04.13.07 travel article

Canlaon ressurection

On a clear day, Mt. Canlaon can be seen throughout most of the coast of Western Cebu. Through the watery wall of the Tanon Strait between the islands of Negros and Cebu, the majesty of this still intermittently active volcano is evident. And there is the mystery as well as most of the time, even on a clear day, this volcano is cloud swathed, allowing only brief glimpses of its entire glory. And then only if one were watching closely.

Most mountaineers in Cebu look westward to this mountain with longing and determination. This mountain is a must climb. At more than 6,000 feet in elevation at its peak, this clearly is a worthwhile challenge for which the peaks in Cebu are mere practice grounds.

On almost an offhand invitation, I had my chance of a lifetime. I never really thought much about it before then. It was quite enough for me to have climbed Mt. Cuernos de Negros or Talinis Peak for three times, though only once did we get as far as Lake Nailig.

With just a single preparatory climb from Napo, Guadalupe to the RCPI towers – actually there are few more towers in this facility, but as RCPI first established their transmission towers here, the name has stuck – two days before our departure I wasn't too sure of my level of readiness.

But we were in high spirits as we left the South Bus Terminal. It was dampened a bit when we missed our boat in Toledo. We missed it by a few minutes and watched it leave its berth. Instead of being the daredevil driver, drivers on this route are known for, our driver decided to take his sweet time.

I was just told this. I didn't really know how the trip went. I was, very unusually for me who cannot sleep even on a transcontinental flight, fast asleep and awoke only when the bus was approaching Toledo City.

This didn't frazzle me as much as my discovery when we settled in to the Toledo City Pier Terminal to wait for the next boat to San Carlos City. Somehow during the bus trip my reading glasses had slipped off my pants pocket. Panic! How was I going to send annunciatory and receive congratulatory SMS messages from and to the peak?

Fortunately, Acebedo Optical was there to the rescue. I bought another pair. I consoled myself with the thought that at least I am a few peso bills lighter. For mountaineers lighter is always best.

We arrive at the JCC Business Inn in Canlaon City to an already cool evening. At 1,300 feet in elevation Canlaon City is about as high up as the RCPI towers. We fill up our climb permit applications and was soon hit with some unexpected news. The permit costs a steep P300 per climber; P200 for students. But wee take this all in good stride with a few muted grumblings. There was no way to turn back because of this. Besides, we thought, this was going to help the conservation and management of the Canlaon National Park.

We retire to our rooms, four persons each in two double deck bunks, and sleep in what would essentially be our most comfortable in the next two nights.

The following morning was bright and wet. It had rained while we slept. Good, we thought, this would bring water up the mountains, bad, because it would mean clouds, fog and near zero visibility. Still, we only had to look up at Mt. Canlaon that, from our vantage point in the market where we had breakfast and where I scoured around for supplies I forgot to bring along – a pair of gloves, a notebook and a pen, -- was as dry as a virgin.

At 7.30 we promptly left the hostel for our jump-off point. It was not as near prompt enough for our habal-habal drivers who were contracted the previous night for their services and who then proceeded to drive like absolute maniacs over roads that alternated between good enough concrete to rock strewn to mucky mush to dusty gravel.

After the forest guards at the detachment in Sitio Maput determine that our permits were in order our climb begins. In 10 minutes we stop to take our first rest. Eyebrows going up, right? But, consider, in this short time we had climbed from 1,300 feet to 3,500 feet. The math is easy to do. What is not so easy is the fact that that simple math does not take into account the 25-30 kilo packs on our backs. Here, we were thankful for the cloud cover. Without the clouds the equation would have spelled impossible. Or, nearly unbearable.

But, it was not only bearable, but, in a somewhat perverse way, even enjoyable. Especially when we got into the forest and as we got higher, we were walking virtually on the clouds, through fog, even when the vegetation becomes tighter. While this is a problem, especially with our big packs, it is also a help. The vegetation assists us in hauling ourselves and our packs up steep embankments. They relieve the pressure from our feet as our hands, arms and upper body take over. And then, with the cold – the temperature hitting the low 17s degree centigrade – it was imperative that we keep moving.

After steadily climbing for 7 hours, and clawing our way up through cogon and scrub in the last fifty feet of almost vertical climb, we break through to Mt. Makawiwili peak. It was suggested that we make camp there. But this suggestion lost out to the more reasonable argument that there was nothing to see there, the promontory was too small for five two-person tents and that there was still time to make it to the originally planned camp site at the shoulder.

It took another two hours, through sheer drops and even denser and more formidable vegetation. We broke through the forest into a windswept, rain lashed and fog clad open ridge. We immediately scoured for spots to pitch our tents. This was not easy as the choice spots had already been taken. There must have been a dozen or so tents already in place.

But we found our spots. It was good foresight for us to decide to bring along packed lunch and dinner. It was simply too windy and too cold to be outside the tent cooking. Once our tents were secured and we crawled in there was no going out. Those who did because of the call of nature reported bone chilling cold and jaw numbing wind.

We retired early. There was nothing else to do. Yet, this forced rest was good for our tired and badly battered bodies.

The morning was not much better than the evening before. It was still very foggy. It still rained intermittently. And, the wind though not as gusty. By 6am the tents were all astir. Some were even being taken down. We prepared breakfast hopeful still that the fog would break, the sky would clear and we would have a chance to summit.

Our patience paid off. By 8.30 it was clear enough to see the peak and another group had already made a beeline towards it. We soon followed suit. t At 9am, victory! We made it! Out came our canned victory drinks. Out came the cameras, the mobile phones. Pictures were taken, video footages made. Text messages flew thick and fast. One call was even connected. Surprisingly from and to a Sun Cellular Network phone.

Six hours later we were at Camp Sunflower. We camped at a field that was abloom with sunflower look alike flowers, hence the camp name. The descent was even more punishing. It killed my right foot big toe nail and seriously battered the other toes. But everything else was OK, including my resolve, now resurrected: Next, Mt. Apo!