Cantabaco crag

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #CebuBloggingCommunity

caption: Presumably a million-year-old gift to a community. The Cantabaco natural limestone formation is not only breeding ground/playground of rock climbers, it is also a reservoir that ensures water supply even in the weak El Nino phenomenon experienced here these days, putting the maximum heat index in Cebu at 39 degrees Celsius.

CANTABACO, CEBU, PHILIPPINES (June 4, 2015) — Rock climbing newbies Cedie Ong and Raymund “Digoy” Acojedo Rodrigo meet local guide Enie Yonson today for the consummation of their “lime lust” at the renowned natural rock formations here.

As assessed by Climb Philippines, an authority in the Philippines when it comes to rock climbing and the accompanying bolting and spotting projects, it was learned that Cantabaco is considered to be the best crag to date in the country.

Offering five areas, with all route possibilities graded 5.11 to 5.13 in the level of technical difficulty, Cantabaco natural wall offers promising rock trips to enthusiasts. The bolted part has reached to some 12 meters or nearly 40 feet. The highest point of the wall is placed at 160 feet, says Climb Philippines in its webpage.

True enough, Cedie and Digoy have their fill here today of adrenaline rush, rock romance, swearing they will be back to finish the fifth area that offers a cliff overhang which to them is not so hard but very technical to tackle for neophytes yet.

Enie, himself, who has rock climbing experience since 1994 said that climbing is not really proving you have the mastery over routes and can do climbathons. “It’s important that you enjoy what you are doing. You may finish half of the route today, complete half tomorrow. One guest even said in jest that’s already equivalent to one route, and that he is happy about his achievement. That’s the spirit. Enjoy what you are doing. You will master endurance later.”

Enie also shared that some climbers come and get frustrated at not arriving at their expectations. “Some swear. Thump on the wall. Some even punch the wall. How could you embrace a sport like this with an attitude like that? Come with a mirthful spirit, completing the routes will come easiest.”

This writer lives in Cantabaco’s adjacent barangay and has her fill of glee upon touching the walls – again – (call it déjà vu!) after decades of being literally detached from what used to be a childhood playground.

In the 80s to the 90s, near these natural limestone formations rush out refreshing waters. An area was developed as a public laundry site where neighbors converge on weekends. This was “social media” then; a wet platform for socialization, back when neighbors know each other so well and immersed in camaraderie.

Today it still is a source for potable water. In fact, the Toledo Water District taps service water in here. However, the number of springs has dwindled. Some crevices where water used to drain have in fact already dried up. Locals have it that detrimental activities such as small-scale to big mining operations may have angered the “elements” that guard the springwells, since mining involves chopping down of trees and blasting of boulders.

Moreover, Enie announced of a convergence come October of rock climbing enthusiasts all over the world to mark an anniversary of the official creation of a federation. This will be a busy time for the area to be used exclusively by fed members.

For companionship services and rates to this crag venerated by the “hardcore rock-ers,” email eleanor.newmedia@gmail.com or message FB: Eleanor NewMedia. ###

Canlaob canyoning

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #CebuBloggingCommunity

Caption: Outdoorsy chums on a drift after seven leaps at Canlaob in Alegria. Photo by guide Cris Comendador.

ALEGRIA, CEBU, PHILIPPINES (May 31, 2015) — Fear is a very beautiful emotion. It makes you think twice, thrice. It assures you’re just too human to let go of your precious life any minute. But the power to control that fear is the most beautiful function of your brain. You engage in seven leaps even though you understand how great, sweet things can go wrong at some twists.

Canlaob River in the town of Alegria, over a hundred kilometers away from Cebu City, pumps up adrenaline rush via canyoning, which some outdoor adventure enthusiasts prefer to call “canyoneering” presumably to fuse canyoning and mountaineering which are two great outdoor activities.

Canlaob is around seven kilometers long, but the tackling requires from around three to four hours before one exits at the Kawasan Falls in adjacent Badian town (or near the major water source rushing out of holes on the ground).

There are varying heights to deal with – 10 to 15 feet, 30 feet to serve as “graduation jump” in capping the adventure; and another an optional 50-footer drop of which celebrity, travel show host Drew Arellano, is the only one so far among thousands of guests here, who was crazy enough to dare take the challenge.

With the prevalent dry spell, say extended El Nino phenomenon according to state meteorologists, the waters offered enough reason for us to enjoy the scenery, the greens, the boulders, the crystal-like formations, a loooong stretch of astounding, gorgeous gorge!

I am a Cebuana. A literally restless Cebuana. And I have almost been around town, nook and cranny. I made my share of leaps at Kawasan too, which is the most popular of all Cebu waterfalls, to date. But today I discovered Canlaob and is just sooo glad to be in perfect company — people who are out to chill even in the most challenging of territories; people who are “photophiliacs”: who will try every pose possible to make the situation worthy of the capture, cheese and freeze. LOL!

Seven jumps. Amazingly, the rocky promontories have ledges carved by raging waters. Nature definitely understands our playful ways. The last of these ledges is the perfect one, or it wouldn’t be tagged site for a “graduation leap.” It was a note on fear with a splash of sheer will. “I will die anyway, so why not do it now?” the nerves in my hippocampus compounded by a blow on my tummy, by some force of whatever, pushed me off my limits. And there – that most beautiful, daredevil, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious side of me – comes in union with the river, drifting to the rhythm of turquoise waters.

For companionship services so you won’t waste time and money haggling and figuring out who to ask what, email me @ eleanor.newmedia@gmail.com. Tag along outdoorsy chums only, those keen on jumping. This is a high-risk engagement, but local guides are already trained on swift water guiding management, search/rescue/retrieval. In PhP, the entrance fee is 20, the safety gears are up for 140 (set of safety floating device and helmet); while the exit fee in Kawasan is another 20. ###

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.###

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.

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)

Skimmer wherever, whenever

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

AGUSAN DEL NORTE, NORTHERN MINDANAO, PHILIPPINES — Lanky Mark is obviously obsessed with his skimboard (skiffle to Americans, skidboard to Aussies and Kiwis). He is in love with the offshore wind that playfully tousled his unkempt hair before he headed out to sea. His eyes were admiring the frothy seashore, lapped endlessly by the waves he had fallen head over heels with. And then he ran to pick up the right wave – the very secret of skimming.

To have good wave judgment, say, employing some spectral profile to decipher the contents of the sea’s brains, would lead to a successful flip or a headstand. Using such technique, Mark amazed me with an “Ollie” bringing his body to a turnaround with skimboard magically glued to his soles like iron filings attached to a magnet. I was left there, some distance from him, shaking my head and clapping like another Chapman wild over Lennon, my eyes deep ocean green with envy.

I happened to bump into lanky, bubbly Mark and his crowd of skimmers at the remaining minutes of my stay in Agusan. I was walking from Trianggulo in Nasipit to the port to catch the boat back to Cebu after a successful climb on Mount Magdiwata (San Francisco town), a caving activity, and a side trip to the Agusan Marshland in line with the Naliyagan festivity of Prosperidad, Agusan del Sur, when a guy named Rich called my attention.

“Miss, climber ka?” he asked. He was there sitting on this bench in a carenderia (eatery). I was slowing down my pace some minutes before he had thrown at me the question. I was hoping to feast on adobong dabong (bamboo shoots in soy sauce) for lunch at the eatery.

Rich ushered me to his motorbike and we sped away to their office in Talisay, close to the Nasipit wharf. I met the rest of the gang – fellow nature freaks I would say – skimmers Bryan, Ronky, and Mark: members of a Nasipit climbing society.

It was so easy to connect with them as we shared the same passion and love for the great outdoors. We easily jibed except that though I love the surf, sand, sun and froth at the breaking of seawaters, I’m a total stranger to skimboarding.

Mark was the most talkative. Oh well, they all talked loads of “nature stuff” but Mark had the most stories. I spent the rest of the afternoon with him, while waiting for the Cebu-bound ship. He did an “aerial” to begin with, catching the air off a wave.

After that, we exchanged tokens. The cordial rite of tying around my right ankle a piece of his life and culture — his Manobo tribal necklace — had embossed dignity of an indigenous people’s community. I am always one with IPs having traced paternal roots in Cordillera.

And yep – real skimming may alienate me but I think I’m really into skimming long before I could ever demo my first ollie. I have been beautifully skimming through my journey’s waters all these years. There’s always a new trick where there’s about an inch of water. ###

Major, major climb to Mount Talinis

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

caption: The 1926 explosion of Talinis left behind “sculptures” of trees in Kaipuhan, where a number of bubbling sulfur vents confirms ongoing volcanic activity.

VALENCIA, ORIENTAL NEGROS, PHILIPPINES — Sheer will catapulted me on Mount Talinis (5,905 feet above sea level) on an open climb organized by the Cuernos de Negros Mountaineers Club, Inc. based in Silliman University, Dumaguete City.

Like other “connoisseurs of geologic forms,” I was among 54 participants from Tacloban, Bacolod, Cebu, Masbate and Dumaguete for the trek cum cleanup drive.

In a previous blog (“Casaroro Roars!”) I shared about my intense desire to finally climb Talinis after four years of waiting. So glad to have waited for the right time to be with the right people. At first, I had apprehensions I might not be fit anymore for some strenuous activity after going through the knife via Caesarian Section. Because of the level of difficulty, all climbers are warned of the nature of the climb and are required to be in “good physical condition.”

Read: Mt. Talinis is a Level 3 mountain, signifying a major climb with a certain level of difficulty in terms of steepness of slopes, dense vegetation cover, and requirement of more than a day’s climb. And that though Bidyao (also spelled Bediao) Trail or Route 2 is considered a “tourist trail” which means relatively easier, average tourists may have difficulty climbing this trail. This may have been considered easier by the local guides because it takes less time to climb over Apolong and Lunga Trails.

I was grouped to take Route 1 or via Apolong Trail. This is of medium difficulty. Lunga is reserved for the more experienced climbers.

I noticed trails passing by gullies and waterways which should be avoided being risky in events of flashfloods and erosions. I also passed by four quicksand areas before reaching the campsite. Whew!

With Everest summiteers Romy Garduce and Peter Hillary (son of Sir Edmund Hillary) for inspiration, I “moved at my own pace.” And when in a situation, I had to “stick to my gun.” Their words of wisdom, sort of, assisted me in navigating the contoured trails for a total of eight hours, or two hours delayed from the estimated time of arrival at Lake Nailig – designated base camp. Nevertheless, my arrival there despite the dragging half steps is classic example of triumph of the human spirit!

It’s a good thing I followed the advice of carrying lightweight pack to minimize difficulty in climbing and descending the mountain. I got contented with trail food – biscuits, marshmallows, and a load of dark chocolate with mint to boost serotonin (feel-good brain chemical).

I’m also grateful to the god of forests for conspiring with me at some points. Two trekkers from Bacolod City, Roy Domingo Raymundo and Brian Joanes, experienced thigh cramps the way I did, so we moved in the same pace.

Sometimes I would walk in solitude for around 40 minutes, contemplating if it’s indeed mortal sin to set aside the buddy system. But as a freelancer, I have to literally walk the distance by myself and to rely on instinct should common sense fail.

It’s just amazing to note that everything about the forest assures me I am pursuing “a life.” Yes, climbing is a life. In fact, climbing provides that deafening silence which gives that voice within a chance to speak. It also gives me the blessed chance to recognize the Awesome I know of, not the one shaped by religions, dogmas, doctrines, cults and occults, nor the one molded by pretentious philosophies and easy syllogisms.###

Lost in time

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist

#microadventurism

LA CARLOTA, NEGROS OCCIDENTAL, PHILIPPINES — She refused entry to an all-female climb we organized in April 2004.

On her black-brownish foot, at the La Carlota side, lies Barangay Ara-al where we had a campout amid a gloomy atmosphere of her ash spews and restiveness. We had to contend with her foul temper. We had to submit to her mood swings. After all, what’s the label “unpredictable” for?

Being the most active volcano in the Visayas, Kanlaon erupted 25 times since 1886. Said eruptions were described to be “typically phreatic explosions of small-to-moderate size that produce minor ashfalls.” This means the eruptions could come without warning, making it the most dangerous place to be on this side of the earth!

We contented ourselves with what pleasure and bliss Abaga Falls could offer before breaking camp. And, miserably, we bid her farewell as we endured pangs of pain conveyed by that aborted “girl power” climb.

Seven years later, I still hoped against hope she would allow us in — even for a moment (I was with climbing buddy Cris Comendador this time). The trek may have ingrained a journey to the grave, but I do admit I was astir at her restlessness.

It was a delight to finally get a permit from the Office of the Protected Area Superintendent headed by biologist Angelo “Eioi” Bibar to enter into Mount Kanlaon Natural Park via the Guintubdan Trail in La Carlota. It was a relief to have found the most able “sherpa” available from May 20-22 in the person of Paul Anthony Oliveros of Murcia town. It was enthralling to be up there on the awesome but creepy summit crater – 8,000 feet above sea level.

“The most important thing is not being concerned about having the money, time or skills to climb, but the desire. Don’t think too hard. Just do it.” This wisdom I imbibed from Japanese national Junko Tabei, the first woman on Everest.

Those were always my concerns – fees, getting fit for the challenges, how to survive the elements. And always, nature works well, in deep sympathies to my frailties and imperfections. The downpour came before we could even take a single step into the established DENR trail which takes about an hour to the emergency campsite near Buslogan Falls where we could fetch water for the “cookout.”

When the rain stopped and the fogs cleared, we started the journey. Compared to my Mount Talinis climb in September 2010 (Oriental Negros), the MKNP canopy is not as dense. In fact, sunrays could penetrate parts of the earth. I could see clearly how those creepy black and green leeches found their way into my boots, my socks. Then, I dropped count of them as I got accustomed to their pretty annoying presence. Or was it the other way around?

The ascent was gradual with 45 degrees slope. With a difficulty of 7/9 and being the shortest route, the climb allowed the body to adjust well and immediate to the changes in altitude. With unlimited supply of anions, the lungs display moments of vigor and vitality. Heartbeats become audible, in synchrony to the crunching of trodden twigs and sloshes of mud and forest litter. But boy! The thermostat dropped 11 degC, making fingers numb, sending knees a-jerking and tummy a-throbbing.

On Day 2, we continued the ascent at 7 am so that by 1 pm we were 1.10 kilometers away from the summit crater. Intimidating Mount Kanlaon was draped in thick mist but we saw her verdant shoulder called “Saddle in the Sky” replete with grasses. Her neck somehow displayed telltale signs of horror as hurled boulders and loose rocks were scattered in ecstatic jumble.

Paul said it would take another 30 minutes to scale the saddle. But we could not assault in such a state. “We have to wait for the area to clear,” he reminded us of one mountaineer who fell off a ravine when negotiating downhill on a foggy afternoon. He also pointed to us where “fallen comrade” Neil Perez breathed his last. And he mentioned of those foreign mountaineers who either perished or got hurt when Kanlaon sent her fury in episodes of phreatic explosions in 1996 and in 2008 while they were standing at the summit. Bless their souls!

Since it would be risky to push through summiting with the winds getting stronger and the veil of fog getting thicker, we decided to pitch tent at the campsite, a good distance from the Pagatpat Ridge. The location was nice because it was hidden from view and we had all the trees in the world as windbreakers. We busied ourselves tying up a makeshift rain shelter, preparing meals.

Will she be so gracious as to let me – and Cris – in this time?

At 4:30 pm of May 21, the very day predicted to be end of the world, we were allowed to get a glimpse of the portal of one of the scariest places in the Visayas. The mist gave way, liked pulled curtain on a commemorative wall. Paul showed us the rock – the Hagkanan – which serves as gateway to the mountain. And on it, we, the first-timers, planted reverential kisses. *Hagkanan (something to kiss on)

Kanlaon is gorgeous but she has this atmosphere of eeriness. She is truly very beautiful but she scared me to death when one side of her with deposited rocks crumbled. The landslide sounded more like a roar bellowing from her bowels, a guttural cry. And in less than five minutes, we backtracked at the sight of tawny smoke billowing from the dregs of the earth.

She gave us around four minutes to wander (and wonder) at her sheer presence. Then, haze embraced her again. We had to hurry down before losing good sight of the winding path covered with extremely beautiful blooms sans proper names.

We were laughing at how we reacted to our sightings of death! “Mahadlok sad diay ta mamatay sa? Abi nako, we’re ready to go if doomsday’s indeed today!” We went nuts poking fun at our experience.

Had we given up too soon, we might have never discovered that sublime impression she created on us. Had we dropped the plan for good, we might have missed that grand and imposing entrance to the Unknown.

We were right to have stopped only when the journey’s done. To have paid attention at how Kanlaon would want to rewrite our expedition. Indeed, no climber – even the seasoned ones – can underestimate her. At certain points, she’s a hottie. At times, she’s wrapped by her own desolation. She allowed some to kiss her, tickle her, dance on her, drink from her pools of waters collected on her breasts at a raincloud’s initial burst. She hid herself to some. She even claimed lives!

But on a May 21st, when we were supposed to watch the earth melt, crumble and disintegrate based on a cult prophesy, we were snatched by some kind of rapture! We had her for less than five minutes, and we were extremely awed.

For at her disposition, we witnessed how fleeting life is like a drop of dew on a blade of grass.###

Siren song of the heights

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, newmedia specialist

ZAMBALES, PHILIPPINES — Mountain savvy propelled me up Apo Namalyari’s abode on a pre-Valentine climb organized by TeamXplore – the 4th Viva-San Mig Lite Mt. Pinatubo Conquest and Camp-out.

The trekking began at the wastelands of Sitio Tarucan, Bagantungol in Capas, Tarlac — home of the Aetas.

I would say climbing has become the focus of my existence in the last 15 years, to the exclusion of almost everything else. Achieving the summit of every mountain becomes tangible, immutable, and concrete.

In every conquest, I find myself appreciating all the more the grip climbing has on my soul, or the purpose it is lending to my otherwise seemingly rudderless life. The pull, and call, and siren song of the heights were stronger than any other forces on earth. To borrow the immortal words of Jon Krakauer, journalist of a 1996 Everest expedition.

Mount Pinatubo, to me back then, was just a proper naming for the Gooney Bird presidential plane that crashed on Mount Manunggal in home province Cebu. Manunggal in Balamban witnessed that tragic end on March of 1957 to President Ramon del Fierro Magsaysay’s life and short-lived presidency.

However, when Pinatubo took the headlines in 1991 as an active volcano touching Zambales, Tarlac and Pampanga, waking up from its 600-year dormancy and burying towns in lahar. It began to sow, too, the seed of desire in me to come near her and imbibe her strength.

When Mount Pinatubo was opened to commercial trekking in 1998, I began salivating for that blessed chance to come close to its magnificent boulder gardens, awesome lahar mountain cathedrals, and enchanting burbling streams. I was in the grip of the Pinatubo mystique that I wanted to climb the mountain badly as I’d ever wanted nothing else in my life.

Fueled by the unwavering intensity of my desire to be there first before 49 other trekkers (connoisseurs of geologic form, as many professional mountaineers would call), I was able to cut down my walking time to an hour and 15 minutes of the two-hour target.

During the camp-out, the Aetas danced before the bonfire and offered chants to Apo Namalyari for abundance of harvest. At 11 pm when everyone was in their deep slumber, I immersed myself into the wasteland’s cold phantasmagorial beauty beneath the night sky that was beautifully smeared with stars, upon which a harvest moon illumined the heavens and washed a shimmering scimitar of sand carpeting the Crow Valley lahar flats of Capas.

My heart belongs to climbing. True that climbing provides most of what’s been missing on civvy street – the challenge, the camaraderie, the sense of mission.#

Manunggal revisited!

 

PHOTO CAPTION: The Gooney Bird engine salvaged from the crash site.

by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros for #microadventurism

BALAMBAN, CEBU, PHIL. — Until this moment it still is a question why I had to return to Mount Manunggal.

Five years ago, I swore I will never take a pace back having seen how booze, bands and a cockfight arena stole the significance of the occasion. But I had to fight the urge in four years, finally giving in to the itch this year. I terribly miss her – where my trekking spirit took its baptism of fire. And yes, I lied, when I said I will never ever return. For how can I delete from memory that day in 2000 when I was accepted into a tent by a total stranger after he noticed I was ill-equipped for my journey. Cesar from Marbel, South Cotabato taught me to set aside prejudice to provide a perfect stranger some serving of comfort.

My first official night-out with a college boyfriend happened on Manunggal after that, and my supposed romantic mood was cut off short by a silly, show-off pyroworks that brought in more damage to our vulnerable tents rather than the amusement value that was the initial intention. It taught me to adjust to situations. We were there for the commemoration, but the organizers treated it as a feast of spectacles. So I learned to co-exist with s.o.bs.

My first Luna Trek (full moon trek) sans buddy happened on Mount Manunggal. I knew of nobody. It was the darnest decision to make – to be freelancer. But that’s the best way to be able to try the serpentine path on a night walk. I learned to accept that Visayan climbing scene is closely related to Luzon, and far from the spirit of Mindanao. Cebu climbing groups know each other but would rather stick with their pods. We raise the bar of factionism.

The last time was a matter of the heart. I had this textmate ten years my junior whose willing to hook up with me. I was just beating my biological clock. And the situation taught me how wisely time is put when the universe agrees to conspire.

In the next four years, I was out of orbit – changing from the free-as-tumbleweed quadrisexual to doting mom. In all those four years, I long so much for that old self on Manunggal. It was there that my pride would rather collapse to win a ticket for two to the stars. Attached to the father of my child, watching the fog gobble up dome-type tents, spelled forever. It taught me that love leaps out of romantic movies and songs to make itself dominant. So I can share the same, spread the same, long before I knew I could.

“I would want to come with you,” my ex-partner texted. “Wait for me, I’ll be there after my class.”

This is the problem with being born an XY chromosome, you would want to be swept off your feet once in a while. But like any trail, feelings too vary from easy to moderate to difficult. Like elevations, it can go gradual or a 90-degree drop. Emotions have contours, slopes, jagged terrains. The change is constant, to say the least that nothing is forever.

So while I was walking catching my breath in that 70-degree bend where he once squeezed my hand to make his already strong presence felt, he turned back “kaya pa (got some more energy)?” and passed on to me the water canteen. And the water that trickled from my hungry lips to my dry throat tasted fulfillment. I know from the looks of it, we have beautifully preserved friendship because things are meant that way, after all of what’s stupidly said and idiotly done.  Manunggal taught me to never ever be apologetic for being real.

I ran my fingers once more on the Pinatubo engine washed in white paint. He examined it. He knows airplanes a lot. He’s an aero engineering graduate. I ache to know from him how it is to fly high, in wild abandon, but he was meant for the ground. Later,  I chose the area  where to camp, he pitched the tent. That space near the stage was never ours in the last decade. But last March 16, the real climbers have paled. Stories had it that they would rather be at the seashore, having nothing to do directly anymore with the activities. The LGU of Balamban has taken full charge of.

Anyway, it was not my concern. I didn’t spend an hour walking up there to praise the noise. I had to be entertained by the whistle of the wind hitting the banderitas (colorful flaglets) close to our tent. It was more eargasmic!

I had to flirt with drowsiness, but it came in a wink. So I had to brush the cold wind away to be with company. I hugged some conversations with Mindanao-based climbers who were there for a visit too. And had to wait for the breaking of day before wrapping up with this final rendezvous with Manunggal.

One has to go down. One has to reach a destination. One has to stop. One has to take a turn.

One climbs. One sees — that our differences are based on our realities shaped by our experiences. (First published in The FREEMAN, April 2012)