LOST & FOUND IN RIVER TREK '98
Boljoon, Cebu/Nov. 28, Saturday -- I have been walking for hours. Lost and alone, I didn't know where the rest of our 18-man river trekking team is. I couldn't decide whether to proceed and catch up with the assault group, or sit and wait for the sweepers, or look for the road and catch a ride back to the town or highway then a bus back to Cebu.
The sun was going down fast. I'd be tripping over rocks and boulders, stepping on mud and animal droppings, and perhaps get acquainted with some leeches and snakes if I continue river trekking in the dark. One woman leading some pigs to the river estimated I won't reach our destination, a place called Tinubdan, until 8:00 p.m. It was only 4:00 p.m. then.
Literally, tinubdan means source or spring. But in this case Tinubdan was also the name of the sitio or hamlet, and the tinubdan is not exactly the river source but a spring with falls. Further down an old man fetching water suggested that I'd get to Tinubdan faster if I take the dirt road running alongside the river. He added that the destination is not that far -- maybe four kilometers -- but no, I won't get there before nightfall because of the steep terrain.
At 4:00 p.m. I left the river and took the road. If I make some sort of a dash for it I can cover two kilometers per hour on the road and I might still catch the assault group.
The river trekking team consisted of five GEM members and 13 participants. Edmund, our trailmaster, was busy entertaining them when I set foot at the bus terminal late afternoon of Friday. Vanessa, who arrived five days earlier from a three-month stint in Japan, was overjoyed to see me. We caused a bit of a scene at the terminal. She's 10 years younger but she lifted me like a sack of potatoes when I tried to hug her. Ana showed up with a new friend, 17-year old Ellery, who is the youngest participant. There were two young couples and both girls were trekking for the first time. The rest were regular mountaineers dressed and equipped with worn climbing shoes, floppy hats, backpacks, earth pads, canteens, machetes…
The last trip scheduled at 9:00 p.m. departed earlier at past eight when the bus ran out of seats. Some passengers, including two or three mountaineers, had to stand as the bus set off for the southern town of Boljoon. This bus liner is noted for reckless overspeeding drivers and holds the record for the worst road accident when two of its buses had a head-on collision last year. Typical, we traveled at breakneck speed in the left side of the highway for most part of the trip. Instead of the usual 3-hour trip, we made it to Boljoon in two hours. Judge P joined us later after his evening law class at the University of San Carlos where he taught.
We were prepared to sleep under the stars at the town's outdoor sports court. The caretaker offered the town hall to us and I claimed the mayor's desk for my bed. Ana took the conference table, Vanessa and Ellery had the plastic benches. Everyone else slept on the wooden floors.
I only had two hours sleep. There was a thunderstorm that night. That should squeeze out all the water from the rainclouds so we'd have a better weather the next day. I wondered if the old town hall was haunted and listened to some footsteps or unusual noises but it was only Judge P who was already moving about at four. By 4:30 a.m. some local guys were already playing basketball outside. The mountaineers were up and about at 5:00 a.m. By six, two local kids were getting ready to play tennis at the same court.
We transferred all our gear to the police station next door. All participants were requested to register twice, first for our GEM river trek and for the police's guestbook. While waiting for the guide to show up everyone busied themselves checking and rechecking their provisions, preparing and shopping for food, making new friends, and going over the itinerary.
I looked around the police station. Read all the announcements in the bulletin board. They have a rogues' gallery with colored pictures showing the cops' community activities and performance highlights. A burglar broke into St. John's Church and stole the patron saint's image. They showed a picture of the pile of wooden bars he used to get in. Somebody also tried to rob a store. One jilted guy was arrested for murder, for beheading his lover. "We found him in a hut in the mountains just as he was about to eat the head," somebody said over my shoulder. The next picture was of a young man, "apprehended after a pursuit for attempted rape."
What if somebody tries to rape me here? The houses were too far apart from each other. I could scream for help but will somebody be able to hear or come to my aid? I loosened the straps and unbuckled my backpack. At the first sign of trouble I can drop the pack in two secs and run like hell.
It seems my load only got heavier. Worse, my shoulders and thighs were getting sore from the friction of the straps and buckles. I had welts in both knees, my legs were bleeding and my butt felt sore after I slipped three times at the river. My toes and ankles felt tender after I stubbed and tripped over stones a hundred times. My hands, though limp and numb, kept shaking. I used both palms to break my fall, then fellow trekkers crushed these by holding me too tight and stepped on them early in the trek.
Yes, indeed my backpack has become a burden I didn't want to be saddled with. The judge noticed it was heavier than his pack. I brought canned goods, a liter of bottled water -- basically, grocery stuff. The weight never bothered me until now. I stopped at a waiting shed and took out a 500-ml bottled water and although I was not thirsty, drank it to lighten my load.
There was a house right behind the shed. I asked for directions again and got the same answers: I won't make it to Tinubdan before nightfall. The road will fork up ahead. I should keep right because the left one leads to a school, further ahead is another fork and I should continue right because the left leads to the chapel. But the road will come to a dead-end when it reaches the river and I will have to resume traversing the river.
It was already six when I reached the end of the road and found myself back in the river. Still, in the dark I could see motorcycle tracks in the opposite bank. I followed it until I came to a clearing and in the middle of it a house. I asked for directions and was told that Tinubdan is just an hour away. I decided to push on. As I set foot on the cold waters of the river all the lights went out. Dark rain clouds started to cover the moon. I couldn't see where I was going. "Hey!" a kid from the house had followed me to the river. "Why are you in the river when the road is right over there?"
There is a road after all. It was too dark to see a thing soI asked him to guide me back to the road. He asked for my name. His name is Russel. How old are you? I asked. "Fourteen," he said, "And you must be 30." Smart kid.
We found the road again. I was about to bid him goodbye when Russel asked me where I plan to spend the night. There's a chapel and barangay hall further ahead, I could sleep there. That's about eight kilometers away, he tells me. You won't get there 'till midnight. Then I will just have to keep walking. But the road will split when you reach the forest and you can get lost. I'll ask for directions. The houses are too far apart and there might not be any house if you make a wrong turn, he said. Alright, then I'll go back to the river. No, the river also splits into different directions.
Where will you spend the night, Russel persisted. Look, I'll stop when I'm tired, I have a sleeping bag, I'll sleep by the road. But there are witches there, he said. What kind of witches? Are these the black-magic practicing types who make potions and cast spells, or are these the blood-sucking carnivorous kind of witches? He was much too scared to say. Okay kid, you win. I guess I'll just have to look for that chapel I passed. He cheered up a bit, "good, it's made of concrete so you have nothing to worry about in case it rains."
We set off together at 7:30 a.m. Judge P divided the group into three: the assault team led by the guide, Edmund and Vanessa. The advance team also had the first couple, Ryan and Jojo. The sweepers were led by Atty. Al and I. Judge P put himself in the middle as pacer. The judge was worried that young Ellery is also diabetic and appointed me as her buddy. Later on, the gap between the assault team and the sweepers got wider and wider by a margin of an hour or more. We fell back into two groups.
The sweepers now consisted of Atty. Al, Bench, Don and the second couple. I didn't want to be stuck with them, the girl was looking quite pale from overexertion when we crossed a wooden bridge. Dennis came back and warned us too late not to take the bridge. The river was ten feet below and we were too tired to backtrack. Al wanted to keep going, blaze new trails if necessary. The resourceful Junie decided the cut bamboo poles we were sitting on would reach a boulder below and these are what used to slide down back to the river.
To make up for the lost time Junie, Docks, Ann, Ellery and I left the sweepers. Then Junie and Docks left us girls. I was with Ann and Ellery when we found Dennis, Junie and Docks waiting for us at a spillway at 2:00 p.m. I waded back into the river with Dennis closely behind me, both of us believing everbody else will follow soon enough. I laid some trail signs out of rocks and coconut husks, not knowing that the second couple had already decided to give up. Al and the guys waited with them to get a ride back to the town. Ann and Ellery pushed ahead taking the road. Without a word, Dennis strode past me to go after Judge P and the assault team. Judge P, who had lunch with Ann, Ellery and I, also tried but failed to catch up with the assault team. They were moving too fast and had the advantage of a guide who knew shortcuts.
The assault team reached the campsite at 6:00 p.m. About the same time when the second couple found a ride back to civilization and the sweepers resumed their hike by taking the road. They reached Tinubdan and found the assault team at 10:00 p.m. Missing that night were Judge P, Ann and Ellery, Dennis, and yours truly.
True to the spirit of river trekking, Judge P stuck to the river all the way. At 5:00 p.m. he camped at the river between the boundaries of sitio Ilaya and sitio Kangsalamin to wait for us. Not too far from where I was with Russel. Behind me Ann and Ellery decided to spend the night at the house by the waiting shed where I asked for directions. Dennis was going in circles alternating between the river and road until a woman told him I came that way not too long ago. He quickened his pace to catch up with me.
I couldn't find the chapel. I saw a house and debated if I should ask for directions and reveal myself. If they knew I was lost and alone would the locals try to rob or rape me? The house was abandoned but locked. The porch was missing some planks but it will do for me. I just hope it won't rain tonight. I was too tired to open my bag for a bite to eat. I cursed myself for not bringing a machete to protect myself, or a knife to open my canned food. The judge said pointed and sharp objects might puncture our backpacks for the river trek. I put down my pack, propping it against the door and made myself comfortable, leaning my aching back against it. I closed my eyes and mumbled a few lines of prayer.
"Hey you!," a man by the road was aiming a flashlight at my face, "what are you doing there?" Oh shit, I hope I'm not in trouble. "Excuse me sir, where is the chapel?" He doesn't know. What a rude guy, I can't believe he doesn't know where the chapel is. I didn't say anything as I assessed my situation. "Alright that's enough rest. Move your butt and let's go, Tonette." Holy cow, it was Dennis!
This strapping young man is the strongest member of the team. That morning he lifted me with one hand over boulders and almost crushed my hand doing so. His backpack is as big and as heavy as a buddy refrigerator. He always brings vegetables, spices, and seasoning during treks because he likes to cook.
Glad as I was of finding him I refused to go anywhere with him. I was tired, my feet hurt, my joints were getting stiff, I've got burns in my shoulder from the straps of the backpack, plus I'm nearsighted. "What do you mean? We are mountaineers, we keep moving until we finish the course," he said. "I will only slow you down," I replied. "Well, I can't leave you here either," he pointed out. He suggested we go to my friend Russel's place and see if we can spend the night there.
His parents were glad to see us. They lightly reprimanded Russel for not inviting me over in the first place. At the mention of "corn grits" for dinner the starving Dennis promptly put down his backpack. I happily unloaded my backpack of its canned goods contents and gave it to the mother to cook for dinner. After he had his fill Dennis decided to look for the assault team. It's only about three kilometers from here, the father said, and drew Dennis a map.
Just go, I'll be fine here, I assured him. Send the guide back for me at six tomorrow morning. I don't have a tent so even if do reach the campsite I would still have problems if it rains. Here I am safe, dry and comfortable. I had my supper with the family cat contentedly purring in my lap. I also played with their dog Bantay. While the other dogs barked he welcomed us with his tail wagging. Dennis left at 8:00 p.m. while I busied myself with my sleeping bag. They lent me two pillows and the softest, nicest, warm blanket. I slept on the living room floor with Bantay keeping watch from the chair over my head.
I woke up to the melodious crowing of the rooster. Manang Remedios had set the breakfast table, laying her best porcelain cup and saucer for my morning coffee. I had noodles for breakfast and opened a box of prunes. Their two boys were still too shy to break bread with me but I noticed the wrappers of the choco milk and gummy candies I gave them the night before. The extra packs of noodles lay untouched at the altar table where I left it. Near the post where Russel's medals from school were proudly displayed. He's an honor student, smart kid.
It was a glorious beautiful morning. The boys played basketball at the yard, while their mom chopped a banana trunk to feed the pigs. The father, Manong Bebot, was at the porch, plucking ipil-ipil leaves to add to the pigs' diet. The chickens and their chicks were all over the yard, with a flock of pigeons, scratching the ground for food. Two birds flew in to look for some lentils in the dining table. One bird perched in the window sill and followed me around cooing. I could live here for a couple of days and recharge my energies, lift my sagging spirits.
We wondered if Dennis found the campsite. If nobody comes for me at six that would mean that he didn't. I got worried. At 7:15 a.m. I bid the Romero family goodbye, hugging Manang Remedios who asked me to come back and visit. To offer money for the hospitality would be an insult.
Half-empty, my bag felt a lot lighter now. I followed the dirt road that Russel pointed to me the night before. He was right, it split into narrow trails further ahead. Remembering Manong Bebot's advice to steer clear of the animal trails I paid close attention to the tracks and looked for Dennis' footprints. Twenty minutes later I came to another house. "Don't go that way," they called out to me. That's the way to Ilaya, the trail to Tinubdan is over here. "Your friend was here last night, too," they said. What time? Ten o' clock. Uh-oh, it looks like Dennis got lost again.
At Ilaya, Judge P gave up waiting and set up his tent at nine. He didn't have any strength left to prepare supper so he just ate a bar of chocolate. He took off his boots and discovered a leech had had his big toe for supper. The mosquitoes were swarming around him so he covered every part of his body and donned ski masks to protect himself from their bites. That morning he had another chocolate for breakfast. He set off early to look for the others.
He observed that the locals were hostile to mountaineers. We have definitely disrupted the quiet countryside as we look odd in our mountaineering gear and outfit, wandering around and asking for directions. They couldn't understand why we insisted in going by the river when we can take the road and even ride to our destination. One old man yelled at the judge "What is this nonsense you are up to!"
Dennis roused a family in the middle of the night and he thought the guy would chase him with a machete. "Who are you?" the farmer demanded. "Excuse me sir, can I ask for some directions?" Dennis politely asked. "I said, who are you!?" the guy shouted. Dennis finally decided to set up tent and continue his trek in the morning.
The trail took me over a mountain. It was a grazing land for farm animals and the little shade didn't protect me from the hot morning sun. The uphill climb parched my throat and I soon downed three-quarters of my water canteen. I passed another house and its occupants called me over for breakfast. My companions went this way yesterday afternoon, but no, nobody that fits Dennis' description. Christ, which way did he go?
The view of the mountains covered with virgin forests was spectacular but I concentrated instead on the tracks to get my mind off my thirst. Now and then I would see Dennis' tracks, then lose it. I followed two animal trails for a while before realizing my mistake, switched to another trail which revealed the tracks of the assault team. It had the bare feet of our guide and the imprint of several mountain shoes. I was torn between following their tracks or going after Dennis'.
Poor guy, finding his tracks again I noticed that he must have been pretty tired as the imprints got blurry. He slipped twice over a steep mound. Further ahead I discovered a pair of tracks of another mountaineer. The imprint was different and smaller than Dennis' feet. It was still fresh. There are two men ahead of me who are lost! Though tired there wasn't time to sit under a cool shade. In previous treks the team usually packs up and goes right after breakfast. I debated if I should empty my drinking canteen for extra energy to get to the top of the mountain faster. What if there are no houses or spring there? I moved on.
I reached the top and though my heart sank that it was another meadow and not a road, I consoled myself that the trek was no longer steep. Then I saw a backpacker up ahead talking to three kids. I yelled , shouted, and hooted to get his attention. He stopped, turned and responded by blowing a whistle. I'd recognize that whistle anywhere, it is music to my ears. It is Dennis! Twelve hours since we parted and 45 minutes after I left the Romeros' house we were reunited.
"Wow, you sure move fast!" he greeted me. "What are you talking about?" I laughed, "you were going in circles, that's the only reason why I caught up with you." Bouyed by my find, I promptly emptied my water canteen. Our companions, the kids said, are not far from here. Lead the way, I told the boy who was carrying a sack of grass on top of his head. Ten minutes later we were reunited with the team at the barangay hall of Tinubdan. Manong Bebot was right, the three-kilometer trek took only an hour but only if we knew the way. Vanessa gave me a bear hug.
The other set of tracks I found belonged to Judge P who arrived only a few minutes ahead of us. The famished Dennis was oblivious to our chattering. He took out his stove, fashioned from an ice cream tin can, and proceeded to slice some onions for breakfast.
Edmund, Jojo and the guide left early that morning to look for us. They passed the Romeros who informed them that I spent the night there. They heard that Ana and Ellery slept at the school but didn't find them there. The two girls had gone to Malabuyoc but we didn't know that until we reached the town.
The second part of this adventure is a six-hour river trek to Malabuyoc. It is more challenging, more picturesque as there are at least three parts where the river is 10 ft. deep walled in by limestone cliffs. However, Judge P and I are to attend the confirmation rites of his eldest daughter, Justine, at 8:00 a.m. the next day. I was invited to be her sponsor or godmother for this second blessed sacrament. I promised his wife, Jane, I'd get us home in time. I didn't think we'd make it in one piece.
We took the only public transportation in these mountainous parts: the habal-habal or motorcycles. They usually carry four to five passengers. The driver agreed to take us and our backpacks for a hundred bucks. He didn't inspire confidence. Although it was drizzling he was wearing sunglasses, a gold loop earing in one ear, and he smelled of beer. I sat in front, on top of the gasoline tank, sidesaddle. Helmets are unheard of in these parts.
The rains rendered the limestone dirt road slick. Going downhill the driver couldn't use his brakes because the tires would skid. While negotiating a slope we slipped and luckily all three of us braced our legs at the same time to break the fall. Jesus, I mumbled, just one slip and I'd either break my legs or my neck. "Wouldn't it be ironic if we have an unfortunate accident not during the trek but while we are trying to commute home?" I turned to the judge. "To be honest with you, I feel safer rappelling than riding this way," he agreed. Rather than risk it, the judge and I hiked for another three kilometers and didn't get on the bike until we were sure the roads were safe enough.
We arrived in Malabuyoc at 5:30 p.m. and found president Lito waiting for us at a street corner. He arrived in Cebu that morning from a business trip in Iloilo and hopped on the bus to Malabuyoc to bring our commemorative t-shirts. He had been waiting for us since three.
The whole town knew about Ana. She went to the town hall to leave a message for us. The judge was impressed by Ana's presence of mind. That she was responsible enough to bother going to Malabuyoc instead of going straight home so we won't worry about them.
Lito will wait for the other trekkers to arrive. Their t-shirts and certificates of completion will be ready for distribution. Our host in Malabuyoc, Engr. Tuding Creus, arranged for a dinner with lechon (roasted pig), fish, and blood pudding for us at his beachfront residence. The judge and I wolfed down our supper with bare hands.
We took the last trip at seven and reached the Cebu bus terminal three hours later. Meanwhile 13-year old Justine paced anxiously wondering if her father is coming for her confirmation. Jane was furious, she couldn't stand to see their child get hurt and disappointed. He got home at past ten. Father and daughter embraced each other. My cat Pokokong was waiting for me when I arrived. So was my youngest brother who contracted chicken pox while I was away. Home sweet home.