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. ###

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)