Mixing Business With Pleasure - Part II

The following day it was the end of the pleasure side of things and back to the business element.  Hence we were up early again and headed off to Bataan (pronounced Bata-an).  From Banaue it's around 250 miles to the project location in Bataan so we were in for a long day and long drive (or rather Rolly was).  Most of the journey was through fairly non-de script towns and the scenery was all very familiar, consisting of predominantly rice fields and other plantations.

We arrived at Clark, the former US air base, at around 3:00pm and drove through it to take a look.  This completely shattered what I imagined to be an airbase - i.e. a runway, a few hangers and a barracks.  This was like a complete town.  No, it was more like a small city.  Apparently, it covers an area of over 14 square miles (Wikipedia - Clark Air Base).  The extent of the infrastructure is phenomenal.  And if I thought Clark was big, we then headed to Subic Bay, the former US naval base, which was even bigger still.  It must have hurt for the Americans to have to walk away from so much after they were effectively kicked out in 1991.

From Clark to Subic Bay you skirt the edges of Mt. Pinatubo, which erupted so violently back in 1991 (Pinatubo).  Along the route to Subic Bay we passed over one of the old larva flows and it's huge.  It's hard to imagine the amount of debris and destruction that came down these routes.

After a brief stop in Subic Bay we decided to push on to Bataan and took the back road down the Bataan peninsular, through endless barracks, warehouses and housing left behind by the Yanks, before moving back into more familiar Philippine territory.  As we moved down the Bataan peninsular the massive but extinct Mariveles volcano dominated the skyline.  It's not particularly high at only 1388m but it covers a huge area.

By the time we reached Balanga it was dark so the immediate plan was to find somewhere to sleep for the night.  We drove through the town into the neighbouring town of Pilar and then onto Orion but there were no obvious hotels of any distinction.  We ended up back in Balanga and found a motel type place.  Rolly went and checked out the room rates, which were reasonable enough so we went to check out the rooms.  As we were walking to the room I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, in gutter road between the accommodation blocks: a giant cockroach.  Okay, so that's not such a big deal in the Philippines but when we went to the room there were two or 3 in the room which sealed it for me: I wasn't going to be staying in this place.  Then as we left the room I noticed more cockroaches on the door frames; in the corridor; on the ceiling; in fact, just about everywhere.  This place had a serious infestation.  I wonder if it was because it was next door to the KFC?

Which is where we went to eat!  Time was short and if we didn't eat somewhere we were going to miss out.

We then drove a little out of town and found another newish type hotel.  The rates were reasonable so we checked in.  Apart from the ants and the karaoke in the street opposite it was near enough to being all right.

In the morning we went for breakfast in the town of Mariveles, which is on the southern most tip of the peninsular and consists of many factories and a small port and fishing terminal.  The town proper was busy and had a one-way system due to the narrowness of the roads.  We played safe and had breakfast in a brand new Jollibee (the Philippines answer to Mcdonalds).

After breakfast we headed up to the refinery to see what we could find out.  We couldn't get into the refinery (they wouldn't let us in) but we made several enquiries and discovered where the site was and what was going on.  It may have seemed like a long way to come just to find out this information but without actually travelling the roads and seeing the place for yourself there's no real way of finding out what's there and what isn't there.

Petron Refinery from the Air

Having found out what we could it was time to head back so the plan was for me to head across Manila Bay on the ferry, whilst Rolly headed back home to drop his car off and take a flight back to Iloilo.  We got to the ferry terminal but the gates were locked.  We were told that the ferries had stopped running for maintenance.  So we had to come up with Plan B.  We decided that I'd travel north to San Fernando with Rolly where we'd part company.  There was little point in him having to go all the way to the other side of Manila just to drop me off at the airport so In San Fernando I was to take the bus.

Mt. Arayat

At San Fernando I was expecting to end up at a bus station but Rolly just stopped on the side of a very busy dual carriageway in the town.  "Where's the bus stop?", I asked,  "I thought you'd drop me off at the bus station". 

"Don't worry, boss", Rolly said, "The bus will stop here".  I couldn't see how?   There were hundred of people and buses and cars all over the place.  Suddenly, Rolly stepped out into the road and flagged down a coach which pulled over and stopped, causing traffic chaos.  On I hopped and off I went - as easy as that!  The bus fare was a miserly Php99 (£1.42) and the bus driver set off like his life depended on us being in Manila within the hour (it's a 2 hour journey).

To be fair the bus was clean and comfortable.  I had no idea where it was going to stop in Manila in the event it stopped in an area that I didn't know and which looked pretty rough.  I was the last one off, thinking it was going to go further and stepped off into a maelstrom of touts all vying to organise a taxi for me.  It makes me distinctly nervous when I'm in these places and surrounded by some pretty rough looking characters.  The taxis that were on the side of the road obviously thought their Christmas had come early and were quoting stupid rates to go to Makati and, as much as I wanted to be out of there, I wasn't going to be totally ripped off in the process.  And they wouldn't negotiate.  Then by chance and luck a cab pulled over and I asked him how much to go to Makati and he said he'd do in on the meter.  Unheard of in Manila - especially for a foreigner - so I jumped in.  This infuriated the touts and they were demanding money from me for organising my taxi (which they didn't), which I responded to pretty bluntly from the safety of the back of the cab.  I don't mind helping out but I don't like being intimidated into handing over cash.

It was too early to go and hang around the airport so I wandered around the Makati shops for while then went and has a late lunch and a couple of beers before heading to the airport.

Mixing Business with Pleasure - Part I

July 2010

The project in Bataan is now looking like a distinct possibility so I decided that a trip to the project location was a good idea in order to gauge the lie of the land and see what the place had to offer.

Bataan (Wikipedia Bataan) is just across the bay from Manila on the Bataan Peninsula and is perhaps more well known through the notoriety of the Bataan Death March, in which American and allied Asian troops, captured by the Japanese, were forced marched over 60 miles under brutal conditions to Tarlac in the north.  Of the 72,000 prisoners it is estimated that some 11,000 died en-route, perishing either from starvation, thirst or through sheer brutality at the hands of the Japanese (bataandiary.com).

The trip to Bataan seemed like an ideal opportunity to combine it with a weekend visit the rice terraces of Banaue (pronounced Ban-aw-ee), a place I'd been planning to go and see for several years ever since I first read about it, and which was top of my list of things to-do whilst in the Philippines, if not the world.  Banaue is described in the Philippines as the 8th Wonder of the World and is a World Heritage site, consisting of spectacular rice terraces carved out of the mountainous terrain and fed by an ingenious system of irrigation channels.  They were apparently constructed between some 2000 to 6000 years ago by the Ifugao tribes that inhabit the mountains of Luzon (Wikipedia Banaue)

Banaue is located in the middle of Luzon so on the weekend I flew up to Tuguegarao (probably further north than necessary but it was dictated by flight availability) to meet up with a colleague, Rolly, in his home-town.  He had travelled up the day before in order to pre-arrange transportation, using his own car for the duration of our planned trip.

As we were already in Tuguegarao it was decided to visit the nearby nearby Calleo Caves, which would mean we wouldn't have enough time to make it to Banaue that day, but the caves seemed like a worthwhile thing to do and I didn't know if I'd have to opportunity to visit them sometime in the future.  

Calleo Caves

The caves were reasonably impressive, formed from limestone and which had a chapel situated in one of the larger caves.  It would have been interesting to have seen a service being held there and to hear the cave's acoustics during the hymn singing.  There were plenty of stalactites and stalagmites, albeit somewhat worn and abused in places where they were accessible, and the remnants of a colony of bats (although I guess not as many as there should have been - probably driven away by the hymn singing).  Having said that the caves were reasonably impressive and worth a visit, even if they weren't as impressive as the Gomantong Caves in Sabah, Borneo, but then I doubt that many are.  I'd even say they probably weren't as good as the caves in Bulabog (see Jungle Trekking to the Bat Cave), which were more pristine, if not as big.

Chapel in the Caves

By the time we'd finished at the caves there wasn't enough time to make it over the mountains into Banaue so we headed to Solano to eat and bed down for the night, with the plan being to head off again very early in the morning.  The drive was pleasant enough, if not spectacular, consisting of rice and crop fields in a wide valley with mountain ranges in the distance.  In Solano, after the usual dinner of chicken and rice (I'm now heartily sick of chicken and rice) and after rejecting some abysmal hotels, we found an enormous brand new hotel called the Highland Hotel on the Banaue side of town that was apparently owned by a Brit.  It was odd, built to look like an old style colonial mansion house with a massive lobby and huge central staircase that dominated the entrance.  So much so that the reception area was hidden behind the stairs.  But it was new, clean and cheap at only Php1000 a night, if a little chintzy, so we grabbed a room each managing to avoid the temptations of the nearby nightclub and went to bed early.

Giant People Live Here

On the Way Home from School
Health & Safety UK would have a fright

Up bright and early the following the day and after a rushed cup of coffee we headed off to Banaue.  The road was a steep climb into the mountains and Rolly's rather underpowered Honda struggled somewhat, so much so that I was convinced it was going to overheat or just give up.  But Japanese engineering won the day and we were soon over the peak and heading down again into the valley towards Banaue.

Sunrise on the Way to Banaue

On arrival it was rather disappointing and not the spectacular sight I imagined but it transpired that Banaue is more of a springboard into the surrounding areas where the more impressive terraces can be seen.  The town itself is mess.  I can't think of any other way to describe it.  The way that the buildings have been constructed, some 12 storeys high against the sheer face of the hills is quite impressive but they are ugly structures constructed from brutal, basic reinforced concrete with a perpetual look of an unfinished state about them.  The town definitely needs a makeover.

Banaue Town
Not the prettiest sight

Initially, on arrival we thought it would be a good idea to drive to a place called Batad.  This doesn't appear on any maps but I had learnt about it from one of the group that was on the four-waterfalls tour (Four Waterfalls in One Day) and so was keen to visit the place.  Unfortunately, the road was in such a poor condition that a 4x4 would have been necessary to traverse it so we have to give up fairly quickly and head back to the town.

We decided the best option was to find some accommodation first so we drove around and on the hill leading up from the river to the road out there was a lodge (The Stairway Lodge and Restaurant) that we checked into and had a surprisingly well prepared breakfast.  The rooms looked basic but clean and there was a fantastic view from the window across the valley to the nearby terraces.  The bathroom left a great deal to be desired.  Air conditioning wasn't necessary as the temperatures were pleasantly cool in the high mountain air and we were told (apparently correctly) that there were no mossies.  The floors were constructed from a wonderful dark pine wood as was some of the wall panelling, which gave the place a warm homely feel to it.  It certainly looked better on the inside than the outside.

The Stairway Lodge

Stairway Lodge from the Inside

Whilst checking in we were approached by a local with a wonky eye who was offering us tours.  He tried to insist on speaking to me but I knew that western rates would be much higher than local rates so I kept directing him to Rolly for the negotiations.  After some haggling, verging on bullying, we managed to get the tours at something approaching a reasonable rate and even then it was comparatively expensive when you consider the usual cost of tricycle transportation and our labour rates for our workers, which is the benchmark I use to measure the cost of everything in the Philippines.

Bauaue Kids

The plan was to go to a hot spring for the rest of the day and then to go to Batad the following day when we could make an early start, so we dumped our belongings into our rooms and went back down to reception where there was old Cock-eye and a tricycle with a driver.  Rolly sat on the motorbike saddle behind the driver but because of the side car attachment you can't straddle the saddle but have to sit side on.  I sat in the tricycle carriage with not enough headroom so I was hunched up and our cock-eyed tour guide sat cross-legged precariously on the roof on the tricycle, which is normally reserved for the luggage.

From Left to Right:  Rolly, Wonky-Eye, Trike Driver

We headed off up into the mountains and the road very soon deteriorated into a dreadful state and the ride was torturous as the driver revved and fought with the bike to keep in on course and we bounced around on the bike.  How Cock-eye didn't fall off the roof I shall never know.  The frequent stops to take photographs was a welcome respite from the journey.  However, where ever I wanted to stop the cock-eyed guide always said that there was better view around the corner, although this "better view" never seemed to materialise.

The Road to the Hot Springs

We ended up in a small town where we had to sign a visitors' register and pay an entrance fee of Php20 (30p), which was the same for locals and foreigners alike.  We continued on following the river for some distance along a track through tiny villages.  We eventually stopped and then starting hiking through the terraces along the narrow wall tops that formed the steps.  From a distance they looked quite small but closer up they were, in places, up to 12ft high and a misplaced foot would have meant a nasty tumble.  Had it been the planting season this might not have been so bad and would have ended up in a muddy but soft landing.  However, it was nearer harvesting time so the paddies had dried out so a fall would have more likely ended with some broken bones.  It was interesting to see the local kids who live with this day in, day out, walking along the edges of the terraces carrying out their day to day business.  No busy-body heath and safety here and no one to sue if you didn't mind your step and fell off.

On the Way to the Hot Springs

The hike ended at hot, sulphurous spring where I had a paddle.  It wasn't that hot but then it was being diluted by the freezing, roaring, gushing water from the adjacent river.  I tried to find the source of the spring to see just how hot it was but I couldn't find it.  Rolly was far more adventurous and took a dip in his skiddies in the freezing river.  After a short period of resting and relaxing we were off again and heading back to the tricycle for the crashing and bashing journey back, which I wasn't looking forward to.

Site of the Bogyah Hot Springs

Back at the lodge I had a shower before dinner.  The shower was a strange arrangement with a bulbous head on a pipe sticking out of the wall with a curly wire attached to it as the water heater was contained within the shower head.  To me, this was akin to using a hair dryer in the bath but then perhaps I'm too health and safety conscious.  The switch for heater was also in the bathroom and I was particularly nervous about throwing a breaker switch stood barefoot on a wet floor.  I use the term "heater" quite loosely in this context as it barely heated the water at all.  It did however, take the chill off the freezing water (but only just) which was definitely more welcome than having to shower in the normally icy water.

The Luxurious Shower

That evening we had dinner in the lodge, which was passable but nothing special and failed to live up to the expectations of the breakfast. That night, despite the roar of the river in the valley, I was frequently awoken by barking dogs and the power was off for most of the time, which is a reflection of the dire power shortages there are in the Philippines.  This also leads to the Philippines having probably the most expensive electricity I have ever encountered.  As a result the lodge didn't have any electrical sockets available and if you wanted to charge your phone, laptop or camera battery you had to pay and the staff would take your battery and charger to concealed power socket.  

The next day we were up early and back into the tricycle and heading towards Batad.  This was a different tricycle as Cock-eye told me the one from the day before was in for repairs. Obviously it wasn't used to carrying the bulk of an over-fed, under-exercised westerner.  The road to Batad whilst not great was definitely better than the previous day's journey.  We came to a stop at a junction from where we were to hike from and there was a small hut on the side of the road out of which appeared a tiny, wiry old lady with a wrinkled leathery face.  She chatted to me in remarkably good English and we exchanged pleasantries.  She asked me, in a very kind and sympathetic way, if I'd like to buy one of her handmade woven baskets.  She seemed so nice and I felt somewhat sorry for her being so old and frail that I desperately wanted to buy one, but as I didn't want to lug it around with me to Batad I promised her I'd buy one on my return.

On the Way Up to the Saddle

From the drop-off point we started hiking up a steep track.  Cock-eye pointed to the top of the mountain and told me that's where we were heading, to a point called The Saddle.  I wasn't expecting this.  Although it was quite a hike and pretty steep we made good progress as the route alternated between being a very good paved road to a worn-out-washed-away gravelly track.  At the saddle there was a couple of small shacks selling souvenirs and refreshments and a rather good view point that looked over where we'd just come from, and in the opposite direction, to where we were headed.

Where We'd Just Come From . . . 

. . . Where We Were Going

Having reached the highest point the only way was down.  To begin with there were some concrete steps (414 to be exact) that varied in height from virtually non-existent to, and these were the majority, ridiculously large.  On the way down we passed several locals on their way up carrying impossibly large sacks of rice to take to market, which was a stark reminder of how hard some people's existence is.

The 414 Steps

Once at the bottom of the steps it was a pleasant enough walk through forested areas with glimpses of rice terraces through the trees giving a hint of what was to come.  The final destination was arrived at suddenly and unexpectedly from the forest and turning a corner where you're greeted with the most amazing vista of the spectacular terraces carved out of a mountain side and looking like a amphitheatre of rice.  The way that this view was suddenly presented was similar in a way to visiting Petra, whereby you approach through a narrow canyon and then all of sudden you are presented with a view of the main Treasury structure carved out of rock.  Presentation is everything.

From this position on the hillside we stopped for some light refreshment.  All the time we were being chased by Cock-eye to hurry along as he kept telling us that it was going to rain in the afternoon (not might rain but unequivocally would rain) and he was afraid our access might be blocked by a landslide.  I took this to be him scamming us so he could back early either so he could do the bare minimum to earn his cash or because he wanted to go and spend it all in the pub, so I wilfully resisted any attempts he made to rush us along.

After a short rest we headed off to see the waterfall (hidden by the hills) on the opposite side of the valley.  This involved walking across the terraces where the rice was in varying states of growth and harvest.  The construction of the terraces here were different from those in Banaue in that they were constructed from stones and boulders, some of a tremendous size that we tried speculating how they would have lifted and placed them thousands of years ago when there was no mechanisation.  Maintenance of the terraces is becoming a problem due to the younger people moving to the cities and not wanting to take up the hardship of hill farming.  In several places the terraces had collapsed through landslide and it was apparent that no effort was being made to repair them.  If you want to see this place for yourself then you had better make it sooner rather than later.

View From the Terraces

Halfway across the terraces there was a small timber shelter with an old man inside who looked like he was a hundred years old and was dressed in traditional Ifugao garb.  Clearly too old to work in the fields he made a living out of charging passing tourists to take his photo.  I reckoned he had the most lucrative job in the whole of the valley and his toothless glee and excitement when a large group of Japanese tourists turned up was particularly amusing.

On the far side of the terraces there was house perched on a ridge looking out over the whole scene.  I thought how wonderful and lucky it would be to live there.  The place had an area to rest, serving drinks and snacks but the impression I got from the children that lived there and were manning the refreshments was that they were indifferent to the surrounding view, and probably didn't understand what all the fuss was about.  I guess that a combination of familiarity and living in such harsh and austere conditions makes your primary focus one of purely having enough to eat and drink rather than enjoying the view.

House With a View

From here there was another precipitous track down to the waterfall and whilst it was difficult enough to traverse we noticed that the slopes of the mountain were planted with crops.  Heaven knows how the local farmers are able to keep their footing whilst they are ploughing, tilling, planting and harvesting their crops on such precarious slopes.  The water fall is located at the end of a horseshoe bend in the river that is ominously scarred by a huge landslide that has gouged a chunk out of the mountain out and almost threatened to dam the river.  Similarly, the falls can only be seen once you are almost on top of them and it's an impressive sight, far better than any of those I saw during the Four Waterfalls in One Day trek.  Best of all, it was pristine and spotlessly clean .

The Glorious Waterfall

Wonky-eye didn't extend himself to go down to the falls but Rolly and I did and it was well worth it.   The falls were deafeningly loud and I decided to brave it and go for a swim even though the water was freezing.  However, the most difficult part was the monkey rocks in the river bed - so called because they hurt your feet so much that you hobble, swing your arms and make oooh, oooh, ahhh, ahhh noises like a monkey as you try to walk over them.  It was so painful underfoot that I wasn't able to lower myself in to the freezing water but clumsily fell into it.  But it was wonderfully refreshing after the sweating and exertion of the day's hiking.

Wonky-eye had told us not to spend too long at the pool and was rushing us not to be too late in going back due to the imminent rain, even though at this time there was brilliant sunshine.

Kids at the House With a View

He headed back up to the arrival point and had a late lunch and a short rest before heading back.  By this time Rolly was having problems with his leg and was limping so we made slow progress going back up again.  Around halfway up we could hear singing that grew louder and louder as we drew nearer and it was such a sweet, melodic sound that I was really curious to see where it was coming from.  On a bend on the trail there was a pool a few feet below the track fed by small stream cascading down the mountain, and there were three young girls (I'd estimate them to be 10 ~ 12 years old) collecting water and singing their hearts out with gusto.  They were wonderfully in tune and despite our sudden presence they carried on with their singing which really lifted the heart and spirits to hear such a great sound.  I was absolutely captivated by this and couldn't drag myself away but Cock-eye was insisting that the rains were imminent and so we had to leave.  It was a marvellous sound and scene that will live with me forever.

Harvested Rice

We eventually reached the 414 monster steps and Rolly's leg was giving him so much gyp that he decided to continue to follow the somewhat longer, but not so steep trail whilst I elected to take the steps (still feeling invigorated from the cold dip in the waterfall plunge pool and lifted by the wonderful singing).  Without the burden of a lumber rucksack and feeling fitter than normal the stairs didn't present me with too much of a problem and I was back at The Saddle well ahead of Rolly and Cock-eye and so took some time to relax and enjoy the views.

As soon as Rolly arrived we started off down the mountain again but on this side the skies were ominously dark and threatening - it look like Cock-eye was going to be right.  Around halfway down there were smatterings of a rain shower that came and went and I thought we were going to miss the worst of it.  A jeepney, ridiculously overloaded came past us on its way up the track, with people and luggage hanging off every available inch of it.  Cock-eye told us that we could've taken the jeepney for a bit more money but I was rather glad we walked.

At the bottom of the trail the tricycle was there waiting for us.  Cock-eye was panicking now about the weather and really wanted to get a move on but I'd promised the old lady that I'd buy something from her.  I think Php300 after some protracted haggling for a little wicker pot was a complete rip-off and Rolly and everyone else thought so too, so I tried to justify the expense to myself in that the money had gone to some kind of a good cause.

No sooner we were in the tricycle (I had to share the cab with Cock-eye because he didn't want to sit on the roof and get wet - although judging by the whiff of him a good soaking wouldn't have done him any harm) the heavens just opened in a downpour of biblical proportions.  Luckily for me there was a wafer thin piece of cloth acting as the door to the tricycle's cab with kept me wonderfully dry . . . . not!  Very soon I was totally drenched all down one side whilst Cock-eye was nice and dry sandwiched between me and the bike itself.  I didn't mind the soaking but I was very concerned about my cameras.  The road was very soon completely flooded and totally underwater so the driver couldn't really see where he was going.  At one point he ploughed into a really deep puddle that caused a bow wave of water to flood the cab, soaking Cock-eye in the process.  He was scowling and cursing like a good 'un and I was convinced he was secretly blaming me for delaying our return.

Back in Banaue we came to the bridge over the river and it appeared that there was more water on the bridge than what was under it as it was covered with around 2~3 feet deep with water.  I thought there was no way the trike would make it and I was about to get out and wade through when the driver revved the throttle and just went for it.  It was amazing that he made it across the bridge when the engine, exhaust and most of the rest of the bike was under water, but he cleared the flood to the other side of the bridge (although Cock-eye got another good soaking).  From here it was a short ride up the hill to the lodge and home in time for a very slightly tepid shower (I actually think the rain water was warmer) and something hot to eat.  

I spent the rest of the evening writing up my notes of the day's events before going to bed relatively early to the roaring sound of the now flooded river in the valley below, wondering whether there would be a landslide as a result of all the rain and if I was going to awake floating down the river.