NAPO TO BABAG TALES LCIX: Fearless

I AM IN NO MOOD to write this. I have arrived at an episode where I found writing an article on the same places on its 99th episode begin to look boring and provide me no inspiration. Why? That answer would be a no-brainer to a person who had no knack of sharing his joys and experiences to another. If he or she would be a blogger, they would have written one article for a particular place for one time only. Except for few tenacious ones, writing is fun, constant and a stress reliever.

I really do not know why? The “Napo to Babag Tales” had many sequels and its last was NBT 98: Rain or Heavy Rain. This time, the magic is gone. Would that, perhaps, be related to the tragedy that beset the Roble family? Probably, yes. Of course, it would have to be YES. The existence of the Roble homestead along the route to Mount Babag had inspired me to write these many episodes about the trail there coming from Napo or reverse.

I saw the transformation of the Roble family from its impoverished beginnings, hacking a living on the mountain fastness of the Babag Mountain Range, to the time when their very place hosted groups after groups of hikers finding a place to rest and to savor green coconut water on their way to the peak of Babag. Their place is a favorite among weekend hikers and these people have appreciated the family for the use of several bamboo benches, a hut and a platform built on a mango tree.

I have brought my adherents from the Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild here long ago and we made the Roble place as an area where we make our “dirt time”. We honed our cooking skills here and feast on food fit for kings. We had made their place as a launch pad for the several editions of outreach events like the Who Put the “N” in Nature which is focused on the distribution of school supplies before the opening of classes in June and the Christmas United in December.

A few kind outdoorsmen provided them goats for breeding while I brought two live turkeys there. When their original house was brought down to its knees – typhoon after another, named Yolanda, Ruby and Seniang, the community of outdoorsmen pitched in to donate cash and material so a new house would emerge. Sacks of cement, nails and roof sheets made its way and a house was erected, although unfinished yet, a concrete testament to the spirit of goodwill and unity of hikers endeared to the good ways of the Roble family.

The Roble family is a good case study. If a family who had gained an income that was provided before by a destructive charcoal-making industry and if given an opportunity to earn an alternative source of income, would help create a better difference on the environment. That is how I see it and it helped to write about the Roble family and the Napo to Babag Tales over and over again. Like a novel. Then tragedy came.

Feleciano Roble was shot by a neighbor – Timoteo Gabasan – last July 3, 2015 at Kahugan with an unidentified vintage caliber .30 rifle. Although Fele survived the attempt on his life but he lost a kidney and their temporary shelter was razed by the same suspect a few days after. The clan to which the suspect belonged to refused to cooperate with the police and harbored the suspect instead. Threats were flaunted to the remnants of the Roble clan as well as to the hikers, especially to those who had helped Fele.

So that same threat is directed at me for I have helped Fele escape the finishing bullets which the suspect would have unleashed during the flight of Fele to safety and hospitalization. Same with Jhurds Neo and Ernie Salomon. I take no threats lightly. I had never changed my approach with how I dealt with those whom have issued threats directed at me. I walk into it. I will always take the initiative and bring that on their doorsteps.

Today, July 19, 2015, I will test how that threat will turn out. I will be the “white mouse” for that experiment which the suspect will impose. My plan is to take Tagaytay Ridge straight up right after crossing the bridge from Napo. I will follow Manggapares Trail and the Babag Ridge Trail before going down the East Ridge Pass into the abandoned Roble homestead. From there, I will proceed back to Napo.

Coming with me is Jonathan Apurado, Justin Apurado, Richie Quijano, Nyor Pino, Locel Navarro and Mark Lepon. I have a guest from Poland who does not want to be identified but he goes by the pseudonym of “Jologs”. Yes, he can understand Cebuano and can speak basic Cebuano words. We aim to cook food somewhere along Tagaytay Ridge and we provide ourselves ingredients for our meal.

Of course, we also have our blades carried openly like we used to do. It is standard fare for our tribe at Camp Red when hiking outdoors. It gives us a better purpose than not carrying one at all. It provides deterrence against those who have ill motives and it projects an image of a bunch of alert outdoorsmen. I have changed how people should enjoy the outdoors and, slowly, my tribe increased.

It is a beautiful morning as we slowly ascend the seldomly-hiked ridge. Clouds partially cover the sun and the path is quite shady. Meanwhile, a vagabond dog joined us. I do not know what is in the mind of the canine and what it perceive of us but I take it as a sign of good omen. Could be a blessing and protection from the patron saint of Napo – Saint Roch. Perhaps.

As I walk, I talk about plants. Jologs gets a good education of tropical plants. He gets to see and know useful and edible plants, as well as the ones you are going to evade. We meet a hunter with an air rifle. He has a live wild fowl with him that he caught with a snare. The Manggapares Trail is thickly vegetated and nobody lives there. The only structures found on this beautiful ridge are seven power pylons and an abandoned backhoe.

Cables are now strung to connect these from the power source in faraway Naga City, passing over Minglanilla and Talisay City and to here, then crossing over to Kalunasan and Budlaan, before ending at a distribution plant in Cabancalan, Mandaue City. We walked underneath five of these towers before switching to Liboron Trail. Nobody uses this scant path except the locals and me.

We reach the Caburnay homestead at 11:00 and Julio welcomed us. It is along a route to Babag Ridge but there is water spewing from a black PVC pipe which comes from a natural spring far away. The place is perfect since it has two bamboo benches and a center table. I have visited this place many times and the couple who lived here are quite accommodating, to the extent of sharing their organically-grown fruits to us like bananas, jackfruits, avocados and dragonfruits.

We immediately boil water for coffee since the uphill hike had cost us some reserves of energy. When coffee got served, the zest returned to us and we concentrate on the preparation of our meal. It is now almost noon and we thanked Providence for shading us most of the time from the sun going here else our pace would have been slower. Our regular chef is not around, so time for the rest to learn how to cook.

Jonathan picked up the chore and we will be cooking mixed-vegetable soup with some ingredients plucked wild along the way. As always, monosodium glutamate and those spurious food additives are not part of our cooking. We keep our food close to nature as much as possible. It is a skill that men should possess.

We left the Caburnay couple at 14:30 and continue on our journey. We reach the ridge of Babag after an uphill walk without trouble where shades abound to keep us from the intense heat of the sun. It is a long walk to the main peak but, along the way, I decide to visit a World War II ruin. This is the main entrance of the gamut of tunnels constructed by the Japanese in a losing but last-ditch effort against the liberation force of the Americal Division and some rag-tag Filipino guerrillas.

The wind played among the leaves trying to talk sense into me but I am an opaque card today, denuded of clairvoyance and hindsight. My thoughts are focused on our safety later on. I would find that out if Fele's tormentor keeps his word. I would not go to the peak of Mount Babag where the trailhead down to Napo is found. Instead, I would explore a beaten trail, if it is true, that it would lead down to the same trail to Upper Kahugan Spring.

It is steep and straight but very manageable. The ground is stable even if it is wet. It passes by a healthy grove of sand bamboo (Local name: bagakay) and goes down to cross a small dry gully and continues onto a field of wild taro (lutya) then to a very narrow pass. Along the way, I saw pepper vine (buyo) and a forest rat (balagtok), seemingly unafraid of human intrusion. It could well be that it found the spines of the thorn bamboo (kagingkingon) enough protection from us.

Anyway, I do like the trail and it indeed led to the Upper Kahugan Spring, which water I found very refreshing. Then I heard a shout from afar. It was unintelligible but it is directed against us. I shouted back contemptuously. I exchanged more shouts at that unidentified man and I decide we better leave towards the Roble homestead as shadows are getting long. There has been a problem with this farm owner. He frowns at hikers passing by his farm and block its access to Mt. Babag.

As we were midway to that place, a man showed up at the heels of Nyor quite angry that I have shouted back at him. It seems his right hand was hidden from view to project to us that he has a weapon but I am used to this kind of situation. Then he recognized me and became apologetic of his behaviour. He said he was shouting at someone not from our party but I took it as an affront instead on our right to roam on government land.

So many ignorant people here pretending that they own a piece of land even when they just possess a mere photocopy of a land tax declaration. They thought they own the place forever and block right of ways. The government should know these things, especially the Department of Environment and Natural Resources, because these documents came from them. I believe some corrupt government officials are making a killing here. So, for that matter, I advise people to refrain from passing by “Forbidden Farm”.

We reach the abode of Fele's older brother, Zene, and they are in a state of fear. I could feel their relief at seeing us. With our presence, they are safer, but it would not be long when their agitation at the thought of the suspect roaming free and stalking them in the middle of the night returns. I look at my adult pair of turkeys and it is alright. From its six young ones, only three survived. When the Roble home was burned, the perpetrator also slashed the necks of my two young turkeys and caused injury to a third.

Suddenly, I begin to feel a very familiar feeling that had been constantly present in my past. It is a rage that I have no assurance of control. I pick up a stick that is as thick as a wrist and about 20 inches long. Miyamoto Musashi had vanquished most of his adversaries armed with just a stick. They were the finest warriors of 16th century Japan who take pride of their weapons from swords to halberds to chain-and-blade with matching skills, superior than most, and whose reputations struck awe.

I could feel my blood boil causing my individual muscles to revolt. I need to release this bottled up rage and walking would only be a slight liberation from that but, at least, it is a relief. My eyes scan everything, ears up, while my mind begins to process all possibilities of cause and effect like a chess player would with his two knights. With a stick I had humbled some people even with superior weapons. Just give me the right distance.

The threat-maker chooses his time and place and he has the element of surprise. It is my disadvantage. As always. It had never changed, quite unfair, but just give me the right distance and my speed would do the rest. I once disarmed a spoiled brat with a rifle and a sidearm in a crowded bar in Urgello with just a stick; a hoodlum with a revolver in F. Villa; a serial killer in Davao City; and many others more but those are stories quite different from today.

The sight of the burned-down house had caused my temper to rise. I got agitated by noise caused by unnecessary talking at the back of me and I pleaded for silence and asked them to keep their eyes open. I am now in a different world and I see only black and white. You might call that paranoid but it is the way it is and I am still living because of it. I am only after my imagined adversary which I expect to appear anytime. Even so, I now have a strategy. If he appears and makes a wrong move, the stick will do my work.

I reach Napo at 17:00 and I still have the stick. The adversary did not materialize contrary to his threats. Might as well bring this stick home. It will be put to good use. I will need this in my bushcraft class in a few days in Capiz but it would have been better if this stick squash his thick skull. What a boring day.

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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 LXXIV: The Rosary Loop

GOING UP TO MOUNT BABAG again today, February 16, 2014. It is just another training hike for stamina buildup. The route would be from Napo to Babag Ridge then back to Napo in a “rosary loop”. There is nothing new except that there are three new people going with the bushmen of Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild. Some rough cuts, I would say.

It is a day activity with different elevation changes; a knee breaker on one stretch. Maricel, Mark and Nelson are public-school teachers. They believed that joining Camp Red activities would provide them additional knowledge and skills in the furtherance of teaching scouting to their students. A wise decision! But, before engaging them with the real thing, it is but proper to expose them slowly to our brand of outdoor culture first.

Our inclination to open carry our knives in all our activities might turn off some people. A lot of people do not know the very wisdom why we carry our knives outdoors and they do not know the manner in which how we use it. Maricel, Nelson and Mark will soon learn why Camp Red people loved to use, own, carry, collect and manufacture knives.

So after seeing them at the parking lot of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, together with Dominic, Kulas, Faith, Justine, Bogs and Tope, we leave for Napo at 07:45 on motorcycles. When we arrive there, we immediately hit the trail. The Sapangdaku Creek is full and robust; the morning is very mild; with the ground showing moist after last night’s light downpour.

Today, for a change, I am bringing my newly-acquired Chipaway Cutlery Bowie Knife. I will test it but first I will have to open carry it and get used with its weight on my side while walking. It comes in a handsome leather sheath dyed brown. Another knife, a William Rodgers, protrude at the back of my Sandugo Khumbu. It had already accomplished of what I liked in a knife and it goes where I go.

After 35 minutes of walking, we have reached the trailhead of a connecting route to Manggapares Trail. Manggapares is a path that trudge on the ridgeline of Tagaytay. It can be reached by walking uphill for about 200 meters. The first steel tower loom ahead and it projects a promise of a few minutes rest to recover our labored breathing. The cool breeze did not fail to come and it cooled our sweating bodies.

We walk to the second tower passing by a charcoal camp and felled trunks that host a healthy environment of edible wood mushrooms (Local name: kwakdok). I forage some for keeps and instructed everyone what it looked like and how to collect it. The route to the second tower is almost obliterated now by vegetation even though I passed here recently three times in a row since December 29, 2013.

In the tropics you could walk on any vegetation anywhere and see it recover quickly from a day if it is a wet season to a week if it is a dry season unlike in the temperate zone where the plant ecology is so fragile owing to less sunlight days. The Leave No Trace is really designed for the upper north and lower south hemisphere countries and in deserts but it can be used only as a guidance in a tropical setting.

We at Camp Red understand LNT but we do not follow it word for word as what other outdoor clubs are doing. We know what we are doing and we know better our environment because we stay close to the ground and study everything unlike conventional outdoorsmen who just pass by in a hurry for pleasure, exercise and feeling good. Besides that, we blend in with the mountains. Flashy metrosexual clothes are not in our war chest.

The third tower is a harder walk because the sun is in full blast this time. A row of Mexican lilac trees (Local: madre de cacao or kakawate) offer shade where there is unobstructed breeze. Water is essential but not necessarily splurging on it. You have to control your urge for water by just sipping a little and let it stay for about ten seconds in your mouth. The purpose really is to cool your tongue, the gums and mouth cavity.

I show Mark, Nelson and Maricel of the best firewood to use. It is not dead branches lying on the ground but those that are hanging or still part of a live tree. The recent typhoon have littered the route with falling trees, broken branches and eye pokers – a whole set of dry twigs. Here, I begin to work on the trail by snapping off branches and twigs that block passage and removing heavy branches that are hanging precariously.

Manggapares Trail is a very beautiful trail good for uphill hiking and it is seldom used by the local inhabitants. Nobody uses this route except us at Camp Red and those that we bring. It is essential in me then to do trail maintenance to keep it safe and navigable. There used to be a copse of citrus trees here but only one tree is left standing now. We move on for the next tower.

We reach it but it is unfinished. By its very location the posts are far from each other. I have to use both hands to reach part of it and then balance on a narrow ground between two holes to reach another part. The road starting from Bocawe ends here. It is unpaved and not maintained. Furrows caused by rainwater carry topsoil downhill as wild vegetation begins to creep in on their former territory.

The backhoe and the cement mixer are still here left to fend for itself against the elements, the crawling plants and them “cannibals”. It is now easy walk but I am not asking for it. I walk where I choose to and I do not mind the angle or the type of ground as long as my feet are comfortable inside their shoes. Proper and comfortable footwear then are very important when you hike on rugged terrain like the mountains.

We reach the fifth tower and beyond it are the sixth and the seventh. After that last tower at Tagaytay Ridge is Mount Liboron. I have not scaled that peak and I do not find good reason why should I climb it. It is just an obstacle. Its importance is its being a landmark. I opt not to hike towards the last two towers and take another route below the highest ridge. This is Liboron Trail. It is narrow, the ground is soft, and it is a wild path.

Locals are beginning to tame this wild place. I see a large Java plum tree (Local: lomboy or duhat) and a couple of Mexican lilac trees being cut down that would soon be converted into charcoal. I just cannot find good sense why the farmer did not take advantage of the trees that were felled by the typhoon, which are numerous here, and resort instead to cutting live ones. Tsk! Tsk! What a waste!

On the other hand, I see three-foot poles of Mexican lilac being planted straight on the ground. Part of a hillyland reforestation project. It is a good idea planting trees this way with a species that had adapted well with our land that does not threaten or compete with indigenous species. It grows fast and gives nitrogen to the soil allowing neighboring plants to thrive. Seasoned stumps make good firewood, charcoal and wooden handles for tools and knives.

I have to take a lot of detours, going around both uprooted and chopped trees. We reach the hidden meadow. It had to have a source of water somewhere if I were to recall the story that a local at Kahugan had told me a year ago (NBT 57: The Last Wild Place). I may have to look again on this place in the future and do some exploration. Prospect is high to convert this as a place for the next Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp once water will be found.

We proceed on until we reach a saddle and take rest. I look back and show Justine, Faith and Dominic of the route we took last December (NBT 70: Manggapares Trail). It is thick jungle and a bit of scary! I tried to be adventurous that time and we suffered with our itinerary. We face the path uphill where a lone mango tree is found and walk towards it. Soon we will reach the halfway point and our meal rest.

I forage three poles and a long vine as I slowly approach another mango tree. Above us is the garden abode of Julio Caburnay and we reach it at 11:00. Julio had been so kind to accommodate me and my party into his property many times that I make it a point to give something extra for his upkeep. He is minding his little farm and he had already stashed dry firewood. Everyone take whatever vacant space available and begin to boil water for coffee on portable stoves.

I make a tripod of the three poles by binding it with the vine. This same vine would hold the cooking pot from where it will be suspended over the fire. Nelson, Mark and Tope watch intently of this cooking arrangement and I explain to them of its advantage. The tripod make a stable footing on any uneven ground and gives a lot of space to push firewood underneath the pot which a traditional trio of stones could not. The vine is just an alternative to a rope.

Since there are a lot of firewood, it was not difficult to make fire. I cook a colored rice over it. Meanwhile, Dominic took charge of the viands. He will be cooking mung bean soup and pork adobo on butane fuel. He will get a lot of help from Justine, Faith, Maricel, Kulas and Bogs. Flavoring to achieve good taste on the soup came from shreds of dried pork that Bogs provided. It was the best mung bean soup I have eaten beating my wife’s own by a snout!

Tope experimented in making charclothe on the leftover coals. He cajoled the flame back to life by pushing more wood. Shreds of clothe are placed inside a small can which is tightly shut. A tiny hole allows oxygen to escape so clothe burns itself slowly. I leave a kilo of brown rice, some cooking oil and soy sauce and six sachets of instant coffee to Julio as a token of thanks.

After a good rest and a very delicious meal, we leave the place at 13:28, taking the remainder of Manggapares Trail towards the ridgeline of the Babag Mountain Range. The route snake above the ridge into another forested area. The grasses are now long, the bushes begins to extend its reach on the middle of the trail. It is quiet here. No sounds of birds. Just the rustling caused by our passing.

The newcomers had proven themselves during that steady ascent and are now privileged to walk with me at Babag Trail and the rest of the route. This is an old trail where only a few hikers use but I intend to make it as a training ground now. I walk slowly, quite wary of broken branches snagged overhead and them rattan spines. Debris caused by the typhoon littered the ground. I intend not to do trail maintenance here to make life difficult for off-road motorcycle riders, which visit here noisily from time to time.

The trail is on the ridgeline but thick vegetation kept us from the view on both sides of the mountain range. We proceed on and show the newcomers of an old tunnel used by the Japanese during the last war. Further on is a popular old campsite that had been forgotten because of barbed-wire fences erected by property owners to discourage motorcycles. It has a good view of the Bonbon River Valley and faraway Cantipla Ridge.

When we got past the fences we walk towards the vicinity of Mount Babag. From here, it is all downhill. Another test of strength and control of balance. The ground held fast as it is partly moist. A group of seven hikers came up the trail. Some corporate type with wrong footwear. We reach Upper Kahugan Spring and rehydrate before proceeding to the East Ridge Pass.

Along the way we meet Aljew and Christopher. Both were supposed to be on this hike but someone’s alarm did not function and both missed the ETD. They join us and now we are twelve people fighting gravity. Another group of six people are resting on a ridge taking pictures among themselves. We pass by them and go on our way until we reach the Roble homestead. All the benches are full of hikers – the corporate generic kind.

Three groups are already there and we are the fourth. Their eyes widened when they see knives on Aljew, on Christopher and on me hanging by our sides. It is as if we just committed a sacrilegious offense. I know these kind the moment my eyes acknowledge their presence. It is a pity that these people stuck to a foreign ideology without even understanding the whole concept of and the spirit behind LNT.

Anyway, we ignore them and sit among stones and pieces of wood. I learned that Nelson and Justine had been limping due to cramps while Maricel hobbled on a busted shoe. Brave effort and the day’s activity is almost at its finish. When the group of hikers had left, we claimed the empty benches and enjoy water from young coconuts.

It is 15:45 when we left the Roble family and go on down a shortcut to Kahugan Trail. The route is steep but no one spilled, not even with Maricel who changed her shoes into flip-flops. We reach Napo but we have to walk 400 meters more to Arkos where Aljew had parked his Toyota Lite Ace. We reach Guadalupe but we transfer instead to Francisca Village in Banawa. Jhurds, another of Camp Red, hosted a simple dinner for us and a good swim of cold beer!

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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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