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Conquered by MT. Apo
Guest Traveler: Ian Ray Garcia
"Trust me, it's paradise. This is where the hungry comes to feed. For mine is a generation that circles the globe in search for something they haven't tried before. So, never refuse an invitation, never fail to be polite, and never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what, it's probably worth it." - Richard, from Alex Garland's "The Beach"
ONSET OF THE JOURNEY. It was a pleasant Thursday morning when we arrived at Kidapawan City, where the "easiest" trail to Mt. Apo can be found. Of course, easy is relative. Six persons ---photographer Ben Young, tourism student Anne Margaret Pelingon, Davao-based American Michael Shank, and three adventurers from Manila: Meng Valientes, Ding dela Torre and Rannie Santos--- have responded to my invitation to this special climb prior to its temporary two-year closure starting 01 July this year.
Equipped with all the necessary provisions and a month of brisk-walking, I thought I was ready to climb the Philippines' highest peak. I was wrong.
After a quick processing of our permit at the City Hall (with the able assistance of Mr. Ben Mallorca), we advanced to Lake Agko, the starting point of the climb which was about 30 minutes from Kidapawan.
Lake Agko is a destination in itself, with hot and cold springs in abundance, complemented with a splendid display of mist and natural steams gushing out from sulfur craters. Wild flowers and orchids can also be found in its serene forests, interfered only by the thunderous roar of Marbel River and the reverberating blare of the Philippine National Oil Company's (PNOC) geothermal plant (which I think is causing much noise pollution in this once-quiet paradise).
From Agko (we actually entered through the gates of PNOC), we started our trek, crisscrossing the ferocious, sulfur-rich Marbel River more than ten times. Often we would pass across the rough crags beside the river with barely anything to hold on to. The hike consumed the first three hours of the journey until we reached the rubbish-filled Lake Mainit (which isn't a lake nor a river but a spring).
THE TRAVAILS OF TRAVEL. I have to admit that I was not as prepared as I thought I was. A month of exercise and yoga weren't just enough (though I lost around 30 lbs.). Oftentimes, I would experience muscle cramps (antidote: salt), hyperventilate (antidote: stop and regain normal breathing pattern), and losing stamina (antidote: well, positive thinking).
The steep climb to Lake Venado would require one to scale 45 to 90 degrees, clutching only to jagged roots of old trees or to the slimy, sharp-edged rock slabs. Moving at my own, slow pace --- I wouldn't call it leisurely since I was barely enjoying it, at around 4:30 pm (we were expected to arrive at Venado at 600 pm), the fog had started to envelope the forest. I was starting to get chills since I was all wet and muddy. Then I realized that I was lost in the woods.
Screaming my companions' names and just getting an echo as a response wasn't exactly what I expected to hear. For about 30 minutes, I was hugging all the trees that came my way, and was able to recite the names of all saints that I knew of, and God's various appellations (from Allah to Manama). With water bottle empty, I had no choice but to drink from the puddle. It was a totally humbling experience. Like diving, it made me realize that I am just an infinitesimal dork in this humongous universe. Then, I located my companions, and found out that I took the wrong trail.
Finally, the half-moon and the stars surfaced in the azure night sky. We arrived at Venado just right after sundown. Venado was not just all lake but as well as a marshland spreading throughout its 15 hectare land area. At 8,000 feet, the air was thin and cold, and right after dinner (and a
warm conversation with Michael about spirituality), slumber took over.
Right before the crack of dawn, I was already wide-awake. As the sun's rays of light touched the lake, the mist started to lift itself up into the clear sky, revealing the breath-taking vista of Mt. Apo's peak in all its majestic glory, and the wild bermuda grass covering the expanse of Venado. I was left gawking with indescribable awe.
HIGH ABOVE THE COUDS. At 9:00 am, we started our two-hour-and-a- half ascent towards the peak. Certainly, it was less rigorous than the climb the previous day. There were fewer trees and taller grasses (warning: apply sunblock). Few minutes before midday, out of breath and losing
strength, I was finally at the rooftop of the Philippines.
The view from above was remarkably moving. Call me sentimental but I was almost moved to tears realizing that I have conquered the country's highest peak. The feeling was beyond words, perhaps comparable to a homecoming though I have never been there before. It strangely felt like I
just got home.
That night, it rained for hours, like we had been welcomed and embraced by Mother Nature with some kind of unexplainable bliss. Mercury dropped to 10 degrees. It only stopped at midnight when I went out of the tent and saw the clouds capping the peak wandering like ghosts in the mist. The
encounter was just surreal.
Having set my cell phone's alarm at 4:30 am (that's the only use I can do with my phone since Globe doesn't have a signal at the peak or elsewhere along the trail but Smart has), almost all of us were awakened by the annoying blips.
Thirty minutes later, we hiked to the area of the peak facing Davao City. From there, the low clouds dramatically and gradually unveiled the spectacular sight of Davao City, Samal and Talikud Islands, Davao Oriental, Davao Gulf, and some parts of the Pacific Ocean. Right below, we could see the sulfur vents streaming sulfuric smokes and the foliage-rich plateaus of Davao del Sur. Looking at Davao, the only visible structure from that distance was Marco Polo Hotel.
THE DESCENT. Almost effortlessly, the descent from the peak to the Lake Agko took us a little more than half the time of the ascent. With not much time for rest, I pushed myself to my limit, trekking like there was no tomorrow. If my feet, calves and arms have mouths, they would have screamed to death with my laborious struggle. I couldn't count the times I slid, hit my head with a tree branch or pricked my fingers with thorns from wild plants anymore. My mind was set on home, and a hot shower and a massage.
By 4:30 pm, we were already at Agko (we took a less painstaking route from Marbel River). Unfortunately, the transportation, which was supposed to pick us up, had already left. We decided to stay overnight in a two-level kubo equipped with a boiling jacuzzi (good for our aching muscles), and
killer view of the peak and the mountain ranges by day and the star-filled sky and the buzzing fireflies by night. All for P50 per person.
THE RAPE OF MT. APO. As a realization after the journey, I can't find a better word to describe Mt. Apo when we got there but RAPED --- from Mainit to Venado to its peak. Its virgin forest has been brutally violated by sleazy pigs in the guise of humans. Non-biodegrable materials such as
tin cans, softdrink and liquor bottles, plastic wrappers, used sanitary napkins, worn-out shoes and sandals, and candy wrappers were all everywhere. Human excreta were either seen or smelled in some parts of the trail.
Suggestion to would-be climbers (that is, if you can make it before the 01 July closure): don't be afraid to get lost, just follow the trash. The trail basically apes Hansel-and-Gretel-gone-trashy. Vandalism is ubiquitous, from huge boulders to century-old trees. Even DENR's billboard was not spared from man's destructiveness.
During the arduous ascent, I kept on reminding myself that the pain that I was feeling then was incomparable to the agony that the mountain may have felt --- if it were still alive with that kind of condition.
With the constant flooding in the city and in nearby provinces, resulting to the damage and loss of homes and properties and the recent near-destruction of Maa Bridge, I'd say we deserve the wrath of nature. This is our karma.
ABODE OF THE GODS. Mt. Apo stands majestically 10,311 feet above sea level (3,144 m) with mountain ranges extending to Cotabato, Davao del Sur and Davao City in the south, and Agusan and Musamis Oriental in the north. It dominates a vast area of 72,796 hectares where natural wonders lures outdoor enthusiasts to trek the domains of Apo Sandawa, the god of the Bagobos believed to have resided in this sacred mountain.
APO-ISM. Personally, I think that climbing Mt. Apo is a metaphor for life. You can't go too slowly or you'll be left behind, and you can't go too fast or you'll lose your balance. You just have to work on your own pace. At least, plan your next three steps. Don't look down too much, or you might fall, and if you keep on looking up, you might make a misstep, falter and fail to reach your destination in due time. You also can't rely too much on others since no matter how many people there are around you,
it's still a one-person act to survive. More importantly, leave an exemplary trail, pave it well for others to follow. When you reach the top, full of scars and bruises, just remember that the feat purges the pain and torment, and replaced with an incomparable fulfillment. But the journey doesn't stop there. Somehow, you've got to move on.
From my room, I can see Mt. Apo every morning but not until my climb had I thought of something that connected me to her. Every time I see the peak, I feel proud that I have actually been there. No matter how painful the climb was, the experience was beyond anything I have ever experienced in
my entire life. I realized that I didn't actually conquer Mt. Apo, it was she who conquered me.
Ian resides in Davao City. He spends weekdays searching for feature stories for his column in a local paper, and surfing the Net. On weekends, he is either out wall climbing, looking for adventure, or just sleeping in. He has a passion for chicken barbeque, romantic movies, and tube rafting.
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