Journey to Middle Earth: Our Mt. Pinatubo trekking experience

While everybody was heading out for  beaches and swimming pools to escape the blistering heat of summer, our group of fourteen bravely confronted the  sun and dust one fine Saturday morning for the conquest of a lifetime - the crater of the still active Mt. Pinatubo.

We were only four in the initial list. It eventually grew to 18, which got trimmed down to 14 after a few backed out.  Guided by many blogs in the Internet on how to get there and how much it would cost us,  we pooled funds, backpacked and excitedly clambered onto an offroad jeep upon arrival at Capas, Tarlac.

It was a bumpy one and a half hour ride, traversing lahar-laden plains, studded by rocks and giant boulders here and there.  There were occassional streams that the jeep had to cross. We saw some native Aetas along the way - on a carabao sled, doing the laundry at a rocky stream, or just walking under the heat of the sun. 

At some point of the ride, the jeep had to negotiate a narrow uphill road, which the tour guide said was the same site where four foreigners fell at the height of typhoon Pepeng last year, and died. Scary, but never mind - the view  was amazing.   We stopped midway for the requisite photo op. We were in the middle of a scene straight from the Lord of the Rings, episode: fellowship with nature. Around us were  majestic formation of rocks and hardened mountains of lahar, jutting out of lahar-covered grounds. 

Many mountains were "shaved" at the side due to erosion, revealing gray-colored walls, a perfect contrast to the greens of the grass, bushes and ferns.

After taking pictures, we took the jeep once more for another forty-five minutes of  head-bobbing ride. And then finally, the drop-off point.  Around a dozen offroad jeeps were already there, indicating several groups got to the crater ahead of us, thanks to the monstrous traffic at the NLEX which got us delayed for an hour or so. More picture-taking sessions and then off we went for the 45-minute trek. 


The sun was shining full blast (it was almost 11:00 am) but the narrow trail was thankfully shaded  by the mountains. It was a mild  uphill climb. Rocks littered the trail but they were gratefully small enough to step onto and were not slippery.    There were streams of cool water along the way where we happily dipped our tired feet. The sound of gurgling waters from the streams was also soothing.  

The sign at the start of the trail said "15 minutes for the young age, 18 minutes for the middle age, and 20 minutes for the senior citizens". Whoever timed the trek for that sign must have been one of the Supers.We spent some 40 minutes for the trail. Or maybe we were just older than senior citizens. :)


When we finally reached the crater, we immediately forgot the aching joints, the sweat, the hunger, and the thirst.  The same crater that spewed fiery lava almost two decades ago - that buried several towns, that killed hundreds of people, that displaced thousands of residents - greeted us with her majestic grandeur, her cyan lake so calm, so quiet, so still, so beautiful.  A landscaping feat only God can accomplish. There is no other thing to do but to inhale the beauty and serenity of the place. And of course, more picture taking.

HOW TO GET THERE
If you're taking the bus from Manila, get on a Lingayen or Dagupan bound-bus and alight at Capas, Tarlac. From Capas Public Market, take the jeep or rent a tricycle going to Bgy. Sta. Juliana. 

In our case, we brought our own vehicle.  From San Jose Del Monte in Bulacan, we took the NLEX and exited at Sta. Ines. We then took the McArthur Highway until we reached Capas,Tarlac. Landmarks along the way: Camp O'Donnel, Capas National Shrine. Upon reaching Capas Public Market, turn left for Bgy. Sta. Juliana. Look for the Pinatubo Development Corporation  (PDC) Office. That's where you will register.

Francis, our contact person, met us at the Caltex station near McDonalds at Capas. With his scooter, he led us to the road going to Bgy. Sta. Juliana, the gateway to Mt. Pinatubo. At Bgy. Sta. Juliana, we were met by Ronald, Francis' brother who assisted us in registering at the PDC office and in paying the required fees. Then off we went to the bumpy ride.

HOW MUCH

These are the fees at the PDC:

Registration: P300/head

Rental for 4 x 4 jeep : P2,500.00 - good for five heads, max. If you are six in the group, they will require you to get 2 jeeps

Tour guide: P500.00 - one for each jeep

Skyway fee: P500.00 - for each jeep
Parking Fee: P50.00 (flat rate)

Add to these fees the bus fare, if you are taking the bus. Or the gasoline expenses and the toll fees, if you are bringing your own vehicle.

There are packages offered by tour groups. The lowest I saw in the Internet is P3,000.00,  including lunch. The highest is  P8,000.00. In our group (we were fourteen), each contributed P1,500.00 which included the  PDC fees and the gasoline expenses. We ordered lunch at McDonalds.

WHAT TO EXPECT

1. Expect not just a bumpy road but a super dusty road. Not advisable for people with asthma. We all ended up with sticky hair which took several sachets of shampoo to wash off. You can choose to take the shower at the PDC shower room for P100.00. Three from our group did just that. The rest had fun pumping water from the artesian well at the parking lot and taking a bath, probinsya-style, for free.

2. Don't expect much from the tour guides. I have a feeling that you get them just because they are part of the contract terms of the Koreans managing the PDC. We had trouble locating them when we were at the crater. They have very little knowledge about the place. I even overheard one guide feeding the wrong information to a local tourist. In fact, what I knew about the place, I got not from the guides but from persistent research in the Internet before going there.

3. Expect thirst. It's an hour and a half ride, under the heat of the sun. Bring lots of water.

4. You don't need an umbrella for the trekking :) Seriously, I considered bringing one. Thankfully, I did not. The mountains perfectly shade the trail. The sound of gurgling waters from the streams is also soothing.

5. The crater lake is breathtakingly beautiful. But heed the sign - swimming is not recommended.  The water is   enticing but I think I did not read enough blogs. The crater lake is also home to worm-like creatures! One of us spotted the worms on the shirt of another. I don't know what they are called, scientifically. They were small, one centimeter I think. Pinkish, some were reddish. For sure, they were not wrigglers because they were not as wriggly. I immediately jumped out of the water, called my son and inspected his shirt. Thankfully, he had none on his shirt. I had one or two. One of us had around 20 worms or more clinging on her shirt. They were alive, moving, crawling. I would have died. So don't go there for the swim, you might be disappointed. Go there to enjoy the breathtaking scenery and inhale the serenity of the place, and to bask in the pride of conquering an active volcano.

6. There is no comfort room up there. If you need to pee, pee at the PDC office before going up, or wait until you get back, which would be about three hours from the crater. There's a changing cubicle near the lake if you want to swim. The cubicle has a toilet seat which you will not want to use, promise. And only half of the cubicle has roof. I kept looking up while I was changing.

7. The crater lake is around seventy or eighty steps down from the end of the trail. Going down to the crater lake is easy. Going up is not. Peanuts if you are an experienced mountain climber. My idea of going up that high is through an elevator, or at least, an escalator.

8. Be prepared to eat on the floor. PDC has not yet thought about putting tables at their cottages up at the crater.There's a snacks booth up there at the crater but you have to shell out P70.00 for a Coke in can.

9. You will be hungry when you get back, even if you've had a hearty lunch at the crater. PDC has a restaurant but I heard the food is expensive. We opted for the sari-sari store/turo-turo just across the PDC Office. Why, Koreans were also lining up for a taste of isaw and tenga! Yummy. And the halo-halo was heaven after a long, hot and dusty day.

10. Globe, Smart and Sun are not everywhere. There's no more signal a few meters away from the PDC office.

11. The trail is closed  during the rainy season, especially after the tragic death last year of foreigners who braved typhoon Pepeng. Best time to go there is during the sunny months of March to May.

Lest I forget, our contact person's mobile number is 0927-9887277.

Have a safe, bumpy ride. Don't forget your camera. :)


credit: photos by Mervin Landingin

Today I Will Make a Difference

by Max Lucado
http://www.golivewire.com/forums/peer-nnaten-support-a.html

Today I will make a difference. I will begin by controlling my thoughts. A person is the product of his thoughts. I want to be happy and hopeful. Therefore, I will have thoughts that are happy and hopeful. I refuse to be victimized by my circumstances. I will not let petty inconveniences such as stoplights, long lines, and traffic jams be my masters. I will avoid negativism and gossip. Optimism will be my companion, and victory will be my hallmark. Today I will make a difference.

I will be grateful for the twenty-four hours that are before me. Time is a precious commodity. I refuse to allow what little time I have to be contaminated by self-pity, anxiety, or boredom. I will face this day with the joy of a child and the courage of a giant. I will drink each minute as though it is my last. When tomorrow comes, today will be gone forever. While it is here, I will use it for loving and giving. Today I will make a difference.

I will not let past failures haunt me. Even though my life is scarred with mistakes, I refuse to rummage through my trash heap of failures. I will admit them. I will correct them. I will press on. Victoriously. No failure is fatal. It’s OK to stumble… . I will get up. It’s OK to fail… . I will rise again. Today I will make a difference.

I will spend time with those I love. My spouse, my children, my family. A man can own the world but be poor for the lack of love. A man can own nothing and yet be wealthy in relationships. Today I will spend at least five minutes with the significant people in my world. Five quality minutes of talking or hugging or thanking or listening. Five undiluted minutes with my mate, children, and friends.

Today I will make a difference.

Beyond Forgetting

First time I heard this poem was some two decades ago, when GM Blue Cadavillo, then GM of Quezon Metro WD, delivered it during a fellowship night in one PAWD meeting somewhere in Laguna. I heard the poem, I fell in love with it and never left my heart ever since. Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barret Browning only takes second place.

BEYOND FORGETTING

Rolando A. Carbonell

For a moment I thought I could forget you.

For a moment I thought I could still the restlessness in my heart.

I thought the past could no longer haunt me-nor hurt me.

How wrong I was!

For the past, no matter how distant is as much a part of me as life itself.

And you are part of that life.

You are so much a part of me-my dreams, my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions-

that in all my tasks I can’t help remembering you.

Many little delights and things remind me of you.

Yes, I came. And would my pride mock my real feelings?

Would the love song, the sweet and lovely smile on your face,

be lost among the deepening shadows?

I have wanted to be alone.

I thought I could make myself forget you in silence and in song . . .

And yet I remembered.

For who could forget the memory of the once lovely,

the once beautiful, the once happy world such as ours?

I came

because the song that I kept through the years was waiting to be sung.

I cannot sing it without you.

The song when sung alone will lose the essence of its tune,

because you and I had been one.

I have wanted this misery to end, because it is part of my restlessness.

Can’t you understand?

Can’t you define the depth and the tenderness of my feelings towards you?

Yes, can’t you see how I suffer in this even darkness without you?

You went away because you mistook my silence for indifference.

But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.

For how could I essay the intensity of my love

when silence speaks a more eloquent tone?

But, perhaps you didn’t understand

Remember, I came,

because the gnawing loneliness is there

and it will not be lost until the music is sung,

until the poem is heard,

until the silence is understood . . .

until you come to me again.

For you alone can blend music and memory

into one consuming ecstasy.

You alone . . .

Little boy no more

Last night, I noticed that my boy's voice cracked while giving instructions to his dad about a video game they were both crazy about. I really did not mind it when I again noticed that his voice is now a bit deeper than before. Then it dawned on me, "OMG! He is slowly turning into a man! My little boy no more!"

I stared at him, this big bundle of joy who used to be curled up under the baby blanket as I hummed a lullaby. He is taller than me now, after only 12 years (he's turning 13 on February 5). Still fascinated with cars but no longer the little toy ones he used to have several years back. It's now racing cars in video games. He no longer clings to my arms whenever he learns that I will go to the mall. He prefers to stay home and play basketball with his set of friends, thank you. I can no longer kiss him goodbye in front of his classmates. "Sa car lang, mama!"

I feel that I am slowly, slowly losing my boy to the adult world. I know  I still have around eight years before that  happens but I am beginning to feel the loneliness. Last night, I really hugged him tight. I had to. For tomorrow, he may prefer some other arms to hug him tight by then.

Cold January mornings

I don't think I will survive in the icy USA or any other part of the world where there is snow. I think I'm going to freeze there to death. 

This morning, I found it difficult to get my ass out of bed. Reason: I was freezing underneath two blankets and a comforter. And it was only 22 degrees outside. My son knocked twice to wake me up. The third time he was already starting to nag. "Mama, late na ako! Bumangon na nga kayo dyan!" Kayo meant me, Patricia and Andrea. That was 6:15. He was already ready for school by 5:45. I grudgingly got up, bringing the two other "women" with me. The two did not want to take a bath. "Mama, malamig..." Me, I lingered in the bathroom, conditioned my mind that it is Monday today and I should not be late for the office. Maybe I lingered long enough. I was midway bathing when I heard the car go vrooom-vrooom!!! I hoped my husband comes back for me. Thankfully, he did.

Haiti earthquake

My heart and my prayers go to the people of Haiti. With the magnitude 7 earthquake that hit their country yesterday, many of them lost their homes, their properties, their families, their lives.

The pictures all over the Net say more than the printed words of the news. Port-au-Prince, Haiti's capital, lie in ruins.  Thousands died and thousands more are feared death beneath the concrete structures that have collapsed as search and rescue workers pile dead bodies on top of another. Corpses are being pulled out from underneath the rubble. People cry out for help to be rescued. Survivors grieve over lost families and friends. Rescue workers frantically search for survivors. 

Vewing the pictures was very depressing. Mabigat sa dibdib. It's never easy to lose the things you worked for and the people you love. I can never approximate the grief that the survivors feel.

May God who created everything take in heaven all those who died from the tremor  and place them by His side. May no earthquake of this magnitude nor lesser strike again in any part of the Earth. May the people of the world be unselfish in helping the Haitians rebuild their nation and their lives.

Postscript to the Maguindanao massacre

A small portion of Maguindanao, just a stone’s throw away from where the boundary of Cotabato City and Maguindanao lies, was my childhood playground. I wasn’t born there but my family lived there for more than a decade. It was there where I played patintero, taguan and tumbang preso with the neighborhood children. With them, I climbed aratiles trees, caught dragonfllies and picked gumamela for Flores de Mayo. During summer, we would venture near the bank of Rio Grande where several mango trees bore sweet, golden yellow fruits which we would devour to our hearts content. I walked everyday, from our house to my school which was about a kilometer away. But it never was tiring. I had friends who walked with me and we endlessly talked about crushes and proms and projects as we crossed Quirino Bridge. We would go to church every Sunday and attend religious processions. I never got scared of bombs or kidnappers. At that time, the bombs were in the boondocks of North Cotabato. Not in Maguindanao. Not in Cotabato City. Not anywhere near I lived.

And so that morning when I awoke to the news of the Maguindanao massacre, I cried. I cried because I could not believe that the place so dear to me and which gave me many happy memories has become a killing field. I cried because I could not comprehend why people kill to ensure their hold to power. I cried because the victims were innocent people, unaware of the fate that awaited them when they joined that convoy to the Comelec.

Fifty-eight people, mostly women, died. Shot at close-range. Mercilessly killed. Raped. Shot again when they showed any sign of life. Buried in waiting graves.

I cannot imagine the panic and the terror that they felt from the moment they were accosted to that fateful second their unforgiving killers riddled their bodies with bullets, the anguish of their families, and of the children left motherless because their mama happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I hope that the victims will find justice, and I hope they find it fast.

I hope that the perpetrators and the masterminds will find it in their hearts to admit the crime and face the harshness of the law.

Most of all, I hope that peace will find its way once more to the rich and beautiful province of Maguindanao so that its children will once more be able to climb aratiles and mango trees, cross Quirino bridge and play around the neighborhood without fear of abduction and helplessly dying from high-powered guns of barbaric people.