THIS LONG DAY HIKE today on
February 12, 2012 is not for the faint-hearted.
For one, it is 36-40 kilometers long.
Second, it comes at a time when there is a weather disturbance advisory
released by the weather bureau. Third,
the Mananga River might not be generous this time. Fourth, we will be under darkness for two
hours during the last stretch.
This will be my fourth repeat
of the Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu City route. It is cross country walk traversing at Cebu
Island’s widest breadth. This is an
activity of Camp Red, a Philippine bushcraft and survival guild of which I
belong. Fellow bushman, Jhurds Neo, will
attempt his second while Randell Savior and Ouch Melbourne, their first.
Also coming are Boy Toledo and
Ernie Salomon of the Redtrekkers and they will be trying to complete their
third. Dominikus Sepe, a freelance
outdoorsman looking to find a niche, is also trying his first time. I will lead this party and all have known
beforehand, that they will be in for a wet long drag.
As leader, their safety is my
primary concern and I have already arranged all my options should I find the
weather and river very uncooperative.
That means the march would go on regardless of the tantrums of nature
unlike most clubs that I know of who abort their activities at the first signs
of slight rain. Planning is essential
here and the capacity to interpret climate patterns.
Modesty aside, I have gained
enough experience and knowledge when it comes to understanding a river and the
weather by natural means. Only a very
few could do this unscientifically and most of them belong to the indigenous
people. True, I am an urban creature but
I have indigenous blood which I intend to keep with pride. My forebears were until they were forced to
walk the white man’s road during colonization.
It was already raining the
night before and I was not worried. I
live near a creek and that creek is my indicator if the weather is bad or
worse. Once I woke up at 3:00 AM, the
creek gave me a bit of good news: the
weather is wet but not that bad!
Rising from the comforts of a
warm bed to face the cold and wet weather in the early morning can only be done
by individuals made of harder stuff.
These six people that I am with are certainly made of stern matter. That I am sure of. I cannot be sure though of what word that
will be used to describe the one leading them.
At 4:00 AM, I am now at the
Cebu South Bus Terminal. It is still
raining and it is still dark by the time 5:30 AM have arrived. One by one, the guys arrived. One.
Two. Four. Six.
The Corominas Bus leave the terminal at 6:30 AM. Based on my itinerary, we were supposed to leave
at five. Now we are one hour-and-a-half
behind schedule.
We arrive at Lutopan and I
found fogs at the mountain tops. It is
8:00 AM and it is cold. A northeast wind
and drizzle are responsible for that. We
pool money to buy food provisions for lunch.
Camp Red bushmen always cook during meal stops and enjoy food fresh from
the cooking fire whether it is an overnighter or a mere day hike.
To gain time, I decide that we
hire motorcycles to take us to Camp 7, a part of Minglanilla town, from where
we start our cross-country day hike.
Officially, we start 8:30 AM; a far cry from the 7:00 AM on the
itinerary. We reach the village of
Sinsin after walking the Manipis Road.
At Sinsin, I start briefing these six brave souls and let them know
what’s in my mind but, far far away to the west, thick clouds began to bulge
up.
From there, we follow a ridge
road under construction to Odlom where a steep unpaved road goes down deep into
Buot-Taup, a village nestled at the banks of Bonbon River. The river is noisy today and is brown but I
am not worried. I just saw a young hawk
gliding up above me when I took rest on a place where a trail branched off from
the road. Native Americans consider
seeing a bird of prey good omen. Same
with me. Especially on a journey.
Here is trivia: When I was with the force doing a difficult
solo mission in Davao in 1995, a Philippine eagle appeared to me circling the
sky while I was travelling in the highlands of Bukidnon. Instantly,
I developed a gut feeling that my assignment would turn out okay and so
it was. The newspaper headlines of that
day screamed of my accomplishment.
Anyway, I cross the river first
and the current is much stronger than what I have expected. My feet is carried everytime I raise it
inches above the river bed. At the
middle of the river, the water level rise nine inches above my knees. It is much deeper than I thought or knew
of. It used to be below my knees during
normal times.
Notwithstanding, I have crossed
much swift rivers before like the Daraitan River in Rizal and the Lawayan River
in Misamis Occidental. The former I
crossed three times in two days in 1989 and almost claimed me on the first
day. It was my first real river crossing
and I became wise after that. Such
painful experiences educate you and make you better.
We cross the Bonbon several
times until it flowed into the bigger Mananga River. The current turbulence increased as where the
depths. I begin to worry about them deep
craters that illegal quarrying have done on the Mananga as it is difficult to
see what’s below the surface because of its brown effluence. So far, I eluded it by observing the swirls.
We reach the meal stop point at
exactly 11:00 AM and I could not believe we just sheared off a big chunk of time from our travel
plan. We were supposed to be there at
11:30 AM. Anyhow, we retrieve our cook
sets and burners, meat, vegetables, milled corn and other ingredients. I boil water for coffee as Ernie do the
honors of cooking the three sets of viand:
pork adobao, pork sinigang and a modified version of pork and beans.
Randell and me help in cooking
the milled corn spread out inside three cooking pots. A water source is available nearby. We need the meat and the milled corn to give
us more body heat to stave off the cold resulting from wading the river every
now and then. I must have counted nine
crossings and it is a perfect recipe for hypothermia.
We stayed at the place too long
and were now fifteen minutes late from our schedule. We leave for Camp 4. Among islands of rocks along the river, I
could see the signs that the stream have lowered an inch from its previous
level in a matter of one hour, more or less.
The sound of raging water are not much noisy anymore and I thank my
young hawk of his presence hours ago.
Three hundred meters away, I
thought I saw two women about to cross a junction where the Bocawe Creek meets
the Mananga. The bend of the stream
removed my chance to actually see them cross as I walk towards that spot. I observe the riverbank across so I could
ascertain where they have forded and I found none. Strange?
I cross and I see a tell-tale mark that I am in the vicinity of a crater
but, too late, the ground gave in and I fell into a hole, chest-deep. My camera got immersed in water and that
ended my shooting spree. Shucks!
Along the way, I see father and
two little daughters fishing with a throw net.
Inside the catch bin are a number catfish and tilapia and a couple of
fresh-water shrimps. Walking yonder on
is another father with two little sons with their catch of big catfish hanging
on their bamboo fishing pole.
We cross for the last time the
Mananga River and rest among a jumble of boulders and wring away water from our
boots and socks. We need to remove
useless weight and small pebbles from inside our shoes before tackling the
trail found at the southernmost end of the Babag Mountain Range. This is a tough trail, steep and long.
Behind me are Jhurds, Ouch and
Dom. Way way below them is Boy and Ernie
with Randell backstopping. Jhurds have
shown improvement from the last time he climb this undulating and almost cruel
stretch last September 25, 2011. This
trail lead to a place called Cabatbatan and, doing so, we have to cross again
the upper Bocawe Creek twice.
Once we arrive in Cabatbatan,
the boys make a beeline to the only store that sells cold drinks between Sinsin
and Bocawe. Now that brings back the
color to their faces. We overstayed our
purpose and that defeats our frequent race against our schedule. We have to make do 15 minutes late when we
leave for Bocawe and Pamutan Junction.
I take a short cut to chop off
time but the rest failed to see my sign and took a longer route instead. As I was waiting for their arrival, my
attention was focused on two strange-looking fowls foraging on the Bocawe
Creek. They seem wild and have long
beaks and white streaks on their faces.
I thought they were guinea fowls because of its color similarity but
they were not. They were very agile and
lack the puff of red flesh on their faces which guineas have.
Ultimately, I forgot about the
others and I discovered that they were already ahead of me so I walk uphill at
full speed and overtook all, one by one.
While huffing and puffing along a never-ending steep road, a good-sized
hawk appeared on my left gliding and circling above a valley. I raise and wave my hand to acknowledge my
presence. It circled one more time
before disappearing below the valley.
By now, we were able to recover
our time advantage when we arrive at the road junction thirty minutes ahead and
able to maintain it once we reach another stop point in Baksan. It is already dark and everyone donned their
headlights, including my old-fashioned flashlight which I attach to a paracord
headband.
We will take Bebut’s Trail this
time going to Guadalupe. For the early
stages of this last stretch of route, I choose to use my natural night
vision. I am able to follow the faint
path through a brook and over steep trails going up and down. Obviously, it had been raining here minutes
ago as the path is muddy and slippery. I
slip several times but balance myself well to prevent falling.
When I found the trail obscured
by thick vegetation, I decide to turn on my light else I might step on a
reticulated python which is very common here.
The switch is defective and I have to slap it several times so it would
work. I find its location on my head
very annoying and decide to carry it with either hand. Finally, I fall after a slip.
It is stressful hiking on a
trail in the dark. The brain sends
signal to raise your adrenaline level when it receives stimulus from the eyes
about a dark environment. It gives
signals to the heart to pump more blood and so we breathe faster because the
more blood pumped the more oxygene the body need. Basically, the brain controls all body
functions and you should know its nature.
I have lived with it and I know how not to push hard during a night
trek.
Behind me are voices of panting
men mustered by their brains to keep pace with me when I am just taking a
stroll. I laugh about this thought. I bring them to the top of a hill and show
them the glinting lights of Cebu City and it released all their anxieties. The trail here is all downhill now and it is
just a matter of minutes when we would reach Guadalupe.
Randell and I arrive at the
south gate of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish at 7:45 PM. Boy closed the activity at 7:51 PM by
arriving last yet we are nine minutes ahead of schedule. Not bad.
Now, time to ingratiate ourselves with cold bottles of beer at our
favorite watering hole at Summer Kyla.
My cheers to this bunch of
hardy men. They have not questioned my
decisions and they are rewarded with an unforgettable moment that no outdoor
clubs could offer. They were in a high
mood despite the aches that each one felt in their bodies. They truly are made of sterner stuff to
engage in and complete a man-sized day hike under the threat of a Low Pressure
Area and under twelve hours. Not bad
indeed!
Document done in Libre
Office 3.3
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