NAPO TO BABAG TALES LXXV: A Long Long Day

I FAILED TO WAKE UP to my preset alarm of 04:45 on March 2, 2014 and, when I did woke up, it is already 06:45! I read an SMS message and they are all waiting for me at Guadalupe. I have a training hike today for the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild. I hurriedly take a bath and snatch things into a recent acquisition - a Habagat Mercury - for this day’s activity.

It is not a backpack but a large utility-type bag with a single adjustable sling to ride on one shoulder. I stuff three cooking pots into the main compartment, as well as a 1.5 liter French Army canteen set with water, a trauma kit, my fire kit, my AJF Gahum heavy-duty knife, a stainless-steel cup, spoon-fork set, a 410 ml. can of deep-fried pork shreds and an extra dry shirt.

Inside the pockets are another 1-liter water bottle, my William Rodgers Bushcraft Knife, my Victorinox SAK Trailmaster, my Kodak camera, a bunch of keys, a Mörser nailcutter, a Rui Xing Police LED torch, an aluminum card case, a belt, a military meshed veil and an MP3 player. All weighed a total of eight kilos.

I reach the assembly area at around 08:00 and everyone is ready to go. There is Jhurds Neo, Aljew Frasco, Christoper Maru, Kulas Damaso, Nyor Pino and Mark Lepon. The ingredients for our noontime meal are already packed inside their bags. Aljew gave us all a lift inside his Toyota Lite Ace van as it cruise past the narrow mountain road into Arcos.

From there, we will walk down to Napo. It is 08:25 when we start to hit the trail that followed the bends and turns of the Sapangdaku Creek. It is a very warm day and there are no good reasons in pushing hard to make up for our rather late start. I believe a lot of hikers are ahead of us and a lot more coming but we will be taking another route. Manggapares Trail is exclusive, for the moment, for Camp Red only.

We got there at 09:15 and I blinked at the distance to the first of the seven steel towers erected in array at the spine of Tagaytay Ridge. It will be a long long day. The sun will be unforgiving at the exposed heights as it does even now along this covered trail where I stood. Slowly, we approach the lower slopes. The moist from the ground had disappeared as summer is near.

While on the middle of it, we spend a short moment to rest where, before, was deemed unnecessary. We pushed slowly after that and the sun begins to cast its hot rays when tree cover had thinned. The ground where the first tower stood is awash in full sunshine and I am breathing hard as I look for a little shade to recover myself from the exertion. One by one, they come.

My eyes are cast to the second tower, standing 200 meters away. The route will pass a low saddle where felled wood sometimes block the route aside from thick bushes that almost obliterated the ground where the path is found. I cut away branches that block the way, especially those that has menacing thorns, with my AJF Gahum.

As with every Camp Red activity, we always open carry our knives by our sides like Aljew with his Fallkniven, Christopher with his Ka-Bar Kukri, Jhurds with his Condor Bushcraft Knife and Nyor with his Seseblades NCO. My AJF Gahum – with its handsome leather sheath – hang by my side and shares the belt with the big water canteen set which I acquired from a French rescue technician during the relief frenzy that was Typhoon Yolanda’s.

It is a slow pace getting to the second tower and, once reached, the third one is waiting, but higher and steeper. As the ground is devoid of moist, the soil is loose, making an ascent a very tiring activity, especially with my pair of old Rivers 3514M Hike Boots that had seen some good days and had lost most of its teeth. The meshed veil protected my face and neck from the sun while my arms welcomed sunrays.

I use my hands to achieve height and, once there, I stay under the shade of a copse of Mexican lilac trees (Local name: madre de cacao, kakawate). I sit for the first time, just enjoying the freshness of the breeze and the water from the canteen that weighs like lead at my side. I notice Jhurds is not in good shape today. No matter, we need to tackle this ridge and take rest up ahead.

The single strap of the Habagat Mercury places a strain on my left shoulder. The uneven weight causes a new muscle group to develop at my back whereby it puts pressure on my left lung. Breathing becomes painful in my left lung as it cannot expand totally. I may have to transfer the strap to the other shoulder once we start walking again.

When I think everyone had rested, we go for the fourth tower. The approach to it is barren and, coupled with the sun, torturous. It is loose ground again and I need my hands to keep me grounded and stable until I am able to overcome the slope. An unfinished road makes the walk easier now but that only means that there are few trees to shield us from the sun.

Up ahead is an abandoned Mitsubishi backhoe and another abandoned cement mixer. These are the landmarks which give a hint that we will soon change route. Liboron Trail is on a slope below and, this time, we will avail of forest cover. The terrain will now also be rolling and mild save for a few difficulties which a very narrow path above a steep slope always offer.

We pass by a hidden meadow, wide and lush with coconuts and ankle-high grass. It would have been a perfect bushcraft campsite if only it has a water source. I will look into this place more in the future and I might discover a hidden brook or spring somewhere near. We cross this and proceed to thick forest again until we reach a saddle.

I let everyone rest here and I learn that it is already 12:55. I saw a hole in the ground used as a hearth like that of a Dakota fire hole. Ingenious locals. Anyway, time may have been the reason why my stomach acted strangely. Facing me is a low hill, barren of trees but full of noontime sunshine. Formidable but not insurmountable.

We climb it over and down into long grasses and groves of bamboo and straight into a lone mango tree where there is a dry brook below. We cross that going up another hill where a garden and some huts are located. We reach the high ground at 13:15 and we settle down and take time to prepare and cook our food.

I prop up a tripod bound with vines while Aljew tease a flint spark into fire. A blackened pot hang from the tripod over the fire to start the cooking of colored rice while a stainless steel ewer is filled with water and made to stand beside a roaring fire. Another tripod set is propped up by Aljew to hang another black-bottomed pot to boil and soften mung bean soup.

As this is going on, Kulas, Nyor, Jhurds and Mark prepare the other ingredients. They slice the onions, garlic, tomatoes and pork meat. Christopher mix black coffee with boiling water in the ewer. Empty cups are hurriedly filled while brown sugar are available for sweetening. Coffee had never have tasted this good on this very warm day! I add another cup for myself.

Kulas prepare the pork adobo while Christopher start with the mung bean soup. I forage more firewood to feed to the cooking. Jhurds supply us music from his Samsung cellphone and his hilarious tales. The rest watch the cooking and join in the conversations, turning this sleepy place into a noisy lair. Kulas produce a big banana leaf and transfer all the cooked rice from the pot; a prelude to a boodle fight.

The pork adobo and the beef jerky are laid on top of the rice while the steaming mung bean soup get a lot of stares. Before the meal is going to be snatched by everyone, the bushcraft tradition of blade porn begins at the side at the instance of Jhurds, then the prayer before meals which I lead. Everyone either filled their plates, cups or pot lids for the rice and mung beans. Then more refills until only the rice is left.

I left the cooked rice, a piece of beef jerky, some pork adobo, a token of fish paste (Local name: ginamos) and a small can of tuna flakes to the owner of the place as appreciation for bearing with our noisy presence. In return, he give me eight very sweet bananas, organically grown and ripened, which all devour with gusto!

We leave at 15:00 for Babag Ridge. It is another uphill walk through a forested area where vegetation begins to choke on the trail. I walk deliberately slow to allow anything that may be lurking beneath what my eyes cannot see enough time to move away. The bushes are now shoulder height and, beyond my reach, are birds singing at the treetops in the middle of the afternoon.

I hear again the unmistakable song of the black shama (Local name: siloy). It is just nearby but invisible to observation. When it sees that we are uncomfortably close, it moves away and continue in its singing from afar. The Manggapares Trail ends when it meets the Babag Trail. This trail is really an old path that follow the ridgeline of the Babag Mountain Range.

I see the telltale sign of a motorcycle wheel on the debris-strewn, but firm, dry ground. The rider had braked suddenly on a steep part where the result of its action caused dirt and debris to be mowed forward while skid marks, almost invisible to the untrained eye, trailed after it. So, they must had moved the obstacles away. The tracks are very recent, a few hours old.

The rattan palms are healthy as ever and one plant have almost claimed the trail. You have to stoop down clear away from the spines else it snag on your clothes, bag or skin. I wonder how an Enduro rider would come out unscathed even with all his protective gear. A trunk that had blocked the path had been moved aside and I return it back to the middle of the trail.

It is a beautiful late afternoon, still bright and sunny, on a trail that exudes a mystical aura. This path tells a lot of stories if it could only talk but hints suggest that it kept a lot of history. I switch to a branch of a trail and show them again the cave that had been used by Cebuano guerrillas during the resistance against the Japanese in the early years of World War II and by the Japanese themselves bracing against a large American force during liberation.

The re-piled stones stood in mute testimony of the ferocity of that conflict which took many lives on both sides. We walk on and arrive at an open space that had served as a favorite camping area until the time fences had been erected by property owners to block off-road motorcycles access to their properties. I would have disliked the actions of these land owners but their reasons are largely justifiable.

The new path is marked by my own trail sign and I follow it to a woody area then down into a gully and up again to a hill where it give in to more ascents until it reconnects to the old route. I rest on a long bench and waited for the others to arrive. They came, quite winded of the effort, and douse water into their parched throats. It is 15:35 and I did not know that we walk that fast or we just keep on walking without rest until now.

After a short rest, we proceed on to Mount Babag. Some hikers had reached the ridge and are showing off their prowess by posing before a camera. They were mesmerized by our strange and unconventional sight with hanging knives by our sides. We pass by them and take a short cut to a road that lead to a store selling the only cold drinks in these parts.

Jhurds is suffering from hypoglycemia and it is imperative that sugared drinks like carbonated soda be given to him so he could recover. Three big bottles of cold Coca Cola are shared to all while I opt to have the coldest San Miguel Beer Grande for myself and Nyor!

After disposing thoroughly of the liquids, we go back to Mt. Babag and start our downward journey to Sapangdaku Creek. This is quite challenging on my part since I chose to wear my old pair of shoes. The soil is loose caused by absence of rain for the past two weeks and so I use my hands for anchor and balance as well as using my long experience in the outdoors. It is not unusual that my progress would imitate that of a wave surfer in my effort to brake from a downward pull.

Along the way, I met another group of hikers going to Babag Ridge and another group that has just recovered the true route after losing their way among thick vegetation. Quite amusing but, seriously, you do not roam the mountains without a guide. I reach the Upper Kahugan Spring and help myself to its cool runoff and so do the rest. It is almost sundown now and the Roble homestead is down ahead.

We reach it after with daylights to spare. We take rest here and are offered green coconuts which we accept with gusto! We pay for that afterwards and go on our way to the shortest route to Sapangdaku Creek. It is steep and the soil loose and darkness overtook us. We reach Napo at 18:15 and we walk some more over the road to be at the place where our vehicle is parked.

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NAPO TO BABAG TALES LXXII: Trails Do Tell Tales

I AM ONTO THE FIRST of the many towers located over Tagaytay Ridge of the Babag Mountain Range today, January 26, 2014.  I am with Aljew Frasco and Christopher Maru and we take rest underneath it.  We are training for a climb of Mount Pangasugan which we will take on the last weekend of March.  It is my fifth time here and, for both Aljew and Christopher, their second.

The weather is mild but without the gentle breeze the last time around (NBT 71: Brave New Year).  But it is colder today.  My exhaled breath fogged as I chugged up the route to the lower ridge which I thought, at first, was smoke coming from Aljew’s cigarette.  I take a swallow from my water bottle, quite confident of my two liters I carried.  Up ahead, are five more towers and a dangerous hidden trail.

We pass by a lone local with a dog as we were going up to the second tower.  The sun is rising and give us warmth making us sweat.  We go down a saddle and up again to a third tower.  We take another rest underneath a Mexican lilac tree (Local name: madre de cacao, kakawate) and talk about guns and knives.  We all open carry our knives hanging by our sides. 

The Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild are quite proud of their blades and espouses the open-carrying of knives while outdoors.  We do this to encourage other outdoorsmen that it is alright as long as you observe safety carriage and know the only Philippine law governing the possession and carrying of knives – Batas Pambansa Bilang 6, from which you will also base your rights. 

My AJF Gahum heavy-duty knife on my side is a wonderful sight to behold and I am proud of that.  Someday, it may wear a beautiful leather sheath but, for now, it may have to do with plastic.  The combination of polished rosewood (Local: narra) and hambabawod (sp. Neonauclia formicaria) scales gives the knife a character of its own aside from its long length.  It complements perfectly my persona.

We climb up at the place where the fourth tower is found, the lone local we met behind the trail had overtaken us and it might be good to engage in a conversation with him.  He introduce himself as Vicente Bonghanoy and his family owns all the land on Tagaytay Ridge between Sapangdaku Creek and Lanipao Creek.  He is a good source of information and I am happy to have talked with him. 

We part ways with him as he is going up the ridge while we take a different route towards Bocawe.  I follow a thin path down the ridge where another path breaks off from it.  This path is called Liboron Trail and it is a dangerous trail as the ground is soft and it is not wide.  Aside that, the vegetation is thick, hiding a very steep hillside.  When I passed by here the first time (NBT 57: The Last Wild Place), I fell for about six meters and almost repeated it on the same spot three weeks ago (NBT 71: Brave New Year).

When I am about to take on Liboron Trail, I see a common rat snake blocking it.  It is brown colored and it has just recently shed off its skin by the looks of its shiny scales with a rainbow sheen.  So it is starving then.  I approach it slowly until I am one-and-a-half meters close.  It is about three-and-a-half feet in length and about more than an inch wide.  It is not poisonous but I am alert just the same.  I show it to Aljew and Christopher before I take a picture.

I stomp a foot and the snake made a U-turn and hurriedly slither down the hillside to keep as much distance away from us.  I advise Aljew and Christopher not to lower their guards yet as snakes are known to travel in pairs.  That goes also with centipedes.  I push on, taking notice of the details of the trail and the vegetation beside it.  I stoop, once in a while, to touch the surfaces of stones, showing Aljew and Christopher my habits.

I see a crop of bird feathers in the middle of the trail but there is no blood on it nor on the ground so it must have been caught live from another area by a hunter or a predator and it is important that Aljew and Christopher know this.  You have to re-create and tell a story on the circumstances found on any object or anything that do not fall into place based on your observation.  That is the essence of tracking; of Trailcraft.

We arrive at a hidden meadow planted with coconut trees.  I see remains of a small fire.  The ashes are still intact and not scattered by breeze nor trodden by insects.  I touch it lightly with my open palm and I could ascertain that it is just hours old.  The ashes are not warm but, just the same, I could feel minute warmth sucked by my skin.  Whoever made this fire, must have boiled himself or herself water for coffee since he/she did not use a lot of firewood.     

We move on and I watch out the spot where I fell.  A trunk of a jackfruit tree partly blocked it and you have to raise your foot high to go over the next ground which is kind of soft but, this time, I am more careful and concentrate my attention on it instead of catching details of the next fifteen meters ahead.  I paused and looked at the steepness of the terrain and I shudder at the memory of my fall which I halted with a self-arrest procedure based purely on common sense.

We arrive at a saddle and rest for a while to show Aljew the previous route I made through thick  jungle (NBT 70: Manggapares Trail) on the last Sunday of December 2013.  Infront of us is a lone mango guarding the approach of a hill.  We climb that path onto a field of razor grass.  When we are in the midst of it, a big owl burst from the grass five meters away from us.  It flew across us then it circled above twice before diving towards a safe place.

I was shocked at its sudden appearance that I failed to take a photo of it while it was very near.  I did take a shot but it was already far and just a speck on the camera screen.  I cannot forget the owl’s face as it stared at me while it took its sudden flight.  I felt a sort of  kinship with it.  The grass owl (sp. Tytus liberimus) are now a vulnerable species and its habitat are now threatened by human activity and there are now few of this in the wild since it is hunted by wildlife collectors.

Aljew was greatly delighted at the unexpected surprises along this trail and he hoped to chance more of these wild creatures here in the Babag Mountain Range.  I need to find where it roosted among the grass so we covered a wide circle going in a spiral pattern when we found it.  The flattened grass is still warm and a tiny feather is snagged on a grass leaf.  It is good to know where it stayed.

We arrive at the place of Julio Caburnay at exactly 11:00.  The place is abandoned.  I looked for him and I found him on a far field and asked permission to stay at his place.  Upon my signal, Aljew and Christopher foraged firewood and kindling and start making a fire.  I intentionally leave my butane stove at home and live off the land today with food cooked by firewood.  We boil water and make coffee.  Stronger coffee, I mean.

Then we retrieve rice and raw vegetables from our bags along with our cooking pots.  We had bought purple yam, red squash, sponge gourd, eggplant, gumbo, green pepper, bell pepper, onion, garlic, upland swamp radish and jute leaves from the streetside market in Guadalupe.  I did not buy some pork meat or dried fish but would use instead the wood mushrooms (Local: kwakdok) that I foraged at Tagaytay Ridge as the flavoring.

The rice and and the mushroom-flavored vegetables are cooked on pots suspended over a blazing fire.  The thick vegetable soup was done with just salt and a spicy powder and it tasted alright.  We all take several refills until we were all filled up.  I leave a kilo of uncooked rice to Julio as well as three sachets of coffee and ten pieces of bread.  We leave at 13:35 for Babag Ridge.

The rest of the trail is thickly vegetated going upwards.  The thickest poles of the crawling bamboo (Local: bokawe) are still found here, sometimes crossing the trail at some point.  I used my AJF Gahum here to cut several red cane grass (Local: bugang) blocking the way.  This is a beautiful trail that connect to an equally impressive Babag Trail.  I do not encounter an off-road biker this time nor I found recent traces of them which is good.  It means, for a good three weeks, wildlife and plant had not been stressed by their noisy and smoky passing.             

A lot of debris and some broken branches had cluttered the trail which I had not noticed the last time but quite perfect if it is just left alone since it will block access on those absent Enduros.  We walk over the ridge trail that goes on a horseshoe bend, passing by above Buwabog and then passing by a small cave that is covered with small logs until I reach a clearing overlooking the Bonbon River Valley.  I mark the connecting trail with my own style of three knife hacks on a mahogany tree and continue on.

We follow the route down to groves of spiny bamboo (Local: kagingkingon) but very wary of the barbed wire fence running along the length of the path.  It crosses a dry stream and climb again until we reach a rarely-used road of what used to be part of the Babag Trail.  We rest inside a fenced property whose gates are opened at this hour.  I could see simultaneously both the lowlands and coastline on the east and the central valley and highlands west.  We stayed for about fifteen minutes.

We reach the vicinity of the towers of Mount Babag and pursue our final journey down the ridge.  We pass by six hikers resting on benches and we startled them with our presence, especially when they noticed knives hanging openly by our sides.  They must have thought us as lawless elements judging by their startled expressions but we ignored them.  We knew better and people with sense ought not to roam mountains without a very important survival tool.

The trail conditions are now better than the last time we go down here or it could be that I wear my Columbia Coremic Ridge 2 shoes.  It is an all downhill route and I feel my knees begin to shake.  I have not had this feeling before but, today, I sense that age has finally come knocking.  Would this condition shorten my time in the mountains or would it limit my presence here to just a few sorties?  I do not know it yet, but that question is still confined to my Creator. 

I notice something wrong in my downward journey.  There are different shoe prints going down and not the other way if I would base my assumption of the six hikers I saw earlier.  Then there must be other hikers just ahead of us as the prints are very fresh?  When I arrive at the Roble homestead, that question is answered.  They belong to the group of Maria Mahinay, Neil Mabini and Jodel Seville, who all were with me recently in a reverse trek to Osmeña Peak.  Their group today number around fifteen.

We take a rest on an empty bench and another two hikers arrive coming from Sapangdaku Creek.  I am not the only one who felt an unsteady pair of knees.  Aljew also felt his quaver.  We remedy this by drinking coconut water; a natural electrolyte.  We stayed for a few more minutes even when all had left.  I presume the group of Maria will take the route passing by a small community, so I take the other route, fondly called as the “Padidit Trail”.

On that route, I see traces of many people passing here instead.  I see many branches broken, the result of inexperienced people walking on difficult terrain or wearing the wrong kind of footwear.  The trail is cluttered with traces of people slipping down and I show it to Aljew and Christopher and both are grinning at what they saw.  Obviously, Maria had played a joke on her group and amused herself when people stumble and slip.

My knees are in pain but my steely resolve to finish this trek is always a great consideration.  My gait betray the pain and I control the pace to lessen its intensity.  We arrive at Napo at 16:30 but Aljew’s pick up is parked at Arko so I have to walk almost a half kilometer of uphill road to reach the site.  It is good to sit down again.  Better still, Aljew treat me and Christopher to a sumptuous dinner and a cold bottle of beer at AA Barbecue Grill in Guadalupe.

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NAPO TO BABAG TALES LXXI: Brave New Year!

I TAKE OFF FROM home at 05:00 for the church in Guadalupe.  Today, January 5, 2014, is the start of another season of my outdoor pursuits and of the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild.  The Guild is the only one of its kind in Cebu, in Visayas and in the Philippines.  Nowhere else would you find a local outdoors club here whose main existence is primarily focused on primitive-living techniques and wilderness survival skills.

The weather is now colder but it came late.  I expected it in December but it never came and it is so unusual.  Credit that to climate change.  A good scenario to prepare for.  I have prepared for any SHTF situation and so do the rest of Camp Red.  That gives us advantage over the rest because we are regularly out there to hone our skills while all are beholden to their couch and the electric outlet.  Although some come to the mountains, they do nothing but take pictures, kill time and feel good.  That’s all.  Nada!

Today I will tackle again Manggapares Trail but I will switch to the dangerous Liboron Trail to reach Babag Ridge instead.  I came here last week with four others but we did not pass this route and I hope we will finish this activity today before dusk.  Coming again with me is Dominic Sepe; and first time for both Aljew Frasco and Christopher Maru.  We all leave Guadalupe at 07:00 under a slight drizzle for the trailhead at Napo after securing the ingredients for our noontime meal which we will cook along the route.

I am trying out a newly-bought Blackhawk! Warrior Wear Tactical Pants.  It is made of canvas cloth and is well suited for urban use but it might be good to test it on difficult terrain.  Taking a cue from last week’s experience with heat, I will don my South African veldt hat because of its wide stiff brim to shield me from the sun and its meshed structure to let air through.  I wear my old Rivers 3514M Hike Boots over a newer Columbia.  Although the new one gives good traction, the older one is comfortable.  I will use my experience instead to compensate what it lacked.

By 07:30, we are now at the branch of the Napo Trail where a connecting route to Manggapares Trail starts.  I open carry my big AJF Gahum knife by my side.  So is Aljew with his Sycko 911, Christopher with his older AJF prototype and Dominic with his Seseblade NCO knife.  It is all uphill now but, thankfully, the weather seem mild.  Might be because we start early.  The Blackhawk! pants seem to be a drag as I struggle with my breath trying to keep up with the pace that the three had imposed behind me.  Nevertheless, we reach the first of a chain of steel power pylons planted above Tagaytay Ridge and I pause for timeout.

I carried two liters of water and that is two kilos.  I am not known to use a lot of water to quench thirst but I insist to carry an extra.  Another cargo I have is a kilo of rice, fire kit, first aid kit and trauma kit, two cook pots, a skillet, a stainless-steel cup, spoon-fork-knife set, a spare shirt, a kilo of vegetables, a Victorinox SAK Trailmaster, a steel carabiner, a LED torch and a William Rodgers bushcraft knife standing guard above the Sandugo Khumbu 40 liter backpack.  This is just routine load yet it is like lead today.  I sip a small amount of water hoping that this lessens the weight.

The sun comes out of the clouds but the cool breeze, robust and strong, coax our determination to pursue the upward route until we reach the second steel tower.  Along the way, I forage wild pepper leaves to add to our vegetables and show them edible mushrooms that grow on dead wood and pluck out some to make our soon-to-be cooked meal sumptuous.  We came to a wide saddle that was converted into a camp by firewood gatherers.  It has bamboos and purple taros on each side of the saddle where ravines are located, a sure sign that water could be sourced somewhere along the length of each.

The third tower seems hard to tackle and I begin to notice that my heavy pair of pants is chafing on my inner thighs.  The action of walking on steep terrain had caused creases between crotch and knees and these keep on rubbing the skin which is now getting sore.  I decide to change gait, if applicable, towards the fourth tower and the unfinished fifth tower.  Beyond it are the sixth and seventh steel behemoths but I opt to switch route for Liboron Trail instead with dread.

In my first pass there last year (NBT 57:  The Last Wild Place), I fell on a spot where soft ground gave way to my weight and I rolled six meters down.  My timely presence of mind prevented my downward plunge with a self-arrest procedure.  It was a close call that I do not want to repeat on myself and on my trail mates.  I warn them of the trail condition and of my fall before we proceed.  This is a slightly better option though than following the back of an exposed ridge, skipping around Mount Liboron, and finding a long-lost trail to a saddle.  I do not want to waste time again by blazing a trail.

We stick to the old trail, almost missing it, and come upon a secret meadow where there are lots of coconuts of whose fruits are husked by an upright steel rod pointing to the heavens.  It would have been a perfect campsite if there would have been a water source.  We did not stay long and follow the path and, when I step over a tree trunk, the ground give way.  Deja vu!  I almost fell, of all places, on the same spot but on the other side of the trunk!  Just when I am being careful.  A closer close call.

We reach the saddle and climb up a hill and down into a pass choked by spiny bamboos, that sway and creak to the ever-present breeze.  We climb up a steep ground where there is a big mango tree, cross a brook, climb again a steep ground and reach the home of Julio Caburnay and his family at 11:00.  On this spot, we will prepare our meal for lunch.  But we will boil water first for coffee.  This is essential in recouping lost energy.  I request Julio of four young coconuts which we will consume as dessert later.

Dom and I begin slicing the vegetables while Aljew and Christopher gather firewood and set up a hearth to cook rice.  I soak the mushrooms in water and give instructions to Dom on the finer points of cooking mixed vegetables.  We did eat a sumptuous meal of mixed vegetables with mushrooms done without monosodium glutamate.  While most wanted an easy way out of their cooking by using MSG or of those “magic mixes”, the Camp Red way is just using the right frame of mind to achieve taste.  I give a kilo of rice to Julio before leaving for higher ground at 13:30.

We pause to savor the view above the Caburnay homestead.  It is just too awesome and I begin to entertain to set up an “outdoors education center” here.  Just like the Roble homestead at Kahugan, the Caburnays could provide coconuts and it would provide them some form of livelihood catering to hikers apart from their farming.  When we are now amongst thick vegetation, I hear the distant sound of small engines, unmistakably that of racing motorcycles.

I hasten my pace just in time to see the last two colorful riders astride their Enduro bikes on a trail I hold dear.  Julio talked to me last year about motocross riders passing by here and I find it unbelievable until I saw it today.  Although they have all the right to be here as much as I do but they leave tire tracks and deep furrows on the path.  This is a foot path above Babag Ridge and some people abuse that by using racing motorcycles here and that is why some property owners decide to close some places with fences where this beautiful trail used to thread that greatly altered the route. 

A lot of hikers, unable to find their way in the past because of these fences, got discouraged and opt to set up camping sites at a peak above the old Swiss Chalet Restaurant.  This trail is really the old Babag Trail that tiptoe its way from Garahe in the north to Bocawe in the south, even farther up to the Mananga River.  I used to walk this trail alone in a day in the early to middle ‘90s starting from Buhisan to Upper Busay when preparing myself for big climbs outside Cebu.  I thought this trail had been made into a road until I rediscovered it last year that it was not. 

Altogether, these fences might have caused a boon to conventional hikers, yet it helped to my own cause, although I will have to grudgingly share this trail to off-road riders.  Babag Trail is home to the stoutest poles of crawling bamboos (Local name: bokawe) and rattan palms.  These had been fixtures here since I first came here in 1993.  This is also home to other indigenous species and is a favorite roosting ground of the rare black shama Local: siloy).  The vegetation on both sides of the ridge are thick and I believed that the few outsiders who visit here the better would its condition be.  I would utilize the trail and the whole route, for that matter, as a training ground for bushmen.

Babag Ridge had been used by the Japanese Imperial Army during their last stand in Cebu and I showed Aljew, Christopher and Dominic of the places where they used to camp.  They converge around cave openings which they developed into a complex system of tunnels that dig into the gamuts of the Babag Mountain Range.  I take out my compass to find the north when I see five trees that fell down during Typhoon Yolanda.   The trees all fell in one direction – to the east – and the wind that caused it came from the west.  This wind is called by the oldtimers as “badlong” and they describe it as the wind that silence all winds.   

   

We reach the part of the trail where it is off limits forever by fences.  An alternate route had been made or been developed to through many years of use by locals and we follow it down a dry gully where the route climb up again for the high ground.  Along this is the track left by the motorcycles that dislodge soil, rock and debris causing the walking slippery on an almost toothless sole like my Rivers shoes.  We reach a part where the ridge is thinnest and this is where the local guerrillas had used as lookout point in World War 2.  From here they could observe enemy movement below and send signals to Cantipla, where it is relayed to the headquarters at Tabunan.

We leave at 14:30 after a good rest and go to the trailhead down to Kahugan.  We pass by Mount Babag and follow the long trail down, most of it loose soil and some steep.  Uncomfortably steep for my soles to grip on but I use both hands to grab for balance and to arrest myself against the pull of gravity.  Vision is good and no long shadows to hinder judgment.  I walk carefully, sometimes doing a reverse walk down when doing a normal advance seems impossible.  I persevered until I reach the Roble homestead and I need a rest especially when one knee goes numb.

Aljew take off his shoes and socks to let his feet breathe after that pounding caused by that difficult downward route.  We boil water for tea to replenish our energy as the meal we had eaten during lunch had, somehow, been used up by walking on difficult terrain.  It is 15:15 and we could finish this day at 16:00 if we like to but we have a lot of time so we rest long at the Robles.  After that, we walk some more downhill stretch until we reach the Sapangdaku Creek and cross it for the trail going to Napo, passing by the route that we used in the morning.

It was a “rosary loop” encrusted with “mysteries” with Napo as the “cross”.  Unfortunately, this will be for Camp Red use only.  It will remain a mystery to others though.  No waypoints would be uploaded in my Wikiloc account although it is openly shared and documented in this blog for your consumption.  For that matter, only the bold begets this treasure.  If you are bold enough, possessed with a good dose of wit and cunning, you may win this prize and my respect.

Godspeed to you whoever you may be!         

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NAPO TO BABAG TALES LXX: Manggapares Trail

WE LEAVE GUADALUPE for Napo at 06:30. Today – December 29 – is the last Sunday of 2013. This is not a planned trip but the occasion to do this, as time permitted, goad me to rally certain people at the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild to walk with me to the Babag Mountain Range. Thus came Jhurds, Dominic, Justine and Faith to break that cycle of indulgence on good food brought on by the holiday season.

I carried two liters of water for this, as well as my soot-covered cook sets. As always, the AJF Gahum knife will take its place, hanging proudly by my side, and my William Rodgers bushcraft knife, silently protruding about by my backpack. We need to walk early because it will be a long hike and the warmth of the rest of the day will torment us. I believe that the wide-brimmed digital ACU camo hat that Lester Padriga had given me will be handy. I consumed just one piece of bread and a glass of water. I have experimented this simple meal many times and have forged a trust on this.

Before we reach the Lower Kahugan Spring, we break off the main trail by taking on another one. This trail was mentioned some years ago by Fele Roble as “mangapar”, a shortened version of “pares nga mangga”, in reference to two big mango trees that mark another branch of the route which is on the spine of Tagaytay Ridge itself. For easy reference, I name the route as Manggapares Trail. I had previously hiked this path downhill in January (NBT 57: The Last Wild Place) and uphill in March (NBT 59: Reunion with an Old Trail) and it will be my third time here.

The connecting route to Manggapares Trail pass by brushland and mango trees for some four hundred meters before reaching the first of a series of newly-finished power pylons. The steel tower stand tall as I gape from below and it promises you some views that you had not seen from the other parts of the Babag Range. This could be the beginning of Manggapares Trail but I am just amazed at how some people construct this behemoth for several months in the middle of nowhere and then abandon it.

I walk on the trail and come upon another one with big holes all around. As I was resting, I saw the branch of another trail that may or may not lead to either Napo or Lanipao. My adrenaline rose to another level upon seeing the prospect of exploring a trail that had long been abandoned and unused for some time. It is a path worth exploring in the future. Very well, I push onward the ascending ridge and pass by another tower.

We take a rest at a wide ground, cleared of vegetation with pieces of charcoal all around. I see a grove of sand bamboo (Local name: bagakay) and another grove of spiny bamboo (Local: kagingkingon). This would have been a perfect place for a campsite except that there is no water source nearby. I may need a dry pole of sand bamboo since it is effective as a weapon because, I know, we will be passing soon through thick jungle. I do not want to be surprised by something lurking beneath vegetation. My right thumb bled when I touched a sharp part of the bamboo as I was cutting it.

We reach an unfinished tower where the rough road ended or begun, depending on which way you came from. The road had not been used for some time and vegetation begins to claim it. A small backhoe is abandoned, left to the elements and to “cannibals”. I see a missing alternator and a starter from the engine’s compartment. A small cement mixer is also left behind by the construction workers with the carburetor from its small engine missing.

I am just wondering why they left behind the fifth tower unfinished. Gaping big holes show each where the foundations for its posts are constructed. We leave this and another tower loom overhead and another one on top of a hill and that is it. From hereon, we will not trudge anymore on a path with steel pylons in between. It is now 10:00 and I am hoping we will reach our resting point at 11:00.

Across me is Mount Liboron. I passed by a trail a half hour ago but I take chance instead to go around the peak on a path that I discovered in March. I just hope that the vegetation had not claimed back the scant trail I created there. I cross a barbed wire fence and look for this route. It is gone and I mistakenly follow a scant path downhill which led to more thick jungle. I do not want myself to go easy on the temptations of a downhill path only to discover that you are trapped in a boulder-filled watercourse where all nasty creatures forage, a possible haunt of a Philippine king cobra (Local: banakon).

I go back up to where I started to find another route when Justine got hit by cramps. We rest for a while before proceeding to higher ground and rest again when we are there. When I think that the ground where I am at is in line with a saddle, which I believe lies somewhere below us, I start the downhill search for a path. It is slow painstaking progress, the big AJF Gahum knife doing its work slashing vines and branches then sheathing it back when I move a few meters and the process is repeated over and over until I see open ground. In between are rocks whose ground underneath showed signs of burrowing. Perhaps, by monitor lizards or by snakes.

We walk down and reach the saddle and we take rest there. It is 11:35. In ten minutes we will be at our rest stop to prepare our meal but we were so exhausted that we need to boil water for coffee to get back our energy. When we have done that, we proceed and reach our midway destination at 12:00 (we are an hour late), which is actually a garden with two tiny houses owned by Julio Caburnay. Julio had been so kind to accommodate me on two occasions in the past that I believed he will do so again which he does.

I start the cooking of rice on butane fuel and resume to slice the eggplants, purple taro, gumbos and spring onions then work on the jute leaves and Malabar nightshades. Dominic proceed to slice eggplants, sponge gourd, red squash and bitter gourds as well as doing the cooking. Faith and Justine alternately watch over the second pot of rice which is cooked on another stove and fry beef jerky provided by Jhurds, who play music on his Samsung Galaxy to entertain us.

Dominic is able to finish the cooking of mixed vegetable soup and eggplant adobo. I take two refills of the mixed vegetables and rice and the rest did so. We were so filled up with the tasty food that Dom had cooked but, even that, there were a lot of leftovers and we gave it away to Julio and his family. Aside that, I also leave three-fourths kilo of uncooked rice to them before proceeding on our journey. It is already 14:30 and too few hours for the day. We may have to sacrifice rest time though with full tummies towards Babag Ridge.

Cooking for people outdoors with few ingredients in an uncomfortable location can give you a lot of pressure but Dom had overcome this challenge after a little coaching. Someday he may learn that skill and there are too few good cooks who could dish out tasty food outdoors. I know that a lot of outdoorsmen prefer to eat the easy way like pre-cooked food or heating the contents of canned goods or doing the cooking itself but with MSG and other artificial preservatives. Camp cooking with less is not for everybody. It is confined to people with the proper frame of mind.

Cramps caught Justine again and we rested within a forested part of the route. In a few minutes we will switch to the old Babag Trail. This trail is now forgotten by weekend hikers and is unknown, except by me and, perhaps, by off-road motorcyclists, as what Julio told me when I first met him. Nevertheless, I found the trail in excellent condition winding along the spine of Babag Ridge. It is thickly vegetated that you could barely see some parts of Sapangdaku Valley and Metro Cebu on the east and the wide Bonbon Valley on the west.

I follow the trail until I switch on to another one that goes into a meadow and along fenced properties which take a long detour going a long way down and a long way up. Long ago, I used to walk straight from Buhisan to Upper Busay without these hindrances. Property owners begin to seal off their lots when people bring their racing motorcycles on the trail, according to a local. So far, I have not encountered them in the past and on the three occasions that I came back here. Maybe in the future but I hope it never come.

Ultimately, we reach the shoulder of Mount Babag where the trailhead going down to Sapangdaku Creek starts but Jhurds is craving for cold soda drinks and we postpone our downhill hike by walking instead towards a small store along the ridge 350 meters away. We follow the road until we reach it at 15:45 and everyone made themselves comfortable with cold bottles of softdrink while I rehydrate myself with a cold bottle of beer.

When we had rested enough, we leave at 16:30 for Mt. Babag and then down the loose and steep trail towards the Roble homestead. I am wearing my newer Columbia Coremic Ridge 2 hiking shoes and it has superb traction where it raise my confidence but, at the same time, would expose me to risks. The sane side of me preside and I go slow even when my feet are suffering from pressure of being confined in shoes that has a very small space allowance. It is really painful but I grit my teeth to absorb the soreness.

It is a blessing then to take a rest after that tiresome hike and I bless the day I made the Roble homestead as a resting area. I rehydrate from their stock of water which the family prepared for thirsty hikers. On request, they could produce young coconuts and open this for you to savor the sweet juice. Since it is almost dusk – 17:10 – we tarry just a bit and accept the offer of ripe bananas. I donate a small amount of money for their upkeep and proceed on the last half of the downhill trek in semi-darkness.

When I reach the creek, I retrieve my LED torch to light my way. I am drained physically and mentally and cannot afford to use my natural night vision perfectly as I had when I get a good rest. At least, in darkness, I am on familiar terrain. The train of lights that follow ensure that all is well with my trail mates. We pass by where we started in the morning and everyone are quite awed by the route that we took. For them it is another epic journey but, for me, it is just “another day at the office”.

We arrive at Napo under the soft glow of sodium lights. It is 18:30. We took a lot of rest time, injury time and an hour of trail blazing. I am short of my expectations which I based on my previous trip on the same route (NBT 59: Reunion with an Old Trail) but I am wiser this time. Maybe I will do another repeat of this alone.

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