Tiger Tales

Adventure: The Long Way Up

 

Lester V Ledesma and his trusty camera embark on a trek to conquer Mount Pinatubo.

First, there’s the terrain – a vast expanse of land reaching out to the horizon, strewn with hills, mountains, streams, rocks, pebbles and boulders the size of Volkswagens. Then there’s the omnipresent sand, which gets into everything and everywhere else.

Finally, there’s the gruelling journey itself – 60 minutes of bumping, grinding and screaming haemorrhoids, followed by two hours of trodding, plodding and screaming legs. Compared to other volcanoes I have been to, this one was an ordeal.

Raw, rugged, and yet beautiful, Mount Pinatubo in the Philippines is no easy trek – it makes you pay on the way up.

MAJESTIC MOUNTAIN

Rising some 1,780 metres above the plains, this mammoth pile of igneous earth made headlines when it erupted in 1991, burning a painful path of destruction and devastation throughout Central Luzon.

To the locals, this meant the end of life as they knew it. Tons of ash dropped on their homes, followed by raging rivers of lava that wiped out entire towns and villages.

This pattern of destruction went on for years, making wastelands out of Pampanga, Tarlac and Zambales.

These days, however, after the volcano has quietened down once more, and the affected provinces have rebuilt themselves, Mount Pinatubo is once again a focus of attention – this time as an attraction for adventure-seekers and those wanting to get near to nature’s grandeur.

ROAD TRIP

To get here, you need to travel to Santa Juliana in the town of Capas, Tarlac (just an hour’s drive from Clark Airfield). Also known as the gateway to Mount Pinatubo, this little village is often used by trekkers as a base camp for their expeditions.

Four-by-fours can be hired at this place – believe me, you’ll need them – but they can only take you to the foot of the mountain. Suffice to say, even off-roaders can’t take the extremely rugged terrain. After that, it’s on foot for the rest of the way up.

That morning in Tarlac, though, I was not sure which mode of transportation I preferred. Boarding a monster pickup, we headed off into the wild grey yonder. Our destination was the O’Donnel river channel, which we needed to cross in order to reach the starting point. During pre-eruption times, it was actually a river before it got overrun (like everything else) with pyroclastic material. Nowadays, it is simply the moonscape that separates the mountain from the village.

And indeed, a moonscape it was. The off-roader bucked, bolted and bulldozed its way through the uneven terrain. Our butts bouncing, we held tightly onto our seats and spines, all groaning from the relentless tossing and bumping.

Amidst all this mayhem, I noticed the rather contented look on the driver’s face.

I was not sure what he was enjoying more – the challenge of the drive or the sight of us bobbing up and down in the rearview mirror. We arrived at the place an hour later, somewhat dazed and slightly bruised.

“That was the easy part,” said our local guide. “Now all we have to do is walk.”

ON FOOT

By that, he meant a two-hour trek through the volcanic boondocks. Nonetheless, it was a chance to stretch our legs and marvel at the surreal landscape.

The wide trail which we followed was a riverbed of lahar, bordered on both sides by green-topped mountains of ash. Rocks were everywhere – not the kiddie-size boulders we previously saw, but bigger, more jagged formations that rested at impossible angles.

Thankfully, the rainy weather made it quite cool, although some years ago, this would not have been a good thing.

“Back in the ’90s, we could not bring trekkers here whenever it rained hard,” said a tourism officer. “That’s because the danger of avalanche was quite real then!”

His words were still echoing in my mind an hour later. By that time, we had gone halfway up the mountain, having passed by a number of streams and several million rocks. The mountains of ash seemed to go on like great, unbroken walls.

BEYOND LIMITS

By midday, we had trekked over half the distance to the crater. Despite the constant drizzle and the cool wind, our exertion was beginning to show, our sweat pouring by the glass, our feet getting heavier by the step.

Our guide, however, wasn’t the least bit tired. Despite his thin rubber slippers (he wore them backwards to keep the sand out), he appeared to have no problem with the climb. He was, in fact, several bends ahead, walking so far he seemed to disappear off the landscape. Shortly before the final ascent, we found him sitting on a rock, quietly puffing on a cigarette while he waited for us.

“The crater is just past that hill,” the man pointed out. The hill looked far. And high. But we were not to let all that hardship go to waste. Gathering strength for the last push, we guzzled juice, gritted our teeth and patted our aching knees. Then we resumed the trek.

The land around us no longer resembled a moonscape; in fact, it seemed more like a jungle now with thick vegetation on all sides. The streams, though, were warm and tinted with ochre and red – evidence of our proximity to the source of it all.

PLEASURE OF THE PEAK

We trudged and plodded on. Our steps became surer, faster, and our excitement was cranked a notch higher.

The odour of sulphur was strong in the air, yet it never smelled better than this.

We passed trail signs (three stones piled atop each other meaning “this way”), mini-waterfalls, more rocks and weathered tree trunks. Our guide now fell behind. He seemed to have a hard time keeping up with us, but we didn’t care – the right way was up. Our goal was just over that hump...

And there it was, finally. From photos, we knew what the crater looked like, but none of us were prepared for what we saw: a vast lake of impossibly blue water, bordered on all sides by craggy cliffs made of ash and sand.

A layer of volcanic minerals lined its waveless shores, hinting at the restless earth beneath.

One can only wonder how the source of so much devastation can be this beautiful. It was truly a breathtaking sight.

We stayed up there for a few hours, resting and soaking in the slight breeze and the peaceful atmosphere. The reward, I must admit, was worth the back-numbing effort.

A LIFE CHANGED

The return trek was less eventful. Though we were tired, the trip seemed shorter, the rocks smaller, and the exertion more enjoyable. That evening, we would be back in Clark.

That may be the last time I will stand on the slopes of Mount Pinatubo, but I would remain forever changed by the experience.

In my mind, this mountain was no longer just a heartless bearer of destruction, but one of nature’s most awesome creations – powerful, untamed and unpredictably deadly. Tiger Tales

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THE ESSENTIALS

The most accessible jump-off point to Mount Pinatubo is the village of Santa Juliana in Tarlac Province, which is an hour’s drive from Clarkfield, Pampanga. Once you get here, head for the town hall to pay a PHP50 conservation tax. Local guide service costs PHP500 (sorry, you can’t do it on your own), while four-by-four vehicles may be rented for PHP2,500 per day. Freelance guides like Lito Due (tel: +63 (919) 390 4367) can also arrange the necessary transportation and logistics for individual or group treks to the summit. For more information on the Mount Pinatubo trek and other nearby activities, log on to www.wowluzoncentral.com.

Where to Stay

■ Holiday Inn Mimosa Drive, Mimosa Leisure Estate, Clark Field, Pampanga tel: +63 (2) 845 1888 website: www.holiday-inn.com/clarkfield
■ Montevista Villas Mimosa Leisure Estate, Clark Field, Pampanga tel: +63 (2) 845 2495/ +63 (45) 599 7000