Gateway to Southern Sierra Madre, Real Side 03/22/2013

The night before, I passed through the range from Laguna to reach Infanta. Immediately the next day, I had to pass through the range again to return to Laguna. When I came to face this view, I recalled the ordeal that I went through the past night and asked myself if I really was into it again. All I could do then was take a deep breath and sigh. Afterwards, I realized that I had no choice but to resume pedaling.

Mt. Sembrano and Laguna Lake Loop 12/22-23/2014

Trekking with the Luntians and Solo Long Distance Bicycling

Photo courtesy of Kalikasan Tawbuid

Last year, I accomplished my first Laguna Lake loop with a side trip to Infanta on bicycle. The next plan was to complete a second Lake loop with a climb on Mt. Sembrano in Pililla. The Luntians who were to commute from Calamba to Pililla would meet me at jump-off. Leaving home at 3:30 A.M. on bicycle was already late as to the set schedule. It was still possible for me to catch up with the Luntians though.

The national road glittered with Christmas lights hours before dawn. Churchgoers for Misa de Gallo walked through the roadsides in Cabuyao. Festive churches were brightly lighted. The cold breeze blew softly throughout the trip. Christmas spirit was everywhere that early morning.

Minutes after I left house, the bicycle wobbled. The rear tire was flat! Pushing the bike from the first overpass in Santa Rosa to the vicinity of the University of Perpetual Help in Biñan to look for a 24-hour vulcanizing shop was a lot more strenuous than biking.  It was tempting to ride the jeepney with the dilapidated bike but doing so would create a gap in the Laguna Lake loop. A group of tricycle drivers told me that I just missed a vulcanizing shop 300 meters back. I turned back but found the shop closed. I passed by three more closed shops in the middle of darkness along the national road.

The 24-hour vulcanizing shop was in Biñan. Due to the stress on my legs and shoulders caused by pushing the bike for quite a distance, I doubted if I would still be able to accomplish the objectives of climbing Mt. Sembrano and roaming around the Lake. An old tricycle driver who I talked with seemed to think that circling the Lake on bicycle was impossible. He kept on smiling but could have had enough had I told him that, aside from circling the Lake, I would also climb Mt. Sembrano that day. In just a few minutes, the technician was able to repair the tire interior that had sustained three pin-size holes. The kind worker charged thirty pesos only for the early morning trouble.

In Muntinlupa, crossing path with a sounding train on old PNR track was thrilling. Trains traversing old PNR tracks were rarely seen for a long time. I thought of riding one when I go to Divisoria.

  

After the uphill in Binangonan, I freewheeled down to the junction of Cardona and the diversion road to Morong. Learning that the low gear wasn’t working well, I decided not to ascend the diversion and instead proceeded to Cardona town proper. To avoid passing through the town centers of Baras and Tanay, I passed through the Morong-Tanay highway. I was still in Morong when I read the text message that the Luntians had already started hiking in Pililla at 8:24 A.M. In Pililla, I stopped for two cups of ice-cold buko juice sold by a man who was making buko salad for Noche Buena. He made sure that the juice wouldn’t be wasted and was making profit out of it. Fine example of sustainable development strategy applied on micro level economic activity.

Photo courtesy of Joseph Pasia

I arrived at jump-off at 9:45 A.M. After registering, I made sure that the bike was secured by two bike locks. Minutes later, I was hiking on a paved but very steep road. The end of the paved road was the opening salvo for a rocky trail. The higher the trail, the narrower it became. Asking some locals for directions made tracking easier. According to local estimate, the Luntians had not reach summit yet. This gave me hope to catch up with the Luntians. I crossed twice or thrice the length of a rustling stream. I didn’t expect that a sizeable part of Mt. Sembrano was still forested. The cell phone rang on the steepest and rockiest portion of the trail. The Luntians were nearby.  After a while, I heard their voices from the bushes. Shortly after, we were already conversing and yet I couldn’t see them because of the vegetation. They were out of the trail! I told them to follow my voice to put them right on track. One by one, four Luntians appeared from the thickets—Joseph Pasia, overall coordinator of Ugnayan Kalikasan and alumnus-adviser of Lyceum Kalikasan; Jason Morales, auditor of Don Bosco Kalikasan; Paulo Miguel Cervantes, chairman of Ugnayan Kalikasan Council of Elders and faculty adviser of Don Bosco Kalikasan; and Patrick Nueva, alumnus-adviser of Perpetual Help Kalikasan. They could have been lost in the forest for long had I not found them.

On summit, the Luntians did what they had to do. They took pictures and videos of a very beautiful place! I was able to take a few shots using my old cell phone. It was drizzly, foggy and windy on the summit. The waves made by the wind as it blew over the sea of grass mesmerized everyone. The most exciting part of the trek was the hike to the pinnacle when the wind was pounding hard.

Photo courtesy of Kalikasan Tawbuid

Photo courtesy of Kalikasan Tawbuid

Photo courtesy of Kalikasan Tawbuid

The sudden descent gave my left knee a beating. The abrupt change in the direction of force and resistance must have shocked the knee joint. Even then, I could still move my leg normally when we returned to jump-off. We were very thankful to the barangay folks who offered warm hospitality and kind accommodation.

By the time we decided to eat supper, there was no more carinderia to serve us rice and viand. So, we left jump-off without taking heavy meal. The Luntians and I bid farewell at 5:30 P.M. They headed home through Tanay on public transport. I headed home through Jala-jala on bicycle.

The ordeal in Santa Rosa and Biñan and the sudden descent on Mt. Sembrano had taken their toll. My left knee hurt so much giving me a hard time pedaling through Jala-jala. Night came to the town proper earlier than I did. The bike had no light and fell down a number of times in the cracks on the road.

Since I could barely use my left leg, I spent more than two hours pedaling in Jala-jala. At one point, I was already singing Sampaguita’s rock classic “Laguna” when the waiting shed with the Y-shaped post appeared on roadside. The Y-shaped post was a symbol for a political dynasty in the province of Rizal. To my disappointment, similar posts appeared each time I thought I was already in the province of Laguna.

Youngsters on their little bikes swooshed past me all throughout the Jala-jala-Pakil road. I thank God whenever motorists passed by lighting the road with headlights. The pain in my knee and the seemingly endless pedaling made me asked God to forgive all my sins and forego punishment that I was suffering.

Passing through a bridge halfway an unpaved portion of the road made me think that I was already crossing the provincial boundary. But I was only convinced that I had just entered Laguna when I saw a waiting shed with an A-shaped post! Could politicians ever think of better projects than just erect waiting sheds with posts shaped like the first letters of their surnames?

It was cold and drizzling when I entered Laguna. The carinderia where I stopped over last year in west Pangil was already closed. I proceeded with the journey and had dinner in a lomihan in Mabitac at 10:15 P.M. After lomi, I found out that the front tire was flat! Again, I had to push the bike through the road in the middle of darkness to search for a 24-hour vulcanizing shop.

It felt strange going through a very peaceful community with strange-looking houses on both sides of the road.  After a while, I realized that I was in the middle of a cemetery and the “houses” were actually mausoleums! Community of rich dead people, I thought.

I was pushing the bike for more than half a kilometer when I found a vulcanizing shop in front of a gasoline station near Siniloan. Unfortunately, the shop was closed when I arrived. I called on whoever was inside but nobody answered. It was raining and the wind was fierce. The gasoline boys were apathetic when I asked them for some dry rags or carton boards that I could have used to protect myself from the cold. Since I didn’t have rags or boards, I took out my used and partially wet shirt from my small bag to make a buffer between my back and the cold surface of a concrete step. I lied down to sleep on my cold concrete bed at the facade of a vulcanizing shop. Good thing the roof was wide enough to protect me from the rain and a van was parked in front of the shop shielding me from too much wind.

It was chilling cold throughout the night. I thought the wind would blow the roof away. Mosquitos were on the attack. I was able to sleep for two hours only. At sunrise, the young technician and his wife were surprised to find out that I had spent the night on their step. Ronnel, the technician, immediately worked on the tire interior while his wife, Marianne, made a cup of hot coffee for me to drink. I bought 25 pieces of pandesal for our breakfast from an ambulant vendor. Each piece was just a little bit wider than my thumb but it was for me the best tasting pandesal ever!

 

Before heading to Famy junction, I bid the young couple and their baby Nicole goodbye at 6:30 A.M. I rested somewhere in Sta. Cruz, took pictures of the bike against a road signage in Victoria, ate merienda on roadside in Los Banos, and greeted a colleague and a classmate at the bus stop near Canlubang interchange.

My son Jong and my nephew LJ were the firsts to meet me when I arrived home. I could see the happiness and excitement in my 10-year old son. He immediately asked me, “I thought you were to arrive at eleven o’clock last night?”

I found it hard answering his question.

“Well, anyway, it’s almost eleven o’clock right now,” Jong said smiling. “Only that it’s already daytime.”

Photo courtesy of Joseph Pasia

Calamba to Infanta via Jala-jala 03/21-22/2013

Solo Bicycling Expedition: Infantacidal Part I

Pedaling solo from Calamba, Laguna to and fro Infanta, Quezon was one of my greatest overnight bicycling adventures.

The night before the long distance biking, I scoured the internet for maps to locate the shortest route connecting Laguna and Rizal via Muntinlupa. On travel, however, the tricycle drivers and locals were proven to be more traveler-friendly in giving directions than the maps on the internet.

On the morning of the day of reckoning, I was hesitant to leave house not wanting to miss my two kids for a day or two. But things had to be done the way they were planned. A few days before, the dean approved of my leave intended for securing permit from the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) in Infanta. The permit was to be used for a data-gathering activity in General Nakar. Visiting my cousins in Infanta was also a reason behind the travel. After taking late breakfast with my kids, I kissed them goodbye and then started pedaling northeastward.

The solo expedition would be my first bicycling tour to pass through Metro Manila and Rizal. It would also be my farthest as I was writing this article.

I made turns and u-turns and asked for directions in San Pedro and Tunasan to find the lakeshore road of Muntinlupa. It was quite relieving to find the road which was known locally as Baybay. The road led me to a highway called C-6 in Taguig that immediately provided the sudden change in landscape from the cramped and congested cityscape to the wide lakeshore open fields under blue sky. On C-6, one could have the panoramic view of Laguna Lake and the mountains of Rizal.

I ate lunch at a carinderia along the highway. Most of the eatery’s patrons were motorcycle and dump truck drivers. With dump trucks going to and fro the shoreline, I thought of whether a reclamation or a dredging project was going on that lakeshore part of the Metro.

Despite the heat of the fire prevention month, biking on C-6 was refreshing and invigorating. The breeze and open spaces gave me a feeling of freedom and bliss. Passing through the bridge over Pasig River made me recall the story in El Filibusterismo concerning the fluvial journey of Bapor Tabo from Manila to Laguna Lake. Aside from the panorama of waters and mountains, one could also see on the highway the beautiful and opulent skyscrapers of Metro Manila. Ironically, the mega city skyline with its magnificent man-made structures loomed over impoverished shanties and slums making me reflect again on the contradictions of Philippine urban development. As the Manggahan Floodway came into view, I knew that I was about to enter the province of Rizal.

Biking through the towns of Rizal made me reminisce my childhood when my family would travel to Tanay. My Dad worked for quite some time in upland Tanay. We also had our cousins, uncles and aunts to visit there. The times when some of my students collected data for their theses in the uplands were still clearly embedded in memory.

I had to stop in front of the Siena Sisters convent in Binangonan to take afternoon rest and merienda. After replenishing the body and refilling the plastic drinking bottle, Bisikletang Tagalog was back on track to traverse the long uphill road to Cardona.

When asking for directions in Rizal, I only mentioned Cardona and Tanay not Infanta to avoid further discussions concerning how far the travel would really take me.

Pedaling through Rizal was easy except when moving uphill in Binangonan and Pililla.  Instead of using the highway, I made the wrong turn and passed through the town centers of Baras and Tanay. Pleasant rice fields stretched almost all throughout the lakeshore towns.

My worn-out body was screaming pain before finding rest near the boundary of Pillilia and Jala-jala.

The best part of the entire adventure was when Jala-jala revealed its unexpected beauty. My idea of a lakeshore area was mainly the shoreline situations of industrialized and congested first and second district of Laguna. 

Though I had seen the beauty of the Lake from the fourth district of Laguna, I found the Lake to be most beautiful on Jala-jala side. The panorama of contrasting afternoon light and shade, the greenery, the flowers, the herons, the fields and the glittering waters were overwhelming. I could not forget how the setting sun with all its golden rays seemed to turn everything to gold. As what was claimed by the gateway arch of Jala-jala, the municipality was truly the paradise of the province of Rizal! I felt proud and privileged for seeing the endearing charm of the town.

At nightfall, with my weak bike light, I had to be in some sort of a night vision mode to traverse the barangays of west Pakil and Pangil. Yes, I was again within the political jurisdiction of Laguna but still in Jala-jala peninsula. I could not remember if the moon shone that night but with the hills and trees casting their shadows on the road, it seemed that the border areas of Rizal and Laguna were in total darkness. Trekking the night was a trick that I seemed to have mastered due to my overnight bicycling and hiking activities.

I dropped by the home of a barangay health worker in Mabato-Asupre, Pangil. I had met the BHW three years earlier during a community immersion with some nursing students. She was out of town when I dropped by. I would have asked her hospitable family to let me spend the night with them but was a bit shy that time. I just asked them for two glasses of water to quench my thirst and replace lost body fluids. Convinced that I would be taking a good night rest inside the chapel of the barangay, my friend’s mother gave me her blessings and bid farewell. I passed by the chapel and proceeded onward.

Upon reaching the edge of west Pangil, I was surprised to find an open carinderia in the midst of darkness and isolation. The eatery was manned by an old lady and a young boy. I learned their names: Nanay Alice and Ace. I couldn't exactly remember if I ordered sautéed mongo beans or dinuguan or both but the sure thing was that the meal was delicious and heavy. More energy was needed to negotiate the road that would later snake through the Sierra Madre mountains.

After dinner, I went through another long dark gap before finding some folks to ask for directions, made turns and u-turns, and then reached the highway of Mabitac. I was again in the middle of isolation when I turned toward Famy.

When a silhouette in human form moved opposite my direction, I thought my sixth sense was finally working. Since childhood, I had been interested in the paranormal and had investigated facts behind some strange incidents. Seeing for the first time a concrete manifestation of the paranormal could have been a very significant event in my life.  Shorter distance revealed that the creature had long disheveled hair and half-naked robust body. Getting nearer was a hair-raising experience. Upon close encounter, however, I noticed that the “kapre” was wearing short denim pants instead of loincloth or G-string. Relieved but somehow disappointed, I immediately realized that I wasn’t seeing things with third eye. Still, it was mind-boggling to have found a vagabond in a very secluded place that night. The “kapre” must have thought the same thing about me.

Before turning toward the Sierra, I drank a cupful of palamig bought from a night street vendor in Famy. In the midst of the rice fields,  I heard an animal sound that I couldn't discern if it was of frog or bird. The stranger thing about the cawing was that it seemingly had a consistent sound pattern as if made by a single unrelenting animal. I later noticed that the sound was created by a number of animals with highly synchronized vocalization. It also seemed that the volume pattern was unchanging from the rice fields to the hills as if the animals were of the same proximity from me all through out.

I got down the bike a number of times to push it uphill. At one point, I rested on the façade of a small house hearing the dialogues of a prime time telenovela. I appreciated the remaining woodlands of upland Famy and Siniloan. Fierce dogs especially those guarding woodcraft shops tried to catch up to bite my legs. One pair drove me near the edge of a cliff. I missed falling down the ravine by a few feet.

Maybe because I was tired and sleepless that I thought somebody in barong was standing by the roadside. Suddenly, an uncle who passed away nine years ago in Infanta came to my mind. The only time that I saw him in barong was during his wake! What could be so special about that day that my beloved uncle had to appear by the roadside? Definitely, it wasn’t my uncle’s death anniversary. Maybe because I was tired and sleepless that I thought there were connections between totally unrelated things.

I passed by an army checkpoint on the highest portion of the Famy-Infanta road at midnight. The bike light was failing and the checkpoint was almost unlighted. There had always been the strong presence of the rebel New People’s Army (NPA) in the area and the soldiers needed to be ready for any attack. One wrong move or sound could mean the end of my existence on earth. Fortunately, one of the sentries just shouted, “Gabing-gabi naman na ho ‘yang pagbibisikleta n’yo!” I just replied to the unseen friend, “Oo nga ho, eh!”

Since the start of the travel, I was praying that the sea in Real would be calm when I pass through its shore. Strong waves would batter the highway during bad weather. It was raining and the gusts were pounding that night on the Sierra. I was afraid that the rain and gusts would continue and that I would be engulfed by the waves in Real.

I dozed off a number of times while freewheeling down to the Pacific shore. In one instance, the wheels crashed against the rugged portion of the road. The sudden impact almost made me lose hold. I immediately regained balance though. Good thing the bike wasn’t damaged but the force did hurt my hands, arms and shoulders.

The sea was relatively calm when I passed by. No big waves battering the road that night. It was disturbing to find even a few young people loitering around some parts of the road during those unholy hours. The soothing sound of the sea and the cool breeze made it easy for me to sleep a little while resting on a bridge in the midst of darkness

It was already 2 A.M. when I arrived at the town proper of Infanta. Ate Tina immediately woke up when I knocked and called at the gates. I felt ashamed for waking her up very early in the morning. Once inside the house of my hosts, I immediately proceeded to the bathroom to take shower to remove the dirt off my body.

Auntie Aida cooked breakfast that early. I was dumbfounded when she asked, “Did you know what was special about yesterday?”

I remembered asking myself the same question when passing through the mountains hours before midnight.

“Yesterday was your Uncle’s birthday!”