Tacadang | Blood Donors

Reaching it was Hard.
Finding a reason to leave it was Harder.

Day 3

3:05 PM

The sight of I LOVE MY HOMETOWN KIBUNGAN signage just outside the town hall ended our three day trek. And as we were eating our delayed lunch at around 4PM, we looked back on everything that transpired the last couple of days, and we all agreed on one thing, it was a vicious trek. We’ve had to over come cramps, blood thirsty “Limatiks”, unpredictable weather, – while juggling a multitude of emotions due to exhaustion, lack of food and rest, personal demons,- and still mustering enough solace to be present in every scene we encountered that were seemingly plucked out from verdant imaginations.  

2:05 PM

Paolo’s first comment when we finally emerged at a cemented road was “Paasa ba yan?”. The false assurance that we are very near dissipates our adrenaline, when in fact, we were still a couple of kilometres away from our FINISH LINE. The rain finally stopped but our soaked despositions worsen our hunger. All we ate all day was our breakfast 8 hours ago, that a respectable pillaging of the first store we found was almost necessary. Pao was able to join the small but satisfying approximation of a “lunch”, comprised by HANSEL biscuits and COCACOLA softdrinks – and the three of us made our final approach to the municipal hall where we made a mandatory shameless selfie concluding our hellish climb.

1:00PM

1,2,3,4. I braised myself, checking my hamstring to see any signs of pain as I was counting every step, with Paolo just right behind me, once again dogging me, and I was worried my cramps would impede our progress just like what happened last night.

198,199,200. I knew I was in good shape. We reached a good place to rest where we waited for Pao to catch up to us. Ralph and Jayvee was probably still making their decent to the river. There were 3 things that remained true when we resumed trekking; it’s still a steep ascent, we’re still surrounded by pine trees, and it was still raining. 801, 802, 803.

We met a few locals along the way, a grown man carrying a sack of something he probably brought from Kibungan Central (or maybe Baguio), a woman carrying a baby, a few students, and a few kids who were smiling at us, and probably wondering why these folks from the city keeps coming to their mountainous town. Paolo and I decided that we should just continue our ascent and wait for Pao when we find a store to calm our revolutionary appetites. Somewhere in the middle, I stopped counting.

12:00 PM

We were making random plans on where we were going the following weekends, and no one even brought up another trek. We wanted to go to a beach, cook good food, maybe light a Bonfire and definitely drink till morning, and none of this multiday 10 to 12-hour hikes. In short, “Ayaw na muna naming umakyat”.

I’m normally a control freak in terms of itinerary, and we were at this point resting too much on this treeline just under Buga Campsite, but since I myself was exhausted, and I’m with close friends anyway, I just let things slide and silently made prayer to whatever deity was listening, that we can get back to the municipal hall in time before the last Commuter Van leaves for Baguio.

When we resumed our decent, I started running –  even with my repaired sandals on, not even minding if I only have 7 healthy toe nails. I wanted this part to be over before my cramps starts to resurface again. We reached the river below 40 minutes later and just as we were crossing its bridge, it started raining, seemingly waiting for us right at that exact crossing and didn’t even introduce itself with a light shower but went straight to an IN-YOUR-FACE-YOU’RE-GOING-TO-BE-SOAKING-WET-REAL-FAST intensity. The assault to the municipal hall, although steep, won’t be slippery, but the good news ends there

Photo by Pao Go

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9:30 AM

I was taking a nap, waiting for half an hour for my friends to catch up to me at this lone waiting shed just below the summit of Mt. Tagpaya,  when I heard voices approaching me, voices speaking in Kankanaey. One of them was working for the DENR in La Trinidad and they were about to plant Pine Trees around the area. Here we are, at the middle of the mountain, without any sort of urban development, and the locals are more concerned of reforestation rather than roadways. Talk about real progress.

Photo by Pao Go

The one working for DENR, kuya Doro, was apparently the husband of the teacher who let us sleep in one of the classroom last night. We exchanged stories, him about their simple life in their mountain village, and me about my coastal hometown in Sorsogon.

My friends finally emerged out of the trail a few minutes before 10am and their rest simulates into taking turns posing on a rock ledge just behind the waiting shed, facing the mountains that encloses the villages we spent the night before as well as the ones we navigated yesterday. Paolo even setup a tripod so that we can take a photo of our group.

Paolo carried his TriPod the entire climb,
but this was the only instance it was used.

When we started our decent, the sun was already high in the sky, seemingly on a mission to alter our skin tones a few pallets darker, that again prompted me to trek faster than my usual pace. But I wasn’t alone this time, Paolo was right behind me and Pao was just a few minutes back. We arrived at a treeline where I felt a light breeze passing through and saw that this was a good place for our pack to regroup. Its already noon, and we should be having lunch by now, but we hardly have any food left, so Paolo and I shared his lone FitBar, and tried to trick ourselves that Yosi can solve all our hunger away.

5:30 AM

Ignoring your alarm clock is a dangerous game.

The first thing I uttered when I woke up was SHIT! when I saw that the sun outside was starting to emerge and I  knew we woke up later than we planned.

As soon as Pao and Jayvee woke up, the 24/7 PODCAST that started two days ago resumed. For the past days they were talking about anything from cloning, to preference between National Geographic or Discovery Channel, to god knows what else because Paolo even heard them constantly talking even while taking a bath. If they were a stranger to you, you might have the impulse to put duct tape on their mouths to prevent them from waking you up in the middle of the night with their eternal and sometimes recycled conversations. And, yes, I did have some duct tape with me and whether I used it or not would stay within us friends.

It was almost 8am when we started hiking and my friends finally saw the entirety of the village that we trekked into last night. Due west, the village of Les-eng and it’s rice terraces, which we past yesterday is seen on a different angle, along with the village of Batangan right above it. 

The hidden Rice Terraces of Kibungan.

This is my 5^th visit here, the first one was a one week stay, but I may forever be mesmerize by the beauty of this secluded village. The most difficult realization of any climb for me, is knowing that you have to leave soon, and it is magnified especially here in Kibungan.

3:30 am

I woke up, partly because it was numbingly cold, but mostly because Pao and Jayvee were murmuring to each other in the corner. I got up and ransacked the entire room to find some sort of cloth I can use to further insulate the cold hardwood floor. When I found a BANIG, I cursed my self for not thinking of this last night that could have saved me precious hours of uninterrupted sleep. Before I went back to sleep, I saw that It was already 3:30 am. I told myself, “Just another 15 minutes” and trusted my body to wakeup before 4:00am.

DAY 2

6:45 pm

When I arrived in our campsite, Jayvee and Paolo were already there. I was so spent physically that I never even noticed  the blood thirsty little monsters crawling up my body until Jayvee pointed it out and shone her flashlight towards me. I took off my right sock to discover 4 suckers all ganged up around my pinky toe. I found a few more around my ankles, and another one on my heel. Taking off my other sock revealed almost a similar sight, and it dawned on me that this parasites are everywhere, they were on my legs, my forearm, the back of my feet and I even found one lingering on my belly. I walked around the room staining blood all over the floor, forcing me to wrap plastic on my bleeding feet to avoid repainting the entire room RED. It was a massacre.

4:00 pm

We arrived at a bridge over a river bisecting the sitio that we just passed, and the sitio we’ll be spending the night. Paolo took out his camera to capture the view, while I try to relax and massage my legs for the assault that was about to come. When we started ascending, we passed at a rice field facing an enormous hill with numerous waterfalls running through it prompting Paolo to take more photos before fog sets in, giving me another excuse to take a breather.

My own photos from my first visit here last January (2016).

I can feel my cramps surfacing, coupled with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion making our progress staggeringly slow. A few minutes before 5pm, we stumbled on the first sign of houses, and Paolo and I immediately soothe refuge at the first dwelling we passed by. The owner, a middle aged man, didn’t hesitate to offer us water, and was even sorry he didn’t have any bread to offer us. Instead he gave us some bananas that were clearly harvested from his yard. We talked for a few minutes, for he spoke a decent tagalog, and told us that our destination was just half an hour away.

HALF AN HOUR AWAY. To deduce that this time estimate also applied to our City-Legs was misguided. The mounting exhaustion and lack of sleep I’m clearly experiencing clouded my judgement. As realization sets in that we were not as near as we thought we were, accompanied by the fog that was starting to cover our path, and as an even darker scene started to creep up on us sealed my faith that night as a defeated creature, absent of energy, reducing my stance to dragging motions rather than trekking.

We were having another Take 5 that I inflicted on myself and Paolo to take when another local, a different one, that we had a chat a few minutes ago, caught up to us and was saying something urgent in Kankanaey. He was alternating from telling us something and shouting at someone from afar that turned out to be one of our companion, Jayvee. Not only did she caught up to us, but she was on the more direct and shorter route to our sleeping area, and we were clearly on the wrong path.

When the local gestured his willingness to accompany us to avoid anymore confusion on the trail, I resigned myself and told Paolo to just go ahead and catch up to Jayvee. I rested for a good few minutes on a cemented bridge, and a few more minutes on a meadow ahead. I was running on fumes, totally exhausted, hungry and suffering from cramps on my left Hamstring. I can no longer see Paolo’s headlamp, and I didn’t really care what time I arrive at the school, or if Pao or Ralph even catch up to me. Egos be damned. I was content on resting for as long as I want, even though the silhouette suggested that the school was not far ahead.

Galit na si Pao Go. Gutom na sya.

The new moon illuminated the surrounding enough for me to see the galvanized iron roof of the school less than a hundred meters away from me, but even that proximity cannot temper the exhaustion I felt. Without hesitation, I dropped my bag one last time, and lay down on the middle of this vast and moist grass land, under a night sky, painting a resemblance of a smile on my haggard facade, knowing that the days’ trek is about to end, but forgetting the fact that this area was infested by blood thirsty Limatiks.

To Be Continued….

Part II features "The Hanging Bridge of Babylon" and so much more.