Trips - Leyte 

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Nature Trekking in Baybay, Leyte

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We followed the stream deeper into the forest. It was 8:00 a.m. This is Vanessa's third trek here, albeit on a different trail. She's confident we'd get to our destination at noon. The inexperienced climbers in the group -- that's me, Jojo, and Ross -- took our time oooh'ing and aaah'ing at the verdant forest surrounding us. What a far cry from the barren mountains of Cebu. Onward, the stream got wider and turned into a river. We paused for a photo break and to dip our hands into the cool waters, commenting once more how all of Cebu's rivers have dried up. Further down I slipped and dragged Jojo with me. Time to pay more attention to where I was going as the rocks and stones of the river are unreliably loose or unreliably slippery. 

   An hour later, we paused for another break to refill our canteens. Lolo Erning announced to everyone to get their fill because there won't be any water where we were going. Judge P did a double take. "What do you mean no water, this is a river trek isn't it?" Oh well, earlier they only discussed the destination -- Ligaw -- and nobody told our guide anything about a river trek. "I'm taking you up the mountains, it's the easy route," as he gestured towards us beginners.

   Easy my ass. Ross later commented, "less difficult is more like it. Nothing is ever easy here, we only seem to have degrees of difficulty."

   Lolo Erning was not kidding. It was a steep climb up. At some point the trail was almost vertical. We had to use our arms and hands to lift our bodies one step at a time. This is one trek where my upper body got as much work-out as my legs. We call it the 4WD climb. The foot hold carved in the moss covered rockwalls were only two or three inches deep, like those notches in the coconut tree. Barely enough to accommodate our toes. Thank goodness for the sturdy trunks, roots and vines that we could grab on and cling to while we figure out where to set our foot next. I just had to check first if the branch is not a piece of dead wood, or the vine is free of thorns, or the clump of grass have no crawling insects. Oh, and I had to watch out for the guy ahead to avoid any loose stones or loose soil from getting into my face. Geeez, I'll never look the same way at sports magazines and ads showing guys doing indoor wall-climbing. Not unless, they sprinkle some ants and soil on the guy's face then maybe I'll be impressed.

   Rachel and Tata turned out to be quite resourceful kids. At different stops throughout this trip they gathered fruits to feed us. With coconuts, papaya, wild bananas, and even peanuts. They also kept bugging us to let them carry our backpacks like porters. I shooed them away because I wanted to build my upper body strength. Vanessa had already traded her small pack to carry Jimbo's load because he was having trouble negotiating the slopes with his crutch.

   Pretty soon we had our first casualty, Jojo had an attack of cramps in his thighs. Judge P casually prescribed a dose of salt. I offered mine and was careful to tuck it somewhere accessible, just in case. Rachel took over Jojo's backpack. I couldn't suppress my grin. Tata and the girls were carrying the guys' packs, har-har-har. It's not a question of strength, Jojo and I agreed, but balance. We were only learning how to negotiate a tricky slope with a load in our backs that tilted forward or backward and its weight dragging us with it. Jojo's pack was even lighter than mine but it was packed loose. Its contents caused it to shift weight at different turns. 

   Twelve noon came and we were still up in the mountains, probably the third ridge. "Are we there yet?" it was more like a plea to our guide. "I can easily get there in an hour, but with you, it will take maybe three hours," he said. My tongue, I almost bit it, felt like sandpaper. At one o' clock fatigue had caught up with me. Everytime they paused for a break, I would throw my backpack on the ground, drop myself on top of it and close my eyes. "You're not sleeping here?" Tata was incredulous. The trail was only wide enough to fit one foot at a time -- one slip on either side is a ravine or a long slope all the way down. He tried to get my backpack, "C'mon, I'll carry it for you." "Leave my backpack alone, it's not bothering me, it's my best friend, it's my bed, leave me alone, I just want to sleep," I mumbled. Rachel tried a different approach, "if we leave you here a python or wildpig will find you." I don't care, I mumbled back, if I'm just sleeping here they won't bother me. "Oh yes, a wildpig will, it attacks anything if it's hungry."

   And off we go. Did I say we were in high spirits? Naaaah!!! It took forever but we finally started ambling downhill. Judge P got cheerful again. "We're approaching the river, we'll be doing that river trekking I promised you guys!" He took a second look at us, soaking in sweat, "why, you're all wet already!" Nobody had the strength to reply until everyone got to refill their canteens. Water at last! Everyone seemed to have gotten their second wind. Except me. I was straining on my third already. The downhill assault had been too much on my knees. Then it happened. Slipped again and got my foot all wet. Promptly took off my shoes and continued in my bare feet, wading in the icy cool waters of the river. Big mistake. My aching feet were not prepared for the abrupt change in temperature. It told me so by giving me cramps on both soles. The excruciating pain was an electric shock that came from nowhere, probing the nerves of my insteps like a dentist's torture drill. Oblivious to my predicament the men went on. I was too much in pain to realize that Tata had already taken possession of my backpack. I grimaced to keep the tears from falling. Shit, I can't cry in front of these kids. Vanessa, sweet Vanessa -- who had the face and heart of an angel, but the constitution of a horse -- tried to prep me. 

   "I can't go on," I said to no one in particular. I could feel my spirits dimming, my resolve fading as my strength went down with the sun. All hopes seemed to have flown with the sound of crickets that were chirping around the jungle. "Yes, you can," Vanessa whispered back, "if Jimbo can do it." Jimbo, our one-legged polio victim companion. He looked at me with a hint of smile. If I had the strength I would have snapped back at Vanessa, "Jimbo is not in pain, I am. His feet don't hurt, mine does!" Instead I just bowed my head, closed my eyes, incoherently mumbling, "I can't go on ..." Vanessa wouldn't let me give up. I could feel her eyes on me, willing me to get up and start moving. It must have worked because a warm flush of energy took hold of my shivering body. I found my voice again. I looked up at her, "I have a pair of Teva sandals, will that help?"

   It sure did. With Vanessa egging me on, holding my hand if necessary. (I was prepared to carry you in my back if I had to, she told me later). I was no different from a toddler learning how to walk. Vanessa painstakingly giving instruction every step of the way ... "put your right foot there." And I would, but the rest of my body refused to follow, and she had to repeat herself two or three times. Slowly but surely we reached our campsite at 6:00 p.m. It was nothing more than slabs of boulders between two rivers that cut a swathe in the heart of the jungle. The men had already set up their tents, Lolo Erning was starting a fire for our supper, and the judge was trying to convince me to take a dip in one of the three pools surrounding our camp. "Hey, Tonette, check out the water -- it's icy cool!" Tell me about it.

   We had a little "campfire by the candlelight" that night. Prodded again by Vanessa, each of us took turns introducing ourselves and how we got interested in mountaineering. It seems we all grew up in the country and are quite comfortable with Nature. Judge P in his dad's rubber plantation in Zamboanga; Ross in the sugarcane fields of Bogo where his agriculturist father worked; Vanessa Ollerenshaw's dad is an Englishman but she grew up in the hills, beaches and caves of Argao; and yours truly who couldn't decide if the sea or the hills were my first love. Jojo Rocha, who is active in the Baptist Church, has been to Mt. Kinabalu and Mt. Kilimanjaro. Raul Rene Yap of CITOM grew up in Baybay and studied in VISCA. Jimbo is a computer technology sophomore in the University of the Visayas. Would you believe, he got into mountain biking first and later into rappelling? I did, when I saw him ride a bike the next day.

   Woke up the next day in worst shape. Our butts hurt, and no wonder, we did not pile enough ferns and leaves under our mat before putting up the tent. Judge P was dumbfounded that Ross brought his own carpet. "It was supposed to go with the plywood," Ross said.

   After a hearty breakfast -- Lolo Erning simply put all the food we brought into one pot -- of noodles, corned beef, dried squid, rice, and vegetables we set off for the real river trek back to civilization. 

   It was a relaxing, cool four-hour trek as judge originally promised. Now and then we'd chance upon a pool and we couldn't resist dipping in it. Vanessa took every opportunity to wash clothes. We were in high spirits. Even Rene's knee cramps didn't dampen our mood. Jojo and I were feeling pretty good that we spent the night in the jungle like intrepid adventurers. Then we bumped into a dozen kids -- ages five to nine and minus adult supervision -- asking for directions to the nearest falls. Rachel gave them a mild scolding for getting this far in the woods. "But we want to go swimming," one tyke insisted.

   We eventually found the highway, a ride back to Lolo Erning's place, and then to VISCA so the judge could buy more plants for his garden in Cebu. Vanessa and I watched the sunset at the beach while the men waded into the salty seawater to clean their scratches and insect bites. We reached the town with only an hour to spare before the same boat departs for Cebu. Ross retrieved his plywood at Jimbo's place. We teased him that he might be the only survivor if this boat sinks, like his namesake in the Titanic, thanks to a piece of wood.

   We arrived in Cebu at 4:30 a.m. of Monday. Everybody rushed off with only a curt or snappy "g'bye." I decided to walk two blocks to the Waterjet terminal. I was booked on the 6:00 a.m. trip to Bohol. The sales supervisor there promised to take me to the Chocolate Hills ...

June 16, 1998
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