Tuesday, November 1, 2011

WARRIOR REVIEW: PinoyApache's Tomahawk

MY LITTLE AXE, which I fondly called as my tomahawk, have been with me since the year 1999. It is one of the items that I have collected or acquired during my “warrior pilgrimage” years. It is very light and it is forged of highly-carbonized steel.

I presumed, it may have been made from a leaf-spring of a European or American-made automobile suspension system of long ago and the “eye” have been arched gracefully whereby the blunt edge kissed the main head at the middle section and securely welded giving it the shape of a teardrop which is good enough to fit a well-sized wooden shaft - about 1.2” x 0.75” thick.

The cutting edge is sharp and very narrow. “Lantip” as we Visayans called it, I have seen it cut through the diameter of an old-school six-inch nail, accidentally dismembering the top from the rest in a cataclysm of one bright spark as fine steel clashed against fine steel! Such power held in my hands is something worth respecting and possessing.

I remember the axe when it was yet in the hands of the original owner. It was just treated as an ordinary tool and used mainly in chopping wood for the earthen hearth then laid on the ground or thrown aside when not used. I noticed the teardrop-shaped “eye” and I immediately concluded that this simple axe is different from the axes that I have seen or held before.

On the spot, I offered to buy the axe for two hundred pesos plus another axe as replacement to save the man the trouble of looking for one. For the woodcutter, it is just like a great bargain which gave him advantage and saved him from wangling a better price. For me, it is like I just found a rare pearl.

Immediately, I set to work on the first wooden shaft. The wood is an exotic kind which I find hard to identify, but I carved it with my own hands. The shaft I designed is not straight, but is gracefully curved imitating the style of early Filipino weapons art. What made it more different is that the axehead is secured in an American Indian fashion.

The shaft is seventeen inches long. The axehead could not hurtle itself out from the top of the shaft and could not slid down the handle for a chord is tightly wound around the foreshaft reinforcing the latter from breakage. Two hawk feathers are tied at one end of the chord to aid its flight when thrown.

The shaft protruded three-fourths of an inch above the axehead and is much thicker than the rest and that already ensured my axehead that it will not dismember itself from the shaft like most axes do when under the pressure of hard use and so is safe to use. I don't either need small iron spikes that are inserted above the shaft so wood and steel would clasp in an unstable Western-style fusion.

The good thing with this axe is that its “eye” is wide as it is long. Meaning, the wooden shaft that held the steel head is thick enough and could withstand the pressures of the strength that drove it or the weight of both hand and steel head that strike wood. Even so, the first shaft broke during a day of cutting felled trees and debris after a typhoon later of that year. It was not a good wood.

I then began to experiment on different types of wood after that and I made carvings on the shaft for aesthetic feel and for secure gripping. Woods used were guava, star apple (sp. Chrysophillium cainito), golden mahogany (sp. Shorea laevis or yakal) and rosewood (narra). All did not stood the hard work I used during the chopping and splitting of wood and during the time when the tomahawk is set free to whirl its way into space and find true target.

The pleasure of steering my tomahawk and make a blood-curdling thud on a wooden target is very exhilarating. It had become my past time then and it came to a point where I experimented on different shaft designs and on different distances. I found a design that enabled the axehead to embed deeply on its target when thrown and another design that could withstand the rigors of hard work.

The shafts are both made from a yellow mahogany wood (sp. Vitex parviflora or tugas). The first design came from a wooden relic. A survivor of a great conflagration in 1989. A wood that had been acquired by my late grandfather forty years earlier of that disaster. It is carved with Zuni patterns and tapered off at the end. The word “Cherokee” is etched on the wood and is named after a great and noble people of the “trail of tears” with which my second son is proudly named after.

The second design is very familiar. I bring it all the time during my bushcrafting sorties on the mountains. It is short – about 11 inches – and curves in one stroke giving me optimum leverage to cut into whatever I chop. The part of the shaft that held the head is angled abruptly from the rest to project an “upright” position and optimize its cutting power. It is also carved with Zuni patterns with an American Indian and headdress to graphically symbolize my woodworking trademark under the name “Cherokee”.

The American Indian image from my tomahawk shafts and on anything that touched wood would become a symbol of remembrance for one noble race that have been obliterated almost into extinction by the perverted values of a different culture that turn a lustful eye upon its land and its resources. I am part of that kind and I harbor solidarity with my brothers across the watery divide.

From that image was born the first bushcraft and survival guild in the Philippine Islands south of Subic Bay – Camp Red! Traditional crafts have been taught by this writer to his brother Filipinos and many have embraced this skill which, after all, are really embedded in the subconscious of every indigenous people, mixed blood or not, and all it does need is just a little “fire” to inflame it.

So, back to my tomahawk, I kept and cared for it like a baby. I sharpen it all the time and apply a thin coat of oil or marrow to keep out rust. I refused to have my tomahawk lay and touch ground. When I finish my work, I embed and kept it erect on wood. When not used, I separate steel and shaft and kept the former in a special case.

Sadly, during the height of my enthusiasm for the throwing 'hawk, there were no ideas yet of what is a YouTube. All my activities with my tomahawk (and those flying blades-mosquito coil stands-machetes-crowbars-heavy axes-Gillette blades-pseudo police badges-and every pointed/sharp objects) were unrecorded.

Not until one day in 2010 did I muster the time to record myself, with the help of Manwel Roble, at the foothills of the Babag Mountain Range in Cebu City throwing my dearly beloved tomahawk and showed to everyone in the Internet that what I write here is really true. I don't know yet of anyone here doing this thing in a “live” video but I welcome their camaraderie if ever one shows up. I waited for this long.


Sad to say, this skill is not for everyone. You have to find your “vision quest” and, once done, you will have the “book of life” at your disposal. It is a path less travelled and very narrow and without the comforts and pleasures that sedentary living could provide.

I have journeyed far, high and wide across the archipelago and I found my true path. My tomahawk is one of the things that I have come to understand as something akin to being a companion. As one esteemed bushman have commented to me in Facebook: it is a bond that is hard to break.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer

Monday, October 24, 2011

MAN-SIZED HIKES: Lutopan-Guadalupe II

I FOUND THE LONG route perfect for exercise and it presented itself with a good landscape too. I am again leading six people on a cross-country hike from Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu City on April 23, 2011. Aside me, Marco Albeza and Ernie will be repeating this hike that we did last February 20. Both are Camp Red regulars.

Coming with us are two guests from the Cebu Mountaineering Society: Boy Olmedo and Glen Domingo; and Camp Red wannabes Jerome Tan and James Cabajar. We all meet at the Cebu South Bus Terminal at 5:00 AM and leave for Lutopan at 6:30 AM on the same slow bus that I rode on the last time that travel 20 kilometers per hour on the highway.

We arrive at Lutopan at 8:30 AM and proceed to buy food provisions which we will cook somewhere by the banks of the Mananga River. Camp Red prefer to eat their noontime meals hot and just fresh from the cooking fire. We decide to marshal motorcycles-for-hire for Camp 7, Minglanilla to compensate for time lost due to that slow-moving bus.

Upon arrival, we follow the tree-lined road to Sinsin, a mountain village belonging to Cebu City, and found a small store selling taro leaves cooked in coconut milk, which is a local delicacy. I decide to eat breakfast here and everyone followed, unable to restrain their gastronomic yearnings, and settled to eat their second breakfast of the day.

Minutes passed by, a whole army of cyclists arrived and stopped to rest, only to imitate what I have started. Refreshed after a rest and a good meal, I follow an unpaved road which goes down and down into Buot-Taup, another mountain village of Cebu City. I trotted down the road together with Marco and arrive at a small stream crossing underneath the road and waited for the others.

When everyone found their wits, I lead them into a shortcut that bypass the village center and arrive at the Mananga River. The river level is lower than the last time I was here. Blame that to summer. Up ahead are the sinister-looking craters hiding sand strainers and shovels within. Illegal quarrying of sand and gravel have reached this far now and they were not here the last time around.

We passed by a trio of naked little boys cooling in the mud under a very hot sun and my companions were quite entertained eliciting them instant camera shots. After crossing repeatedly the river, we came upon a cool place where there is a water source. We stop and we prepare the ingredients for our meal.

Marco and I took care of the cooking of milled corn while Ernie concentrated on the mixed-vegetable stew and marinated dried fish which Glen D provided. Meanwhile, James and Boy O produce banana leaves which we lay on the ground so we could place all our food there and eat in “boodle-fight” fashion.

After a brief siesta, we proceed on for Camp 4, a village belonging to Talisay City where the trail to the southern end of the Babag Mountain Range is found. Along the way, I see grown-up men fishing catfish with crude spears; boys splashing in the water; women washing clothes; and more of these hideous craters and their quarry.

Up ahead is an acacia trail that marked Cabatbatan Trail. I arrive first and remove my Coleman boots and socks and wring it off of water then the others came. After a 10-minute rest, it's time to move again. We will start the second half of this cross-country trek and it is 2:30 PM.

Cabatbatan Trail is a difficult route and it zigzags its way to a slope three hundred meters up and then the land feature changes into a rolling terrain that lead to Bocawe Creek. After crossing the stream, the trail follow the contour of the small river and cross two rock faces before stopping above the headrock of a small waterfall which end at a small hamlet of Cabatbatan, which really is a part of Pamutan, another mountain village of Cebu City.

The good thing about this route is you get to enjoy from a small store that sells the only cold drinks between Sinsin and in Bocawe, located far ahead, this, after an hour of tackling Cabatbatan Trail! I treat myself to three glasses of cold San Miguel Pale Pilsen to replenish spent electrolytes and shared the rest of the big bottle to Boy O and Ernie. The rest take this opportunity to catch their second wind and enjoy cold soda drinks as well.

After this interlude, we will go down an unpaved road and cross a concrete foot bridge above a small lake and then climb up a concreted road to the small community of Bocawe. I hate this stretch and the only consolation is that it is already 4:00 PM. Jerome and James developed cramps and are unable to go on. The rest of us facilitated to provide them transportation for Guadalupe.

Now that both are safe, we proceed on and arrive at Bocawe at around 5:15 PM and replenish our throats with cold refreshment. Then we proceed again walking the same uphill road that lead to the road junction in Pamutan. There is now a wide bamboo bench constructed and it is a very welcome sight to a tired traveller like me. Again, I waited for the others and the last vestige of light are almost erased from the horizon.

The road after this will go downhill that will pass between the man-mafe forest of Baksan and Lanipao. The road is unpaved and there are no lamp posts to illuminate your way not until you reach the first house located at least two kilometers from here. Everyone donned their head lamps but I prefer to use my night vision.

Marco decide to take this opportunity to run as part of his training for the 60 kilometer run from Cebu to Toledo. I follow and I half-run and half-walk over loose stones and shallow furrows in the dark but I'm accustomed to this. It is agonizing to my feet soles but I have to kill the pain nagging my old knees. When I could not take anymore the pain, I limp to Sapangdaku spillway at 6:30 PM.

We all follow the asphalt road to Guadalupe and arrive there at around 7:30 PM. We then transfer to Summer Kyla, Camp Red's official watering hole and Marco is already there by the time we arrive. We rest our aching bodies and douse our thirst with rounds of very cold beer until the beer case is filled up and the eyes feel the beckonings of Lady Starlight.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer