IT IS 16:50 OF APRIL
17, 2014 – a Holy Thursday – when I start my solo walk to Mount Manunggal. The van dropped me at the Transcentral
Highway which I rode at the Citilink more than an hour ago. I go on a half-day of work for this occasion
so I could engage on my personal sojourn of righting my soul before my Maker
and this year’s Lent is the most profound time for this.
Mt. Manunggal will
just be a place where I will spend the first night and the jumpoff point where
this penitence hike will start. From
there, I would walk on trails and some roads, cross rivers and valleys, climb
mountains and saddles, and rest wherever my feet would take me. I would follow the route I blazed with five
others more than a year ago ending at Guadalupe on the third night. Maybe.
That time we were
many and I was fully provisioned. This
time, I am alone. I would be fasting
during daytime and will try to overcome the obstacles with less. I would eat my food during darkness, cooked
in primitive fashion without the convenience of a modern gadget like a
stove. I have to ration my two liters of
water from two bottles for drinking and cooking only and the pots would be
cleaned when there would be spare water.
As I walk on the
dirt road to my first campsite of the first night, I silently utter a prayer
for blessings, strength, protection and guidance for this journey of the
soul. Hanging by my side openly is my Chipaway
Cutlery Bowie knife. The shadows are
getting long and soon it would be darkness.
There is a slight drizzle and it is cold. I pick up a green bamboo pole and carry it
with either hands. It is 18:20 when I
reach the place called the “parking area”.
There is an unused
structure undergoing a painting job.
While it is closed, its frontage is sheltered and a better alternative
than camping near the Magsaysay Monument under the grip of gusty winds and a
slight shower. Here, I could sleep off
the ground using the scaffolding and platforms made by workers as my cot and
there are scraps of partly-moist coconut lumber that I could use as
firewood. Comfort with less can be
achieved by using your common sense instead of being hooked closely with gears
and then feeling sentimental about it.
While I am occupied
with my things, I feel something eerie as the hair on my back stood on its
edge. I look behind and I see a big
black dog standing a few meters away from me.
I do not like surprises at this hour.
I imitate the menacing growl of an angry dog and the creature walked
away. I cannot explain how it suddenly
appeared without being noticed by my five senses. It took a “sixth sense” to do that for
me. How strange?
I make a tripod of
sticks and forage firewood, splitting this with my tomahawk. When, after a considerable bout of blowing a
flame to life on moist wood, I cook milled corn in a pot suspended from the
tripod. Leaving that I prepare the
viand. I fry garlic and onions in oil
and add a few wood mushrooms (Local name: kwakdok). I pour half of my supply of mixed vegetables
into the pot and stir it. I pour water
and let it boil then I just add salt.
I begin my simple
dinner after a prayer. I just eat half
of the one-fourth kilo of the milled corn I cooked tonight. I set aside the rest for breakfast
tomorrow. The sliced vegetables are
crunchy and I liked that. The soup gives
warmth inside me. It is raining lightly
and it is very dark save for the glow of my LED torch. Soon I will rest on the bed I made but,
first, I will pray the five decades of the rosary.
I split more wood
after the prayers so I could use it for tomorrow’s breakfast and feed some to
the fire for the rest of the night. Fog
enveloped me and it is cold. I retreat to
my bed. I tossed and turned trying to
chase sleep. I hear a lot of strange
noises. There are, I believe, a lot of
lost souls here on Mt. Manunggal. For
the rest of the night, I am on a “conscious sleep” until a man on a motorcycle
pass by at 05:20 of the next day.
I hurriedly rekindle
the flame of last night with so much difficulty until I get a flickering
finger. I boil water for coffee and then
fry strips of eggplant smeared with egg.
I am not able to cook three-fourths of the sliced eggplant as the flame
died on its own despite a considerable amount of time blowing it alive. I leave it be, eat my light breakfast, break
camp and leave at 06:50 for Inalad. It
is now Good Friday (April 18).
I pass by the
Magsaysay Monument where the park caretaker, Leopoldo Bonghanoy, and his family
lived. I proceed immediately to a trail
after acquiring water but I was warned that vegetation had claimed the
path. The heavy clouds of last night
begins to evaporate and a promise of warmth begins to trickle in as my hike
shoes pursues to negotiate some of the trickiest stretch of the trail going
down to the valley of the Bangbang River.
The Bonghanoys have
used part of this land where I traversed as a farm and pasture but, beyond it,
thick vegetation obscures the trail. It
passes by woodlands, grass and brush and steep soft ground. Nobody had used this route for a long
time. I should know because the feast
commemorating the death anniversary of the late President Ramon Magsaysay was
held just last month and there are no traces of footprints where there are
supposed to be.
I forage Indian
rhododendron leaves (Local: yagumyum) for cleaning the pots to save my
supply of water and cut a forked branch from a Mexican lilac tree (Local: kakawate)
as my staff. The stick is most welcome,
aiding my balance and getting the load off my ancient knees. While I pass by thick grass, something big
moved underneath and I jumped off the trail.
It is a rather large python and it got me excited! I move away as fast as I could. No hero stuff. No pictures this time.
Winded, I continue
on but my senses now are on a high notch and so is my pace. The staff becomes a liability when the trail
narrowed and it saps my strength carrying it.
It is seven feet long, the forked end snag on vegetation. It can play its part though as my
“cross”. I step on a wet limestone and I
fall on my butt. Got to be careful next
time. Then I walk on another steep but
soft ground and the stick becomes relevant again.
I cross several
brooks until I reach the edge of a mountain settlement. When you are among people again, paths
crisscross each other and it temporarily disorient you for a while like I do
until I get to follow the ones I remembered.
There are no more clouds and it is very warm. The coolness of the higher elevation on an
early morning was temporary and now this is reality.
When my right foot
got buried in soft mud while crossing a brook, I used a lot of strength to get
it off. When I pulled it out, I
staggered exhausted. I rest for a while
sitting on a rock contemplating if this personal mission is really worth
it. I am tempted to drink a good amount
of water but I stop myself of that idea.
I soak my military-type meshed shawl with water from the brook and wipe
my face with it. Wow, the water is cool!
The blue house, now
long abandoned, is a landmark and that is where I am going. I will not be going downhill but up. With enough courage, I push myself up on my
feet knowing that I am now engaging in a very difficult battle against my
mind. I should be able to reach Inalad
before 12:00 else a delay would mean that I am not up to the challenge.
This is so different
than the last time. My pace is a drag
instead of a steady gait. My bag weighs
like lead as I approach the upward trail.
Is it pride that pushes me on?
Bravado? Pride may have something
to do with it especially when you announce this journey in public on
Facebook. But when you are a man you
stand by what you said. I am committed
to finish this, unless a voice upstairs says otherwise. So commitment is the right word.
I finally reach the
blue house. Why the owners abandon this
big structure is beyond me? Anyway, I
could rest for a while here. It is now 09:20
and I need to recoup my energy. I feel a
burning hunger inside me. I cannot spare
anything to chew on but I have coffee.
Immediately I make fire using dry pieces of bamboo and crushed dry palm
leaves so I could boil water in my stainless steel cup the hard way.
After I had taken
coffee, my confidence returned. I stash
pieces of the dried bamboo and dried leaves in a plastic bag so I could use
this as fire kindling later tonight. It
had been raining days before, which is quite rare during this season, and I am
not sure if I could find dry wood just like last night’s. I drink a good amount of water too because at
Inalad, I could have more of this.
I go down the steep
trail following it into a valley. The
Bangbang River curl and cut across the land and it gives life to the
farms. By now, there are houses and one
of these sells bread. I buy one piece of
bread and nibble it slowly while washing each swallow with water. It is a hot day and sitting under a scant
shade is already very welcome for me.
Before I go, I buy one more piece intending to consume it at
Inalad.
I cross Bangbang
River on bare feet. The staff had served
its purpose well and I planted it on the river bank. From hereon, it will all be uphill walk. The sun will be at my back. That piece of bread I had eaten some minutes
ago will be my only hope. I cross a
small stream and pass by farms. Shades
are now few. I closed my mind from the
heat and the monotony of breathing takes over my attention.
Slowly, in my
laboured steps up a trail, I gain elevation and diminish the distance between
me and Inalad. At 11:50, I reach the
saddle of Inalad. This is the boundary
between Cebu City, Toledo City and Balamban.
The Transcentral Highway pass by here and it is also a farmer’s
market. A lot of stores are open for
business. Cold soda drinks and hot food
are available but I want none of it even though my body craved for it.
I sit down on a cool
place and close my eyes. People ask me
many questions. I honestly answer
all. When I am alone, I close my eyes
again. I make the sign of the cross and
pray. Three hours from now, Jesus will
be crucified. Before He will leave this
world, I confess all my sins to Him like the thief at Calvary who asked of
forgiveness. I am a great sinner myself
and I spill tears while I am in the middle of my prayer.
I feel His presence
and I tremble in awe. I have discerned
that this is the highlight of this personal quest and I am “released” of
whatever troubles I may want to seek for myself on this journey. After I had said the prayer and opened my
eyes, I prepare myself for the rest of this day’s trek by securing water for my
empty bottles.
I see a
coffee-vending machine across the street and I put a coin into the slot and
take the filled cup. I will need coffee
to pair to the bread I bought at Bangbang River hours ago. After that coffee break, I close my eyes and
take rest for a half hour. By 13:00, I
cross the Transcentral Highway into a part of Toledo City.
I follow a dirt road
under the heat of the sun. The shawl
partly cover my face but I remove it everytime I meet people to give a smile,
to nod or say a greeting. I am going to
the village of Tongkay. This place is
nestled in another valley with a river running across it. There are some houses along the road and foot
travel is sparse at this time of day.
It is 13:35 when I
reach the village and I sit on the shade of a small store listening to a radio
program about the Seven Last Words of Christ. I am all ears to a long oratory describing
the part where Jesus was heard to have said “I am thirsty”. After 20 minutes, I walk to a public school
where there is a ford at the back. I
cross the river stepping among stones and climb up a long ridge. The trail is in good condition, very shady on
some long stretches.
But I am already
very tired. The steep slope add to my
misery. I can feel a tell-tale sign of a
heartburn and that is a bad omen. I take
it easy, careful not to push myself hard.
I will rest and pitch my shelter once I will reach my campsite. I found it at exactly 15:00 after a long
uphill struggle. I relish at the idea of
finding this place during Segment 1B of the Cebu Highlands Trail Project in
October 2012.
It is the only level
ground around here that could accommodate more than five tents. It is shady with lots of dry wood. I opt to pitch my shelter at the place where
I place it the last time I was here but, first, I will have to make a tripod,
forage dry firewood, make fire and drink coffee. Ah, coffee always tastes good when you are
thirsty, cold or tired, even on a very warm sunny day!
When my fire and
coffee are now secured, I make my bedding.
I place leaves on the ground as a cushion. Then I look for a straight pole and place it
on the whole length of my planned shelter.
You know why I do this? I will
make it sure that I will not roll over.
I will also make sure that my body will be confined to just one place
and save my body heat in the process.
Then I place a used advertisement tarpaulin over it as my shelter
footprint.
I tie one end of a
flat rope to a tree while tying the other end to two trees in a Y-fashion. This becomes the ridge for my Apexus
taffeta sheet in which the corners are secured by notched wooden stakes that I
carved with my William Rodgers bushcraft knife. When that is done, I make a seat made of cut
poles across the fire and burying stakes so it would not roll forward and
backwards.
I cook a small
amount of milled corn then next is the viand, which is similar in preparation
as that of last night. I have a lot of
daylight hours to do all these things and I feel relaxed doing all. I listen and watch many birds. There is an abundance of bird life here. One wild hen even made its presence felt by
calling for a mate which two roosters answered from afar.
I waited for dusk
before I start my simple dinner. After
the meal, I wipe the rhododendron leaves on the insides of the pots to remove
grease. I prepare more firewood to keep
the flame burning and ward off mosquitoes, ants and other insects. I retrieve the rosary and pray the five
decades aloud. I watch the valley below
even as I prayed and the folks there are having some sort of a religious
activity.
I check my watch
when I lay down on my bed. It is 18:30
and too early to sleep. The place is
warm. Credit that to the thermals that
rise from the valley floor during evening.
I did not know that I slept well until I am awakened by gusts of wind at
23:30. Well, that is good. I switch on my light and I see a spider under
the shelter some inches away from my face.
I remove it with a quick flick of my hand.
I listen to the
night sounds but I feel nothing unusual here.
Not even mosquitoes. I go back to
another “conscious sleep” for the rest of the night. When light begins to catch on the dawn sky, I
rose from bed to answer the call of nature.
Today is Black Saturday (April 19).
It had not rained last night despite the presence of storm clouds from
the southwest yesterday.
The call of a palm
civet pierce the early morning silence.
The cat is just a hundred meters above my location. It is very vulnerable at this hour since it
had spent its waking hours during nighttime foraging food but I am not on a
hunt today. Probably, it had been
attracted to the scent of my last nights’ cooking and of the leaves I wiped in
my pottery with.
I begin again the
process of making a fire and of preparing my breakfast. When the flame flickered and danced, I boil
water for coffee first. Next I cook
milled corn and, later, fry strips of eggplant in oil. The same routines, very simple, practical and
nourishing. When I have finished
breakfast, I break camp.
I leave the tripod
standing. It is my gift for any local
who might visit this place. Not the
contraption, but the idea. This system
is way much better than the trio of stones that we are used to doing when we
cook our food. I let the leaves be on
the ground, for soon, these will decompose.
I put out the fire thoroughly before I leave at 07:00 for higher ground.
I pray and ask again
His guidance of whether He would want me to continue on my journey to Guadalupe
or not? It needs to be felt and
discerned not by sitting but by doing the hike later. If I think that it is pointless going on, I
will cut the journey. If the body is
still willing, then I will push on. It
depends.
I follow the path
but I was misled by another one going up a farm. I step on the rows of soft burrowed earth
using it as steps but the effort is very strenuous. I changed strategy and assault the steep
slope in a zigzag pattern until I am at the high saddle of the mountain. Oh God, when will this end? I gulp mouthfuls of air into my lungs as I
lean down forward and drink my last drops of water.
Across me is the
peak of Mt. Tongkay. I follow the back
of the ridge and climb the peak and go down on the other side into another long
ridge going to Mount Etwi. Below this
second peak is a spring where I could refill my now-empty bottles. I drink like a dog and soak my shawl and
press it above my head. Driblets of
water run down my face and it is so cool.
Soon, I will be at
Maraag. I follow the path and meet
people and creature. The long ridge of
Cantipla covered the sun at this time while I am walking. My steps are unsure, my knees wobbly, my gaze
unsteady. Just when I reach the last
rise, something switched off. I pause to
gather my strength. This is not good but
there is a road ahead. And a store that
sells cold drinks.
I opt to buy a
sachet of powdered orange juice and let it shake in my full Nalgene. One bread is enough for me. The juice quickly work on my thirst where
water failed but it will just be temporary.
It could not provide a solution to a deprived body should I choose to
cross the much wider Bonbon River valley and then climb up the Babag Mountain
Range into Guadalupe. It simply is not
realistic on this very warm morning as I calculate all the risks and
possibilities.
The road north leads
to the Transcentral Highway and I may have to follow it. It is far but I had already accomplished my
purpose and this is a graceful exit. A
ride down to Cebu City is all I need. I
arrive at JY Square at 10:30 and a woman asks me five pesos so she could go
home to Mindanao. I am puzzled but,
nevertheless, I gave her the equal amount in loose change.
I got His
message. The coins’ weight were of the
same weight that my spirit – a weightless matter – had been carrying all these
years and I had just relinquished it happily away. Alleluia!
Document done in
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