This is an excerpt from an email I sent my loving partner:
Some people try to satisfy this impulse by doing things that may be considered as adventurous. Think of all the adventure that new gadgets, video games and malls that are out there can offer. For those who want more, there are the movies and better yet, scandalous and contemptuous behavior!
If resources and time will allow, people can travel. For those who want more, there are more challenging activities like kayaking, climbing, trekking and caving. I chose climbing of course.
Looking into the Crater of Taal Volcano (311m ASL - Batangas, Philippines) 2004
But as they say, it is hard to explain why climbing is so exhilarating and addictive. It is impossible to rationalize why climbers will take risks that most persons would shy away from. As for me, the experience of reaching the summit is almost a religious one. In overcoming all adversity on the way to the peak, seeing that there is no where else to go, and the understanding how insignificant I am compared to the vastness before me, brings a sort of peace. At that moment, I feel so tiny that my name no longer means anything.
It’s ironic that reaching the top can be looked upon as conquering the mountain, yet in reaching it, you come to realize that you are nothing - that nothing was really conquered.
I guess the experience is different for everybody. But in arriving back in Manila, I found myself to be more contemplative, more thoughtful.... and searching."
-April 6, 2005
Mt. Tapulao (2037m ASL - Iba, Zambales, Philippines) April 2005
The peak is blanketed by dwarfed and knarled trees so twisted into each other that deviating from the trail would require the use of bolo or machete to penetrate the vegetation.
Mt. Tapulao 1 Hour Away From the Summit (2037m ASL - Iba, Zambales, Philippines) April 2005
Being a Filipino means living with a sort of cognizance of supernatural entities existing in a monistic world - which coexist in an uncomfortable manner with the dualistic world view of heaven and earth which originated outside of the orient. Priests and ministers easily dismiss these entities as fairytales yet claiming the greatest fairytale of all as the source of all the truths in the universe. But it means little to me whether they do exist or not. What I am concerned about is how it affects me. How looking into that thick cover of knarled trees wells up a primaeval fear in me.
Who stares back from within the green darkness? What life breathes from within the thick blanket of moss that covers each and every branch? Where will this lead us when you cannot see the sky and the general rule is to stay on the trail that leads to higher ground?
Mt. Tapulao - Clouds Rolling In (2037m ASL - Iba, Zambales, Philippines) April 2005
In the same way that devout church goers are silent inside cathedrals, we traversed silently and reverently through the eerie silence and afternoon darkness in a sort of resignation to the fate of travellers led astray by enkantada who neither needs to hide or be fleeting for the forest are theirs. So silent we must be, basking in our culture and history, knowing who we were and needing not the utterance of others to tell us of our place in this world. We knew who we were and the forest knows us by name.
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