A virgin in the mountain

I always thought that my first climb will be Mt. Makiling. I bear the shame of not having climbed it yet even if I have lived at its foot for nearly a decade. There is an unspoken tradition among soon-to-be graduates of UPLB--that one must climb the mountain that nursed him/her before leaving Maria's land. I haven't done this, perhaps because I haven't left Los Baños. Yet.

Thankfully, my virginal spell in mountain climbing was broken when my cousins and I headed to Cuenca, Batangas to trek in the well-known Mt. Maculot. I was excited at the thought of it but could not really wallow in it days before because of things needed to get done. I was so busy that on the day of the climb, I only brought my wallet, cellphone, a bottle of water and gatorade, a towel and an extra shirt. I know mountaineers would frown at me because as my cousin who has climbed a dozen or so mountains told me, the golden rule in mountain climbing is to make sure that you can provide for your own needs. Good thing I can be a freeloader in the company of my cousins.

We arrived at the foot of the mountain around 6am. We had coffee at Mang Manuel's house, a resident there that offers services to visitors. He built a bathroom outside his house especially for mountain climbers, and for a minimal fee they can take a bath after the hike. Other houses leading to the start of the trail also have signs posted outside announcing that they accept muddied people in their bathroom.

The mountain we had to conquer.
Photo from http://www.panoramio.com/photo/16057536

Before we finally started the climb, we stuffed ourselves with sandwiches and coffee, stretched, and prayed for a safe adventure. As with all other things, the way to the top is difficult. My heart beat so fast I thought it left me already and went ahead on top of the mountain. I thought it would explode and smash the rest of me into million little me. We had to stop at almost all the rest stations because my cousins and I had to catch our breath, wait for our heart to return when it notices that it had left the body that housed it panting, almost dying.

Another difficulty was the slippery trail because the soil in some parts was already eroded, plus the fact that I was only wearing a semi-appropriate foot wear for the trek. I had to rest my life in fragile-looking tree branches and grass that had I not grabbed them in time, I would have come rolling down the trail. Not a good sight.

Some rest stations have a makeshift store with a roof for vendors who have to climb the mountain whenever there are visitors, which is about almost every day because Mt. Maculot is known to be a relatively easy trek that even virgin mountain climbers like me could endure. Mostly though, the weekends are the best time to sell their halo-halo, mineral water, fresh buko, snacks, etc. We started our trek early though so we only had a group of four men from Mandaluyong (labas) on our tail.

When the trees gave way to the tall grasses, my cousin said that we were nearing the peak. We could already hear mumblings of overnight campers and We could already see the whole of the town and the Taal lake and the volcano, which a day after our climb started to become dangerous. Everyone was hyped up to see the view from the top because a sea of fog blurred the landscape.

The campsite near the peak

After a few more forced steps and deep breaths, we thought we finally reached the top--but we only reached the camping site. We had to climb rocks to get to the top and see the killer view. As a reward to ourselves, they laid down at the table all the food in their backpack and we attacked the food like a predator that has not eaten for days.

There were campers when we arrived, cooking their breakfast, and there was a store with a friendly female vendor and her grumpy young son. After a quick bite and taking some pictures in the camping site, we headed to the top. I had to extend my short arms and legs to reach the next rock in order to get to the peak. It was not an easy feat, especially if the fear of falling lurks at the top of my mind. I had to muster enough will to topple that thought and then focus and concentrate on moving my feet and upper body. Once, when I was struggling to pull myself up, my head hit a big rock. My cousins asked me if I was okay because they actually heard the rock hit my skull. I thought my skull broke. It felt numb. But there was no bleeding and I can still walk, so everything's all right, I said.

Then it started to rain. Hard. The fog rolled in automatically, slowly blocking our view of the lake and the volcano. When we reached the peak, we had to hurry to take our pictures because the heavy rain bothered us. Good thing one of us brought a waterproof camera. After a while, however, we gave up minding the rain and just savored the moment that we were on top of the mountain seeing the world in a different perspective--even for a while.

My cousins and I at the top of the mountain, all wet because of the rain.

Fearing the onslaught of flu, we decided to head back to the campsite, took a short rest, said another prayer then proceeded to go down. The group of men from Mandaluyong was already there and asked to take their photo with us. We bid goodbye to our new friends and to the friendly lady in the store and her grumpy son. She told us to come back, but her son told us not to. His father scolded him for saying that.

The trek down was easier. As we defy gravity hiking down the slippery mountain, we met a lot of other climbers. There was a group of middle-aged foreigners and Filipinos, two pairs of lovers, a group of girls, and a soloist. Sometimes we'd greet them first; other times, they'd greet us and ask if it's still a long way to the top. At times, they would commend us for having reached the top, and I have to admit I felt proud of our achievement, especially that only two of us are experienced mountain climbers. We would end our small talks with these nice strangers with a wish to a safe climb.

After 30 minutes or so, we were back at Mang Manuel's lot. It was almost lunch time so we ate whatever was left of our baon. We also bought halo-halo from the neighbor, a bad move given that it was cold because of the rain and some of us have not yet changed to dry clothes. Nonetheless, we ate what we paid for P20.

As with all other first time experience, the climb to Mt. Maculot is a memory to keep. It was a good chance for us cousins to bond together and to encourage each other to have an active lifestyle, especially my younger cousins who sit in front of their computer for almost the whole day.

Me at the top

As for me, I was at home with the mountain, having been living in one for all I can remember. The sight of greens may be a familiar one, but i felt a certain kind of  excitement of having gained a new experience, an experience I hope I'll remember when I finally venture to conquer Maria Makiling's abode soon.