“There is no right or wrong way,” the trail master tells his nine fellow bushwalkers as they trace a little-known passage through the Philippines’ Sierra Madre range. “But whining is not allowed.”
The city slickers enter a different world in the sleepy village of Daraitan just 50km east of Manila. Here there are no roads, no bridges, no electricity, no telephones, and no 24-hour convenience stores. The locals speak a lilting, archaic form of Tagalog, the national language.
Tents, stoves, pots, clothing and three days’ worth of food are carried in backpacks as the team walks across the country’s longest mountain range.
Broadly tracking the now languid Daraitan River, the trail rises above the water in the dry season and loops through mountain valleys toward Luzon island’s east coast.
River trekking and its relative, canyoning — established sports in parts of the world as diverse as the United States, western Europe, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Hong Kong and Taiwan — are relatively new to the Philippines.
“You are the first people I’ve met who would walk into the water on purpose,” farmer Freddie Cuerdo tells the thirsty trekkers as he sells them coconut milk.
“It’s exciting. It’s a new thing and is something different,” says Jennifer Anarna, who climbs mountains outside her day job with a European consumer-goods giant.
Route attractions
Spectacular cathedral-sized marble formations, limestone caves, virgin tropical forests, hot springs and scattered settlements of Dumagats line the route.
Among the first known settlers of the Philippines, the semi-nomadic Dumagats spear river fish; trap parrots, wild pigeons and forest game; and weave wicker-like baskets fashioned from tall rattan reeds when not burning the mountaintops to carve out farms.
“Usually, we do forest trails at rising elevations. Crossing rivers, especially with strong currents, is a different experience,” says graphic designer Thaddeus Reantaso, like Anarna a member of Manila-based AMCI Mountaineering Club.
Interest in adventure tourism — mountain and rock climbing, spelunking (caving), scuba diving, offroad rallying and whitewater rafting are also gaining popularity — is fed by higher disposable incomes.
“The climbing season started earlier. Usually the climbing starts next month,” says the trail master, who goes by the name Oca. “Consumer confidence is much better than last year.”
Recharge
Even as pay cheques rise, more and more Filipinos are becoming “stressed out and they realise they need the weekend to recharge” through adventure or physical activity, he says.
“We came here to climb a nearby mountain in 1991 and somebody mentioned that this river goes all the way to the Pacific Ocean. It perked up my interest because I had not seen the Pacific at the time,” the trail master says.
An experienced mountaineer himself, he says climbing “no longer holds any fascination”, and he began organising annual river treks here in 2000.
This year’s team, all AMCI members with several hundred mountain summits under their collective belts, keeps its backpacking boots dry in the first four hours by scrambling along the rocky, at times brush-covered riverbank.
It is slow going under the hot tropical sun and the day is broken up with regular rest breaks with freshly brewed coffee and food in the shade of trees or rock overhangs.
At times, the only trail signs to go by are the red stains of betel nut spit out by the Dumagats, who chew the bitter, mildly narcotic fruit to make their river commute more bearable.
The trail master tells the team of twentysomethings and baby boomers that it is up to them to find the best route downstream. “The river trail has a logic of its own,” he says.
Getting wet
By noon, the river has narrowed to a deep channel framed by two smooth vertical rock walls, forcing the team into the water where they ride their packs like improvised rafts.
Despite using double bin liners sealed with rubber bands to waterproof their packs, half the team find their clothing and gear is wet when they pitch camp on a sandbar in late afternoon. A camera and a cellphone are among the casualties.
They are forced to cook damp pasta for dinner. Aubergines and tomatoes bought from farmers along the way complete the menu.
The next morning, they awake to a cacophony of bird sounds. Black crows, brown hawks, and screeching blue kingfishers patrol the deep canyon above the water. A family of Dumagats walk upstream on the far bank, and their dog dives into the water to cross and scavenge among the tents.
A pair of huge hornbills, now rarely seen in depleted Philippine forests, emerge above the canopy, their red bills and long yellow tails standing out in the sun-drenched foliage that sags under their weight. Giant rotting logs litter the banks, a constant reminder that despite the breathtaking scenery, this is still a potentially dangerous sport.
The Sierra Madre’s upper reaches unleashed unseasonal flash floods that killed more than 1 000 people along Daraitan and other areas downstream on November 30 2004.
The trail ends two days later in the hamlet of Pagsangahan, where Daraitan links up with another tributary to form the much bigger Agos River.
Weighed down by their heavy packs, the team has walked 21 hours over three days. Locals say the trail is a mere 23km long and they normally cover it in a single day.
“I would definitely do this again,” team member Reantaso says.
“Of course,” Anarna agrees. — AFP