Silk Thread

Hopefully, this is the last word on the Silk Air fiasco.  

After stewing over the S$30 gift voucher I decided I wasn't going to leave it there so I wrote to them again and told then that the voucher was derisory and insulting, and that I intended to pursue the matter further.  To this end I asked to be given the name of the person in Silk Air who was in charge of dealing with complaints (I nearly called it Customer Care!).

Lo and behold, within a few hours I had a phone call from Silk Air in Singapore.  Being somewhat caught on the hop I told them I was in a meeting and asked them to call me back, thereby giving me a moment to consider just exactly what it was I wanted to say.

The next morning they called again.  I spoke to the manager of customer relations who was very, very apologetic.  It's difficult and somewhat pointless raging at an individual of a big international company: it's not individuals or employees that make the rules.  What I really wanted was the person in charge - someone I could really get stuck into and vent my frustration and anger at regarding their shoddy attitude and service.  But this just doesn't happen.  Those people are nearly always remote from the public they're supposed to serve and I think that goes a long way to explain the incredibly bad decisions that some corporations or businesses make.

The final outcome is that I will have the whole cost of the flight reimbursed, and the 'no-show' and cancellation fees will be waived.   In addition, the S$30 voucher, which the girl from Silk Air took great delight in explained to me was actually US$30 (whoopy-whoo, I might be able to stretch to 2 Toblerones) would be doubled to US$60.

I suppose having the flight reimbursed and being given a couple of vouchers was about all I expected to get but having had to fight for them for so long and so hard really takes the edge off it.

Have You Been to Boracay?

"Have you been to Boracay?" seems to be the question almost everyone asks you here.  Not "Have you been to the Banaue rice terraces?" or "Have you been to the lake on Mt. Pinatubo?, it's nearly always about Boracay.

As it was the Holy Week holiday here, which meant the Thursday and Friday was a non working day, I made a plan to finally go to Boracay for a long weekend.  Boracay is a small island just over 4 miles long and a mile wide at it's widest point and located off the north-west point of the island of Panay where I'm working.  As I'm stationed in the south-east corner it's diagrammatically opposite and couldn't be any further away so it's a 4 hour drive to get there.

To be honest, I'm past being excited by beaches.  Both my sister and I agree that beaches are like fireworks:  you've seen them once, you've seen them all.  And having lived and worked in the Turks and Caicos Islands in the Caribbean I'm pretty sure there isn't a better beach in the (commercial) world.  But there was the point of just being able to say I'd been to Boracay and as it's on my doorstep, so to speak, it would silly not to go.

Boracay Beach Loungers

Initially I was going to go on my own but the place I'd decided I wanted to stay at only had a duplex room available so I asked a colleague of mine if he wanted to go along as well, which he agreed to.

We set off at lunchtime on the Wednesday and the drive took us through the heart of Panay.  Right now it is the dry season and probably fair to say there's a drought, so the normally lush and fertile countryside was rather brown and drab with the usually flooded rice paddies taking on that cracked, crazy-paved earth look.  I wondered, with so much not being grown and local agriculture being so important in feeding and providing income for the communities that how much longer the dry weather needed to continue for before it became a crisis.  As an example, in Mindanao there is an energy crisis as they depend heavily on hydroelectricity generation and the shortage of rainfalls means the reservoirs are too low to generate power.

Arriving at the ferry terminal I was expecting it to be chaos and hassle as I had experienced when going to Bantayan Island (see Island Overdose) but I was pleasantly surprised to find it was all very well organised, with no touts.  Amazing really.  On the ferry trip to Boracay we had to wear life jackets, which is an unheard of safety imposition for this part of the world.   It's only a short trip and the terminal at the other side was equally well organised.  As usual, I had too much stuff.  Apart from the cameras, I'd brought my bike along too as I thought it would be a good way to explore the island.  My colleague went off ahead of me in a tricycle with my cameras whilst I was cycled to the resort with my overfilled backpack.

Rather more hillier than I'd imagined I soon worked up a massive sweat and missed a couple of not-so-apparent turnings and so had to double back.  Once on the side of the island where I needed to be, I cycled up a long hill but couldn't see the resort.  I stopped and asked a security guard stood outside a construction site where the resort was and he waved me on up the hill.  Having been in the Philippines for going on a year now I have an instinct of knowing when a Filipino knows what you're talking about, or rather when they don't, and I knew this guard didn't have clue.  They never seem to want to disappoint and say they don't know.  By the time I got to the top of the hill, by now dripping in sweat, I was pretty sure I didn't want to go back down the other side only to find out that the resort wasn't there and have to, like the soldiers of the Grand Old Duke of York, march back up to the top and down again.  So I fumbled for my mobile phone and called my colleague who seemed equally confused as to where I was and where he was.  I reckoned I'd passed him and he was at the start of the hill so I whizzed back down and spotted the driver.  The sign for the resort was tiny and mounted on a pole set back off the road so it was no wonder I'd missed it.

The place I'd booked sounded appealing enough: quiet, high on a hill overlooking the beach with fresh breezes to keep it cool.  From previous experience I didn't want to stay where there would be the boom, boom, boom all night of music until 5:00am from open air bands (yes, I'm old. I know).  The owner had told me that there were 90 or so steps to climb to get to the resort but to me that was no problem, I just climbed Mt. Kanlaon, so what were a few steps.  However, when I did eventually arrive at the place it was a bit of let down.  Essentially it was a bamboo, rattan and atap shack with a bed upstairs and downstairs that essentially constituted sleeping outside under a mossie net.  And there was no breeze.  Personally, I would probably have toughed it out but my colleague was having none of it as it the time he's been waiting for me he'd almost gone into hypovolaemic shock from the number mosquito bites he'd had.

Sand Castles

So we decided to walk into town to see if there was anything else available, deciding to forfeit the deposit I'd paid.  I'm not saying the owner of the resort had lied about the place but he'd certainly been economical with the truth and the details of what the place was actually like.  The owner wasn't around so we spoke to his wife, who looked like Magda from There's Something About Mary (around 80 years old, in a bikini and all wrinkled like a walnut from spending a lifetime in the sun).

One of our local employees who was also spending the weekend in Boracay found us a place just off White Beach, which is the centre for all that is happening in Boracay.  The hotel was cheap and cheerful and mossie free so it seemed to be okay and not very noisy either.

The driver stayed in the mossie hell that night so the deposit didn't go completely to waste - and the mossies didn't starve to death.  I saw the owner when I want back to collect my bag and bike and told him it wasn't really what we'd been expecting.  He was pretty laid back about it so my guess we weren't the first to complain or be disappointed and besides, he still had the deposit.

The Sign Says It All

The rest of the weekend was spend cycling, being far too hot and eating and drinking more than usual.  I get accused (not unwarranted I know) of being somewhat negative and Victor Meldrew-ish but I have to say that Boracay was comparatively and surprisingly good.   For a change the food seemed to be universally good with no Filipino Food Frights.  And it's still surprisingly cheap and only slightly more expensive than the norm, which is only to be expected.  Similarly, it was clean.  Very clean.  The beaches were kept spotless by child labour and whilst there was a fair amount of green slimy seaweed on the shoreline that had to be waded through, the sea was clear and warm.  If you want a lively beach it's all there but if you want un-crowded and quiet beaches these can also be found by taking a short trike ride to other parts of the island.

The Green Slime Was Off-Putting

We went on a boat trip and did some snorkelling and this too was well organised.  Having been ripped off in Bantayan I was explicit in spelling out the price we were paying, where we were going and what we were getting for our money.  But my concerns were unfounded as all boat trips were controlled and centrally organised.  There were just enough touts selling some things you want and some things you don't to make it interesting but they weren't over pushy or persistent.  There was a huge range of events happening on the beach over the weekend and this was set up and done with the minimum of fuss and well organised - and largely free thanks to sponsorship.

All in all it was a very enjoyable weekend.

Sunset

The Final Insult

The voucher that Silk Air sent me as recompense for the flight cancellation (see Words in a Different Order with the Same Meaning) was sent to our office in Singapore.  Last week the letter was forwarded to me here in the Philippines. 

Whilst not anticipating it being something worthwhile, I did retained some hope that Silk Air would come good in the end and surprise me.  Of course this wasn't going to happen.  What Silk Air sent me was a S$30 (£14.63 at current exchange rates) voucher stapled to their in-flight shopping magazine, which is the only place the voucher can be redeemed. 

So now, let me see:  in return for the loss of around £400 of direct and associated costs I'm given a £15 voucher that must be spent on a Silk Air/Singapore Airlines flight.  Hmmmmm, somehow I don't think I'm going to be enticed back to Silk Air by a £15 voucher.   That's a £15 voucher that is probably largely recoverable in profit from the lucrative duty free trade - not to mention the profit from me taking another flight with them.

Browsing through SkyShop magazine here's what I can buy for under S$30:

• Some stylish (not) Fitness First plastic sunglasses.
• A Toblerone variety 5 pack (good for my waistline)
• A Paris Bijoux crystal scooter mobile phone accessory (who chooses this stuff????)
• A fluffy high heels luggage tag (now it's just getting silly . . . )
• A Silk Air screen cleaner and keyboard brush (at S$12 I could buy 2 of these!)

And that's it.  Thanks Silk Air

Honestly, their meanness is breath taking.  And to further add insult to injury, the voucher has four boxes to tick of varying value, and can you guess which one they've ticked?  Yep, the lowest value.  So it's nice to know how much they value me as a customer.

I'm flying to Singapore in couple of weeks and this time I'm going with Cebu Pacific.  I couldn't care less if I had to stand for the whole journey and was made to wear a hair shirt, I wouldn't fly Silk Air even if they offered me the Paris bijoux crystal scooter AND the Tolberone variety 5 pack.

Mt. Kanlaon Summit Trek - Day 3

The night before I'd hung my socks on a branch in the hope that the weather would remain fine throughout the night and they might dry out a bit.  Not a chance.  Early morning I was awoken by the pit, pit, pat of rain falling on the tent, as well as the snoring and wheezing from Rutger the Leprechaun.  As usual I was awake early and lay there wondering what time everyone else was going to get ready.

Outside of the tent the whole mountain top was enveloped in cloud so a quick trek to the cone and the highest point wasn't going to happen.  A disappointment not to be able to go to the peak but with the rain making everything feel quite wretched there didn't seem any point. 

I recovered my boots from under my rain coat and of course, they were still wet.  My socks were dripping wet and I couldn't decide whether to put them back on again or leave them off.  There didn't seem to be much point in putting them back on again so the were stowed away under the rain cover on my rucksack.  I'd left my rucksack hanging off of a branch with the rain cover pulled over it but this only really protects the outside of it and so it was also pretty much soaked through too.

Breakfast was cheese and onion sandwiches made with stale bread.  Jochen was very proud of his home-made bread baked in a wood fired oven but it didn't stay fresh for too long.

Waiting to Catch Me Slipping Over

Back into my wet clothes we then headed off down the mountain.  Visibility was only 50 yards or so but by the time we left it had at least stopped raining, although it was difficult to stay dry when all the surrounding vegetation was soaking wet.  The terrain going down was completely different to that going up in that it was grassland rather than forest.  This made it easier to traverse except the trail was muddy and very, very slippery.  All of us seemed to spend a fair proportion of our time sliding downhill on our backsides.  The Leprechaun seemed to delight in this and would wait for those up ahead to slip over, and then after having identified the really slippery bits would wait in ambush with his video camera to capture those behind befalling the same fate.  

Wet, Dirty, Scratched and Tired - But Still Smiling

As we started down the grass was only knee high but the further we went the longer it became until it was over 6 feet tall.  In places there had been brush fires and slipping over meant getting covered in a thick, black, sticky soot.  Trying to hold onto the grass to stop yourself from falling wasn't such a good idea either as it was like grabbing razors that sliced your hands open and it was full of hidden brambles and thorns.  My legs were cut and grazed - no wonder everyone else was wearing long trousers.

Cuts and Grazes

Halfway down we stopped in a dried up river bed for a rest and to be eaten alive by huge mosquitoes.  Pulling off my sodden boots to remove the grit and stones I realised it was a mistake not to wear socks - the big toe on my right foot had an enormous blister on it and the left one was developing one too.  Jochen was kind enough to lend (gave) me a pair of dry socks, which helped enormously.

Blister on my Big Toe

In some ways, coming down is harder than going up.  On the way up you alternate between pushing off on one leg and then the other but going down both legs are under constant exertion.  By the time we coming to the end, walking through farmland and out of the grasslands, I was hobbling a fair bit from my blisters and now thoroughly exhausted legs.  Within the last 500 yards the elastic on my underpants gave out and I finished the trek in a rather undignified fashion with my pants dangling around the legs and crotch of my shorts.

Rice Farms on Kanlaon's Slopes

A short 10 minute video of the trek can be viewed by clicking on this link: Kanlaon Trek

We were met by the lads on the scooters and taken back to the guest house.  I slumped in a plastic chair and guzzled on a bottle of San Miguel.  Without doubt, when you feel like you've earned a beer it certainly tastes good - and this tasted divine.  So I had 3 more and they didn't bother going to my stomach, they just went straight to my head!

Kanlaon Lush Waterfall

As we were all having a celebration beer a local bus came down the road, full to the gunnels with people and baggage.   Jochen stood on the side of the road flagging it down but I reckoned there was no way it was going to stop to pick up more passengers.  But of course I was wrong.  Still holding their beers, and with standing room only, we said goodbye and off they went.

In summary then, it was a great trip, although somewhat disappointed that we didn't actually make it to the very highest point and that the weather was so grim.  I'm not sure it offered good value for money though.  Php 9,000 (£135) for one night in a cheap guest house and some rice and noodles (and a free pair of socks) seem rather expensive, even taking into consideration the guide and rental of tents, but even more so when you consider we had to carry all the kit ourselves.

Whilst on the mountain I swore that I'd never do this again.  I was adamant.  I'd decided that all I was going to do in the future was take up golf.  Stamp collecting.  Needle work.  But within a very short time after finishing I was thinking that it wasn't so bad.  Despite all the pain and suffering the rewards are immense and it's not the physical challenge that I enjoy, it's the mental ones.  The need to keep going when your body's telling you you should stop.  Having to ignore the cuts and grazes, the blisters and aching legs.  It's not like a bus ride: you can't just get off when you want.  Once you're there, you have to see it through.  There's also the thrill of doing something edgy and dangerous.  There are plenty of precarious ledges and walkways where a slip might send you tumbling down the mountain but without these the trip, and life in general, would be pretty dull.  Wouldn't it?

Plot of the Route Taken (Google Earth)

The Start Point is to the Right

Mt. Kanlaon Summit Trek - Day 2

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.

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.

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.

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.

Grabbing a Quick Rest on the Crater Rim

Just after midday we emerged from the forest into a opening just below the rim.  The rest of the crew had arrived before me but said they'd peered over the rim and there was nothing to see as everything was enveloped in thick cloud.  However, as if by divine intervention, just as I arrived the clouds parted and we scrambled up to the rim to take in the view.  The most surprising thing I found was how easy it was to do without that wretched rucksack on my back!  Mt. Kanlaon consists of a large, elongated oval caldera that is no longer active to the north, and an active cone at the southern end so that in plan it looks like a fat exclamation mark.  There is little difference in height between the two crater at their highest points, with the active cone being approximately only 200ft higher.  We were stood at the far southern end of the old caldera looking towards the active cone.  Very soon the clouds rolled back in again and we were in a white out with limited visibility.  A decision had to be made whether to camp there for the night and head for the cone the next day, or whether to push on and camp overnight near the cone.  As it was relatively early, it was decided to push on.

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.

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.

Mt. Kanlaon Summit Trek - Day 1

Did I say climbing Mt. Kanlaon should be easier than Mt. Kinabalu or Mt. Rinjani because it isn't as high?  Yes I did. And I was wrong.  Despite being nearly 5,500 ft lower than Mt. Kinabalu,  Mt. Kanlaon presents its own unique challenges and conditions that still make it a tough climb.

There are principally two reasons for this: firstly, you have to carry all your own water for drinking and cooking.  For the time involved this a not an insignificant amount and therefore it's a considerable weight to lug up a mountain. On Kinabalu there is a lodge just below the summit where you can rest overnight before making the ascent to the peak, and it is a place where you can sleep, eat, drink and even buy souvenirs.  It's kept supplied by locals who are paid by the kilo to lug everything up the mountain to keep the place well stocked for soft westerners like myself.  As you climb up you're frequently overtaken by locals with tree-trunk thick legs carrying crates of water, packs of food or other supplies, including materials for building repairs and maintenance.  On one occasion I saw a guy carrying a refrigerator strapped to his back and he had the thickest legs I've ever seen.  As a consequence, when climbing Mt. Kinabalu all you have to carry is a camera, raincoat and a Mars Bar.  It was the same for climbing Rinjani: whilst there was no lodge, a team of porters was employed to carry all your water, food, camping equipment and even the portable chemical toilet up, down and around the mountain.  And they do it wearing flip-flops.

For Mt. Kanlaon I was told by the organiser of the trek that it was not possible to find local porters who were willing to carry kit or equipment for financial remuneration.  This either says a great deal about how much the organiser was willing to pay and/or something about Filipino characteristics.

The second key factor was the route, which on Kanlaon is largely through thickly wooded areas, so for a largish person (such as myself), carrying a bulky rucksack, it makes for tough going as you are frequently having to climb over or crawl under fallen branches and trees.  In the really dense forest you are constantly becoming snagged and tangled on trees, branches, vines and brambles.  It really is energy sapping and soul destroying.

We left Iloilo on the 19th March to travel to Kanlaon City on the south-western side of Mt. Kanlaon.  The day started off well with bright clear weather and no cancellations or delays to the ferry from Dumangus to Bacolod.  Despite sitting in the shade on the top deck of the ferry, I still managed to get my face, arms and legs rather sunburnt, probably from reflected sunlight off of the decks and sea.

Hiding from the Sun

So clear was the weather that right from leaving Dumangas we could see the the outline of Mt. Kanlaon nearly 40 miles in the distance.

Kanlaon from the Ferry

On arriving at Bacolod we had lunch and then headed for Kanlaon City.  We made the most of the clear weather by stopping frequently to photograph the scenery.  We arrived at the Midway Traveler's Inn at around 5:00pm where my driver dropped me off and then went to visit his folks in Dumaguete.  I had arrived ahead of the others who were on the tour and who were travelling from Cebu, so I checked in (very informal) and was shown my room.  It was very basic but reasonably clean, despite the hoards of ants forming moving black lines over the bathroom walls.  There was however, hot water in the shower, complete with the usual exposed electrical wiring joined with electrical tape. The room also had an aircon, albeit a rather asthmatic, wheezing air-con.  I dropped my rucksack off and unpacked it to review again what I would and wouldn't be carrying with me up the mountain.  There really didn't seem much scope for leaving anything behind, except my rather bulky and heavy medium format camera that I really, really wanted to use.  I left everything unpacked and decided to give it more thought and went and sat outside and waited for the others to arrive. 

As I sat on the road side I watched the sun setting and the world go by, which seemed to be almost exclusively noisy scooters whizzing past with the riders and passengers yelling "Hey Joe!"

Sun Setting Behind Mt. Kanlaon

The others arrived before sundown.  I'd expected them to turn up in a mini bus emblazoned with PLANET ACTION! painted down the side with some fancy artwork depicting all manner of activities on offer: white water rafting, para-sailing, mountain climbing, river climbing, scuba diving.  But no, they arrived crammed into a local mini bus with their bags tied with string to the roof and the rear tyres almost touching the wheel arches. Not a good sign, I thought.

The occupants of the bus spilled out onto the roadside and we informally introduced ourselves.   The group consisted of a varied mix of nationalities:

• English - me of course; 
• German - the organiser who had lived in the Philippines for the past 20 years (again, not a good sign).
• Irish - an expat since 1996 who had worked as a deck hand on sailing charters and was now working as a dive instructor.  Referred to as the Leprechaun.  
• Finnish - a Rutger Hauer lookalike barman who split his time working between Sweden (yes, Sweden, not Finland) and the Philippines.  Sounded a bit suspect to me.
• Polish - working in London (where else?!) as an accountant, and her partner;
• Nepalese - working for KFC (not in the "do you want fries to go with that" capacity but more the executive side of KFC).
• Filipino - Super Mario was the coolest guy there and our guide.  He know how to cook, camp and trek.  If we were in a survival situation, Mario was going to be my best friend!

All younger than me and all clearly much fitter too - although that's not difficult.

After the bags were dropped off we all walked into town.  There was a fiesta at the time so the place was buzzing with activity.  We stopped for a local coffee that looked, and tasted, like tar and shopped for mangoes before heading back to the Midway for dinner.

Dinner was dominated by two Long Tailed Macaque monkeys in a cage in the restaurant.  Indignant at not being invited to the table the more dominant one of the two rattled the cage, shook the branch inside and bashed away at the building's aluminium eaves that made a deafening noise.  Dinner was of a typical Philippine fare.  Fried fish, chicken, vegetables and incinerated pork chops.  No real food frights here.

After dinner it was off to bed for an early night.  Well at least I was off to bed.  Because of the fiesta the guest house was fully booked (apart from the room I'd blagged) and so the rest of the group had to sleep in the tents on the floor of the restaurant.  Again, not a good sign regarding pre-planning and organisation, I thought.  I did for a moment consider offering up my relatively comfy room to the only female in the group but rather unchivalrously I convinced myself that being the oldest in the group, my need was greater.

Filipino Food Frights #2 - Extra Protein

Chicken-on-a-stick with plain white rice is my staple lunchtime meal.  At least here in Iloilo the chicken comes with a bit if meat on it, rather than the thin, emaciated excuse for chicken that I'd get in Toledo.

However, I was aware that a diet of chicken and rice is somewhat lacking in vegetable content so recently I had a chop suey with it, consisting of carrots, cabbage, green beans, cauliflower and maggots.  Or was it caterpillars?  You know I just can't be sure, it's rather like trying to distinguish the difference between pak -choi and spinach.

Where the big difference lies is that a caterpillar lives on vegetation.  A maggot lives on rotting flesh, which gives me serious reservations about the freshness of the chicken.

Here's a couple of photos so see if you can decide if it's maggot or caterpillar and cast your votes on the right of the page.

Extra Protein (Circled)

. . . . And Close Up