Gustong Makalimutan ang Natutunan

I've been going through some pictures from Lomo and other toy cameras at Flickr and reminisced about the time in high school when I had access to a darkroom, and would sometime skip school to hide out under the Sydney Harbour Bridge at its northern end and just while away the afternoon taking pictures of things and stuff, and not really being sure if they came out sharp or if I got the exposure right. I'd be carrying a twin lens Yashica medium format camera and an old Pentax K-something SLR with match needle light meter.



I liked to experiment then. The whole process was an experiment. It was like, "...for all you know, you could end up with a nice frame that will be ruined by air bubbles during film development so don't bother yourself too much about composition and stuff." It was almost like alchemy.



Part of the fun of creating idiot-angled pictures was the development. I thoroughly enjoyed pushing the Ilford films to really get that grainy look. However I try, I can't get the velvety look of those really large format pictures of the dead or dying masters; so, if you can't go one way, go the opposite way: underexpose and push (double or even triple the time it would normally take soaking the film in the developer) to really get the grains popping out everywhere.



I miss those days. I had the keys to the darkroom and had an almost unlimited supply of film at my disposal. I was one of those students who have shown genuine enthusiasm towards the arts and was encouraged by our art teacher, Mr. Cummerford, to really try anything. With encouragement I meant providing us with all the resources that we need to produce our artworks.



Looking at my contact prints then never fails to bring a smile in my eyes. I'd shake my head at a whole roll of underexposed or underdeveloped film ? who knows how that happened - then I'd smile at my attempts to recover by using red filters during the printing process. I'd fall in love with the old images again and wonder how it would look like blown up.





Something is missing when I take pictures as an enthusiast nowadays. My youth? The uncertainty in using b&w film and developing it myself? The thrill of seeing your images for the first time?



Do I dare say that being a beginner allowed me the freedom to do things how my creative self deem it fit to be done? And how about the enthusiasm that this brings?



Taking pictures nowadays feel almost mechanical. It seems as if I must fulfill the basic requirements of a good picture before caving in to creativity. Now, how to unlearn and feel free again. How not to feel guilty about taking a picture with really bad angles and composition just because it ?feels? right. How not to feel bad when the foreground is out of focus just because you really don't want it focused. How not to feel so conscious about the right exposure because you just want it really dark or really washed out.



I tell myself I can always do it at Photoshop... but how to do it without feeling like you are butchering an image?

Rant...rant...rant...

Pico Redux

Pico de Loro
Ternante, Cavite
February 18, 2006



It hasn't been two months and I'm back climbing Pico de Loro with a different group of people. I wasn't that enthusiastic about climbing Pico again but like Pulag Revisited, this should serve as a challenge in finding something familiar and trying to look at it in a different way.

It was an invitation I cannot refuse. Mai wanted to celebrate her birthday at Cutad Beach considering the fun we all had last time. However, the original group decided to forgo the climb and go straight to the beach. Being climb crazy as we were, Fredd and I decided to go on with the climb from Ternante, Cavite and meet up with the rest at Cutad Beach in Nasugbu, Batangas in the evening. We brought along some UPM batchmates with us hoping they will have as much fun as we had last time.



We followed the same itinerary we used last time. Except for the company and the absence of rain, the whole climb felt like an extended déjà vu of sorts for me.



Since it wasn't such a long trek, we could afford 30 minute rest stops which we made the most of just lying under trees and actually dozing off at times. The good thing about climbing with people you know and like is that it relaxes you to the point that you can actually feel the wind on your face and the grass pressing at your back as you lie in the shade.

We encountered a class from a local college at the falls along the way. I get chatty at times and I've learned that they were there as part of their environmental awareness course. I think it's great what their college is doing. If there is a first step towards protecting the environment, then that would be spreading awareness to what is there, what damage has been done and what can be done to preserve whatever is left.

I have serious doubts about the continuity of these outdoor trips for that college though. Later that day, we learned from other climbers that a student suffered a fall and had to be rushed out of the wilderness. I have to admit, the path leading from the falls was a tad slippery. If you are not used to such terrain then a fall could wedge a limb between two boulders and...and...ugh! I can almost imagine the sound that that would make.

Something I said earlier was bothering members of our climb group. At the Ternante jump-off just after Magnetic Road, is a sort of fixture that most mountaineers climbing Dos Picos are aware of. It is an old woman masquerading as a Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) deputized officer. She asks for registration fees and carries around a thick record book where climbers are supposed to jot down their names and other personal details after paying the necessary fees.

She was asking 20 Pesos from each climber. Most would simply obliged and not think twice about it. But we had a lawyer in our midst and a few government officials at that. Usurpation however petty would not go unnoticed to this group of people. To cut the story short, the 20 Pesos was not given and we heard the old woman saying under her breath, "Kaunting pera lang e pinagkakaila n'yo pa sa matanda. O sige, mag ingat kayo. Sana maging ligtas ang inyong pag akyat na lang." (You deny an old lady such a small amount. No matter, just take care of yourselves. I hope your climb will be safe.) She then walked away with her record book.

No one would have thought anything more about that slight incident except that I had to open my mouth. Being the odd person that I am, I asked when we were at a dark portion of the trail: Do you know those old stories that our grandmothers would tell us about old ladies walking in the forest asking for bread from travelers? She then turn out to be a diwata of sorts - a spirit, letting kind hearted people through and leading the selfish and cold hearted to perish in the depths of the forest. Do you know those stories?

No one answered so I continued: What if old manang over there was a modern version of that? Of course it would be silly for a diwata at this day and age to ask for bread. That would arouse suspicion. So, what if they've changed their tactics and now ask for climbing registration fees?

I now started hearing howls of protests even from the lawyer. But I had to add: What if that book she has is actually the list of names of people who will be allowed to pass through the forest alive? Hey! We haven't jotted our names!

By the time I finished my sentence, I was being rudely told to shut up or die - or something to that effect.



In retrospect, I think it has something to do with what I said that is why only three of us eventually climbed the Pico rock.



After Dos Picos, we made our way to Nasugbu, Batangas. It was uncanny that the moment we exited the trail, the light suddenly died all around us. Perhaps out of ecstasy from escaping Manang's clutches that I heard some thank Manang for letting us through considering we denied her the 20s.

We were waiting in the dark at the side of an unfinished road for our ride to pick us up when things suddenly became queer. I succinctly remember someone wishing for ice cream and almost that instant, we heard something making its way down the dark road. A bicycle with an odd looking sidecar was making its way down. Out of curiosity, I nonchalantly asked if they happen to be carrying ice cream. The two men nodded and everyone stood up trying to make sense of it all.

It was dark and there were no signs of homes nearby and here, in the middle of nowhere was ice cream which happened to show up just when someone wished for it.

Odd and almost magical as it might seem, we ended up buying a scoop or two each. Never underestimate the power of hunger and exhaustion. It was hard to become suspicious of ice cream especially if you've just come from a climb.



As the night progressed, many things were attributed to Manang's supposed powers. Our ride did not arrive and we ended up walking a good 4 kilometers before reaching a house with a parked jeepney. We were about to negotiate for its rental when we found out that that was our ride and that they were waiting for our call which was not possible because there was no signal at the place where we were supposed to be picked up. Next, lawyer entered the jeepney, felt his way around because it was dark, and instinctively sat where a seat was meant to be only to find it missing and fell right through. Later, just before reaching the beach our ride suffered a tire blow out.

The night was turning out to be magical indeed. Everyone opted to be quiet and one even suggested to never speak a word about Manang ever again. I'd love to joke around but there are moments when you can sense that jokes will not go down well with your company.

The night would have been extra special if only we could go for a swim but as luck would have it, the shore belonged to jellyfishes that cool bright evening. Rather than moping around doing nothing, we moped around drinking beers.

I don't know what happened later on as I soon retired into the comfort of my tent, but from accounts I heard in the morning, some drunk assess hijacked a boat and tried their hands at drunk-drowning. Details are sketchy because neither drunk-drowner nor drunk-ass witness could remember clearly what transpired during that blurred evening.



The morning was pleasantly sedate. Most of the people Mai had brought were rushing to get back to Manila to prepare for work on Monday. By late morning, only the group that climbed Pico were left at the beach to cook breakfast, sunbathe and chase fish at the shallow waters of the cove.





There are many experiences in the world that will fail transcription into written language. One of it is the inner peace and subtle happiness a person can feel lying amidst breakwater, under a clear morning sky, with good friends in a secluded cove.



If there were utterances fit to describe such feelings, then it has to be our laughter as it is carried away by the late morning breeze of Cutad Cove.

Pulag Revisited

Mt. Pulag
The Province of Benguet
Feb. 12, 2006



I have sentiments about climbing a mountain for the second time. C'mon, this country is sprawled lengthwise on a section of the Pacific Ring of Fire and volcanoes are strung to its length like beads on a rosary. Why should I climb a mountain for the second time when there are numerous mountains sprawled everywhere that I haven't been to or even know existed?

Well for one, I was an applicant of the Congress Outdoors and had to come - if not to show my colors then perhaps to give them that extra assurance that they are with someone who has recently been there. Except for me and Nap Osorio - one of the founders of this infant association, none had actually been up Mt. Pulag so you can understand their excitement and apprehension.



Veteran climbers can become cocky about how newbies can get all worked up about climbing any mountain. Of course it's fascinating to observe how they'd clutch at their things-to-bring-checklist as if it was their lifeline, or how they'd adjust the straps of their perfectly balanced packs as if it were straps of a climbing harness. I just think it generous to leave them to their excitement by not revealing too much. Fear forces people into preparedness and that is a very good thing in the wilderness.



The first time I climbed Mt. Pulag was through what was known as the Executive Trail or Ambangeg Trail. It is an easy trail with lots of points of interest. If you romanticize walking endlessly in the midst of nature, on a wide open mist laden trail, contemplating your life, the person that you are, your spirituality, then Ambangeg is right for you.



Unlike other trails where your concentration is divided between keeping your feet on the mountain and keeping your lungs inside your chest, Ambangeg allows your mind to wander aimlessly without a care in the world.



I was a tad disappointed though when I heard we will be taking Ambangeg Trail for both the ascent and descent. There was a welling need in me for an adventure and going through familiar paths does nothing to satisfy that need. I was hoping they will choose Tawangan or Akiki Trail, even at least for their descent route.

Though descending Akiki was said to be like sentencing both knees to death, that trail crosses Eddet River and takes you to vistas with more spectacular views than Ambangeg.

How many times can you photograph something before it becomes passé even to you?



I enjoyed Pulag the first time I photographed our journey up her slopes. I was apprehensive that this time I won't find anything novel to take a picture of and return home with a half-full xD Card littered with forced shots of mountaineers posing the same way from one vista to the next.



I was particularly anxious of the possibility that the set I will come up with would look like the set I took a few months back. That would be...disastrous and totally revealing of my lack of creativity and vision! Now really, I'd prefer to go on living not knowing of my non-existent talents. At least that way, I'd go on living feeling good about myself. In this day and age attitude is everything.



Last time I was up Pulag I had with me my Canon EOS 10QD 35mm camera. I had just bought it then from EBay for Php 7,000.00 with kit lens. It is an understatement to say I was happy with my purchase. For something that can shoot 5 frames per second and touted as a semi-pro model, Php 7,000.00 is cheap. Seeing the results of the camera for the first time, I was even more ecstatic with my purchase.

On this climb I left the EOS and in its place my new Fuji Finepix S5600. This was the first time I took a digital camera up a mountain. I was a tad apprehensive of the weather. I was forewarned about exposing the S5600 in moist environments. Images of my EOS 10QD covered in mist on my last Pulag climb come to mind and I can only cringe at the thought of a shorted brand new camera.

As a precaution, I always keep a number of plastic bags handy just in case it rains. In the event of a downpour, the camera goes in the plastic bag and that in turn gets shoved inside the weatherproof bag.

You can always watch out for the rain, but what concerns me the most is the mist that builds on the surface of the camera which eventually forms dew, which in turn could eventually make it into the spaces of the camera controls. That happened to an old Canon T80 of mine when I brought it to Kairukan Falls, Bataan. Before I could wipe the camera down, the shutter soon refused to open but made this faint clicking sound. It also refused to wind in the film. When the opportunity presented itself, I sunned the camera and that sort of lessened the problem and I was able to wind in the film.

You might be wondering what happened to that camera. Well, I brought it to Dong's Camera Repair Shop in Quiapo and had it serviced. It's in perfect working order now - sealed and packed with desiccant. I don't intend to part with it because me and that camera, we go a long way back. It might be littered with frustration but still, sentiments are sentiments.

I almost traded that camera for a 1975 manual SLR but the second hand shop in Australia didn't want the T80. Come to think of it, even shops today don't want the T80 even if you offer it as trade in when purchasing models such as Canon A-1 or AE-1. I think that is pretty sad considering the history behind the T80: it is Canon's first body integrated autofocus SLR camera.



I went on this climb feeling apprehensive about training my camera on things I have photographed before. When I was there however, I found myself remembering how I shot a certain scene and thought of ways to improve it. Like a second chance in life, my mind raced through all the silent wishes and should haves of my first set of Pulag shots and I ended up trying to capture those images the way I had wished to have captured them.



I found the whole experience surprisingly pleasant. It is the same sensation as retaking an exam. Though I feel the slight stress in wanting to capture a particular scene, the knowledge that that image is just around the bend relieves the tension somewhat. I learned that familiarity lends to greater creative flexibility. First encounters tend to stifle creativity as the mind must first come to terms with its new surroundings.



The climb itself was uneventful. It didn't rain though it was cold enough that in the evening, two of our climbers had to be given hot water bottles to hug to stop their intense shivering. One of them complained that she could not breathe but I suspect it is just a normal reaction to the wine they've been drinking. My theory proved correct because she was with us when we took to the peak at pre-dawn.

I usually go from tent to tent in the evening to take tent scenes though obviously, this should be carried out sensibly since you never know what could be going on inside zipped tent walls. Though friends have insisted that a romantic moment in Pulag is not possible given the low temperatures, you can never really tell. If there's a will then there'll definitely be a way.

One of the tents I visited was a Eusebio branded A-tent. I've always liked the way A-tents compress very well when packed as well as being very lightweight. Upon being let in by the occupants, I was curious why they were both wrapped up from head to toe - as if it was colder inside the tent. Scanning around, I learned that the bottom side walls were constructed of screen! Cold air would continually gust through the tent like an efficient internal cooling system - perfect for hot climates but ridiculous at our altitude.

They soon abandoned their tent and moved in at their neighbor's.

It was hard taking photos at night or at dawn in Pulag. The moment I remove my gloves, a quick countdown begins which last for about three minutes before I lose sensation and tactile control of my bare fingers. There was absolutely no way to fiddle with the camera's control with my gloved hands which felt like paws. I was thankful for the camera strap because one of the downside of operating a camera in the dark with numbed hands is the tendency to drop it frequently. Apart from these difficulties, I was able to get a few shots which I could be happy with.

Up at predawn, it is hard to understand what can make a person leave the warmth of his or her tent for outside temperatures that slap you in the face the moment you unzip your tent open. Most would brave the cold but there will be those who'd succumb to the body's yearning to snuggle back inside the tent. This is a good thing too because nothing beats returning to camp with a warm breakfast waiting for you.



The trek to the summit from Camp 2 took about an hour and a half at a very relaxed pace. It was dark and it was difficult to negotiate the well trodden trail which resembled a winding ditch. This forced the foot to point straight ahead ignoring the orientation of the body. It often makes you lose your balance and is very disconcerting in the dark. One of our female companions was having special difficulty negotiating the trail. Being on her first major climb, I decided to lend her my headlamp. That solved her problem but made my situation dire. Next thing you know, she was well ahead, chirpy and happy while I fell, slipped and slopped everywhere.



If I was to make a modern legend of Pulag, I'd tell that the rising sun lays on her fair head a crown of sparkling diamonds every morning - a fitting tribute to her splendor here on earth. Visually, it is somewhat like that especially during December and January when the number of people climbing Pulag peaks.



When the rays of the sun begin to peak out of the horizon, the summit of Pulag becomes engulfed in an almost orchestral explosion of brilliant white flashes - as if gems were being struck by hard light. This occurrence can even be witnessed as far away as Camp 2.



Far from being a natural occurrence, the crown of diamonds is actually the result of point and shoot cameras at the peak misreading the scene and firing the flash at the horizon. At the peak of Pulag's climbing season, anywhere between 50 to 100 point and shoot cameras can be simultaneously making the same error at Auto Mode and firing the flash at the horizon the moment the sun breaks through! The idea is so beautiful that it brings tears to my eyes.



I have shots from the peak from my first climb that I love so much that I couldn't bring myself to even try to surpass it this time around. I remember sitting in a spot hidden from everyone, waiting for the clouds to part to take my shot the first time I was at the peak. This time, I chose to leave that spot to the howling winds. That is the problem with being a romantic - you tend to put too much meaning on something as simple as the western quarter of the summit.



Getting to Pulag is relatively easy. Pick a date, do some aerobic training, organize a group of at least 6 climbers to share the expense of hiring a 4x4 jeep that will take you the various jump-off points and bring you back to town. Once you've got all that on paper, give Park Superintendent Emerita Tamiray a call at 0920-3013932 for reservations. She will present you your options and reserve guides for your team as well as assist you in hiring accredited 4x4 operators to take you there.



For more information, visit http://www.pawb.gov.ph/mt_pulag/pulagvik.htm