Breakaway 2017: Atop Luzon's Highest (The Mt. Pulag Hike)

"The road to the boondocks itself was a challenging feat. What more to its summit? What awaits? I was yet to discover..."




Project: Live

     Wake up call was at 2:00 am. The moon still shone at its peak on a chilly Baguio night, my skin still coping with the cold. The thought of climbing one of the Philippines' highest peaks overwhelmed me because I am no mountaineer, however, that spark of interest and sense of adventure pushed me to do what I think can easily wear me out but reward me with utter fulfillment from just trying it.

     We were nine in our group, and twenty one (including guide) overall from Team Pinikpikan (Pinikpikan Adventours, check their FB page) who met at 3:00 am and took off at 4:00 am. Off we went, donned with thick jackets and sleepy eyes, to chase clouds above the mountains.
    
photo by Jonas Lamcis
   
     Traveling through the mountains of the Cordilleras is not new - at least to me, who have tried visiting as far as Buguias, Benguet and Bontoc, Mt. Province with side trips to Sagada through the Cervantes-Mankayan-Abatan Road and Benguet routes to visit dealers. I have also tried traversing the nauseating kinky roads of the Benguet-Nueva Vizcaya Road through Ambuklao, one that ends in Aritao, Nueva Vizcaya to go to Isabela. I might have learned the art of controlling vomit (excuse me) without taking in Meclizine, what with these curvy roads!

   Speaking of Ambuklao, two hours after our take off, we dropped by Ambuklao Dam. This dam is part of the Ambuklao Hydroelectric Power Plant in Bokod, Benguet that stands at the uppermost portion of the Agno River.

photo by Aldrin Gapuz

     Hanging bridges are also typical in the mountains for easier transportation. One of these is Jang Jang Hanging Bridge in Bokod, Benguet.


photo by Aldrin Gapuz

     Some hours passed and we reached the DENR Office in Ambangeg in time for registrations and an orientation, a must for every Mt. Pulag hiker. An hour after, we finally arrived at the Babadak Ranger Station where we would spend the night before the grueling, freezing midnight hike. We pitched our tents on an elevated area overlooking the ranger station.


photo by Jonas Lamcis


photo by me

     Staying at the ranger station is not that bad at all. Aside from being close to the comforts of latrines (do not expect toilet bowls) and all other simple amenities, staying at Camp 1 and Camp 2 are forbidden during the weekends. If you are worried about the view, you will have the chance once the hike to and from the summit begins.

     The station houses a small community of Cordilleran natives making a living through eateries, hiking essentials rentals, tour guiding, and vegetable farming. They manifest how slow-paced but self-sufficient living in the highlands could be.

     We had the chance to join in a Cordilleran ethnic dance with the natives as shown below.





photo by Aldrin Gapuz

photo by Aldrin Gapuz

     We also tried their vegetable okoy (yummy!) and pancakes, all made from carrots. You should try mingling with the locals and help them in any way you can. I remember DENR officials mentioning they suggest to them other means of living besides farming at the Mt. Pulag lands so as to save what is left of its lowest terrain.    

     The camp site itself was a feast to the eyes already, with small Pine Trees, Calla Lily, Ayusep and wild white flowers carpeting the hill.

photo by Christian Gabonada

photo by me
    
     In the early evening, our tour guide Jonas set up a bonfire to warm the night. We would be waking up as early as 12 am the following day to begin the hike. The road to the boondocks itself was a challenging feat. What more to its summit? What awaits? I was yet to discover...

photo by Jonas Lamcis

     It was past midnight and everyone was awake, getting ready for the chilly hike. I donned layers of clothing (including underwear, of course) - a dri-fit shirt, a fleece jacket, and a warmer for my torso, pairs of fleece leggings and hiking pants for the legs, short and long pairs of socks, a borrowed pair of gloves, a wool beret and scarf. Might be a lot, but they kept me warm enough for the cold hike. The full moon shone its brightest that night, paving way for an illuminated trek to the summit.

photo by me

     They said the distance from our jump off point to the highest peak was around eight kilometers. We would be hiking around four to five hours to reach the peak.

     Don't get me started on how grueling (despite being the easiest trail) the hike was! I blame that on my lack of preparation (and yes, age). However, there were two stops during the hike - one at Camp 1 distinguished by a hut, and Camp 2 - for when we felt like having to heed the call of nature and grumbling tummies. The stops were like transitioning from the Pine Forest Part to the Mossy Forest (Camp 1), and from Mossy Forest to Grassland (Camp 2). As most Pinoys say, "Hirap muna bago sarap." My shoes' outer sole linings even came off during the ascent.

     After around four hours of hiking, we decided to go to Tower 1 at the Grassland summit. Majority of the group did since they prefer to have the nicest view of the "sea of clouds". (If there is one That Thing Called Tadhana disadvantage, it is popularizing this phrase.)

     It was still dark when we reached Tower 1. We took a nap while waiting for the sunrise...

     And here came Mr Sun, peaking in, revealing a blanket of white heavenly, cottony clouds covering other mountain summits. It was like a sunset view in reverse, the thick, fluffy clouds resembling waves of the ocean.

     Wouldn't you be tempted to dive in that sea of clouds?

photo by Christian Gabonada
     
     It was a mesmerizing, majestic view difficult to put into words. I was at a loss for adjectives, my heart skipping beats at each rise of the sun. May these pictures give justice to your expectations and describe how we felt staying atop Luzon's highest mountain...

photo by me

photo by me

photo by me

photo by Aldrin Gapuz
     
photo by Jaymark Blanche

     At that time, I felt pain and discomfort on my upper right thigh, knees and stomach (naje-jebs hehe). Maybe because of slipping during the ascent. Convinced that I could not carry on with the hike to the highest peak, I surrendered. (Yes, I did. Isn't that a big disappointment?) However, just stepping on the highest elevation I have ever been to and being able to do the longest hike I have experienced was an achievement for myself, in itself.

     Off I went to descend. Here came my chances of admiring what was covered in darkness during the ascent.

     You can see below the transition from the Mossy Forest to the Grassland.

photo by me

     
photo by Christian Gabonada


     Sweet spring waters were readily available through the trails.


photo by Christian Gabonada

     We walked through shades of greens from ferns and trees whose trunks and branches were covered with moss. No wonder it was tagged the Mossy Forest. The trails were paved with stones for easier navigation. We were still careful though as we walked through the sides of gorges that could be as steep as a thousand meters.

photo by Christian Gabonada

photo by Christian Gabonada
     I still had a few stops during the descent to catch breaths, ease the pain from my upper thigh and wait for our other companions. I was dying to reach the ranger station.

     After descending nearly three and a half to four hours, we went straight to our assigned eatery. The owner, like a worried mother, welcomed us and asked how the climb was, then served us a hefty brunch of mountain rice and chicken and native pork meals.

     Ah, how tiring that hike was! Tiring, yet fulfilling. This adventure gave me that fleeting feeling of accomplishing something deemed impossible. It gave me the realization that whining is useless until you give that thing a shot. It gave me a bit of the confidence and belief in myself that I have lost for quite some time now. As one cliche idiom goes, "You never know (what you can do) till you try." I do have to correct my clumsiness. These knees, alas, have become the knees of an aging woman.

     Or maybe I can blame that on this Zumba dance we did at the camp site! This was fun though. You should try this on the chilly mountains!




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