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.

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.

Badeo Benefit Part One

A friend asked me how i never get tired of coming back here in Kibungan. This Photo is just half of the Reason. The other half, and the bigger half, is the kind people living here who treated me, a complete stranger, like i was part of their Family.

SMS#1: “Ang lakas ng Ulan dito sir. Ang lakas ng hangin, parang may Bagyo” (The rain is too strong here. It’s like there is a Typhoon)

SMS#2: “Nagback out na yung pamangkin ko. Natakot sa hangin, hanap muna ako ng kapalit” (My niece decided not to come with me, I’ll have to find a replacement.)

SMS#3: “Sir di na talaga kami makababa sa Saddle. Ang lakas talaga ng ulan. Di kaya ng Cellophane” (Sir, we really cannot go down to Saddle. The rain is too strong. We cannot endure this with Cellophane alone)

Messages from Kuya Acdang flooded my inbox that Friday morning when we arrived in Baguio.

Let me give you contexts here. Cellophane is reffered to as a 2ft by 3.5ft plastic often used in public markets to transport vegetables. But residents here in Benguet use this oversize plastics like raincoat for carrying umbrellas going up and down the mountains when you need both of your hands free is just an inconvenience for most of these locals, and a cellophane is much more inexpensive.

Saddle on the other hand is a sitio in Brgy Sagpat in Kibungan, Benguet, about three hours away from Baguio by bus. My friends and I were headed to Brgy Badeo in Kibungan that rainy Friday morning, and Saddle was the main jump off point when you want to reach Badeo. From Saddle, one has to hike a total of 7 hours, just to reach these communities. On a normal visit here, I would not require the assistance of locals, but since we brought two boxes of school supplies, we need porters to carry them for that 7 hour hike. And that’s where Kuya Acdang comes into the equation.

So the news that it was raining heavily that Friday morning when we arrived, and that our porters weren’t able to go down to fetch us was not the start I was hoping for to greet us on our outreach program. And while we were having breakfast in Baguio, I was making contingency plans if the rain didn’t stop once we arrive in Kibungan. I can already feel all the exhaustion and stress leading up to this event. I spent the entire week going around Manila, and meeting my friends who wanted to donate for this cause. And since I am living in Bulacan and there was a hefty amount of school supplies I needed to purchase, it was convenient to just buy it on the day we were leaving for Benguet, have it boxed there in Divisoria, and then head straight to Victory Liner Cubao.

Struggle is Real at Divisoria

It was the easiest way, but it was far from being an easy task, and my fatigue was reaching new heights, that when I met with my two companions for this trip that night, it felt like a fever was on its way. And we still had to hike for 7 hours the next day, how I was able to endure this, only the gods of the mountains know.

Luckily, I have this uncanny ability to just shrug on every misfortune that sucker punches me in the guts whenever I travel. After all, the difference between a good day and a bad day is all in your attitude. And when I heard the news that it was raining heavily in Kibungan that Friday morning was almost funny to my sick sense of humor. It was also a good thing I was accompanied by my two new friends, and getting to know them was a great distraction to keep my mind off the things that might go wrong on this trip. I was lucky to even have a companion at all, for my friends who promised to go with me either backed out at the last minute or had other appointments or was mad at me for whatever reason. I’ve always had no problem travelling alone, but this is one time I was very glad I had company, and these two ladies got sick of my endless “Thank You” and “I owe you one” when we got back in Manila.

My two Companions. Cammile and Rochelle

Since I have never been in Benguet where it was purely bad luck that faced me, as with the Law of Averages, when we arrived in Kibungan, at our jumpoff in Saddle, it wasn’t raining anymore. It was almost sunny, and by noon time, we were already complaining how hot the weather is. We also just left our boxes in a store in Saddle and told the owner that two people from Badeo would fetch those the next day. This was not an unusual request for him. It’s a different community here in the provinces, everyone knows everyone, and you can leave your things in the care of others and it would always be there when you get back. I remember in victory liner in Cubao, where the guard won’t vouch that our boxes won’t be touched while we get dinner, while in Dangwa terminal in Baguio, the guards were more than willing to guard our things while we get some breakfast and even helped us in loading it in our bus.

Three hours in our trek, the sun was unrelentless in giving us her business, a stark contrast to the weather a few hours ago. So the last store along the way that had a cold bevereges lifted the spirits of my two friends who were hiking in Benguet for the first time. The last time I was here, a few weeks from this hike, we were forced to take shelter on the lone waiting shade along Mt. Nascong and Mt. Amanayao when rain poured on us. We were stuck there for almost an hour, but when we resumed trekking, countless waterfalls can be seen on both sides of the trails that makes one wonder what this trail looks like on a rainy season. This time around, the heat of the afternoon sun has erased even the traces of water flowing down the mountain side. It was unfortunate for my two companions, but the view was nevertheless breathtaking. That’s also the reason I never get tired of coming to these parts of Benguet. It’s always different. I saw how it is on a very sunny day, how the pastures are almost golden, and the pine trees are showing a shade of orange. There were times were the fog was so thick that I can only see a few meters in front of me. And rain is not such a bad thing here. It provides water not just for the rice fields but for the community consumption as well. And the appearances of countless waterfalls left and right is just a bonus to the already magnificent view.

Mt, Amanayao on a Rainy Day.
Photo by Ralph Mariano
taken on our hike last April

As we arrived in the first house in Badeo, which sits on the shoulders of Mt. Amanayao, our group is already exhausted, drained from the afternoon sun, and hungry for it was already 2pm. We opted to have lunch here. This dwelling is also a store, that serves as a rest stop for the locals as they traverse this trail, where cold water can be obtained on a scorching noon, or hot water to drink coffee when the weather is too cold. And these people are dependent on their coffee all day. One put it perfectly for me, drinking coffee is like a hobby for them. Got nothing to do? Drink coffee. Cold Weather? Drink Coffee. Just Ate? Drink Coffee. The first time I was here, I got so used to dirnking 8-10 cups of coffee a day that when I went back in Bulacan, my father scolded me for drinking all the coffee around the house in a matter of 2 days.

When we resumed trekking, you could already spot the Sitios of Tacadang, and its concealed rice terraces relatively unknown for tourists from manila. Sitio Tableo is just half an hour away. It is located on the mountain ridges, 1,456MASL, that extends until the Barangay Proper of Badeo. On the Northern side, across the Kibungan River, you can see the mountain ranges of Kibungan especially the Sitios in Tacadang. On the Southern side, across Amburayan River, you can see the Mountain Ranges of Kapangan, and the sitios of Brgy Pudong, Brgy Sagubo and Brgy Gadang, where several pockets of rice terraces and hundred meters high waterfalls can be seen from a far. We arrive in Tableo at around 330 in the afternoon, and the sitio is almost deserted. Most are in their farms, while the Brgy Treasurer who owns a store where I usually stay, was also in La Trinidad along with his entire family. So we just rest here for a while and opted to proceed to Badeo Proper which is 2 hours away.

Sitio Tableo.
Badeo Proper is still 2 hours away behind those mountains.
Photo by Ralph Mariano.

The trail from Tableo to Badeo Proper is relatively easy. It’s composed mostly of cemented path walk with gradual to nonexistent change in elevation. And aside from the cemented path walk and stairs getting slippery during the rainy season, this is the easiest part of the entire trek. At around 430 in the afternoon, it started raining and we had to seek refuge at the last waiting shed before Badeo Proper. This waiting shed is also the best view deck to witness the beauty of Barangay Badeo. The community sits on top of a mountain, adjacent to those of Baranggay Tacadang bisected only by the Kibungan River. Rice terraces lies through the length of the community and a fear for one’s life would prevent you from looking down the edges of the terraces. That’s how vertical and steep the fall would be if you were dumb to walk on and slip in the edge. It’s an unbelievable sight and a remarkable feet of Igorot engineering that begs the question on why their ancestor decided to live on such a perilous part of the mountains.

Badeo Rice Terraces

We finally arrived at the community at 530 in the afternoon. It took us a total of 8hours to reach the barangay. Exhausted and hungry from the trek, Kuya Johnny and his Mother greeted us like were visiting family members and served us their native coffee while the neighboring children began flocking in when the news that we arrived spread like wild fire in the entire community. Chelle and Camille tried to talk to the children which were only replied by boisterous laughter for the most of them cannot speak tagalog or English.

When we settled down at the barangay hall which we will be spending the night, the neighboring house was butchering a Pig. The act is called Kanyaw in this part of the region, where they offer a livestock to commemorate or remember a special event or an ancestor. I’ve been lucky to witness several Kanyaws when I was here, and I was glad my friends were also able to witness this part of their culture. So when dinner time came we were able to feast on what they call WatWat, Meat Stew seasoned only by Salt (and nothing else, not even vegetables or onions or even pepper), that were cut into fist size proportions.  

Locals Transporting a Pig.
Photo by Ralph Mariano

After dinner, we decided to unpack our things and I showed  Maam Daisu, one of the Barrio school teachers, and the women who gathered there, the shoes, drifit shirts, and badminton rackets that my friend Andie got from her Badminton Club. She looked at me as if I just gave her a brand new car. Maam Daisu is one of my favorite people there. She was the one who told me endless stories about the students and their enthusiasm to sports, especially badminton. I remember one story on how a group of her students decided to descend to Sitio Polis (7 hours Away on Foot) just to attend a boyscout seminar. They didn’t ask permission to their parents for the fear that they won’t let them go. Upon hearing the news, Maam Daisu asked his eldest son to go after the kids to act as a guardian for the 2-day seminar. She even doled their own money so that those kids would have food for they only brought with them a little rice. She also took the liberty of explaining to the parents the situations so that these kids won’t get too much reprimand when they went home. The thirst of these kids who rarely or never get out of their community, to experience these kind of events, and the dedication of teachers like maam Daisu really struck something in me. That's when I decided that I will come back here before the enrolment starts and help in my little own way. So here I am, two months later, exhaustion slowly draining my body. But it all washed away when I saw Kuya Johnny, his parents, my little brother Blair, the rest of the kids, Maam Daisu, the kagawads, kapitan and the beauty of Badeo.

And the exhaustion and the fever I thought was surely coming, never dared to bother me again. So instead of sleeping right away, I was again mesmerized by the company of this little community, laughing and drinking, like distant relatives sharing what’s new in our lives since the last time I was there. We ended our day by testing the theory that San Miguel Gin does not give you hangover the next morning. We tested it until 3 am.