Wrath of Daragang Magayon

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #citizenmedia

caption: This blogger joins specks of dust near the Cagsaua Ruins, a belfry that serves as memorial of a past eruption of Mount Mayon that buried scores of Bicolanos alive.

ALBAY, BICOL REGION, PHILIPPINES — What force attracted me to Albay is the very same force that obliterated rice fields and homes in Guinobatan and Daraga.

Mount Mayon was ablaze almost every night from July 18 of 2006 with the number and size of incandescent rockfalls from the active lava dome increasing. And while volcanologists warned on August 10 of a major explosion as Mayon continued to eject lava down its slope, which spelled disaster, there I was gaping at the TV in our old newsroom admiring at the beauty and power of her activity.

As Albay was prepared to escape from magma buildup, typhoon Durian instead lashed, triggering deadly landslides. Mud, rocks and volcanic ash swallowed vast rice farms and inundated towns throughout Albay that were once subjects of postcards for their panoramic and charming rural life. Lahar flow killed scores and covered large portions of the village of Padang in mud up to houses’ roofs.

The wrath of Daragang Magayon (or “Magandang Dalaga”/Beautiful Maiden, believed guardian of Mount Mayon) spilled lahar flows from the roof of the mountain in Guinobatan to the town of Daraga. Amazingly, the floodhead spread to form two rivers upon reaching a good distance from the Cagsaua Ruins. Yes, the Cagsaua church which became a refuge to some 1,200 people two centuries ago. When lava flowed on February 1, 1814, the most destructive eruption of Mayon, it buried the town of Cagsaua, the church and the townsfolk. Only the belfry remained above the new surface. It stands anew today as a memorial after nature spared it from being smashed by tumbling, rumbling boulders.

It stands here today, beautiful but still haunting to serve, perhaps, as a living testimony as to how alive fire-spewing mountains and towering fountains are. And on how helpless we are before nature’s fury.

If there was one very bad experience in coming to Legazpi City, at a time when it was recovering from a series of disasters, had nothing to do with mocha-colored water pouring out of the tap. It was the overcharging of fare rates that hurt me most. For somebody unaware of actual rates here, most drivers asked double to triple the real rate.

“Kanya-kanyang diskarte talaga. Sa hirap ng buhay ngayon dito pagkatapos ng Durian, kelangan talaga mag-survive ang mga drivers,” a trike driver explained things. But was kind enough to charge me fairly when I directed him to bring me to a cheap hotel where my partner and I could wash up. We were “caking up with ashfall” as earlier that day we passed by Irosin in Sorsogon on our way to Legazpi. Irosin was on zero visibility because another volcano, Mount Bulusan, was spewing columns of ash.

The hotel, across a mall, was indeed for travelers on shoestring budget. Since the mall is nearby, my partner and I shopped for chocolate-coated and caramelized pili nuts (all-time favorites!). Its proximity to the city terminal allowed us to walk from the hotel in going there for our next trip.

At that time farm managers turned to nurturing not grains anymore but making hollow blocks out of volcanic materials deposited in rivers, as well as artstone pieces carved from volcanic rocks.

Mang Jun, 42, for example, sees a new livelihood in sculpturing Santo Nino icons from the volcanic rock deposits. He also carved designs taking on inspiration from Atlas (that piece with globe on shoulder), Madonna and Child, and the Pieta.

While volcanoes fascinate us, they frighten us at the same time. Volcanic mountains burst into flames as glowing rocks fly from the depths of the earth and cause enormously devastating lava flows.

But volcanic activity never stops to fascinate me. This adulation had drawn me to Mayon – this admiration for something inanimate, yet so full of life and power it is able to direct the course of some Bicolanos’ destiny.###

Musings in Molobolo

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

TUBURAN, CEBU, PHILIPPINES — Poetry is oppressive.

Even when the initial desire was just to check how much freshwater there is in Molobolo that meets immense Tanon Strait, I could still hear a parade of verses waiting to be born!

What did Eve Merriam say about poems? It doesn’t always have to rhyme, but there’s the repeat of a beat, somewhere.

I hear it in the gushing of flowing water. Oh, good Lord! There’s too much water wanting to leap out to sea. Something you will never learn where it has come from and where it will be going next – from brimming rivers to cascading falls to shimmering oceans.

I was with Sagarmathaji Rain, my only child, at the wash area of Molobolo Spring Park in Tuburan weeks ago. I love the beat and grind of country life here, attuned to the symphony of laundry clubs (palo-palo). The motivation was to immerse again in the laidback-ness of Cebu countryside, to dip in revivifying waters. No hurry. To watch my son enjoy the rush of too much water, to admire his skin wrinkle in the cold, and hear his teeth chatter to the point of surrender. But he instead refused his meals, wanting the whole afternoon to wade in, defy the current.

Poetry is onerous.

It aches even when the heart had already resigned from the desire to pursue; even when the hands had long given up. I could have written about how fast time flew, how swift my boy has grown, how wonderful it is to embrace back the wind. But I never did.

I will never know irony. The word befuddles me. I thought, all the while, that when you’re in pain, it is easier to weave conflict into poems. That you have a deep inkwell to draw inspiration from when you come face to face with the incongruity of what is expected and what actually transpires. But I never saw my pain in there the way it would wave its crinkled hands before me while here dabbling with assignments in my mobile workstation.

Poems must have that inner chime that makes you want to tap your feet or swerve in a curve.

I heard a childish shriek from my boy in his failed attempts at scooping fallen leaves swept away by the current. More than tapping my feet or taking a bend, I would want to swim in his laughter. It was devoid of pretense, misery. The whole world was his at that time that I hardly can share with. It was just a moment for me. Something that I will never get a hold of in perpetuity. As soon as the day is over I would be back to cursing the world that so “fearfully and wonderfully shaped me.”

There’s a lilt, a leap, a lightning-split. Thunderstruck, the consonants jut, while the vowels open wide as waves in the noon-blue sea.

Oh good Lord, what is irony? It is supposed substance poems are made of. Its absence likens a poet to a proud blogger sans a reader.

You hear with your heels, your eyes feel what they’ve never touched before. Does that mean I should see fins always on a bird? Or how about feathers on a deer? Maybe, poems are made for us to taste all colors, inhale memory and tomorrow, the tang of today.

Molobolo: your whimpers grate on my nerves all the more that conviction never to justify in poems what’s unsuitable, disagreeing and inappropriate. Maybe, there’s much water too gurgling in my head drowning sensibilities.

I will never come to terms with how the literati have always wanted poetry to be defined. I am drowned, as always, by the proud and the loud.###

HAIR YE!

Hair ye! (A note while traveling…)

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

CEBU, PHILIPPINES — It would be unfair to blame shampoo commercials and rebond services for women’s current whims of flaunting jet black shiny long hair. But it seems that because product ads have heedlessly referred to tying-back long hair as the dullest way to deal with hair grooming, girls nowadays are seen letting their hair down even in public conveyances.

In the past, when women were more careful, they travel with bandanas on. When I was younger, I took it as a way to keep off soiling one’s hair because we have to navigate dusty rough roads. On early morning travels, I assumed that the bandana’s major function is to protect us from “tun-og” (mist).

Lately, it dawned on me that because women were more decorous and proper then, they’ve taken it a point to keep their long hair in a knot or, if left flowing, the strands should be kept by a bandana from thrashing onto a seatmate’s face or getting into somebody else’s mouth.

Quite many times I traded barbs with girls inside public utility jeepneys who observe do-or-die the “ilugay, iwagayway” (let down, let loose) fashion in hair worship. I have pointed out many times that I don’t even grow my hair that long to avoid becoming source of other people’s discomfort. Since I’m a commuter, it is a “mane” concern to keep my tresses where they should be. Only on my crown and not stuck on some other glossed lips.

I would, in my meanest, sarcastic tone, point out how cheap are hair ties nowadays. And should one insist to let fly that hair beside me I will in time be in charge of pulling those tresses to emphasize a disgusted stance. There was one instance when the woman got irked at the reproof and harked back “ka-istrikta baya nimo uy!”

I gave him “the eye,” and retorted: “Palit og imong sakyanan para di namo makaon imong lusa (louse).” This would be one lousy thing to reveal, but some women adore too much their long hair they rarely spend half that much energy checking on what parasites have been thriving there for ages now. The way I saw it, it was like a season of winnowing done on her crown. Minute particles, like chaff, scattered all over. Truth be told: Lice! Lice! Lice!

I hate to blame this pop behavior on shampoo and rebond campaigns. It takes to propagate a meme to capture a market. But everything should have its rightful place under various circumstances.

Women who pull up their hair, tie it back in a ponytail appear lovelier because they become more prim and proper. Combing hair back and collecting it in a chignon or a shintaro, perhaps, doesn’t make girls less girl-looking.

I already bumped onto a nurse who, while on duty, let her hair down. I could not stop myself from chastisement, most especially that she was attending to an elderly relative of mine. She told me the mane is on conditioning after a rebonding session. She’s got a pretty face, mind you, but on that day she looked disgusting, and oh so out of place. An elderly lawyer, an events specialist, a practicing physician have joined the bandwagon too, but at least they have their own vehicle and there’s no way we could be juxtaposed in the same PUJ, or bus. But the sad thing is that these are the jobs that require women to be in proper grooming. Or what’s Deportment for?

Flight stewardess, bankers, management trainees, customer service personnel who are required to look neat and nice and kempt in hairnets do not look less feminine. They exude respectability.

They save a bad word from flying their way on a manic Monday. They also become peace advocates when they keep their split-ends from crossing my way.###

The Fort

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

caption: SIZE 6. This writer tracing the steps of Rizal from his cell to Bagumbayan.

INTRAMUROS, MANILA, PHILIPPINES — The city lives on!

Fort Santiago, a 16^th-century defense structure, served as the military headquarters of the Spanish, American and Japanese regimes.

During World War II, it was a dreaded place where hundreds of men and women were jailed, tortured, and executed by the Japanese military police – the Kempeitai. But it was destroyed by American forces during the 1945 Battle of Manila and was restored as a public park after Congress declared it a Shrine of Freedom in 1950.

For Php40 the ticket entitles visitors free entrance to all facilities, beginning with the Intramuros Visitors Center which gives an overview of various attractions in the Walled City.

I had a romance again with Philippine History 101 when I relearned that before the Spaniards arrived in the Philippines, communities prospered along the banks of Pasig River. One of these was a palisaded fort called Maynilad (old name of Manila).

Ruled by Rajah Soliman, the citadel was a trade center for Asian goods. But peace in the thriving community was shattered upon the arrival of Spaniards led by master of camp Martin de Goiti and later by conquistador Miguel Lopez de Legazpi.

On June 24, 1571, Legazpi founded the city of Manila on the site of the old settlement. The city became the capital and seat of Spanish sovereignty in the Orient for over three hundred years.

Threats of invasion by Chinese, Japanese, Dutch and Portuguese pirates prompted the construction of defenses consisting of high stone walls, bulwarks and moats. The walls stretched to 4.5 kilometers in length, enclosing a pentagonal area of approximately 64 hectares. The area consisted of residences, churches, palaces, schools and government buildings. Entry was made possible through gates with drawbridges which were closed before midnight and opened at the break of dawn. It was in this manner that the city earned the name Intramuros, meaning “within the walls.”

And there within Intramuros is the Fort. Adaptive use of this famous historical landmark makes certain areas ideal for open air theater, picnics, and promenades. The Baluartillo de San Francisco Javier where military supplies were kept when this was built in 1663 already serves as an attraction.

Other parts worth visiting are the Almacenes Reales or the Royal Warehouses where the Spaniards stored the goods brought in by the galleons just across the Plaza Moriones, a public promenade until it was fenced off by the Spanish military in 1864.

Next to the picnic area and refreshment kiosk is the archaeological excavation of Artilleria de Maestranza, a foundry which cast cannons and ammunition during the Spanish period.

In front of the main gate of Fort Santiago is the moat, the first line of defense surrounding the fortified city with water. The fort stands at the tip of the delta where Pasig River meets the Manila Bay. It is named in honor of Spain’s patron saint James, Slayer of the Moors or Santiago Matamoros whose wooden relief decorates the main gate to the fort.

After the moat, the Medio Baluarte de San Francisco and Baluarte de San Miguel guarded the fort from the river and the bay, respectively. The Plaza Armas was the fort’s main square. North of the plaza is the Dulaang Rajah Soliman, an adobe building now used as a theater. At the western side of the building is the chapel-cell where Rizal spent his last night on earth. Brass shoeprints would help visitors trace the path of Rizal when he walked to his execution site at Bagumbayan on December 30, 1896.

I then checked if I could be in his shoes. He’s a size 6. Fit in.

Across the plaza is the Rizal Shrine. It stands on the site of a brick building where Rizal was imprisoned from November 3 to Dec. 29, 1896. As always no cameras are allowed inside the museum, so it would be best to stay for a moment longer to appreciate implements of the young Rizal when he was experimenting with insects and his collection of tools when he practiced ophthalmology.

There is also a collection of his notes from a young, inquisitive child who questioned why the baby moth loves to flirt with the lamp’s flame; to his books on social cancer – the “Noli”, the “Fili”; photographs of some of the women said to be beguiled by his wit and charm – puppy love Segunda Katigbak, cousin Leonor Rivera, foreigners O Sei San and Josephine Bracken; and his habiliments that include winter clothes he wore in Germany as a medical student.

Also inside the fort is a terraced garden where the residence of the Fort Commander, called Casa del Castellano, was. Its dungeon, which I find most interesting for its eerie atmosphere, served as a cellar for food supplies.

A Memorial Cross marks the common grave of approximately 600 bodies of guerrillas and civilians found inside the powder magazine of Baluarte de Santa Barbara after World War II. The bulwark began as a wooden platform which protected the entrance to the Pasig River in 1593. Storage vaults and the powder magazine were added in 1599. The Falsabragas de Sta. Barbara and Media Naranja were false walls which protected the main bulwark in case of heavy bombardment from the river.

The Fort opens at 8 a.m.

Warning though: Don’t be fooled by those caritela (horse-drawn carriage) drivers who would charge “Php250 only” for a trip to nearby Malacanang or to Manila Zoo or to Luneta from the fort. The “per hour” charge, as they argued, isn’t written on their so-called tariffs. We were charged P1,250 for the entire journey. Instead of arguing though, I haggled for a “pakapin” (add-on) to Binondo or Chinatown to get a glimpse of Eng Bee Tin famous for its hopia and tikoy, and then straight to North Harbor where I set off for a return trip to Cebu.###

Transcentral Walk Year 2

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

:for#microadventurism

caption: Selfie taken by Kyle Basalo with this writer, Janskie Libre, Raymund Rodrigo, Renzo Reoyan, Arvin Ska Gonzales, Earl Haha, and Kerwen Repoylo.

CENTRAL CEBU PROTECTED LANDSCAPE, PHILIPPINES — Even crazy ideas work.

My #NewNormal series of microadventure pursuits kicked off last year via a 44-kilometer Transcentral Road Moon Walk (or Luna Trek, after mythological claim that Luna is goddess of the moon). It happened as planned because though connecting with somebody who shares same interest is a challenge, the universe conspires beautifully to such scheme.

One day, in my routine commuting to Cebu City for my job, I happened to sit behind two young backpackers. The convergence inspired me to start a conversation. I learned they were from Talavera, Toledo City and were headed for Osmena Peak in Dalaguete town in southeast Cebu. From there, they would cross to Kawasan Falls (Badian town) via a five-hour hike.

If there’s an apt word to describe the camaraderie, I would call Renzo Reoyan and Kyle Basalo my ka-wavelength (of the same wavelength), ka-bandwidth (or sharing the same bandwidth capacity/coverage). We believe that even crazy ideas can work perfectly. We went to complete our very first Transcentral Moon Walk! Or the very first done on that part of earth.

Pain soused the journey, literally! The backbreaking uphill at the start of the walk and the steep downhill past Barangay Ga-as (part of Balamban) were just too much to bear. It was the silliest hike I’ve done in my life, 44 kilometers in 14 hours. We started late afternoon of Feb. 15, 2014 (Sat.), and reached Brgy. Aliwanay at Poblacion Balamban at the burst of a Sunday skyline. That’s about 3,300 feet for every kilometer covered!

Kyle’s foot hurt badly, so when I joked about a “return trip” (tackling the walk this time from Balamban back to Cebu City), he groaned at the idea. Or was it roared?

By December I realized it was more of a roar from a hiker with a lion’s heart.

It was December when he tagged me on FB a shirt design he made marked “The Walk First Anniversary,” so I was kind of surprised. I thought he would never ever sink his teeth again into the idea. But I was completely wrong, as there Kyle was preparing for the shirts, calling on his friends to join, preparing trail foods. And there I was tinkering on my keyboard not sure whether I should pledge for a “reverse walk.” I presume my ego was hiding somewhere, rolling its charcoal eyes at me, huffing and puffing with a litany of expletives. Should I say to Kyle, I’m outtah here? But Kyle’s desire is Medusa out of Zeus’ cranky head.

It was offbeat. It was off the beaten track. But the three of us committed to a “return trip” to seal a fact that we were the first bunch to do that – and to have done so both ways – undisputed in the annals of Cebuhumankind.

It was such an absurd idea indeed. We have not done it on a February 3 with a full moon. We did it on a 15^th again which means Luna’s phase is headed to a new moon. So we can’t be on a pitch dark road for a long time. We decided to do it on broad daylight. And that was when I almost succumbed to heatstroke. I hate the timing, but love the company so much because it has grown to eight pax. There’s Arvie Ska Gonzales, Earl Haha, Raymund “Digoy” Rodrigo, Kerwen “Settle Bus” Repoylo for additions, and Janskie Libre, a friend I have kept since Bisrock days.

We failed to beat our record of 14 hours. We left Balamban at past 8 a.m. and reached JY Square in Lahug by 1 a.m. already. We had to rest a number of times along the way, seeking shelter at a DPWH field office at high noon. Newayz, we have mutually agreed to meet our goal. But also changed our bloody minds about any further transcentral walks. The anniversary already sealed a consumed effort.###

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To join the second anniversary walk on Feb. 15, 2016, email me at eleanor.newmedia@gmail.com or FB: Eleanor Newmedia. Probable route: Mantalongon, Dalaguete-Alegria, south of Cebu.

Olala, La Carlota!

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

Caption: The vintage steam locomotive of 1920 is a picture of Negros’ expanding sugar industry in the early 1900s when the Industrial Revolution provided “modern” equipment to enhance labor and production, while the Suez Canal was opened as a trade route.

LA CARLOTA, NEGROS OCCIDENTAL, PHILIPPINES — A vintage steam locomotive that dates back to 1920 was the primary reason why I had embarked on a trip here along with three girl-friends with whom I share this passion for the awesome outdoors.

The opportunity to travel to this part of the West Philippines came at such a time that climbs to the 2460-meter high active Mount Kanlaon, the highest (and killer) peak in the Visayas, were cancelled as a four-km radius danger zone advisory was released. The four of us were longing to conquer Mount Kanlaon, being passionate trekkers. But we had to respect her “mood swings” that time of the year, so we revised the itinerary.

We, foursome, took a ride aboard a steam locomotive or the “iron dinosaur of Sugarlandia” at the Central Azucarera de La Carlota compound. This happened after we spent a night at the Mahogany Grove of the Guintubdan Nature Camp, a part of the 24,557-hectare Mount Kanlaon Natural Park. It is one of few surviving national parks in the country today.

The Guintubdan Nature Camp is the jump-off point to the twin craters of Kanlaon. At least, we were already at Kanlaon’s torso (so to say) looking at her foot touching the plains of La Carlota, Bago, La Castellana and Bacolod. Not a bad feat indeed for one to be this upclose with the ashes spewn by the volcano, but able to go home safe and sound to tell our story.

La Carlota, 45 minutes south of Bacolod City (capital of Negros Occ), is home to one of 12 sugar centrals in this province. Old steam engines or “iron dinosaurs” are still chugging to and from mills, transporting harvested sugarcane, most especially during the milling season that is from October to April.

Iron dinosaurs are found at the Hawaiian Philippines Company in Silay City, Victorias Milling in Victorias City, Lopez Sugar Central and Sagay Sugar Central in Sagay City; and of course at the Central Azucarera de La Carlota of La Carlota City.

During this visit to the central azucarera, we learned that “sugar” is from the Sanskrit “sarkhara,” meaning “food of the kings.” In ancient times, only kings and noblemen can afford to have sarkhara.

Today, with the advent of modern technology, sugar is practically available to everyone. The sugarcane being extensively cultivated in Negros is said to have come from New Guinea by way of Mindanao during the pre-Spanish era. The history of Negros would not be complete without touching on the story of the sugar industry itself – the monocrop economy that made Negros what it occupied in our history : Sugarlandia or Sugar Bowl of the Philippines.

It was on the mountain barangay of Ara-al, La Carlota that we got the opportunity to visit Abaga Falls and Mag-asawa Falls on a Good Friday. After which, without calculation, just crashed into the Rafael Salas Park and Nature Center as it was situated at the border of Ilijan, Bago City – a few meters away from Ara-al. This, we only realized after a chilly dip at the natural pools of Abaga.

The park is dedicated in memory of Rafael Montinola Salas, the executive director of the United Ntions Fund for Population Activities. He officially held the rank of Undersecretary General, said to be the highest administrative post ever attained by a Filipino in the United Nations. So says a memorabilia.

The day before we stepped into La Carlota, we had a campout at the Mambukal Mountain Resort in Minoyan, Murcia town. The government-run resort is situated some 2,000 feet above sea level, the northern gateway to Kanlaon’s twin craters, accessible within a two-day hike. Mambukal offered a sweeping view of the mountainscapes of Marapara-Mandalagan and Kanlandog.

Mambukal is a nature lover’s paradise, known for its sulfur springs. The very reason why it is named Mambukal is because of the air vents at the floor of a lagoon, sending bubbles up the surface, indicating volcanic activity.

Much is still to be discovered around and near the municipalities and cities that Kanlaon touches. Exploring these interesting places on the map of exciting destinations would mean an enriching experience of the allure and grandeur of nature, a better understanding of the Negrense history, and an appreciation of our lives’ interconnectivity with people, culture, and of course – mountains.###

MOUNT APO: ALMOST HEAVEN! (The Kapatagan-Kidapawan traverse)

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

NORTH COTABATO, Mindanao, Philippines — The freedom of wind with the expanse of sky – you can only get it while on Mother Peak of the roof of the Philippines – Mt. Apo (towering at 10,311 feet above sea level).

This aerial view, to borrow the words of aviation pioneer Charles Lindbergh, can give you a “chance to seemingly escape mortality and look down on earth like some god.”

Mt. Apo’s only recorded eruption occurred in 1640. That’s over three centennials ago. But only a hike can make us understand fully how Apo has created a highway to heaven along the Kapatagan Trail in Davao del Sur. Boulder-strewn slopes and a rocky countenance above timberline best define the Kapatagan face of the tallest mountain in the country. We were trampling upon boulders, not soil anymore, for about three hours, at 87 degrees at the most difficult stage, to complete our dream: Philippine Summits 3-2-1.

Just before I would retire from this thankless, penniless job of writing just about anything under the sun – and before my climbing buddy of 12 years Cris Comendador would decide to take on marriage for a vocation, we decided to finish our journey. Mountain savvy propelled us up Apo last March 6, around 2 p.m., on the first peak and on March 7, around 6 a.m., on mother peak. Sheer will brought us kissing the clouds literally, drenched by glee over the feat, and bargaining for a lift to the arch of a rainbow. Yes, while we were only praying for a clearing to catch a glimpse of sunset, we got a rainbow for a bonus! It was almost heaven at the crown of the Philippines.

“Philippine Summits 3-2-1 Project” is the least we could dream of, with some other priorities to attend to: workload, rescue group volunteer affiliations, personal commitments. We did travel to La Carlota (Negros Occidental) in 2011 for the Mt. Kanlaon hike. We headed for Benguet last year for the Mt. Pulag trek, and capped our pursuit with the recent Apo climb.

Cris and I decided we just have to take a long pause from climbing. I’ve considered mine as semi-retirement, though! We just have to take a symbolic graduation. And what better way to observe the rites on that crown of earth!

Cris and I thought tears would overwhelm us. But it was the sunset burying Kidapawan and Kabacan in the twilight that stopped us from doing so. It was more sensible to shout at the top of our lungs from up there, where there were only the three of us on hundreds of kilometers of wilderness. It was our shout of exultation, of salutation to the Awesome Supreme whose masterpiece we believe is the very crown of earth we were standing on.

We decided earlier to take the Kidapawan-Magpet Trail. I thought that because it was proximate to Cagayan de Oro as gateway of our trip, it would cut unnecessary costs. But Cris’ contact guide Dante “Meeting” Libo, a trusted mountain navigator from Bansalan, who runs a farm in Kapatagan (at the foot of Mt. Apo), told us we would appreciate more the climb if we see the boulders first. I was expecting a “chillax-ing” climb, as posted on Facebook status update. I don’t want friends to get the idea that every climb is “hardcore.” It should be fun, engaging, worth remembering, punctuated by our trademark silly-goofiness. But the twist was marked by a total of 11 hours traverse.

Thirty-two-year-old Dante is the perfect navigator for the journey. He said he started as porter there while still 19 years old. In fact, he couldn’t exactly remember the many times he had climbed Apo. He just joked that he could have circled the island of Mindanao a hundred times if each walk, in kilometers, was connected from end to end.

I would say Dante’s presence strengthens all the more my faith on predetermination. It was hard for climbers from out of Mindanao like us because if we are to climb by the book, we have to pay P750 entrance fee and a P500 exit fee. I don’t have a logical explanation for these exorbitant fees yet. And I would say the fees do not seem to do the job because garbage litter all over various camps of Mt. Apo. I also learned there are only about two cleanups annually. We arrived at a conclusion that since climbers pay exorbitant fees, this must have given them the idea to leave their garbage behind expecting that part of the fees would pay for mountain aides.

Dante is Apo Sandawa’s gift to us. Months prior, I prayed hard we would end up negotiating with the right people. Those who have come to fully understand what every climb means to the uber-climber.

Dante began explaining that because Mt. Apo touches three provinces, on three regions, policies vary. And we have to observe certain rules of engagement so as to be safe up there!

I praise Cris for doing a good job in connecting with Dante, since the latter hooked us to Joel Juico, an expert motorcycle-for-hire driver. We had to get past the worst-road I’ve ever seen in my whole life. And we have to drive to the foot of the mountain, about 25 kilometers away from Bansalan town. So we entrusted our life to Joel, per Dante’s advice.

True enough! Joel negotiated a bad road but still preserving the living daylights in us. I acknowledge that Joel and Dante are Apo Sandawa’s huge answers to that prayer of being ushered by “superhuman(s)” to embrace and kiss literally our one big love.

Mt. Apo is a spectrum of environments — forests, boulders, a dead lake being vandalized by show-offs and ignoramuses; a swampland, Lake Venado, and Marbel River – a raging demon that entails nine crossings. Whew!

There could only be one way to appreciate them all. Closer. As close as being a fraction of an inch away. So please take our staff and our backpack this time and make climbing your life too. Be up there closer to heaven so you will know how cruel man had become, and shameless all these years, to have given our Creator a finite shape and a single face. Up there, this awesome ancient world and the old stars will tell you a very different story.

The sunset over Kidapawan underlines how we should come and renew our hearts at the very threshold of nature. The fog, the stars, the sky, the rainbow, the volcano is our story too. A tale as old, indeed, as time. (First published in The FREEMAN, April 2013)

Stewards of our last forest

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

caption: This writer (third from left) with Rene “Tatay Ete” Vendiola (fourth from left) and fellow Cebu media practitioners with Ramon Aboitiz Foundation, Inc. staff.

TABUNAN, UPLAND CEBU, CENTRAL PHILIPPINES — “Leave the beaten track behind occasionally and dive into the woods. Everytime you do you will be certain to find something you’ve never seen before.”

This Alexander Graham Bell wisdom hits me smack dab again during a forest tour with 5th Ramon Aboitiz Foundation Inc. Triennial Awards finalist Rene “Tatay Ete” Vendiola and Tabunan forest warden Lucrecio “Oking” Son.

Fifty-nine-year-old Vendiola, cited for his best practices in rainforestation through initiation of the two-hectare demonstration farm in Bacong (Negros Oriental) dubbed “Liptong Woodlands,” and 52-year-old Son, team leader of 13 other forest stewards under the initiative of the Cebu Biodiversity Conservation Foundation Inc., led 25 tour participants to a patch forest in a 166-hectare protected area in Cebu City’s mountain barangay of Tabunan which is part of the Central Cebu Protected Landscape – home to the elusive and critically endangered Cebu flowerpecker and the Black shama or the “siloy.”

Vendiola’s vast knowledge of trees and vines, as shown by his articulateness in scientific names not only in genuses but on a variety of species, stemmed from his being former research associate and field assistant (biodiversity assessment) of the Silliman University Biology Department (1974 to 1981) and Silliman University Center for Tropical Conservation Studies (1998 to 2004).

So even when Vendiola hasn’t completed his secondary education, he earned the trust and respect of notable local and foreign arborists, ornithologists, and botanists, like the late Dr. Leonard Co.

“Sa una maglisod ko pag-encourage sa mga tawo kay lagi mangita man silag dunay Ph.D.,” so he started devouring books on related materials. That’s how he grew in knowledge and wisdom on the importance of trees. In a lecture few meters away from the forest line, he emphasized how forests act as carbon sinks.

Carbon sinks are natural or artificial reservoirs that accumulate and store some carbon-containing chemical compound for an indefinite period. The process by which carbon sinks remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere is known as carbon sequestration. Trees, especially the hardwoods, absorb carbon dioxide at an average of 50 pounds per tree per year, studies read.

Meanwhile, Son who is literally a child of Tabunan shared that of 14 aspirants recruited for forest stewardship, he was the only one who passed the test with flying colors. “Ambot bitaw, pero maayo tingali gyod kog pandungog kay makaila man gyod ko sa mga tingog ug taghoy sa langgam, dali ra ko ka-identify sa species,” he said. So, he was appointed team leader.

Together they ushered us to a Manunggal tree, to my excitement, because I only associate that name to a mountain. How naive!

There were around four of us who took turns in hugging the tree, crazy also to connect to the heartwood where, Vendiola said, the tree beats for us. “Dili lang gyod na siya makasulti, pero kita bitaw mo nga mo-communicate na siya. Moluyloy ang dahon if uhawon, or mangapulak ang buwak if masakit.”

Such principle sent us forewarned on the impact of our noise on a “breathing forest,” as we were about to enter the forest line prior to the identification of tree species. “Ang ilang voice maoy angay nato madunggan, dili ang ato,” Vendiola said.

The Manunggal tree bears old scars but has at least regenerated a new skin, however a fresh cut is also carved out next to the crust. From the wound oozed scarlet sap, resembling fresh droplets of blood. “Pait ni siya pero maayo man god nis bughat, so ang mga tawo diri mogamit ani isip tambal,” Son explained.

Another interesting find is the Tipolo tree. True that this species is towering and monstrous.

Vendiola’s conversion to being staunch advocate for the environment is described to be “metastatic” – or that kind of spirit which spreads by invasion. He said he was initially inspired by then mountain climber Joy Augustus Young (now Cebu City vice mayor). “Slash and burn farmer ko sa una, nya kana si Joy Young bata pa na siya adto, he explained to me nga gi-destroy daw nako ang mga microorganisms sa yuta. Nya naka-learn ko sa mga environmentalists. Mo-evolve man gyod ta tungod sa atong kahibalo nya nanakod sad ang examples sa mga environmentalists sa pag-atiman sa kalikopan aron maka-encourage tag mga nagkadaiyang buhi (biodiversity),” Vendiola pointed out.

As for his special interest in Tabunan, Vendiola cited that since it is a remnant forest (or just 0.01 percent remaining of Cebu’s forest), it forms part of our heritage. It should be nurtured as source of seedlings for reintroduction and further propagation. “Mao ni nabiling handumanan nga kakuhaan og semilya, karaan pa nis atong ginikanan. Nya atong ulingon?”

Son, on the other hand, is active in monitoring the “Preventing extinctions program” with CBCFI on a two-hectare buffer zone where Tugas (Vitex parviflora or Molave),Pangantuon (Pittosporum pentandrum Mamalis), Bagilumbang (Reutealis trisperma or Philippine tung), Lumbang (Aleurites moluccana or Candlenut tree), Tagibokbok (Gomphandra apoensis), Langin (Micromelum caudatum), and Akle (Albizia akle, premium hardwood) were planted last December 2011.

This is in line with CBCFI’s different projects ranging from biological research, to forest replantation, rehabilitation, regeneration and protection, and also community organization.

When asked on his participation to forest conservation in the spirit of volunteerism, Son explained that the forest is actually his home. “Konektado man god ta ana niya. If maguba na dinha, kami ra man sad taga dinhi ang makaluluoy kay mawad-an mig kabuhian, nagsalig man mi tanan ana dinha — medicine, carbon capture, food consumption.”

Initially, he was given a monthly stipend of P14,000 which he divided equally among his fellow stewards. “Pero sa previous to nga project dinhi. Karon naay P400, pero sige lang kay naa man tay uma, anha ra mi mikuha og kabuhian,” he said.

It is noticed that the area has an agricultural tramline facility for easy transport of farm produce, however Son’s wife shared power source is still a big problem. “Weak naman god na siyag baterya,” she said.

The RAFI Triennial Awards, initiated in 1996, is a search for exemplary individual and outstanding institution in the Visayas and Mindanao areas, recognizing the philanthropic, humanitarian and holistic efforts of individuals and institutions in enhancing the quality of life of various groups and communities. Meanwhile, the Cebu Biodiversity Conservation Foundation, Inc. is a group which aims to conserve the biodiversity of Cebu, particulary focusing on the unique and endemic species of the island. (First published in The FREEMAN, April 2012)