UNFINISHED BUSINESS

“Test of Endurance” was a blog entry that I found in the internet describing the trek to Tarak Ridge that we were about to do last Sunday, 2/2/2020. I sort of bragged about it to my friends as a way of announcing what I was up to. Test of endurance nga talaga.

Our target was to trek all the way up to Tarak Peak in Mount Mariveles, ascending about 700 meters through a dense forest that would open up to an exposed windy ridge finally leading up to the peak. From jump off point to peak and back is about 15 kilometers altogether, and is classified as a “major climb” by mountaineering clubs. I checked out the internet for pictures of the ridge including the magnificent view from the ridge, and I could envision our own photos and the awesome 270 degree view of Cavite, Manila, and Central Luzon, with Corregidor and Manila Bay in the foreground, and the rest of the densely forested Mariveles Mountain in the background.

The Pinoy Mountaineers website recommends 2 days to do this. Jeff figured we could skip the overnight camp and just do the 6 hour trek in a full day. Looking at the trail map, I figured it to be an elevation ascent of only 700 to 800 meters.

In my mind, that seemed doable for a nearly 70-year old man accompanied by his grandsons: Elijah (16), Edan (13), Titus (11), plus three climber-hobbyists: Jeff Tanael, Al Magondacan, and Orly de la Luna Perilla. Only Al had been on this trail before; so he was our designated guide.

The old lady at the registration station advised that we would be better off just staying at the ridge today, and avoiding the short attempt to the peak, because that would be exposed to high winds, and the knife ridge at that point would be too narrow and the exposure to left or right would be dangerously perilous. I thought to myself, it’s the dreams that adventures are made of. I’ll sign up for that any time!

Let me skip to tell you how it ended: we failed to make it to the ridge and the peak. We got lost in the jungle woodlands and this misadventure became the great adventure.

Starting off from a newly paved concrete road, we trekked inside the woodlands passing through a variety of trails and ascents. Although the trail was well travelled, large portions of it were strewn with rocks and fallen trees.

After two and a half hours, we reached some sort of a base camp. where there must have been 30 or 40 tents pitched beside a clean flowing stream. The last water source.

At that point, we wandered around the campsite and the stream, then set off for the supposed 2-hour or so assault to the ridge. Distracted by the busyness of the campsite and eager to move on, we took the wrong path. But instead of backtracking completely, Al (who was leading the way) led us to what he thought would be a short-cut that would lead us back to the main trail. But this meant scrambling up a steep ravine. Everyone was hoping that the trail connection would be just a few meters up. But by the time we had moanfully clawed our way up the equivalent of maybe a 15-storey building, mind you with no trail to follow, we eventually reached the top of that ravine and came upon a level-ish trail. We had found ourselves on top of a “ridge”, not THE ridge, but a ridge nonetheless.

And so we felt relieved that we seemingly were back on track, and that this ridge would lead us to the main ridge that would lead to the peak. But things didn’t look right for me. This trail looked like no one had passed through it in years. The “trail” was densely covered with leaves; there were no shoe marks (despite the hundreds of trekkers who visit here every week), and no scuff markings on the moss-covered rocks, or no smoothened hand grips on the trees; and there were so many rattan vines crisscrossing the path as if no one had ever really passed here before. Stubbornly, we ascended on that steep, but “false” trail along this ridge until we found ourselves in a flat section with many optional false trails. I spoke out and said that this would be a random choice, because there were many visible options, and no one was really sure we would be taking the right one. I declared that if we proceed to follow one, how sure are we that we will be able to find our way back? Everyone knew what I was saying, and although at this point we seemed lost, we knew we could still find our way back. But everyone could see that I was right, considering that there was no longer any clearly defined trail-looking path. So, we all decided to just head back and return to the river camp and begin anew. We had lost one hour already.

Two prayers were going on in my mind. I was praying to the Good Shepherd to lead us in the right path. And I was reciting a verse from the song of Moses: “The Lord is my strength and my salvation”, as I was beginning to experience the beginning of aches in my back, legs, and feet. I felt burdened with oncoming guilt in case something ever happened to any of my three grandsons. I also sensed that our climbing buddies, Jeff, Al, and Orly, must have also felt responsible for the safety of the three boys and this 68-year old man. I thanked God for them.

The problem was that even as we retraced the way back down through the false path, it also led to a dead end. We had no choice but to return to the river camp via the steep ravine that we came up from. Descending would be super-dangerous, but we had no choice. Good news and bad. The descent wouldn’t be tiring, because gravity was our ally. But it had to be done slowly and needed to be very calculated, because gravity is a treacherous beast. Fortunately, there were a few roots and small trees and saplings that we could hold on to. We just needed to grab hold of the sturdy ones, turn and face the mountain wall, and grope with our feet for somewhere solid to land on. Or, in some cases, we would have to be on all fives (two hands, two feet, and a butt), and sort of slide down making sure that our feet were firmly planted on something solid. Edan and Elijah went ahead, assisted by Jeff. Al and Orly together attended to Titus. I was last to descend, and above Titus, constantly encouraging him to take the correct posture: “face the mountain”, “climb down backwards”, “grab the tree, and don’t let go until your footing is secure.”

After Titus would be secure about every three meters or so, I would confidently take my turn, shift from sapling to sapling, and make my way down to where Titus and his assisting buddies would be deciding their next move. Then at one point, when I got to reach the side of Titus, the rock that I landed my foot on somehow came loose and gave way. But I had already let go of my secure handhold, so I started sliding down a 75 degree slope with nothing to hold on too. All this while my feet were trying to dig in to the soft but dry crumbly soil, and hoping that it would lock on to something firm. I must have slid down about 10 meters before my feet found something solid. Immediately when I started my slide, Al literally jumped down to chase after me, but he had momentum and himself couldn’t stop his slide. At about this time, fortunately my descent was slowing down to a stop, and as soon as Al passed me I quickly grabbed hold of his hand, and arrested his fall. Al got up first, and asked me if I had any injuries, broken bones, or broken camera. I had several scrapes on my arm and legs as my souvenir of that experience, nothing more. Thank you, Lord! Actually that was a frightfully close call for both Al and me.

When we all happily got back down to the stream, we got our bearings and took our packed lunch. We all assumed that that was it and that we just needed to rest before heading back to civilization. Each one seemed to have mixed emotions: relief that we were back in safe, familiar ground; but saddened that we wouldn’t be able to achieve what we came for. We didn’t think we had enough time because we had lost 2 hours on the misadventure, and the peak was still far off, plus we had to consider the time it would take to go back before dark. Al felt guilty for leading us astray, but we cheered him on and said this was a great adventure.

That’s why it seemed okay to declare that we had enough adventures for the day. “It’s not the destination. It’s the journey,” was what I was quoting, hoping to lift up our spirits and to teach my grandsons a lesson. But Jeff wanted to teach us a different lesson. “This is unfinished business,” he was saying over and over, looking at us in the eye. He was bargaining, because we couldn’t just leave it at that. The mountain needed to be scaled, and already he was planning a return trip if today wasn’t going to be the day; we would come back some other time.

There were other climbers returning back from the peak and passing us. After a couple of groups passed us, I decided to ask the third group how long it took them to go up and back. We started to calculate in our minds if we still had time. Another group passed, and we asked them again. Finally, someone in the next group said, “Kaya naman, pero dapat fast-paced”. I looked at my watch, and it was only 12:37 p.m., and we all figured that we could make it back in time with enough light, if only we didn’t delay. That’s when seven manly voices all said, “Let’s do it!” We quickly gulped the last bites of our lunch, and bravely set off for the assault.

Elijah and Edan set the pace as if it was a walk in the park. The big ones plus Titus followed with only adrenalin pumping through our tired bodies. Titus and I went ahead, with Jeff, Al, and Orly following closely behind. It was quite a steep first leg, though, and it didn’t seem to let up. And the elder boys quickly disappeared from sight. The youngest, Titus, who had earlier been all glib and engaged, was now silently keeping pace with me. I figured he must be tired himself because he was quiet.

It seemed that this section of the trail was even steeper than the others that we had passed in the morning. I was beginning to huff and puff and felt I just had to rest often to catch my breath. The ascent was unrelenting and steep, and the ridge seemed nowhere in sight. It was becoming evident that our energy was waning, because whenever I would slow down and stop to catch my breath, I could see Jeff, Al and Orly also needing to catch their breath.

It was at this point when we conferred again and agreed that we will give this our best shot and go as far as we could, but that by 2:30 p.m. wherever we are, “finished or not finished”, we would have to head back. It was vital that we needed light to complete the trek back. You see, 95% of the trail was littered with rocks, and roots, and hardly a patch of smooth ground, and so we needed light. None of us brought headlamps.

But at around 1:30pm, after about 45 minutes of this fevered attempt, our pace was getting slower and our rests more frequent. It was no longer an assault, but a grind. And that’s when I voiced out everyone’s felt, but unspoken, “let’s head back” cue. And I think in relief, Jeff, Al and Orly agreed.

We gave it a shot, and we had our manly dignity intact. But it was unsafe and irresponsible to proceed, not just for our sake, but also for the little boys’ sakes.

The last challenge was how to recall the two elder boys, Elijah and Edan, who sped way ahead. Al, who was the stronger of us all, volunteered to chase after them. Thank God for him. I blew my whistle blaster, hoping it would be loud enough for Elijah to hear. The monkeys heard it. The birds heart it. But Elijah was too far uphill to hear. Turns out, he himself was blowing his whistle repeatedly trying to signal for us to catch up with them.

And we were all glad we aborted at that point. Had we decided to push for the ridge, it would have taken longer than ambitioned, and would have sapped our remaining energy. Returning before dark would have been impossible. As it is, even without completing the ascent, our return trek was painfully tiring and seemed to take forever.

Somewhere on the return leg, we celebrated with a drone shot at the one and only patch of clearing throughout that 8-hour journey. It was the only place where we could see the horizon and Corregidor in Manila Bay.

Before the climb, the boys and I prayed for safety. God answered. We prayed for good weather. God answered it. We prayed for strength. God answered our prayer. We prayed for good fellowship and fun. God answered it. And while wandering aimlessly in the forest, I prayed that we would find our way back. God answered it.

Funny, but what we didn’t pray for was to reach the summit. After all, we assumed we would get to it if only we had good weather and enough strength, and kept safe. So, God didn’t bother about us reaching the summit. And we didn’t.

Elijah agreed with me, when we were processing our experience, that perhaps God prevented our reaching the peak because He was sparing us from an even greater tragedy. Who knows? But whatever God’s reason, we knew and believed that God was at work looking out for our good (Rom 8:28). By God’s grace, we all survived and had a great time notwithstanding.

I’m certain that the boys all have excellent memories and a great manhood experience that will last them a lifetime. We learned about determination and perseverance and never giving up. About wise decision making. About encouraging one another. About assisting the weaker, and making sure that we look out for each other. About risking everything and coming to the rescue.

Jeff is already planning a second attempt.