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.