I was told by Oberfuhrer Jochen (pronounced Yokken, not Jo-chen as I had been calling him) that breakfast would be at 4:30am and we'd head off at 5:00am to start climbing. He asked me if I wanted a knock to wake me up but I was sure I'd be ok.
In fact I was more than ok. I seem to be able to survive on only 5 to 6 hours of sleep these days so going to bed at 9:00pm meant I'd be awake at 3:00am. But I wasn't. With the need to wake up early on my mind I was awake at 10:00pm, then 11:00pm and every hour until by 3:00am where I found myself laying on the bed wondering what to do next. I was up at 3:45am, showered, packed my bag (again - minus the heavy camera) and was ready for breakfast at 4:15am. But there was no sign of life in the restaurant and the lights were off so I went back to my room to spend more time staring at the ceiling. 4:30am there was still no sign of life. 5:00am still no sign of life. Another bad sign.
It was nearly daylight when they surfaced and by the time breakfast was over, it was 6:30am.
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| Early Morning Kanlan |
Outside there was a collection of lads on scooters who had been chartered to take us to the drop off point for the hike. There were seven of us, plus the rucksacks, and only 4 scooters. It didn't seem possible that there was enough transport to take all of us and the kit but this is the Philippines, where a scooter is completely multi-tasking. Carry 3 people is not normal. Carry 4 is usual. 5 on a scooter is a squeeze and 6 does happen from time to time. Seeing kiddies that can barely walk standing at the handlebars whilst dad drives with mum, brothers and sisters squeezed on behind takes some getting used to, especially when mum might also be holding a baby too. It's all perfectly normal here and health and safety doesn't get a look in. I have to say, accidents seem remarkably rare but it's unusual to see fast or reckless driving. Everyone seems to take their time and is very forgiving. My driver once casually turned left in front of a scooter with a pillion passenger that was travelling at speed . The driver of the scooter had to jam on the brakes and skidded to a broadside halt just inches away from our vehicle. I was sure there was going to be some road rage or some pretty heated remonstrations but do you know what? My driver never even batted and eyelid. More surprisingly, the driver and passenger of the scooter, having nearly been splattered like a fly on a windscreen just laughed and joked as the driver tried to kick-start his stalled scooter. Work that one out, if you can. I can't.
The rucksacks were jammed between the handlebars and with 3 to a scooter we were off, easily, if not very comfortably, accommodated on the 4 scooters.
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| Scooter Transportation |
The 20 minute journey took us through Kanlaon City, turning off at a small side turning and headed up an unpaved track to the drop off point where the trek would begin. Jochen turned up with a bundle of 4 litre white plastic containers. When I asked what they were for he told me for carrying water. I asked him who or where were the porters to carry them and he just laughed . . .
Off we started, walking along a worn out single line path through farmland, not too steep to begin with but becoming steeper as we went along. Even with my rucksack that had had a tent added to it and ground mats I still felt reasonably good and confident. However, after an hour of trekking we stopped at a small holding on a hillside with wonderful views of the surrounding farmland and hills. But we hadn't stopped to take in the view: we'd stopped to take on water and fill up the plastic containers. I stood back but quickly realised that all of us were expected to carry at least two of these containers (except the Polish Photographer - either because she's a girl or because she was clever enough to have a CamelBak water carrier). Super Mario tied two of the jugs to the eyes on the lapels of my rucksack and my heart sank, as well as my legs under the weight. I reckoned I was now carrying at least 20 kilos. I'd read and always understood that with a good rucksack and good practise is for the weight to be carried on your hips, not the shoulder straps but with 8 to 10kgs of water hanging off the lapels this went out the window. To make matters worse, it made you top heavy and more difficult to maintain your balance on slippery ground, and when having to duck down or crawl under branches the weight pulling you forward made it all the more difficult.
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| View On The Way Up |
Soon we were into thick forest and it was a steep march up. For a moment I felt as though I wanted to turn around and go back but I couldn't quit. Super Mario and Jochen offered to take the water off of me but pride wouldn't allow that to happen either. So long as they were OK with me maintaining my snail's pace, I'd plod along like the proverbial (hare and the) tortoise. As we climbed I thought that the trees would give way to open grassland as we crossed the tree line but on the route we were taking it was trees right up the the crater's rim.
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| Grabbing a Quick Rest on the Crater Rim |
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| The Dormant Caldera With The Active Cone At The Far End |
This was the worst part of the trek. Despite going down rather than up it was thick forest with a barely a discernible route to follow. I would have struggled to get through it without a rucksack but with a largish one and the water to carry it was an ordeal. I have to admit that at a point it took the edge of my good humour and it became rather wearisome as brambles tore at my legs and arms, I constantly banged my shins on low branches and roots and consistently became snagged and hooked up. It took all my willpower not to just try to muscle through it as this would undoubtedly damage my kit, if not myself.
By the time we reached the area to set up camp I was exhausted. Jochen and Super Mario started unpacking the camping gear and food and the others were lighting a fire that just seem to choke everyone in smoke. The Leprechaun was attempting to dry his socks over the smoke . . . I mean fire . . . and he was holding them so close that I was sure they'd burst into flames at any moment. And they stunk.
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| The Active Cone and Highest Point |
It was decided that the fire would be better placed away from the tents so that we didn't all die of smoke inhalation. In the meantime there was a debate forming regarding the best place to site the big tent and Jochen was convinced that up by the crater out of the woods would be the best place to house me, the Leprechaun and Rutger Hauer. Jochen was getting all emotional because no one was prepared to listen to his suggestion so to humour him I said I'd go and look at the suggested location. It was on a ridge in a slight depression that had clearly been used by other campers as a latrine and that was likely to become a small pond in the night if it rained, not to mention that it was EXTREMELY exposed insofar as if the wind got up in the night we'd all end up a the bottom of the crater. So I said no, it wasn't a good location. This in itself wasn't such a bad thing but in order to go and have a look at it we'd had to walk through some very long, sopping wet grass. Up until this point I'd managed to keep my feet relatively dry but now I was in danger of developing trench foot, just to compound my misery. And by the time we'd viewed the proposed alternative site and got back the others had finished setting up the tents in the forest anyway.
As dusk came the dinner was prepared and consisted of chopped vegetables, instant curry noodles, rice and tinned sardines, opened and warmed in the tin by placing them in the ashes of the smoky fire started earlier. It must have been because I was chilly, tired and a tad miserable with my feet sopping wet that it was easily some of the best food I've ever tasted. More so as the wretched water we'd carried was being used up to boil the rice and cook the noodles. Once I'd had something to eat and warmed myself by the relocated fire that had developed into a raging inferno that you could have made horseshoes on it, I was feeling much better. Next it was tea time. A further disagreement was brewing (not unlike the tea) regarding the best tea bags. The Leprechaun had brought some "quality" tea bags from Ireland and Jochen supplied local Lipton's Yellow Label teabags bought locally. In order to assess the qualities of the tea in question, relays of large saucepans of water were boiled up into which was added the tea, along with large amounts of sugar, copious amounts of fresh lime juice and the secret ingredient: a large (in some cases very large) shot of local Tanduay Rum. Again, and regardless of whether it was the tea from Ireland or the Lipton's, it was heavenly and between 6 of us we managed to get through 4 bottles of rum in 4 servings of steaming hot tea each.
It must have been 8:00pm when we turned in for the night. The weather had calmed and it was relatively warm. I awoke at around 11:00pm in a bit of panic. I couldn't sleep and felt as though I couldn't breathe - which is symptomatic of thin air at high altitude. I've never been claustrophobic but in the absolute darkness and with hardly enough room to move around in the tent I had a overwhelming urge to get out into the fresh air. This wasn't practical as I'd have to climb over the Leprechaun and Rutger and then try to find my boots in the dark whilst wandering around barefoot in the forest. So I just sat up, collected and calmed my myself, pulled my jacket off and used it as a pillow and went back to sleep to the sounds of Rutger grunting and the Leprechaun wheezing. Outside, there was something really wrong in one of the other tents: one one of the occupants needed to see a breathing specialist and the other needed to see a hearing specialist. I was in the tent across the way with earplugs in and the snoring was keeping me awake.
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