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.
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