhan Virus is not to be taken lightly even if the lockdowns have been eased a little. There are so many contrasting stories circulating, about its origins and that it begins to be a scam engineered, allegedly, by wealthy individuals and big pharmaceutical companies. These stories only make you more susceptible to infection because you would drop your guard. It is propaganda; most likely, of Chinese origins and funding. 

APOCALYPSIS. People still could not comprehend that what we are facing against is not that so complicated. We just have to observe the protocols to the heart and rid of the old habits for a while. It is all about hygiene and human contact since infection is a two-way affair. Distance, hygiene and isolation plays a better part in this pandemic.

 

I value my personal freedom but it is not about me this time. I may even not know that I am an asymptomatic carrier and that what counts. I hate this herd mentality but I could blend, adapt and improvise so I could retain and enjoy my individuality. Never ever consider it defiance against the protocol but, a defiance instead against Wuhan virus and the general stupidity prevailing. 

My preferences are different than what is required. You desired the disposable mask but I liked better the elastic neck warmer, folded twice, to make my breathing difficult. If I suffered from lack of oxygen, how much more with floating aerosols? I washed it and use it again as against piling or disposing unsafe garbage. 

Then the government task force imposed the face shield on transportation and that is alright even though it is very cumbersome and has very little protection against this virus. A safety goggles is much better but I compromised and bought a tinted “vanity” face shield where I could use it as an alternative to my now obsolete Ray-Ban Wayfarer.

A certain bus company, however, would not allow me a seat with that. They insist with that flimsy acetate face shield which people placed over their heads instead of shielding the faces. If 40 passengers have this type, I am quite sure only 4 or 5 are wearing it properly. I am at a loss really if it is really safe against infection if placed over the head as against mine worn properly? 

The department stores instantly became “transportations” when they insist a face shield upon entry. That is alright for as long as they do not discriminate my vanity face shield. People do not properly wear it anyway when shopping while mine is. The only problem with face shields in walled establishments is that it adds to the stuffiness of the air you breathe.

Another of my preference was folding my quarantine pass eight times and place it in a pocket as against people who hanged it in front of their chests because a city government employee said so. They looked funny as you meet them on the streets with laminated A4-sized bondpapers on their front where a breeze would slap it against their faces.

 

When the filling up of contact-tracing forms became mandatory for all when entering department stores, most stores just throw their social responsibilities away at their customers by leaving them jostling for space to fill the forms. It was like somebody was tossing paper bills on a crowd. Only Gaisano Main has imposed a good system. 

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FEAR WOULD MAKE YOU respect death. I walked with trepidity, giving a wide berth to people; refusing to be part of a crowd and the long lines of panic buyers. Frequent washing of hands are observed in my household. While all rejoice in downgrading of the ECQ into a GCQ, my house remained in ECQ status as our defense mechanism. 

New habits developed as we adapt in a pandemic. You learn to shop online but once the merchandise arrived, the packaging is washed, opened to examine the item, and left it to settle for three days while I wash my hands again. Each time coins and bills came into our possession from outside, we washed our hands.

During the most severe lockdown, the thoroughfares were empty of cars and trucks. There were almost no people. It was like 1972 again when a dictator proclaimed martial law. The silence of the nights during the lockdown curfews was very soothing despite the heat of the tropical summer. When heavy rains finally arrived in May, I bathed fully naked outside because there were no people around. 

The photos tell how I aged during the pandemic. The lockdown started so late already, in March 22, 2020, but we are not out of the woods yet. The lack of exercise left me with a pot belly. The stamina that I have nurtured for years is gone. What I have now is a white beard and an equally white long hair.

Grown my hair long since February of last year. It is my own silent protest of the government’s handling of the pandemic. I will cut it short when all the clowns are gone. It had been a long nightmare and the trauma of that comes every now and then. I hope to see the last of these clowns in 2022. If not, the hair stays long.    

Photo Nr 1 from BioWorld

Photo Nr 2 from Inside Racing

Photo Nr 3 from ABS CBN News

Photo Nr 14 from Glen Pestaño

AN IRISH COUPLE IN OPEAK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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BUSHCRAFT BUHISAN XLV: Rewilding

REWILDING IS THE RETURN of habitats to its original state, to include the re-introduction of wild animals that were once native there before its disappearance. My version of rewilding is the return of the wilderness into my system. Immersion in a jungle environment, on a place or a camp all to myself, far away from any human company, is my idea of rewilding and I have the perfect place for it – Creek Charlie.

I need to return to the wild alone today, October 27, 2017, and there is no other day. In a few days, I will be sailing to Mindanao so I could teach and share bushcraft skills for the very first time there. Whenever I do that, I always retrieve the essence of the forests, the jungles, the mountains, the streams and all that is in the outdoors for connection, inner strength and a renewed knowledge in woodlore.

I cannot explain that to someone who has a mindset that is so different from mine. I may dress and behave like anyone else but I am not what you think. I am now carrying thoughts borne out of my native origins which I have rediscovered and embraced long ago yet modern enough to write something complex as this article. Yes, Virginia, my philosophy of the world around me is in all my writings.

You know, I have been assimilated unawares to conventional ways but I cannot undo it. I do not hate myself for that nor feel uneasy of all these people around me whose mindsets are mechanically trained since childhood to think and act in a manner and behavior tailored-fit for Western culture. I could do nothing about it and I can live with that but it does not carry an obligation to explain everything to someone who is of not my kind.

However, you may understand me if you follow the gist of this article. So, rewilding is a sort of ritual that I have done countless times, before I proceed to do big tasks ahead. It had helped me release stress while I was in a corporate prison, working my ass off for my masters. Rewilding had enriched my spirit and my life, and lets me retrieve wisdom that are not available in conventional channels. 

Personally, I love solo walks into the mountains. The silence is something that I would not trade for a lively company or the spattering of friendly conversations. My kind of silence is the whisper of wind among leaves, bird songs, the frolic of water in a stream, the buzz of a fleeting bee, even the crackling of dry tinder before a robust flame. I longed for these kind of sounds. Primeval and distant. In silence, these are so sweet to the soul.

I followed a path that I know very well and the chance to tread on bare ground immediately connects me to sacred grounds. I became one with the forest. Unobtrusive in movement and clothes. Silent like a cat. No hurried steps, no pressure of time. Not even the presence of dark clouds overhead could alter my pace. I am that rare someone who found enjoyment in what I do – alone – even walking on the same trails and places.

My Silangan Predator bag swayed as I struggled for balance when a shoe failed to grip softer ground downhill, exposing my presence to whoever may walk this path. But I doubt that. I have still to meet someone who is brave enough to walk trails on a weekday. Alone. Too bad, everyone is a slave to the system and their time is programmed on weekends only. Cannot blame them. Better that way. I can have all the spaces without them. 

The sun warmed up the forest and steam begins to rise. I am sweating even when I am under shady trees. Wild gingers are flowering everywhere, even within the unwelcoming presence of a Burma teak forest. Long ago, our forest managers eat anything fed to them, planting exotic species, never knowing the troubles it brought to native species, insects, birds and soil. This man-made forest is a failed experiment even if the trees grew healthy. 

Creek Alpha is before me and the stream is full and merry. I followed it downstream, careful this time not to leave any trace. Common sense tells me to evade streams but I find good sense of forest people using part of the stream as a route. They know their own places and I am learning from them. I see where they placed foot on rocks and know what are they wearing for their feet. Because of them, Creek Alpha now has a name: Banauan.

I am leaving Banauan Creek and the phony forest and I am now on a trail in an environment that is much wilder. Presence of spiny rattan competes for your special attention apart from the softened trail. This path is one of the wonders of local knowledge. It simply followed a certain contour instead of cutting across a mountain. It benefits well my walk, rising gently to cross a saddle and going down gently to Creek Bravo.

Just like the first stream, Creek Bravo is also energetic and loaded. On a rock is a carcass of a juvenile monitor lizard which died several weeks ago. This particular stream is teeming with rocks of all ages and sizes, broken up by the force of water. Across me are the groves of water bamboos, fully recovering from wanton destruction five years ago. I have planned of reintroducing fresh-water shrimps here but I just could not source live specimen.

After that brief rest, I passed through an alley where “skin snatchers” abound. This trail is thick with rattan palms and their spiny tendrils, slender and barely noticeable, suddenly catches skin or fabric and you have to respect that. You take a few steps back and slowly remove the spiny whip. My copy of the Puffin Magnum knife becomes useful as it cleared a safe path for me.

The trail climbs up towards a ridge, leaving the marshy areas behind for stable ground. The ridge goes up gently but it is blocked by more rattan palms and by the equally thorny vines of the Asiatic bitter yam (kobong), which got cleared by my open-carried knife. At this instance, I carved a digging stick to extract from the ground a rootcrop from the wild yam which I intend to bring home. The thorny vines make a good hedge against intruders.

The trail led to a very beautiful forest. Both sides are steep but it is much vegetated. It goes up and up, but gently. I arrive a small clearing which I know as my dear Camp Damazo. It hosted recently the 7th edition of the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp last June. Twenty-six participants came to learn basic bushcraft here which I first organized in 2011. The PIBC returned here after three years in Sibonga and Liloan.

Settling myself on a cheap laminated nylon sheet, I prepared my Swiss Army wood burner. I intend to boil water for coffee for it is 10:45 anyway. Found dry twigs which I break into short lengths and started a fire by a gas lighter. Placed a cup of water over the rim of the burner and feed more fuel into the burner. Water finally boiled after five minutes and I poured instant coffee. Paired the coffee with bread and enjoyed the moment of silence.   

Camp Damazo has recovered in so short a time, thanks to the rainy season. The campfire area marked by a cairn has settled well and new growths of vegetation begin to reclaim around it. A remnant of a bamboo pot with its lid lies nearby a Moluccan ironwood (ipil) and the stinging tree (alingatong) where a mass of dirt are left by the now missing army of ants after gnawing off clean the leftover rice many months ago.

I looked around the camp area. Madras ginger (galangal) bears little round fruits at the tips of its stems, ripe and drooping to the ground. The yellowish-green fruit became a diet of a passing palm civet (singalong) and left black round scats over a tree root. Tall arbor trees provide second-tier shade and jungle fowls loved to forage there when caterpillars infest the leaves. Much more so with raptors and lesser avian.  

I rest for more than an hour at Camp Damazo. I would have loved to stay here but there is something wilder somewhere over there. I pack my things back inside my bag and proceed to Creek Charlie. It is now 13:00 and, to my estimates, too late to explore more places. But there is a place that I once visited four years ago. I marked that trail but I was wondering what happened of that?

I followed the trail going to Creek Charlie, passing by where an unusually-shaped tree that looked like a brontosaurus, complete with feet, a tail and a long neck. This tree I also discovered four years ago but did not have the courage to approach and take a photo of it. I respect the presence of something other than it. Through the years, I was able to take photos from afar, then point-blank, when I think it is now used to my presence.

I am not superstitious and do not believe in those “third eye” tales, but I am convinced of the presence of these rarely-seen elements. I have seen and encountered many of these kind, even at closer range possible, yet I do not show fear and I let them be as they are. When you are a renewed Roman Catholic you would understand and be aware of their presence but it does not mean that you are impervious from harm.

Vegetation near it was being cleared and a hunter’s shed is being built near the trail, already shriveled, exposing horizontal wood beams that had once supported a roof of abaca leaves and walls of galangal leaves. I looked around where the hunter might have set his sights and I settled on thick debris that was supported by tree branches of the brontosaur tree and its neighbors. It could host a nest, an arboreal hiding place of wildlife.

I could only shake my head. Why would I trouble myself waiting for a prey in an uncomfortable location so I could get off a shot when I could do better with indigenous methods, with myself comfortably waiting in the confines of my home? I would not have to alter the surroundings. The only alteration I make is introducing a cord and using a young sprout to bend to my whim. 

Creek Charlie, I discovered, is part of the right fork of the bigger Lensa Creek that supplied water to the catchment basins, marshes, the man-made lake and, ultimately, to the MCWD consumers. This is a stream of primeval proportions. The rocks are bigger, water fall in cascades. You get caught in a flashflood here and you are dead. It is never a good idea to use this as a route but I know of a trail across me.

It is steep and follow a very narrow ridge, steep on both sides with one side on a deep ravine. The soil on this ridge is soft and it is not good to bring a lot of people here, especially people who do not carry the same mindset as mine. I crossed over another ridge, which can be reached by a short leap. The trail suddenly dies out and I am facing three possibilities, once upon a time paths before these were choked by vegetation.

I choose the marked trail and passed by a hole filled with very clear water coming from a spring. I did not see this before. The jungle is unfolding and showing me things that were denied to me last time. Must be because I am very patient or was it my awe and reverence for this place? I passed by the first of two bamboo groves. Poles are left by a forest dweller on the ground but I place it standing up beside a trunk. I might use this someday.

I am going to my sacred place in a jungle where it faced a distant lone mountain and the rising of the sun. I have bamboos to make a shelter – a sweat lodge – where I can do meditations in the future and be away from the complexities of urban living. It is there among giant figs (tibig and talo-ot) with buttress roots as tall as a man. Then I saw movement. Timid, confident and unafraid. Brown fur and a thick tail. Squirrel?

The Philippine squirrel (kangsi) is a very elusive rodent that is common in Palawan. But on my visit to Mount Pangasugan in Leyte last March 2014, my guide showed me a live one staying inert on a branch from a distance of about 50 meters. I could only see a brown smudge among the greens but its shrill whistle pierced the early morning air. You would think that the noise they made were done by birds.

I believed Cebu was part of its habitat when it was still all forest and too few people claiming farm patches. In case you do not know, there is a place in Sapangdaku Creek and everywhere in Cebu that are called Kangsi or Kansi. Nobody remembers why it is called that but I know why? The creature I saw disappeared among the roots and I found holes underneath it, the entrances are well used, indicating a healthy family.

Yes the forest is unfolding and showing me its hidden features. I am quite satisfied of my finds that I did not tarry long. I found my sacred place and the second bamboo is still untouched by humans. I go back to where I came from and crossed Creek Charlie once more. I take another trail to drink from a natural spring called Karamon. I crossed the headwaters of Creek Bravo and Banauan Creek towards a mountain road.

Across me is a trail that goes to Lanipao. It goes lazily downhill to the Lanipao Rainforest Spring Resort, Cabins Resort and a store that sells cold soft drinks. Walking on, I found another recreation center – Motmot Spring Resort – that was not here last June. Not only was the forest unfolding its secrets to me, it also include this road to Napo. So much for mysteries. Ha!

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PINOYAPACHE GOES TO SAMAL ISLAND

I PROMISED TWO YEARS ago that I would attend the 2nd Omega Pelta Kappa Fraternity and Sorority National Convention to be hosted by the Zeta Chapter of Davao City on September 9, 2017. This, I made in writing for everyone to read, after the conclusion of the 1st OPK National Convention held in Cebu City last September 2015. Later I faced a dilemma, when the date was fast approaching: that I simply do not have the funds to be there. 

It is not easy to just forget about it. No it is never in my character. I gazed at heaven for manna. I was about to give up to that idea when a fellow Peltan, now based abroad, promised to shoulder my airplane fares should I be interested to go to Davao and attend it. Then another of our sister promised to take care of the billeting before and during the national convention. I did not ask for all of that but it came my way. God is Great! Thank you! Thank you my gracious sponsors. You are heaven sent. Thank you.

I was scheduled to fly from Cebu on September 7 but, by the quirks of the regularly delayed flights with which this particular airline is famous for, my flight was rescheduled on the night of September 8, just in time to be with my brothers and sisters celebrating a pre-convention party in Matina Town Center, one of Davao City’s popular watering holes and we occupied the front tables. It was like we were college students again. Actually, this was the day that OPK was founded 52 years ago.

During that joyous affair, I witnessed the military conducting checkpoint on the entrance to the rock concert event. The whole of Mindanao was under Martial Law due to the war against terrorists in Marawi City which had just ended a few days ago. Threats by armed groups are still present which necessitated drastic measures. The military watched us from the sidelines and would always approach anybody who would take a smoke with stern warnings. The musical event ended at midnight and orders of beer stopped.

Tired from the travel and too much of beer, I joined with other Peltans to rest early – at 02:30 of the following day – at our billeting area in Green Windows Dormitel, so we could start early in the morning for the convention site, which would be at Samal Island. At 05:00, my pre-set alarm woke me up and I get the opportunity to use the common bathroom first. My mindset always worked on situations like this which I learned many years ago in training center barracks.

Yes I prepared for this travel under a Martial Law atmosphere that I came “naked”. I did not bring any blade, not even a small Swiss Army Knife, for I cannot fathom it being confiscated or of me getting investigated because of that. I preferred going “grey”, to go places unnoticed and without arousing attention. I compensate what I lacked by increasing my situational awareness. I know how Martial Law worked because I grew up with it in the years of the Marcos dictatorship (1972-86) and I hated it.

At 08:00, we were now prepared to Samal Island and one vehicle of our convoy got caught by radar speeding in a highway while approaching Sasa Wharf. In Davao City, you are not allowed to cruise over 40 KPH. I appreciate that and it should be applied nationwide. The driver, who is from the Gamma Chapter and unaware about this city ordinance, got a warning instead after one of our hosts interceded. We waited for our turn to board the ferry that would cross a narrow channel into the Island Garden City of Samal.

It is my first time to be in this island, which is known for its mother-of-pearl farms producing cultured pearls. Samal Island was also in the news some two years ago when the Abu Sayyaf went out of their way to kidnap three foreigners while they were in their yacht. After 30 minutes, we arrived at Samal and walked just a few meters to where the convention would be held: Camp Holiday Resorts. It is good to know that the sister who sponsored my billeting, took care also of my registration which is a thousand bucks. Again, thank you.

I got registered without a fuss, took a seat around on one of the tables and did a Peltan handshake to everyone. Familiar faces, from the convention of two years ago, arrived and everybody exchanged niceties, good conversations and hearty laughs of funny memories. Coffee and light meals got served. The convention is scheduled for 18:00, so I looked for my room, which I get to share with two other Peltans. It is a nice airconditioned room with a soft bed, a good view from its terrace and it is not cramped.

After freshening up, I went back to the convention hall wearing the event shirt. The room occupants doubled by this time but, thankfully, I reclaimed my seat. My envelope is still there and, in it, is the event programme. My Lenovo A7000 is still at its place near the electrical outlet, charging power. Too much of WiFi hours ago have drained it of life and now it is gaining battery volume. I need the Android phone for the documentations. I came here because of an obligation – a promise – and, second, as an adventure travel blogger.

Travelling under a Martial Law is adventure. It is another adventure if you do not agree – in principle – to this present government’s penchant for extra-judicial killings and ignoring rule of law. I am a dissenting voice and Davao City is the current president’s hometown. Figuratively, I am in “enemy” territory because I am different from you in thoughts. What would be sauce for you is poison for me and let us agree to disagree with that. I am no stranger to the president and Davao City. I climbed Mount Apo in 1994 and, in 1995, I chased and caught alive a serial killer here which got me an audience with the former mayor. We met twice!

As much as possible, I will try to keep to myself, despite the festive affair, and I will refuse any talks about politics. The program started and the chapters are mentioned. Delta Chapter, the one I belonged to, is now a dying entity, so were every other chapter except where OPK is still very active. It is so sad because we are not getting any younger and the law forbids us to do the usual rituals and processes which had shaped our view of fraternities and sororities, and of our own OPK. It does not work that way anymore and we have a dearth of new blood. I do not know if this convention would adapt to change.

It did not. By design, the idea about PISPI was never mentioned. Burying that to silence is the extension of the leadership council to two more years. They have not done their homework for two years and have nothing to show anything promising and I heard no mild reactions. We are still feeling – or reeling – our way in the dark. I was hoping the advocates for change were here because I was very receptive to that idea. There is a rift somewhere and what is there next in this same setup? PISPI would have given me hope instead of reminiscing about the glory days like school reunions always bring.

When the convention ended, I returned to my room and drank beer to toast to the demise of PISPI and what is left of my OPK. I do not see a good future. I kept to myself on the room’s terrace accompanied by a few Peltans celebrating our 52nd founding years from the rest. Personally, I do not like a crowd and I would rather do socials in anonymity, far from the rest. We all will stay here until tomorrow noon. The exclusivity of a room is much better and it works for me here.

 

The second day, September 10, is reserved for recreation and more socials. Early rising Peltans have already occupied two long rows of table on the general beach area. Breakfasts of native delicacies were provided by our hosts and buckets of cold Red Horse keeps you warmed up. You may have to choose the shoreline or an infinity pool to cool off or bathe on both. I do a short tour around Camp Holiday. There are many amenities and rooms but I would not do a detailed description or content without being asked to.

At 12:00, we moved from Samal Island back to the mainland. Many of us from Cebu has flights back but our hosts decided to treat us for lunch first in Flyover Ihaw-ihaw Restaurant at the Buhangin District. Then someone saw a durian and we proceed to McArthur Highway where it is popularly sold. I love durian and I could eat ten pieces in one setting, which I did in 1997. Today, I am just good for four. It is not that cheap anymore. My OPK sisters and brothers brought boxes of fruit and processed durian with them when they went to the airport.

I remained. My flight is scheduled for tomorrow. Brod Raymund Galot and Brod Ody Lee made it sure that I have a place to stay. I do not have a choice but go back to the Green Windows Dormitel. It is much cheaper and there are not too many guests. I do miss the company of my fellow Peltans. On the street to where it is located are many cheap restaurants which would be favorable for my limited budget. There is not much to do except read a book, Deep Survival by Laurence Gonzales. I always carry a book when traveling.

My last day in Davao fell on a very infamous date – September 11. Subconsciously, that tragic event which came to the US sixteen years ago, could happen anywhere but it has a good chance that it could also happen in Davao now to which a Martial Law preempt such ideas of harm. Brod Raymund came at 11:00 to fetch me. An extended courtesy of my host which I am most indebted to. My flight is at 20:40 yet. We visited first his office to log off from work. He is with the City Engineering Office.

Brod Raymund became my tour guide which I appreciate very much. He brought me to GAP Farming Resort. It is one of Davao’s oldest recreation resort. At its heart is a tunnel system built by the Japanese Army during World War II. After an hour of roaming around, we go down to Riverwalk Exotic Resto Grill. They serve crocodile dishes which meat are sourced from the Davao Crocodile Park. I need to try and I choose crocodile sisig to widen my taste experience. I eat the whole serving to myself.

It is well-spiced to cover something that is related to something fishy. Well it has its own characteristic but one thing that I noticed immediately is that my tooth became achy. It is not a toothache yet but the sensation on my gums indicate that it will. My knees, which once were arthritic, acted like one again, although I could walk without feeling pain. There is just a knot somewhere in there. This crocodile meat has a high uric content or it could be an ingredient which caused my nerve receptors acting crazy. 
 

Brod Raymund brought me at last to the Davao airport at 18:30. In two hours, I would be flying out. A slight delay came. 23:15. I was ready for another delay when an announcement advised us passengers to proceed the boarding gate. I enjoyed my time in Davao and Samal seeing again fellow Peltans and it would take another two years before we meet again with them in Kabankalan City, Negros Occidental – the next host. This time, I will not promise. To those I met, thank you all. I could not name all and you are in my heart. Thank you and may God bless all Peltans!

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