NAPO TO BABAG TALES LXVII: More Rough Cuts

AFTER A WHOLE MONTH of running relief supplies to the north of Cebu and elsewhere for the communities stricken by the recent onslaught of a super typhoon, the guys deserve a break. Jhurds Neo and Fulbert Navarro need to release some cooped-up stress and the outdoors is the perfect venue for that. As I have done so after relief efforts (the last time walking the trail from Basak, Badian to Mantalongon, Dalaguete solo) I can understand their predicament.

Today, December 8, 2013, I will tow both back to our favorite playing ground at the Babag Mountain Range. Aside them, I will introduce Jerome Tibon, Christopher Laugo and, hold your breath, Laertes Ocampo, to the culture and lifestyle of Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild. Laertes is a regular hanger at the Facebook site of Camp Red but just only a few have seen him personally as he had not joined any outdoor sorties of Camp Red – until today.

Jerome had gone on an earlier trip with me on this same place last October 6, 2013 and he is a long-time Australian resident before returning back to Cebu to work in one of the business process outsourcing companies. Christopher, or Toper, is from Ormoc City, one of the very places which Typhoon Yolanda wrought havoc in Leyte. He is in Cebu because he has to do a review for a licensure examination as a mechanical engineer.

Running parallel to our dayhike is the group of Boy Toledo, Ramon Corro, Boy Olmedo and Ernie Salomon – all old men – who will utilize the same place that we will camp at. Although we meet two of them at the parking area of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, I decide that my group at Camp Red leave early and, hopefully, they will come later. We had already stocked ourselves of food ingredients that we will prepare and cook at the Roble family homestead.

Once we reach Napo, Jhurds take the point while I sweep the rear. The Napo Trail is partially wet while the Sapangdaku Creek is full, brisk and clear. It is a beautiful warm day but our pace is slow. I like being at the tail end for there is no pressure and no worries to keep up with the fastest walker. The only worry I will have is watching over the injured, who will surely lag behind and needs to be accompanied. Everyone carried small backpacks while I got the heaviest. Jhurds, Fulbert and I open carry our knives by our sides.

Jerome suffered cramps on his right lower leg but a little trick would ease the pain for a while until the cramps recur and the process is repeated. Once we reach the Lower Kahugan Spring, we top off our bottles and enjoy the cool shades. It is a good place to take rest and cool off for a while before engaging the Kahugan Trail. This route goes to a small community then to Babag Ridge and it ascends gradually.

We follow this route that pass above four hidden waterfalls before breaking off to a branch of a trail leading to the Robles. Some parts are exposed to the sun while the rest are shady. The super typhoon had not left its mark here except altering a few parts of the trail with small landslides and breaking the top halves of bamboos in some isolated areas. A few trees fell but only stumps are left now as the rest of the tree are now converted to charcoal.

We reach the Roble homestead and I instantly boil water for coffee. The Roble couple are present but the children are absent. They might had been part of a train of young boys carrying mangoes on baskets hanging by their foreheads with trumplines which we had met along the trail a while ago. The little house made of bamboo and wood is still standing. The huge tamarind tree tower over it and is unaffected by the recent tempest together with the Java plum tree, the mango trees and them bamboos.

Well, the dine shed and the benches are empty and everyone enjoyed the cool assurance brought on by the shades of trees and the whispers of breeze. When coffee had been served, we immediately prepare the ingredients for our lunch. I forage three slender branches for a tripod which the pot will be suspended from. We will utilize the earthen hearth we set up some three months ago and we will cook our food with firewood.

As we were doing this, a group of four hikers came to sit on the farthest benches. The Roble homestead is a favorite stopover for those going to Babag Ridge with the family offering green coconuts for just a few donations to support their children’s education. These hikers are on the way to Babag Ridge and would probably exit to Lower Busay. It is a route favored by conventional backpackers and “corporate mountaineers”.

I still could not comprehend though why they prefer that route when going back to where they came from – which is Napo – or going down to Kalunasan would have been more challenging, promising, practical and economical. Anyway, they silently observe our activities with our knives doing the cutting, slicing, chopping and the center of our conversations. Jhurds, Laertes and Toper proceed to slice vegetables, meat and spice. Fulbert give life to a fire hanging on to half-dry wood as I meticulously suspend the pot with the rice above the tottering flame.

Another group of five hikers came and joined the first group had occupied. Then comes Boy T, Boy O, Ernie and Ramon and they join my group in the shed. They are old-school and they also prepare their food like we at Camp Red do. Conversations gather up from the hilarious to the serious. All shared their sentiments on one individual, all had talked freely of their experiences with relief works in Leyte, Samar and North Cebu and all are expectant of Christmas United II on December 15, 2013.

As we were in the middle of our cooking, another group of four hikers arrive but the earlier ones had already left a few minutes ago and there are ample spaces among the benches. It is really pathetic to see these people going out with just canned goods and pre-cooked meals to subsist on. While we were about to enjoy a feast, these people eat cold rations! This age of “instant everything”, PSPs, tablets and smartphones wreck havoc on old values. They cannot even bring a “closet knife” to open their canned goods. Very pathetic indeed!

I used my AJF Gahum heavy-duty knife, in tandem with my tomahawk, to chop firewood from a seasoned trunk of a Mexican lilac wood. My Victorinox SAK Trailmaster and my small Case XX folder were alternately used to cut and slice vegetables. This same Trailmaster was lent to that group who failed to bring a can opener! Fulbert brandished his Kalahi kukri to open green coconuts and to split dry wood for tinder. Jhurds use his Seseblades NCO knife to slice pork while Laertes has his own-made knives to help him in his cooking.

Food served when lunch do come for our mixed group of bushmen and old men are fried mixed-vegetables, fern tops, horseradish soup, fried pork, grilled pork, raw cucumber, fried taro shoots, bitter gourd with krill and rice. We would have brought milled corn but, mysteriously, stocks of milled corn disappeared from the market at Guadalupe. There is, I guess, a shortage of milled corn when the price of rice shot high in the aftermath of the typhoon since milled corn is affordable. This is a portent of things to come which we at Camp Red had foreseen.

Each group now are to his own circle when the meal was finished. The old men stayed in the shed talking among themselves with shots of Tanduay 5 Years Old Rum to coax life onto their conversations. They like to call their activities as “boozecraft” in a funny reference to bushcraft, which we at Camp Red are notorious of. On the other hand, we occupy the empty benches with conversations centering on knives, guns, Typhoon Yolanda, relief missions, water filters and Christmas United II.

We are the last to leave the place. When 3:00 PM came, we pack our things and go down the trail for Napo. Our packs are lighter and our pace are now swift. All are sweating thoroughly in the late afternoon sky. Along the trail are folks going the other way towards their homes from a whole day of selling their produce and a chance to celebrate the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mother of God. It is another good day to expose the “rough cuts” into the culture of Camp Red and, eventually, make them an “island of their own” someday.

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

COMPLEAT BUSHCRAFT VIII: Rare Jewels

MY LIFE WAS RECENTLY part of a study requirement by a student of a state university in Metro Manila and one of the questions asked of me is about what I see in the bushcrafters of today? Frankly, there are, I replied, only a few non-indigenous Filipinos who practice bushcraft and I consider them as precious jewels. Although I see this number gaining ground every year, thanks to social networking sites, but, deep inside, I just want them to be as few as possible.

Yes, these local bushcrafters are so few yet their knowledge about real-life survival skills are irreplaceable. They are misunderstood and disdained by the mainstream outdoor crowd because of their propensity to carry real knives (instead of the closet kind) and their seemingly audacious methods which ran contrary to the principles of the Leave No Trace which everybody seems to know by heart but never understanding the very spirit by which it was created.

Bushcrafters do not come to a mountain to eat pre-cooked food and they are not in a hurry either. Time is of no measure to them and their day goes on its course without having to push themselves hard and be at places dictated by a piece of paper. They stay low and see a lot of nature that conventional backpackers do not know about. Yes, these bushcrafters appreciate nature as much as you do but they embrace it with much reverence and not by spur-of-the-moment realizations exhibited by tourists.

They go to the same places over and over again and does not mind the familiarity or the tedium of it. They only take what they need and polish off their skills to perfection with what few things they have. They absorb every lore of these places and they relish at the prospect of a companionship with the campfire if night comes and a kettle of hot coffee by the side. It is always a pleasure for them to just be by themselves or with just the right people.

I am a bushcrafter and I am with another of my kind, Glenn Pestaño, and we are at the very place where the recent Outlaw Bushcraft Gathering was held two weeks ago. Today is September 15, 2013 and it is a hot day in Sayao, Sibonga, Cebu. Two novices – Justine and Faith – also came and they hiked the route with me from Napo, Carcar just like the last time. Today, we will just be polishing off our skills, testing knives and the two beginners will learn from us.

I carry a prototype model of an AJF Gahum knife to test its versatility and handling. It is hand-made by a gentleman from Lilo-an and he choose me to do all the torture on his creation except shooting it insanely to drive a point. Aside that, Glenn had been dangling a Seseblade Sinalung knife for me – a gift coming from Dr. Arvin Sese himself – urging me to make me come and get it. I will have that soon once I will arrive at the camp along with another of Doc Sese’s gift – a money belt. I did arrive, sweat and all, and I claimed the gifts. Hmmm...lovely!

When I have recovered from my euphoria, I go down a small valley and harvest a pole of water bamboo. I will need it to teach Faith and Justine how to chop a piece of bamboo and how to make cooking pots. From these natural pots, I will teach them the technique of cooking rice in it. Aside that, I will show them what fire tinder to collect and how to arrange firewood before starting a fire by conventional means.

I use the full force of the AJF Gahum on a mature bamboo pole and carry the best part up the campsite and go back again to the bamboo grove to collect dried pieces of bamboo for my fire. Glenn, meanwhile, devised a cooking set-up using three sticks of bamboo and some stakes. The bigger stick is used to hang a pot over a fire.

After I had done my lessons with Faith and Justine, both went with Glenn for another lesson about how to dress a chicken. I tended the fires for two conjoined segments of bamboo which I made as cooking vessels and cook simultaneously both with rice. I also cook rice on a conventional pot hanged from Glenn’s tripod for insurance since, I believe, we all will be having a good appetite owing to the promise of eating free-rein chicken!

After finishing my cooking, I went to see how all are doing with their chicken. It is already 1:00 PM and, I think, they may be in the final touches of the chicken soup. When I arrive, they have not yet started the cooking. I take over by partitioning evenly some chicken parts and retrieve the head, the feet and the food sac, which were condemned as wastes, and cleaned it thoroughly before mixing it with the rest.

Since we don’t have the luxury of many ingredients, I use all to the limit like the cooking oil, garlic, the lower half of spring onions and green pepper. Then I put the pieces of chicken and let it roll back and forth in the scant oil during frying and, as it becomes brownish, I pour a quart of water and let it boil. I add lemon grass, spring onion leaves and pieces of ginger. For flavor, I shake some white pepper powder on the soup and two teaspoons of salt. No MSG. Cooking tasteful food outdoors is done with a right frame of mind and not by artificial means.

Anyway, there was a lot of food for everyone and we even shared it with a family living nearby in “boodle-fight” fashion. We deserve that dining style because we are bushcrafters and not some staged activity of conventional backpackers whose instincts follow an almost corporate flavor. I go for the head, the de-scaled feet, the opened food sac, a part of a liver and a good piece of a thigh to reward myself of the effort and energy lost to the morning hike, the foraging of bamboo and the cooking.

The rest of the afternoon are spent on conversations aided by the juice of a fermented coconut wine. We wind down the activity by checking on our blades. I am smiling because I have done well with my test of the AJF Gahum and found out that it needs some brushing up. Well, this piece would likely go back to its owner who will study its improvements based on my findings and recommendations. I am also smiling because I have a Seseblade. This, too, will be subject to my own brand of torture.

We leave Sayao for Napo following the morning route and transfer to a tricycle for Ocaña where the national highway is found. We doused our thirsty throats with cold soda drinks from a store and waited for a Ceres Liner bus. Two full ones passed by but the third accommodated all five of us inside on the seats. It was another quality day that only hard-to-the-core gentlemen of the outdoors would understand and relish. Not only that, the newcomers learned a lot with which knowledge would be second nature when SHTF comes.

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

MICKEY MOUSE BUSHCRAFT

WHEN YOU PROMISE SOMETHING, you better be good with what you said else you get annoying reminders! In my case, my grandson gives me that annoying and repetitive reminders and it becomes annoyingly sweet when you get a bear hug from him all the time.

I am busy most of the week except Sundays. But even that, the faraway hills always claim it, without a doubt, be it rain or heavy rain! On some rare occasions though, I am nailed right in my home. Like when I am utterly sick, just plain lazy or with an empty pocket.

I am at the end of my road for this week and I am broke. Maybe, it would be good to stay put just for this particular Sunday, September 29, 2013. I wake up at seven and try to clear my thoughts about the things I need to do today and I play an album of Crosby, Stills & Nash to give me that needed “push”.

Across the coffee table and lying prone on the sofa, little Gabriel had been watching me through the corner of one eye with another eye on the PSP. I very well know what he felt today and I feel that he is quite surprised by my unusual presence on a day that he knows I am not supposed to be around. He knows that because he glanced at the wall clock.

As I finished my light breakfast, I collect all my pieces of bamboo and my blades. I will polish again my bushcraft skills right here in my shrinking backyard. I had been planning this for so many times because my wife and the rest of my family does not know what I am doing on weekends.

Although I regularly post my activities in Facebook, my wife does not have an FB account. My two sons have but they focused all their updates on their online game conquests. My grandsons have accounts too but these are just dummy profiles put up by their mom since they are minors. All know that I have crazy stunts in Facebook but, like all people do: To actually see is to believe.

When Gabe sees me carrying all the bamboos and the sharp things outside to the backyard, his face lighted up and a smile flashed on his face. I place it all on a monobloc chair just outside the door and Carlo, my Belgian malinois mongrel, begins to push his cold snout through a gap of the impromptu steel gate, trying to reach me. I opened the small gate and Carlo’s tail wagged some more and he licked me as far as his tongue could reach.

Carrying all the things down the concrete steps, I stop on a pile of wood and steel bars underneath the water-apple tree and, from there, I go back the house to get the KODAK Easyshare M23 camera and the CIGNUS V85 portable VHF/UHF radio, Carlo trailing behind. The transceiver radio can tune in to FM stations and that would provide me music.

Quickly, I assess the small clearing and I instantly know where to start my fire and do my cooking. I have a green bamboo pole with two conjoined segments which I brought from Lilo-an a week ago and, from this same bamboo, I will demonstrate to all how to cook rice in it. I make short work opening the two segments of the bamboo under the scrutinizing eyes of my wife and Gabriel.

I used the Seseblade “sinalong” knife for this job. It is a small knife, about five inches in blade length, but it did the job well. It could take the pounding from a heavy stick and its blade dig deep into the bamboo’s surface. This is not the first torture test that I have done on a Seseblade though and I could see that the blades made by Dr. Arvin Sese are tough and durable.

Carlo, meanwhile, ran and jumped all around the spaces in between as he seemed to be in ecstasy at the prospect of seeing and feeling me so very close. I admit that I have not had so much time to bond with Carlo as what I did with my previous dogs and I get pestered by him and he is a very snotty customer. I ignored him as much as possible and keep him at arm’s length.

I start to gather whatever dry wood I could get as firewood. I chop blisters of wood from a half-dry mango trunk with my hatchet and collect it inside a plastic bag. When it got full, I turn my attention on dry branches. I struck a match to light a paper underneath a pile of dry kindling when one of the sparks caught a biodegradable plastic bag and this plastic burned quickly just by that. It is a good discovery though for me.

It is always a challenge to cook on a bamboo with very few resources like dry wood. You have to keep the flame going even with half-dried wood and that means constant blowing and inhaling thick smoke in the process. Good thing I have a small bamboo pole which I used recently as a dart gun and blow air through it many times directed at the embers. I was able to cook my rice using this technique.

My wife was not impressed at how I prepared my rice. She says this, she says that, and so on...blah...blah...blah...! I just smiled and I let her smell a grain of cooked rice. She still was not impressed and she goes on with what is on her mind. All the while, Gabriel had been reminding me with his bow and arrows. I keep his hopes high by promising him again after lunchtime.

I need to keep the fire going because my wife is preparing a 1.3-kilo milk fish (Local name: bangus) for grilling. She pass me a small iron grill and I place it over the embers before the fish gets its turn above it five minutes later. I watch over the coals and keeping an eye on Carlo, who had been busy with his antics trying to get my attention.

We finally got our lunch at 11:30 AM after I transferred the rice and the fish onto the table and after taking a bath. Jarod, Gabe’s elder brother, is so impressed about my bushcraft cooking and is smiling as he ate, enjoying this novelty. I hid my pleasure and gave him a wink.

After the meal, comes siesta. I know the boys will take their customary afternoon sleep and I accompany them upstairs toting two books to while away time and to tease my eyes to sleep. The books are not boring. In fact, I recommend it for reading. The Last Climb by Thomas Cosgrove is an exciting fiction novel in a Peruvian landscape while The Cliff Walk by Don Snyder is a true-to-life midlife crisis experience.

After finishing one chapter each, I felt sand rolling in my eyes and I reclined on the floor to embrace Lady Dreamtime. Gabe shook me awake and I did not know I slept for an hour. That freshens me up and I go outside again to our backyard and work on the bow and arrows as Carlo kept pestering me once I entered his realm.

I am able to make a short bow for Gabo with two short arrows and showed him how to hold and use it. He seems to enjoy it the moment he released his second arrow. The arrows are pointed and I remind him not to point it with a bow at anyone and at Carlo, much more so using it indoors. He seems to completely understand my instructions as he stowed the bow and the arrows in a safe place once he gets inside.

It was one quality day spent with family and my watchdog. Sometimes though, it is strange to be around home on a Sunday after a long habit of spending it outdoors. I do not mind it and I love it. Maybe, on some days, they will be with me in the mountains and valleys, simulating a SHTF scenario and living it. Then they would know what I am showing at Facebook.

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

PHILIPPINE INDEPENDENCE BUSHCRAFT CAMP 2013

I CAME EARLY TODAY to send off the advance party for Camp Damazo. It is around 6:00 AM, June 10, 2013 and, six hours from now, the third Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp will commence. I am at the parking lot of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish waiting for the advance guard.

One by one, they came: Jhurds Neo, Fulbert Navarro, Glenn Pestaño, Ernie Salomon and Boy Olmedo. All are products of PIBC 2011 and PIBC 2012 and they volunteered as camp staff and lecturers. Their bags are heavy and will be heavier still when the meat, the rice, the milled corn, the butane cans and other food ingredients will be added. All are members of Camp Red Bushcraft and Survival Guild except Boy who is with CEMS.

All leave at 9:00 AM when the first trickle of the earliest participants arrive. Marc Josef Lim of the group from Liloan came early and is formally introduced to the group. Mayo Leo Carillo (PIBC 2012), passed by for work to drop a load of ten (10) whistle-paracord bracelets as a parting gift for the new participants on the last day - June 12.

The rest of the participants came and they are Ric Caliolio (Filipino Survivalists) and Ariel Cercado (Adamson University Mountaineers) - both from Metro Manila; Yuri Postrero (COAT); Chad Bacolod and Johnas Obina (ECO/MCAP); Jamiz Combista (Bisdak Survivalist); Aljew Frasco, Warren Señido, Allan Aguipo and Christopher Maru - all of Liloan; Anthony Espinosa and Aaron Binoya (OH); Jack Janson of the Bureau of Fire Protection; and Camp Red applicants Patrick Henry Calzada and Antonette Bautista.

Eli Bryn Tambiga (2012) and JB Albano (2012) – both registered nurses - will be my assistants when we will do the discovery hike from the trailhead to the campsite. Conar Ortiz (2012) also went along. As planned, a bus from Barangay Guadalupe arrive to shuttle us to the jump-off area at Baksan and we leave at exactly 12:00 noon. It was a slow ride but, nevertheless, we reached our destination.

This blogger start the on-site briefing and introduced JB and Eli Bryn to the sixteen participants. Eli Bryn shall walk the rear with his camera and JB will control the pace in the middle while I will guide the party. I assure all that my pace will be controlled and slow and I advise everyone to stretch muscles first before taking the trail after me to prevent injuries.

The trailhead is located at Baksan and the teak trees are healthy and blooming after many days of rain. It is supposed to be a rainy day as forecast by a government meteorological agency. The report stated that a Low Pressure Area will enter the Philippine Area of Responsibility today with a low of 23ºC and a high of 29ºC but the sky is sunny with passing clouds to give us perfect weather.

The ground is wet but it is not slippery especially when we proceed to the first stream after negotiating a steep slope. Those that are not sure of their footing provided themselves with wooden staff which are abundant along the trail. The stream is full and robust although water have risen high last night as seen from the traces of mud and silt along river banks.

Ahead would be the old campsite. Although a good site, it could not accommodate anymore the increasing number of people joining the PIBC. We pass by it and follow Lensa Trail to the next stream. We all take a brief rest here. I prepared three water holes if ever our water needs from our water source near camp is inadequate.

Above the stream, I cut a single pole of a water bamboo (Local: butong) with my 3-5/8” long William Rodgers spear-point knife and cut it some more and divide it to two poles with three segments each. Two people volunteered to carry one pole each so I can carry a slender bamboo pole which I stashed last May 5 for use as my shelter ridge on the first and second day and as a flag pole on the third.

From the same stream we climb up towards a ridge and, from there, it was easy ascent. The long line of people were not bothered by the rattan palms growing along the trail to the campsite. Along the way, I point to the party the designated latrines and the “gate” of Camp Damazo. These are two stout trunks – still standing - of what used to be living trees growing alongside each other and would serve as posts if there indeed was a gate.

Upon the portal of Camp Damazo, I welcomed all the sixteen participants to pass through and choose their own sleeping quarters. The allocation of tent space would have been the job of Randell Savior, he being the Camp Ramrod, but he could not make it in time but will attend his duties once he arrive in late afternoon. I have foreseen this, so I instructed the advance party to set aside the choice spots for the participants, which they did, including the smoke screens to ward off mosquitoes and other insects.

Just when I found my own sleeping spot, rain fell but not heavy although the rest have already set up theirs. Most of the small fires prepared by Glenn and Fulbert were snuffed out except one where it would become the center of camp life. It actually sit on the old campfire site underneath a Moluccan ironwood tree (Local name: ipil) and is a perfect spot to gather people around it. Nearby is a stinging tree (Local name: alingatong) which everyone evade with dread.

I set up my simple shelter when the rain stopped. It is almost on the same spot as last year and employing the same system and material. A cheap tarpaulin is tied at the four ends with a cord to the ground, the ridge is a slender bamboo (instead of a rope) that I carried up from the stream. I use a recycled tarpaulin banner as my ground sheet and nothing else. My Apexus fly sheet will instead be used for the campsite galley.

Over where my head is located – which is north – I pierced three sticks eight inches to each other on the ground and tied two more sticks horizontally on these. From these two sticks, I tied broad palm leaves with thin vines to prevent draft from getting in. My shelter will shield me from rain but not from mosquitoes. The campsite location is on higher ground but it is shielded by a thick forest and would protect us from strong winds.

Randell arrived and is in a quandary of where to place his hammock and tarp as the places where vegetation is cleared are now used up. Nevertheless, he improvised by tying his hammock underneath another. Ernie cooked a good supper of a steaming local pasta with soup for the hungry people on the campsite which now total twenty-five!

Around the campfire, a 750ml bottle of Tanduay Rum slipped in silently and make its presence felt when a glass made its round on the half circle of outdoorsmen braving the few drops of rain that got tangled by leaves overhead. A yarn ensued when the strong liquid touched the lips of Fulbert. The night rang out with unending echoes of laughter goaded by rum, drank straight without ice or chaser.

Unfortunately, Glenn could not join this jolly commotion as he is tent-bound by flashes of hypertension which JB and Eli Bryn are quick to administer normal medications. Johnas too needed some care as his back lay on a spiny caterpillar causing skin to inflame and swell. A cream of Caladryl was applied to soothe the inflammation.

When the bottle that supplied this ruckus ran out its course, the night claimed its silence. It is about 10:00 PM when I gaze at my shelter and an inviting space bade me in. There will be a night watch and two people will do the honors of watching over the campfire and the campsite every hour. I will have my watch at 4:00 AM and so an early rest seem fitting.

I slip on my bonnet and my long-sleeved Umbro shirt when I hear the unmistakable hum of mosquitoes. I keep my Rohan pants and shoes on to protect me from them and from cold. As assurance against them mosquitoes, I spray myself with citronella. The smoke from the fire is too far away to be of much efficacy in protecting me. Then I cover myself with my sniper meshclothe.

My consciousness would have dipped to the sleepy realm when an army of these danged mosquitoes blast their danged humming upon my ears. Besides that, they crawled and pricked all over my clothes and everything were strip of skin is bared. It practically ignored my shield of citronella and made my night a horror. I tossed and rolled in my cramped space and I gave up at around 3:00 AM and joined the watch of Eli Bryn and Conar. However, a cup of coffee soothed my nerves and kept me awake beyond my watch hours.

Light came on the second day, June 11. I visit the camp galley and Ernie is up doing his thing with the stoves, the pans and the fire. I thought I heard a rooster crowing nearby and that is strange. I decide to follow the sound and it goes into an unexplored trail which I will reserve for a future activity. I come nearer and I notice that not only I hear a rooster crow but I also hear a coo-coo of a hen.

The sound becomes mechanical-like without the unmistakable flapping of wings which a rooster would execute before crowing. I stop in my tracks and I remembered that pythons imitate sounds of their prey. Fully-grown pythons are intelligent reptiles and they are active since new moon was observed last June 8. The unfamiliar track I followed becomes forked. The upper one, I believe, will link to a road and the lower one, I also believe, to a stream.

Breakfast served were pork adobo and mung bean soup. After this, the lecture will start. I opened the PIBC proper and pass on to Fulbert and Conar, assisted by Jack, the lectures about the chapter on Basic Knot Tying. This took on the whole morning as it also touched on abseiling a slope using an improvised harness and the much more technical single-rope technique using prussic knots.

Lunch was supposed to be served after that but I explained to all participants that, to feel about the hunger pangs of survival, all will have to fast until dusk after which I lectured them the chapter about Introduction to Bushcraft and Survival. It is a long chapter where I have to explain the psychology of survival; the survivor’s relation to his environment and his own sense of morality when in that situation; the difference of bushcraft as against survival; and the possible repercussions when surviving a disaster.

After that, I touched on the chapter about Basic Survival Tool-Making and showed them the simple but useful tools that you could manufacture from nature. To give myself a break, Glenn came next with his chapter about Everyday Carry or EDC. EDC is so important to one who is into bushcraft and survival that, without it, is like a cowboy without his hat and Glenn is the best person to explain this since his arsenal of EDC items are very impressive and the envy of everyone.

When Glenn finished his, I proceed on to the next chapter about Basic Knife Care and Safety. I tackled on the only law governing the carrying of knives in this country and its amended version so everyone will understand their rights and their responsibility; how to travel with it safely – with a sheath or without; proper knife ethics; sharpening methods; and how to give your best smile when passing through police checkpoints and security screens.

Following on is the chapter of Basic Foraging. This is one of the most important part of bushcraft and survival for this is the means by which you could sustain your existence. It teaches you to collect some items that will be useful for you and it instructs you when and where to hunt food. This chapter will complement all the other chapters because, without this, your tools and your fires will not materialize.

Basic Firecraft is the most popular chapter since this is where true survival is based upon. But I destroyed that notion that anything is possible with friction tools and firesteel when you could not even start a fire with a matchstick. I emphasize more on the kinds of tinder and the proper preparation of combustible material. I demonstrated the most efficient forms of friction tools: the bamboo saw and the bow drill.

The last chapter closed on Basic Outdoor Cooking where the bamboo I foraged from the stream becomes the cooking pot. I taught the participants the technique in creating one and the proper cutting angles. Rice was cooked afterward when Johnas and Ariel tried my technique in opening bamboos.

Gladly, the lecture ended early at around 3:30 PM and a lot of daylight hours left for personal conveniences. Obviously, they were all hungry and tormented by uncomfortable sleep, inconvenienced of spartan living conditions and made to stay awake for the lectures. They have had enough of the day and of yesterday’s hike and I signalled to Ernie to serve the very late lunch at 4:00 PM. Food prepared are braised pork and dried fish cooked in oil.

After the meal, everyone re-adjusted their respective fly sheets, ground sheets and hammocks to improve their rest later on. Marc carve a spoon and a fork with a piece of green bamboo while Johnas constructed a bamboo amplifier which he copied from Facebook. Dominic Sepe arrived together with my guests, Maria Iza Mahinay and Bernard Bodiao of MCAP. Both climbers just came from a Mount Canlaon climb and both decide to stay at Camp Damazo.

In a few hours, a nocturnal hunting activity will proceed and it would be a good idea if I do a recon on the stream which I have not seen before. When 7:00 PM came, I called everyone’s attention and divide it into two groups. Randell will lead one group to hunt for tree snails (Local: taklong, takdong or korakol) around the campsite while I will lead another to hunt for fresh-water crabs (Local: piyu) at a stream.

When I arrive, the river is teeming with crabs. With LED torches it is easy picking provided you know how to grab it from the water. Much as I would have liked a good hunt, I advised my group to take just enough for dinner and leave the smaller ones alone before we go back to camp. The fruits of our hunt will be our dinner which Ernie will prepare on his own special way.

It was served in the middle of a circle by a campfire on banana leaves. The snails were boiled first, shell and entrails separated from the meat, before being fried; while the crabs were boiled, sauteed and then cooked in coconut milk. I help them find their food in the dark with my LED torch and there was a great “boodle fight”. Such were the satisfaction felt by everyone knowing that they have tasted the fruits of their labor.

The campfire yarns and storytelling started after the meal and this night’s affair is much lively and more animated than last night’s as three 750ml bottles of Tanduay and a half liter of Royal Crown Whisky supplied the fuel. My sleepiness have gone for a while but I know it will come back to me when this din will have died down. I do claim my sleep at 2:00 AM when the campfire circle became silent and abandoned. This time, I sleep beside the fire, the smoke protecting me, at last, from those pesky mosquitoes.

I wake up on the early morning of June 12, the last day of the PIBC. While Ernie is doing his thing, I start the blade porn which is a valued tradition in bushcraft. Branded knives lay side-by-side with native blades, tomahawks and spin-offs. Multi-tool sets claim their spaces by baring all their teeth while a number of SAK folders lay subdued with only one function sticking out. An odd item – an improvised blowgun – joined the pageantry.

Then comes breakfast: Eggs – sunny side up – plus last night’s braised pork. When all have recovered their appetite, the Philippine Independence Day rites start with invocation by Fulbert. The singing of the National Anthem (Lupang Hinirang) follow through the beat of the hand of Maria Iza while the Oath of Allegiance (Panatang Makabayan) is recited by Glenn and repeated by all, line by line.

Breaking of camp ensue at 9:30 AM and all make a long beeline to another discovery hike towards Baksan Road led by Fulbert while Randell, JB and Dominic stay behind to dispose trash that have not been carried along. At 10:00 AM, we all hike down the direction of Lanipao Rainforest Resort where we will stay for the rest of the day for relaxation and to cleanse ourselves in its spring-fed pools.

Noontime came and chicken sinigang soup is served. Afterward, the distribution of the PIBC certificates are carried on and, later, freebies of stickers, courtesy of Camp Red and Warrior Pilgrimage, are given. Then Mayo’s whistle-paracord bracelets are drawn to lucky recipients as well as ferro rods, paracord bracelets and an empty Altoid can courtesy of Glenn.

We leave Lanipao for Napo at 4:00 PM and the bus that took us to the Baksan trailhead two days ago returned to pick us up as agreed. We were all ferried and dropped at Camp Red’s favorite watering hole, the Red Hours Convenience Store, and swapped stories and goodies until it is time to go. It was another PIBC worthy of telling and re-telling for next year and the succeeding years after it.

Document done in LibreOffice 3.3 Writer

Some photos courtesy of Eli Bryn Tambiga and Anthony Espinosa

COMPLEAT BUSHCRAFT II: Raw Targets

THE SHIFT OF PLAYGROUND from the Babag Mountain Range to the south of Metro Cebu, particularly in Lower Sayaw, Sibonga last April, was a good experiment and presented good results. It was bushcraft at its best combining ageless primitive-living skills with new ideas at a place faraway from scrutiny of the ignoramus. It was a good venue to talk about real-life scenarios while polishing on real-life skills. It was good stuff and that was a perfect outlet for any gentleman of the outdoors.

Upon the invitation – again – of Glenn Pestaño I come down from my comfort zone and go meet him at the Cebu South Bus Terminal in the early morning of June 2, 2013. There he was, by his lonesome self, sitting on the lounge chair with a well-wrapped item by his side. He promised to bring his air-powered Benjamin caliber .177 rifle for an activity which we agreed to be held at Magsipit, Carcar in the south and that might be it.

The bulk on the wrapping shows that it concealed not just one but two rifles and that is heavy. Although we know that the COMELEC Gun Ban is still enforced, we both decide to risk the carrying and transporting of the rifles, for these, we believe, are “soft contraband”, not worth the trouble for any policeman to delve into unless the rifles cause severe harm and grave alarm.

So, there is no big deal about that and we ride a Ceres Liner bus bound for Carcar and, after an hour of seamless ride, we disembark at the crossroads of Awayan where Randell Savior was waiting for us. Randell have with him his motorcycle while Glenn decide to ride a tricycle and I, on the other hand, hop on another motorcycle which I hired on the spot. It was a short ride and I arrive at the place first where I shell out twenty pesos as fare.

I wait for Glenn and Randell and when they do arrive, Glenn introduced me to his friend, Cecilio. Cecilio is our host and he offer us his backyard for our activity. Stashed to the side of his home were two short poles of bamboo containing two segments each. Children were curious of my gear and I oblige their amusement by taking pictures of them. It is those little gestures that warm the heart of any kid and they give me a respectful distance.

I begin to work on the bamboo by cutting it open and make a crude pot so I could cook milled corn in it. As I was doing that, the children milled around me but I talked and taught them how it is done. I give them the idea that you can cook anything out of a bamboo and the best way is to teach them while they are young and I now build me a nation of bushcrafters. These little boys and girls would be handy someday.

Off to the side, Glenn is unwrapping the items inside and it reveal a Benjamin air rifle and another rifle that had been made and assembled locally. Both of these have scopes which Glenn expertly installed. Randell snatched the Benjamin and tried its balance and sight. Infront of my outdoor hearth is the target platform and I am in the line of fire. Excuse me! Not yet, you fools!

I gather all my wits and search for the promised beverage which Glenn prepared for me: a gallon of frothing coconut wine. Finding none along the naked vicinity of my vision, Glenn retrieved it from inside the house and there it is in its bubbly splendor. Haha...! Now I can see the beginnings of a good bushcrafting day.

Randell help me in stoking the fire to life with a good supply of chopped dry bamboos as I begin to make another crude pot of bamboo for the rice. You know what, I have my own way of cooking rice inside of a bamboo pole which is different from those done with modern pottery. This technique is also in contrast to methods utilized by the Aetas and other tribal peoples on the same bamboo.

I could cook anything on any kind of bamboo save frying something with oil which you could not do on any organic medium like a bamboo pole. When the rice is almost done, the fire becomes the property now of the fresh fish and pork meat. Over these glowing coals, the boys take over cooking grilled fish and pork. Glass after glass of fresh coconut wine becomes mine alone as no one accepted the challenge of this indigenous beverage.

When all the cooking were finished, the food are set on a table with banana leaves as table cover. Everyone milled around the table and partake of the food. My rice and milled corn, still in their bamboo vessels, are splayed on the line and becomes curiosity items which every local would want to add to their taste buds and gourmet memory. Anything cooked in bamboo exude a sweet aroma and it adds to a perfect appetite.

When the table is set aside, Glenn and Randell make ready the rifles, the carbon dioxide tanks, the .177 pellets and the targets. First target were the empty shells of what used to be tree snails. Glenn is so adept at his rifles and hit the shells one by one after two misses while Randell play catch up by hitting his first shell after a miss of six.

When both have hit target after target, they look sideways at me with my gallon and glass of coconut wine. They asked me to try and shoot some target. Honestly, in my life, I have never fired an air rifle but I have with different assault rifles spewing fire and lead. I declined at first but, since they were very annoying and very redundant in their request, I accepted the dare.

I heave the Benjamin and firmly place it on my left shoulder since I am a lefty. The center eye of the scope danced as my breathing is ragged. (Bless the coconut wine!) I could not make it still even when I release slowly my breathe. I shifted the butt again and locked it squarely on my shoulder joint while I locked my right arm on my body and slowly release my breathe.

Slowly the tension is gone and I squeeze the trigger lightly and I just got a beginner’s luck. The shell fell from where it is suspended, obviously, caused by a direct hit which a pellet bore a hole into and exiting behind it. I make it look so easy, to the unbelief of both Glenn and Randell, but it ain’t. In fact, I was straining hard and forcing my body to keep still. That’s all there is: Beginner’s luck!

So, from shells, the targets were changed into water bottle caps arrayed at the top platform and empty shells from 7.62mm ammunition line on the lower platform. Glenn and Randell were placing bets on who could hit as many targets as they can. I decide to change the rules by making the targets more confusing. I attach a blue plastic far behind the blue caps and pierce dry small bamboo poles behind the 7.2mm shells. Then I give them five minutes each to drop all ten targets.

Glenn dropped five blue caps and ran out of time. Randell brought down two caps and lost to time and his ten pesos to Glenn. Then both egg me to try my own rules on myself. I never hit a target even when I keep on shifting from left hand to right hand and back and, at one time, I have to stop the time to remove the telescopic sights so I could use the iron sights. All to no avail.

The air gun mechanism when loading a round on the breech is just too complicated for me and make me clumsy. That was why I have the scope sight removed so I could load a pellet quickly. I am not adept with air rifles but I could start and learn in belated fashion. I find it very interesting and fun. Maybe I could have Glenn make available his air rifles next time or maybe I could have one myself.

When the afternoon begin to cast long shadows, it was time to leave. At around 3:00 PM, we decide to end our session. I hopped behind Randell on his motorcycle for the highway while Glenn borrowed a motorcycle to escort us but he will stay for the night. Randell will also stay in Carcar and I will be the only one to go back to the big city. The coconut wine make the best of me and I slept in the bus only to be awakened at the terminal. Feeling refreshed, I proceed home and wished another compleat bushcraft session next time.

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COMPLEAT BUSHCRAFT

HAVE YOU NOTICED THAT all my bushcraft and survival sorties are confined to the Babag Mountain Range in Cebu City? You know, I cannot afford to spend a lot of money to travel to faraway places just to be freeze-caught on camera jumping. I am very comfortable to practice my survival and primitive-living skills here because I am familiar with the people and the terrain. Adjacent to that is I to get to know this whole mountain range better which few had done in this present time. By the time the “saucer” hits the fan, you know where to find me.

If you are not convinced by that, I may expand, as well, my familiarity of the other mountain ranges and upland areas of the whole island of Cebu. Ever since I started with my Cebu Highlands Trail Project in February 2011, I begin to see better my island that have been denied to most Cebuanos. It is not done on wheels but by sheer test of will on foot and by traditional navigation. No GPS. No maps. Just the sun and the shadows. I saw places where only an airborne observer could see and I can perceive it better up close in small segments by walking.

One of those places that merit my attention is at Lower Sayaw, Sibonga. From the highway in Ocaña, Carcar, you may follow an ascending road and it gets you to Tambol Peak. It is a sparsely populated area where it is converted as a training ground for PNP Scouts. There may be farms but there are pockets of wild vegetation that clung on to rocky terrain where breaking it into farm lots is close to impossible. There are streams and natural springs and lots of fruit-bearing trees, coconuts and bamboo groves.

This is the playground of Glenn Pestaño, a member of Camp Red Bushcraft & Survival Guild, and he invited me and others to check on the place. On April 14, 2013, I went there together with fellow bushmen Jhurds Neo and Fulbert Navarro. We left the Cebu South Bus Terminal at 6:00 AM and Glenn was already at the corner of the road in Ocaña waiting for our arrival. He carried a tomahawk as if he is in his living room. We get to ride a tricycle for a short distance and drop by at a store where a trail cross a dried-up creek into another dirt road.

The weather is perfect but hot and humid. A local, Rufing Zamora, joined us and he was carrying a half sack of rice on his head. I carried a Sandugo Khumbu 40L backpack with one kilo of pork, two kilos of milled corn, Nalgene bottle, two pots, a stove, fuel can, 15 feet webbing, fire kit, first aid kit, LED torch, two shirts and my own tomahawk. At 9:00 AM, we were still in the middle of it: hiking up a road and resting under the shade of an ancient tamarind tree. Along the way, I met another local, Rudy Edos, carrying two gallons of fresh coconut wine, still in its bubbly splendor.

We reach base camp at 9:40 AM and I am glad that there were ample shade. I took off my Rivers 3514M boots and go on barefoot on Bermuda grass. I drank a full glass of the native wine in lieu of water to quench my thirst and it really is fresh and sweet! Glenn had arranged this “jungle juice” for our disposal and I thank the heavens for making this day fruitful at its earliest stage. Aside that, Glenn also procured two free-rein chicken which were stewed and served as breakfast to us steaming hot by Rufing and his family.

After the meal, I put on back my shoes to prepare for a little sightseeing. Rufing introduced me to the plants that were grown all around his house and all these has a purpose. I picked up my Kodak EasyShare M23 camera, ballpen and paper and document each plant and its uses. Amidst all that, Jhurds climbed a Spanish plum tree (Local: sineguelas) to munch the fruits while Fulbert plucked pomegranates (Local: granada). After another shot of the “juice”, we proceed to the field.

I came across three different kinds of bamboo: kagingkingon (spiny bamboo), butong (water bamboo) and bagakay (sand bamboo). We stopped at a grove of sand bamboo beside a dried-up brook to test my new plaything: a William Rodgers bushcraft knife. This lovely knife was given to me last April 11, 2013 by the CEO of a local delicacy company¹ after he read Warrior Pilgrimage and found that we have certain hobbies in common: bushcraft and knives. Along with it is a handsome leather sheath dyed black, made by his own hands, with Kydex liner.

Bagakay do not grow thick unlike most bamboos. The poles are thin, the thickest like those of your thumb, but do not be deceived by the appearance. The texture of the bamboo’s skin is rough, like fine sandpaper. The poles are used as spears by early Filipinos during warfare and, as sharpened stakes, were used during hunt of wild game. Later these bagakay stakes were used during guerrilla warfare against the Americans and the Japanese and, later, adopted by the Vietnamese against the French, the Americans and the Chinese.

A mature pole – brown and dry – is hard to chop; especially when you are chopping it incorrectly. The William Rodgers knife made short work of it by cutting it at an angle. It helped that the blade is thick else a thinner one will be deflected by the dry bamboo’s hard surface. The thick blade drove the edge deep into its surface by its weight. It also helped that the knife edge is concave grounded and bit fast when driven. I scrutinized the knife edge after that and it is still sharp as was the last time I ran a finger lightly along it.

Rudy extracted four live bagakay shoots (with roots) from the grove which Jhurds and I plan to transfer to pots when we get home separately. Fulbert and Glenn, meanwhile, keep busy making blowguns from dry pieces of sand bamboo and both succeeded as bamboo darts punched a banana trunk from across them one after the other.

We transferred to a place where there is a natural spring. We climbed up a hillock and down into a small valley where a small rice field is located. The field is irrigated by the natural spring which gushed forth from underneath a rock and I drank the water. It is cool and of good quality. Glenn tested an emergency water container which he received recently from a fellow bushcrafter from Romania.

It is made of transparent and flexible PVC and is good for eight liters; with an extended spout which could be rolled and secured by a rubber band sealer to prevent spillage. It has a carrying handle. The name is Jollytank and is made in Italy by Plastibag. I voluntarily carried it in full capacity back to base camp over rough terrain to test its balance, comfort of carriage and durability. I begin to like this emergency water storage and I wished Glenn has another of this stuff.

When we reach our camp, I went to a grove of spiny bamboos and choose a single pole among them. It is protected by a screen of thorns but I hacked a corridor between them with my William Rodgers knife so I could reach the pole. With my own tomahawk, I cut the pole with angled strokes yet it refused to fall down when branches of a mango tree caught it. I dragged the pole as far as I could bring it and it crashed to the ground. I select the best two segments and separate it from the rest. This piece will be my cooking pot.

Rudy foraged some firewood among grounds between coconut trees and carried a lot of dried palm fronds complete with its woody base (Local: palwa) and clothe-like material (Local: guinit). I baton holes on the bamboo for each segment while Fulbert made a fire nest for his firesteel sparks. I searched for two stones of same sizes and place it as anchors for my bamboo pot. Hurriedly, I chopped the dry palm fronds into manageable pieces. It is hard work but I finished six of these and is now fodder for our fire.

With some dexterity I was able to pour water on the opened bamboo from the spout of the shaky Jollytank. I will simultaneously cook rice on one chamber and milled corn on another and this would be the first time I will do this. Fulbert, on the other hand, skewered pieces of pork with a piece of a sharpened bamboo stick for an impromptu barbeque. This is compleat bushcraft at its best, an activity reserved for men who can adapt easily to a situation.

Jhurds, meanwhile, lay on a hammock, quite intoxicated by the coconut wine. I finished the rest of the pork by frying it on a small pan over a conventional camping stove. A generous amount of green pepper is mixed with onions and garlic in oil, vinegar and soy sauce. While the cooking begin to simmer, Fulbert, Jhurds and Glenn kept themselves busy hitting small targets with a slingshot. The plink of marble missiles on a sardine can and a suspended tin plate elicit me happy memories.

When all the cooking was done, Fulbert cut two banana leaves and fray it over fire to remove parasites. It is then laid over the ground where the bamboo pot is placed over it, as well as the pork adobo and the pork barbeque. A bowl of native chicken soup, a leftover of our breakfast, served as our crème de soupe. It is a hungry sappers’ delight, a better presentation of a “boodle fight” in a real location that smiling picture-happy politicians would not dare tread.

After all had their fill, the slingshot firing practice continued but I have other things to do like the cleaning of my cooking pots and the stowing of my scattered things back into my backpack. Besides that, I have a half-gallon more of coconut wine to finish. We waited for 4:00 PM before we said goodbye to our hosts. We follow the same route back to Ocaña where, a real survivor of a sea tragedy is waiting for me for a talk.

I met Vincent Kanapi and scribbled all the important details of his story. It was worth telling and, I believe, his story should be heard. This blog will give space to tales of pure survival and acknowledge people like Vincent. Again, I say goodbye and proceed on to the highway where we all catch a bus back to the big city.

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1Titay’s Liloan Rosquillos & Delicacy, Inc.