The Climb (part 4)

Smacked in middle of the sparse vegetation is the base camp of Mt. Sembrano, complete with all its amenities - water source 5 minutes away, flat ground for the tent, and nearby thick bushes which would serve as nature’s comfort room.

(Warning. Mountain climbing is not for the squeamish or the weak-hearted. When push comes to shove, you would have to dig up a hole amidst the undergrowth to answer the call of nature. Pray that momma nature doesn’t give you the kind that could only be stopped by Immodium.)

We had our late lunch at the base camp – rice, luncheon meat and Lucky Me instant pansit canton cooked up by Jhoc and James.

It must be the dire need for energy source or the communion with nature or the scarcity of luxuries but out there, ordinary food tasted heavenly; trumping even those chef’s specialties in hotels. We wolfed the food in no time, though careful not to overconsume lest we receive a call from mother nature.

Feeling inutile, I volunteered to wash the utensils and the cook set afterwards. In climbing there is that tacit agreement of division of labor. You let others do the tasks in their field of expertise. Since am no expert in pitching tents or cooking rice or opening cans with a spoon, I took the most macho of all tasks – washing the dishes.

So there I was in the waterfalls of Sembrano busy scrubbing off the stubborn oils from the pans, contemplating upon my newfound competency. Jodl Gayatin EHS expert, and Six Sigma black belt, now also a certified mountain boy and dishwasher extraordinaire.

After what felt like a worthy break, we resumed our trek.

This was where my will got tested. Unlike the first part, the other half of the trail was now mostly assault - with inclines as steep as 45 degrees. In physics terms (here’s where the geeky part of me steps in), it was not only the X displacement that was tiring us. There was now the force along the Y, the eeeevil gravity that was taking the toll on our bodies. And with the heavy packs that we were lugging, every step was hell.

I was beginning to feel the tiredness and the pain. Every 5 minutes or so I would stop by to catch my breath. The memories of the sumptuous meal was fast slipping away.

I thought about my officemates and wondered how would they have handled the situation. Martin might have backed out because of his back problem. Lester might have surrendered with his dislocated shoulder. Gian… well he’s the metrosexual of the Big Brother facility, he would have opted to stay in the base camp near the water source.

(Another warning: Mountain climbing is not for the compulsively vain or the cultured metrosexual. Out there in the wild, you would have to live without the toners, the scrub, the facial cleanser and other stuff you get to see in those grooming kits. In some places where water is scarce you would have to forego bath for at least 24 hours.)

The thought of my officemates brought me a new surge of energy. I was still annoyed at them but now it was pride that got me marching on. I just had to find myself up there in the summit so I could narrate the details of my conquest come Monday and make them feel they had made the wrong decision.

Though tired I still took note of how my teammates were doing and they were consistent; Jhoc still the perky trailblazer, James still the Axe perspirant endorser and Win, still the huffing and puffing Michelin incarnate.

After about 1 or 2 hours in the woods (which seemed to last a lot longer) we hit the grassy area where the trail leveled off (yeba!!!!!).

Apparently my relief was short-lived because 10 minutes later we hit off another incline (aaarghh).

There is truth to the saying that the darkest part of the night happens before dawn. This is where the hardest part of the trail met us. The last leg. The hill before the summit. The final hurdle.

The hill was rather bare and we had to grapple on weeds to haul us up. Win was already tired and Jhoc, saviour as he was, slung on Win’s backpack. I tried to keep a good distance from Win as we maneuvered our way up and for a good reason.

The incline was so steep that any imbalance on his part could send him rolling down. I did not like the idea of a human avalanche hurtling toward me. If I were to appear in the news the day after, I would rather be found in the ravine from a fall than in the trail flattened by a human snowball.

Fortunately none of these grim scenarios happened.

And so it came, like any stories of human hardships, we finally hit the summit just in time to watch the magnificent sunset over Laguna de Bay.

This is the prize that every mountaineer seeks after long bouts of hardships. The view at the summit.

Most would dismiss it as something trivial. Perhaps foolish. For some not worth the trouble maybe.

But up there in the summit… there is that sound that only a mountaineer could hear.

I have heard it before in Matutum. I was hearing it again.

It is that sound of silence as one views the world from the top.

The sound when all the chaos of the world fades in the background and what remains is that deep silence that is moving .

The sound of the eternal.

The sound of the majestic.

And for that moment up there, the mountaineer and the mountain become one.

(fin)

The Climb part 3

The rendezvous was at our old office in Pasong Tamo.

We were supposed to conquer Makiling, but somehow we ended up with Sembrano, a minor mountain in the town of Pililia, Rizal.

James invited two non-officemates to join the climb: Jhoc and Win.

Jhoc had been James’ buddy in previous climbs. The first time I met Jhoc I knew he was a true blue mountaineer. There was something in the way he tied his shoelaces or the way he rolled the flysheet that exuded deft, discipline and bravado. He’s the kind of guy you don’t want to end up in a brawl but would be happy to have in your team.

Win, Jhoc’s cousin, by contrast was at the far end of the spectrum. I knew from the moment he boarded the taxi when we picked him up at the MRT that he was a neophyte. He wore a pair of slippers and lugged a highschool backpack, he might have thought we were in for an afternoon stroll. He bore an uncanny resemblance to a stalker I had in Mindanao so unconsciously I was a bit aloof to him.

In all honesty, I was a bit relieved to have Win with us. There was something intimidating about the way James and Jhoc held their mountain bags. They somehow exuded an air of seriousness about their craft, and I only tagging along for a taste of the mountain was obviously the weakest link.

Having Win with us gave me company in the amateur division, so to speak

We took a taxi to Edsa Central where we boarded on a cramped FX van to Tanay. We bought some stuff first in the market- rice, onion, cooking oil, Generoso brandy - before taking a jeepney to the jump off site.

We registered first at the town hall (which by the way is good practice, so they would have your contact numbers in the event of an emergency).

The trail started off on a slightly inclined road and we began the climb right about noon time. The midday heat was searing but the trees along the road, mostly mangoes, provided good shade.

I was a bit surprised on the level of energy I had that day. It was probably because there was still this remnant anger (for my other officemates abandoning me).

I was channeling it to the heavy and determined strides I made.

Every time we stopped to have a photo op, I made it a point to have my hatred documented. Discreetly, of course.

I would raise my hand then curl my middle finger inward. Fill in the blanks was the caption in my mind. ( It was my subtle way of saying f**k you to my office buddies, haha)

It was my first climb with a group ( I climbed my first mountain- Mt. Matutum, alone) and having folks to chat with somehow made the climb easy. (It was on this climb that I learned the nicknames Empoy and Longgoy)

As I predicted Jhoc was leading the pack. He was skipping from rock to rock like a creature in its own habitat, gung-ho and throwing caution to the wind; his nimbleness, jaw-dropping, his sense of balance, impeccable.

James was also a force to reckon with. He might be timid in the office, but out there in the fields, he strode commanding and formidable. He was by far carrying the heaviest load in the group, yet he barely sweated out, like he’s an endorser of Axe antiperspirant or something.

Win as I predicted was a mess. He was sweating profusely and his white shirt-oops wrong choice there- has turned into a rag of sweat, grime, and dirt. He looked worse than that guy in the Tide commercial dragged across the mud.

The ascent was rather easy and before we knew it we hit the base camp. Freshly picked coconuts at 10 PhP a pop were a welcome sight. I guzzled 2 nuts worth of juice in less than a minute. I was rather disappointed that the climb had been easy…

Little did I know we were only half way through and that the harder part of the trail was still up ahead.