Tacadang | Rich in Struggles, Scarce in Complaints

(This is the Second Entry for Tacadang Series. CLICK here for the FIRST one)

Pool of the Gods.
(Photo by Paolo Duran)

Day 2

1:15PM

There is no shortcut to Les-eng. All roads are several kilometres away, in every directions, and through the mercy of steep mountain passes. After 9 and a half hours of trekking that started since yesterday, one last hour of assault is what separates us from the hidden rice terraces of Kibungan.

Last Assault to Les-Eng.

It’s the last hurdle, the Boss level, the essay questions at the back of test papers. Unforgiving . Brutally steep. And equally nasty… But like a long courtship to a most deserving lady – all adversities are totally worth it.

Panoramic View,
(Taken last January when the fields have already been harvested)

10:45AM

Schedule,. Itinerary. Planning. To hell with it all. With a momentary impediment caused by a perfectly placed boulder, splicing and limiting the river to a glacial slowness, we indulged ourselves on this serene pocket of pool beneath Les-eng, creating a perfect swimming arena to an other wise violent river current.

Photo by Pao Go

Our lunch break ballooned to an ill-advised couple of hours of SUNBATHING  – burning our already torched skin, and SWIMMING – inflicting more damage to an already cramping leg muscles. Our carefree attitudes did not reflect the hardships we faced, and would be facing in a couple of hours. To say that we threw caution and logic out of contention was a total understatement. To hell with Planning.

Hanging Bridge above the Pool.

There were no other tourists anyway, no cottages in sight, no entrance fees, no imprint of human flaws. The scenic grandeur of our location and its divine seclusion was the main culprit to our recklessness, that even Angels might have done the same, stopping in astonishment. Indeed – A pool for the Gods.

9:30 AM

I dreaded this. This series of cemented stairs one has to climb upon entering Baranggay Tacadang. Every step is frustratingly short that you cannot fit your entire foot in it, but incredibly steep that you’ll be using your hands through out, and on many instances, would have you believe you’ve reached its end only to find more and more… and more harassing steps at every turn.

Photo along the Excruciatingly LONG stairs to Les-eng.
(Taken last Holyweek 2016)

When we finally reached its apex, presenting a small clearing, we took a few minutes to take a breather before we had to descend to the river where we would be having our lunch. I was then with Pao and Jayvee, while Paolo and Ralph was far behind.

Maybe the heat got to me a  little, for I forgot to show the two ladies a view deck a few meters from where we were lying down. Its incredibly tucked away on the trail, and with an overgrown grass, it’ll be easy to miss it.

A perfect little space carved along the massive rock boulder, like it was carefully eroded just to serve as a view deck for us, facing the stretch of mountains carrying the Sitios of Tableo and Badeo on top, decorated by lush vegetations and countless waterfalls, (like the one we just passed an hour ago), dropping to the flowing Kibungan River a few hundred meters below.

Paolo and Ralph found that spot by themselves, and later that evening when Pao saw the images they were deprived of, I was sure a few curses were headed my directions, followed by a threat of “BABALIKAN NATIN YAN!!”

(This is PART TWO of the Tacadang Series. Check out Part ONE here.)

9:00AM

The BRIDGE. Men where not supposed to tiptoe on such heights. Metal suspensions hanging a few stories above a raging river would make your heart skip a few beats from an insatiable temptation to look down.

And why wouldn’t one look down?

A RIVER. ..

With its massive boulders, and its surging waters snaking its way all the way to La Union. Gallantly standing on one of its colossal boulders would serve as an enviable testament to the world [wide web] of how adventurous I can be. But with insufficient gears, such attempts would be a one way trip, that I can only content myself with looking at the,

WATERFALL. 

A hundred meter behemoth that gushes its pristine waters only after nourishing the rice fields above, before grazing the mountain side, lightly spraying anyone who passes by, from it’s sheer strength rather than an actual proximity.

We stopped on unison, collectively mesmerized by the endless frames of equal dispersal of beauty, disoriented on where to point our cameras.

Taken January 2016.

When my friends inquire to me about what makes Tacadang special, I describe to them the rice terraces of Les-eng, its sheer seclusion, the spawns of waterfalls, and that glorious pool beneath its canyons. But this particular spot, this Hanging Bridge that serves as the GATEWAY to Tacadang, I always leave out in my stories for them to discover on their own. For even if this is just a prelude to the grandeur of a fabled paradise, its equally breathtaking in its raw beauty, that witnessing it without warning would render anyone speechless.

7:45AM

Rock boulders gargantuan on proportion are not designated only as sceneries and natural wonders protruding on the mountain sides of Kibungan, but a frequent portion of the trails. Such marvels are found enroute to Tacadang.

Because of its descending inclination as well as the carpet of wet moss growing on its surface, as flat as stone faces could be, it is inescapably slippery, except for a narrow footpath, deliberately itched into tiny steps, used by locals who traverse it for generations.

It stretches close to a hundred meters, facing a mountain face undeniably commanding photographic attention that it would be injustice not to immortalize it. To rest here is simply unavoidable.

6:00AM

We woke up that morning on a farming village that sprouts on the middle of a mountain side, not quite near it’s peak but still a long way down the river, with a terrain that offered little to no opportunity for a productive community to emerge, as the houses as well as the rice fields are just too far from each other.

The very house of the lovely family who hosted us for one night.

After bidding farewell to the most welcoming family who let us sleep in their humble home, we resumed our trek for what surely would be an eventful, and LONG day. On our right was the Kibungan river, which was still hundreds of meter below that we can only hear it. The Ridges above us on our left was crowned with a battalion of pine trees, with a few waterfalls irrigating their patches of rice terraces. I’ve always been entranced with this quite Sitio, and its rural appeal. But behind its scenic advantage, its people are far from thriving.

It’s one of the most depressed villages I’ve seen. There is no electricity, with a water supply that becomes scarce on the summer, and even a school for the little kids that is still non existent. Children who are determined to learn either hike to Sitio Tableo above, or to Sitio Polis across the river, both route an ordeal especially on rainy seasons. Seclusion is not the issue, because villages like Les-eng, Mocgao and Dalipey are much further away, the problem is their small Population. There’s just not enough voters for Politicians to care.

But this unfathomable of circumstances more than brings out the virtues of these Igorots, who may be incredibly rich in struggles, but admirably lacking in complaints.

"Tacadang #03: Be careful what you WISH for"
will be available soon.
(Most of the Photos here are Taken by Paolo Duran,
during our September 2016 Hike)