When in Coron: Day Two -- Adventures in Mt. Darala

Welcome back! 

Depending on whether you followed my advice in my last post, you may have had a second day in Coron that is quite different from the one we had. We chose the road less traveled, the rough road -- upwards. MT. DARALA or Tundarala is the highest mountain in the Calamianes. Rising at an amazing 600 MASL, this wonderful giant gives one a majestic view of Busuanga and the rest of the Calamian Group of Islands. 

Told ya it was majestic

We left early  a bit late than what was recommended. And we committed some errors (one of many) which are quite fatal errors. Our first stop for that day was the Tourism Center near Lualhati Park, hoping to find anyone who could give us information or, at the very least, a map of Coron. We found, to our great dismay, an abandoned shell that smells faintly like the Quezon bridge. We were on our own. Armed with information we got from blogs we set off to find a tricycle going to Darala's jump-off.

The tricycle driver we asked had no idea where the jump-off was which, according to pinoymountaineer.com was at Brgy. Balisungan. Luckily, a friend of the tricycle driver came by and lo and behold, he's a fellow mountaineer! The friend told us that there were, in fact, two trails heading up to Darala. He suggested the one that didn't go to Balisungan, which, he claims, had a steeper trail and to use the Mabentangen Trail, named after the river and waterfalls in that area. The mountaineer told the driver where to go and we were off. 

PRO TIP #2: ALWAYS BRING WATER

Also being early won't hurt. Especially when you are planning on hiking up Mt. Darala. If your hotel offers free drinking water, please do re-use your containers, besides having less impact on the environment you'll be saving yourself some money.

The whole tricycle ride only costs us 80.00 per person but I suppose if there are a lot of you going there you could probably haggle your way into a more affordable rate. Or you may just not ride a tricycle and walk all the way to the jump-off, which is also possible if you have enough energy to do so. The ride going there was quite a bumpy one, passing through the Coron-Busuanga Road and then turning towards a road that passed by BISELCo. and some hotels that were located behind Tapyas. Some stretches of the road leading to Darala's jump-off were muddy red, owing to the fact that it has been raining in Coron for the past few days. Once we arrived a woman-resident greeted us and told us where to go from there... along with answers to my question of whether or not there are still tricycles here going back to the town.

"There are some tricycles" she told us. The word some made me feel a bit uncertain on what fate lies for us after the hike up Darala. We registered at one of the stores. A quick glance of the entries revealed that no one else dared hiking up Darala, with us two being the only entries and the rest being entries for people who used the trail in going to the Maquinit Hot Springs. A short chat with the woman handling the logbook reveals that the water might be high in some parts but that was still uncertain.

Tiny Falls

From the main wide trail starting from the registration area one will also find a tiny spring. If necessary, use this opportunity to drink and refill your water storage. The trail passes by parts of the Mabentangen River and Dam, which is also one of the water sources in the town of Coron. Several incredible examples of Coron's diverse flora and fauna is evident throughout the trail.

The water in this river is actually quite cool

 

There were no serious river crossings through this trail. But the trail could get quite steep at some parts for some individuals who are not that used to climbing up mountains. Hence:

PRO TIP #3: BRING PROPER HIKING SHOES... and MOSQUITO REPELLANT

If one is planning on hiking this wonderful place I suggest that you should bring a good pair of hiking shoes. It doesn't necessary need to be metal-toed, military boots, just ones that won't easily get damaged. (More on this later on) Along with this, consider using sunscreen. 

The hike upward, though a bit tiring, was quite rewarding by itself given how many interesting plants  and creatures one sees along the trail. After a wooded area, the trail leads to a several slopes. Several butterflies and birds abound in the place. We also spotted several hammerhead worms during our ascent, and even more during our descent (more interesting details about this later). This little buddy underneath this paragraph was found along the rocky steep trail almost near the summit. The pitcher plant was a fascinating find, since neither I nor my companion has ever seen one in the wild. 

Hello there, buddy!

Some parts of the trail were gentle curves, sloping up and down. One must still exercise full caution since one wrong step and you might end up tumbling down. The trail is paved with lots of small rocks. There are some parts that have loose rocks, which are often the cause of slips. 

The views that we encountered as we neared the summit was breathtaking. At some points clouds would cross near our paths, or hover a few meters above us, sending a bit of a drizzle on our heads. As we neared the top we found several other trails, one of them was, I supposed the Balisungan Trail. I took several stops as I struggled to climb up. (TIP: If there are other people around and you are too shy to stop and rest, pretend to take pictures. This gives you an excuse to rest and admire the view) And finally:

The Summit

The summit! The towers marks the highest spot in the entire island group. From there one could see the Siete Pecados Marine Sanctuary, Mt. Tapyas, the town of Coron, and the other islands and mountains in the entire area. We first tried to get a bit nearer to the tower. Right beside the tower was a deep pit, a broken transmission dish (which made me imagine riding it all the way down in some fancy adventure), and a shed. The intense smell of gasoline coupled with the sounds of the generators kinda made the summit feel a bit too human. A closer inspection of the shed revealed two workers, both of which were sleeping, a pack of soy sauce, and a container that had rice. We stayed away from the workers and walked to a trail that led from the fenced area of the tower. 

Beautiful view of the mountains of Busuanga Is.

Exercise EXTREME CAUTION when trying to take pictures near the mountain's edge (or encountering humans). Sure, it looks cool but your selfie is not worth your life. Areas which may appear too risky should be avoided. Speaking of selfies, the mountain, surprisingly has strong mobile network signal. It was actually so strong that I could chat with my friends and post pictures using my phone the whole hike. 

After half an hour we decided that we should head down. 

Rain clouds were coming in and before we knew it -- we were drenched by the rain. A snake of some sorts crossed our paths as we headed down. As always, the way down is always the hardest. We considered using the other trail as a transverse but then we judged it far too risky, given how near we were to sunset and the lack of water stores. Curiously enough, there was another person in the mountain, some local possibly, who was taking a shower just a few meters from the summit. Waterless and snackless, we relied heavily on sugar packs and salt pills (which I liked fairly much). The rain just got worse and soon the trail was a muddy steep mess, with the both of us clinging from tree to tree. But we carried on -- even despite the damage in my shoes.

My toes were already peeking out from my shoes. 

The rain clouds would visibly pass by us and curl up the slopes, covering the tower and making it look like a haunted hill. The rumble of thunder only made us rush a bit more, fearing lightning strikes. Along the way, we spotted more hammerheads, now in abundant numbers as they search for their prey, the humble earthworm. We spotted several hammerheads devouring their prey. I suppose that this behavior was something they would always exhibit on the onset of a storm, knowing that their meal would come out of the mud.

I was thirsty, far too thirsty by now that I started gulping rainwater, no matter how few got in. Hence, again, do not make this mistake and please do bring water. I entertained the idea of me drinking from the river once we cross it once more on our way down, only to reject the idea once I considered the fact that I may drink something else that would jeopardize the rest of our plans in Coron. Finally we reached the bottom, or at least the near bottom, where we drank a lot from the springs, which drew its water from some higher source up the trees. 

We were far too thirsty to stop. 

We waited at the store, again, hoping a tricycle would come soon. The woman from earlier today saw us and told us that we can't expect any other tricycle to come anytime soon. It was 5 PM, and everyone was already on their way home, even the tricycle drivers. The best we could do, she said, was to walk and haggle with whichever driver was saw. And so we walked on, and on, until we found ourselves walking all the way to the highway. 

May luck be with us.

- end of Part Two -



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Bulacan:Jump in! (Part Two)

Jump in!

Jump in to this extraordinary world of adventure!

The second part of the Lakad Pamana - San Rafael Tour is the Malangaan Spring and Cave. A popular cooling place for the locals, the blue-green pristine pool is surrounded by massive rocks that serve as a jump-off point for the daring.

Even the kids would jump in. 

The spring is surrounded by nipa huts that serve as cottages. A cottage costs 150 Pesos each. Shops selling local delicacies such as the Halo-Halo (highly recommended) abound in the area. Karaoke machines, a common thing in most resorts, are also available for rent in the area. 

For those with an unquenchable thirst for adventure, a short walk from the area is a trail leading to the cave and the nearby mountains. 

Who would suspect that this paradise is just hours away from the bustling metropolis?

 The place is full of incredibly fascinating formations. The local fauna also is worth the sweat. Taking plants, however, is discouraged. Local guides abound in the area and is probably better than having a guide with you, so as to support the folk who live in the area whose only means of earning money is through tours in the area. Flashlights are provided but it is best to bring extras with you.

Some of the mountains, however, succumbed to the demands of man. The scars of quarrying are still visible in most of them.

One only needs good imagination to come up with interesting names for the formations.  The trek is fairly easy but taking using a pair of good shoes is best when attempting this trek. Bring a bottle or two of water also, some parts of the trail are exposed to the harsh beating of the sun's heat. But the heat and the tiring trek is worth it. Once you finish squeezing in through caves and rocks, one is rewarded with an amazing view of the mountains of Bulacan (and its nearby provinces) and make you feel like a true wanderer. 

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SOUTH BIKE owns all rights to pictures, videos, and other related media published on this blog unless stated otherwise.

Supremo: The Maragondon Trip (Part 1)

History repeats itself 

There are many things that look ugly in our past; nothing is perfect. With all the shadows lurking in it and the schemes and bloodshed. Such is our past, the pages of history drip with blood and gore. Last 10th of May, out of respect for a man so misunderstood and so ignored by our people, the hero called Andres "Maypagasa" Bonifacio, and rode a bus from my Bacoor home to Maragondon; a place terribly uncharted for me and is the site of the trial and execution of Bonifacio.

Mini busses always ply this small route that travels between the two cities, separated by long highways and mountains. With the small number of these busses, I had to wait for a long to ride a bus and to let it be filled with an adequate number of passengers. SM City Bacoor, as I would learn later on, was one of the boarding areas of those air-conditioned busses.

Years ago or rather decades ago, when there were no mini busses and barkers wearing campaign vests with names of politicians, people would either walk on forested roads or ride horses and caribous. I thought about the journey Bonifacio took from his quarters in what was once the suburbs of Manila, that fateful trail that led him to his death. I wonder, what did go on his mind when he walked/rode from there to the city I'm headed for?

In 1897, he was called to settle the dispute of the Magdiwangs and the Magdalos. Both were factions of one group led by the Supremo. But the results of that meeting that sealed his fate was disastrous, a stain that would forever echo down the pages of history. In Naik, in the friar estate house, Bonifacio nulled the results of the elections due to the parties not complying with the rules he himself have set and of the rampant cheating then; with ballots filled up before the elections.

I missed my bus stop, I walked from the welcome arc of Ternate to the Municipality of Maragondon, the streets filled with names and pictures of smiling people wishing for a seat to govern the people. I wonder, did the people of 1897 do the same for that Naik election? Did promises of power and bribes mar then as now the elections of that time? Alas, the whispers of the past are muted slowly.

Maragondon, with its sunny heat and cool winds, led me to the trial hose of Bonifacio; a place away from the city square. 

The house where Bonifacio was court martialed

The doors were open, so I peeked inside, the bronze lion-head knocker stared at me as I did so. The room, dark with wood and metal windows, had flowers from officials and exhibits that explained the life of Bonifacio. I climbed up, with no one interrupting me or any curator leading me. I relished the idea that decades ago he himself climbed these steps and that I am seeing the place where he once stood... this testament to the injustice of our society that reigns up to now. 

The wooden planks, new from how it looked in contrast with the log posts, shone bright with the sun. I peeked at each room, looked at the art and listened to visitors (a couple and their kid) talk and take pictures. The sound of the kids below banging and jumping above a campaign car unison filled the hallow halls of the shrine. The curator, who was sitting in one office, talked to me about how Oriang (the wife of Bonifacio) searched the mountains of Maragondon for her beloved for a month. 

I pitied her, then, seeing her sculpted in a scene of the trial as she listened to her husband being condemned for crimes he did not commit. The curator himself believed that, according to a folk tale, Oriang looked for Bonifacio with a companion. Our talks, of me and the curator, led to him giving me flyers of the Historical Commission and to join their contests and him telling me of how Bonifacio is very much dismissed by most people. I left, taking pics of the house and the politician's car with the kids flashing an FU sign, smiling as if they knew fully well the history of the house they played in.

From there, I walked to the city square and on to the church. Aged by the centuries, it has withstood the fiercest of storms and faced the most interesting stories and intrigues of the citizens of its land. The church was a sentinel, closed as it faced the heat of the sun and faced the old-house and tree-lined roads of the town. 

A National Heritage, the church has undergone a terrible lot of renovations; including the plastering of its bell tower.

The afternoon being hours away, I just loathed the plaster and took pictures of the outside as the heat beat down on me. The whole town had this province feel that most parts of the province has fought to maintain from the jaws of industrialization. Moving on, the door is one of the most admired feature of the wonderful church. 

Beside the church, as in most churches throughout the archipelago, a school owned and managed by the parish stands. It also has this old world charm that is so fragile and so important and yet so frequently destroyed by people I could never understand.

A meal after, I journeyed to the Bonifacio shrine in the mountains. 

And on my way, as unexpected as it is, I found a working well beside the road: with water and plants inside it. Asking around for the directions going to the shrine was not that difficult, what was more tiring was hearing how everyone says that it is too far and that I should ride a motorcycle. I refused the all, knowing by heart that the motorcycle fares are much too high for the average traveler. 

All the asking and walking lead me to this

A long hanging bridge that spanned the whole river! It creaked and swayed as I walked, fueling my fears of it snapping and falling to the waiting river. I even encountered people crossing it, making the whole trip a difficult and dizzying one.

Amid the asking, the hot trails and the nature noises I found my way upwards; to homes and streets that led up the mountains. The roads were cemented, making it more an easy trip to the shrine. I asked almost every one for directions, showing them an invitation with the picture of the monument on the mountain. One person, a woman who sold me a bottle of softdrinks, pointed me to a mountain trail that led to it; it is what they called a shortcut.

The dusty roads, with all its markings, was impassable to cars. A pleasant walk, the trees and the bamboo shoots make it an ideal nature walk for the earth-lover. It was terribly silent, with no one around and with the solitude of Mount Nagpatong acting as my companion. A sweaty distance away was a clearing, with a hut beside it and an old man walking, his bag slung on his back and with dogs following him.

Showing him the invitation, he led me there, telling me that he was the caretaker of the area and that no one was visiting the shrine; the very reason he decided to go home. Pity, I thought, no one even visited where the city remembers the death of him who once rallied the masses to revolt. It was near from there, with an entrance fee of twenty pesos: an act of pity on the cow-shit filled road...

And the Bamboo gates that locked a portion of the trail, which we can quickly just pull out. The guide told me about how little the number of people were visiting the shrine lately, and from the neglect of the roads that lead to it I could clearly see that even the locals don't give much ado over this place.

Metal gates, which he quickly unlocked, closed the last part of the road that led to the shrine. It had two features: The marker-monument and the reception area.

The latter is more neglected than the monument. Mostly unused, there were function halls and offices inside the reception building that faced the monument.

The guide left me to walk there. The monument, known but not that visited, had this massive marble walls and bronze sculptures of the revolution, the life of Bonifacio and his fateful demise in the very mountains that we walked that formed the words BAYANI (Hero) and KKK, which is the shortened version of the society that he and his companions founded.

He stands, his brother dead at his feet, defiant...

Which is in every way contradictory to the stories; the other ones -- with him lying in a hammock before he was brutally killed.

Beyond that, the halls fronting the monument had pools for public use: unused and dirty.

It was a pity the facilities are neglected.

As I left the shrine, among all things, I saw this fire tree. It must be symbolic... but I saw it as a symbol of the men that shed their blood for the nation; the blood that trickled out of Bonifacio's stab wounds years ago on this very mountain.




End of Part One of Supremo: The Maragondon Trip

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