A mountain paradise

I’ve always enjoyed hiking, but these days my body is complaining more about it than my brain is. I really need to exercise more regularly otherwise hiking will become more of a impossible dream than a possible reality. Take for instance my trip to Batad with some friends of mine. After a 9 hour overnight bus ride and a hour or so hanging on for dear life at the back of a jeepney we arrived at the summit near the small town of Batad. We took a deep breath of fresh air, snapped a few obligatory photos and threw the packs on our backs with enthusiasm and expectancy.

We had heard about Batad and wanted to see if it was as idyllic as the tourism brochures and tourists blogs had made it seem. As we made our way down the stepped path winding its way down into the valley below we watched the traditional ceremony being conducted in the distance. Red smoke wafted from one of the distant ridges as tribal people appeared to pray and dance around the fire. We never did get the real story behind it though.

After a hearty lunch of omelet and pita bread with mountain tea we unpacked things and decided to embark on our first adventure (as if the events of the night and morning had not been enough for any intrepid adventurer). The local people told us that the waterfall was worth visiting so we got a few directions (which consisted of its over there beyond that ridge) and set out with our cameras and day packs. As we approached the rice terraces that we needed to navigate we split up into two groups. Not by choice mind you. I followed one of my friends and the rest decided to go a different way after getting some bargains and better directions at one of the huts on the way. They ended taking the line of least resistance across the rice terraces about halfway up the mountain. But my friend and I founded some less well maintained tracks up and down and across the terrace walls. We knew that we were taking the alternative route about half way into it when we spotted our friends having a easier time of it. But through sheer force of will and some creative negotiations and climbing we made our way to the meeting point on the opposite ridge via part of the town in the valley. I’m still perplexed as to how these people who are often 80+ make there way up and down the terraces gracefully and effortlessly. I did notice that part of the trick lies in rocking from side to side as they negotiated the small rock steps spaced diagonally on the sides of the terrace walls. There’s gotta be more to it than that though cos I still looked more like a bumbling tourist than a seasoned old timer. Upon arriving we made friends with the local children who then showed us the way to the path after we “bribed” them with some snacks. Then we breathed a sigh of relief as we looked at the downward path entering the next valley. It was a welcome relief to our tired and sweaty bodies. After taking one wrong path (stay to the left) we found our way to the lookout and beheld one of the most beautiful and powerful waterfalls I have ever seen. We took a few pics and then descended to take a dip in the “cool” waters. When everyone plucked up the courage and after much coaxing we all decided to brave the current and try our luck at going into deeper water closer to the waterfall. One of the guys (Kirk) and myself ended up being a little braver or crazier than the others by struggling our way around the edge of the far rocky shore to get in behind the waterfall. I tell you, it’s easier said than done. The only point of real nervousness came on the way out as my knee smashed into a submerged rock and the underwater current threatened to pull me back in under the waterfall. Having been suitably refreshed we took more pics and then made our way back up the path that seemed to wind endlessly upwards. Then we navigated a little more successfully the route back to our accommodation at Simon’s Inn on the opposite ridge.

I think I went to bed about 6pm that night as I hadn’t slept for the previous 3 nights and felt like my legs were about to give way. I slept through the night until about 8am the next day which was a welcome relief. And surprisingly enough, my legs didn’t feel too bad in the morning. So with plenty of rest and motivation to do some more exploring we decided to tackle to opposite ridge again, but this time we would go up to the viewpoint rather than down to the waterfall. My legs almost gave in a few times as I felt like “the little train that couldn’t” more than the one that could. But the view was worth it (I think, but can’t be too sure because I still had to go down again afterwards). But with the little side to side action and the force of gravity helping me I wobbled my way back down the mountain after getting all the rest and nourishment I could. We then managed to find our way to a little place to eat down in the valley where Chris and I had gotten geographically embarrassed the previous day.

One of my favourite things about Batad is the inquisitive and playful children who played “swordsman” using bamboo poles with us, a form of hopscotch and some other games we just made up on the spot. Then we got directions to a hanging bridge we had heard about which were surprisingly accurate, except for the fact that they forgot to tell me about the man-eating dog that tried to attack me. I was in his back yard mind you! But then again in my defense, you never know what marks one’s persons property from the next one or if the fence means “keep out” or “come in”. We did, nevertheless, make it to the hanging bridge and manage to pluck up the courage to float and walk down the river and around the rocks.

If you ever get the chance, try standing face forward leaning into a fast current (you just need a sloping rock to stand on which enables you to stay in one place). I’ve never been sky diving but I’m sure the sensation is the same! A little nerve wracking at times when the pressure threatens to sweep you away but an awesome experience as your immoveable body and the opposing power leaves you with an almost weightless feeling.

The sun was going down so we decided it was time to make our way back to the inn which was pretty much straight up from where we were. Let me give you some advice at this point, don’t try to make your way through rice terraces at night. The paths are barely noticeable during the day let alone in fading light or darkness. Suffice to say, we learnt the hard way.

That night we stayed up playing a little cards and decided to leave the following morning because a friend from Manila was expecting us to come and visit him in the mountains close to where we were. It may have been “close” but it still took us 4 jeepney rides including one mudslide obstacle, several hours of traveling. Not to mention plenty of stares by locals who found it hilarious that 3 out of the 5 us insisted on sitting on the roof of the jeepneys as they wound through the mountain roads. We arrived at the "nearby" town (which we though was our destination) at about 4.30pm only to find out we need to hike for another 4 hours literally “into the clouds”. It brought a new realization to the quote that “we walk by faith not by sight” as we navigated our way up the mountain passes as the sun went down and the moon shone dimly on the other side of the mountain we were climbing. But we made it to our destination around 9pm that night. Native duck soup, vegetables and mountain rice has never tasted so good! We all collapsed into bed under mosquito nets and finally fell asleep to the sound of mosquitoes trying to find an alternate route under the mosquito nets and sink their teeth into our sweet white skin.

The next day we did it all in reverse and trudged, rnn or rolled our way down the mountain, into a tricycle and then onto a bus back home to Manila. The tourism brochures and tourists blogs were right. It is a mounatin paradise.