The sorry state of Mt. Apo

Imagine yourself climbing the Philippines' highest peak - Mt. Apo. The grandfather of all Philippine mountains. Just a few tens of meters shy of 3000m. Wouldn't it be great?

I need not imagine anymore. I know it's great because I have done it a few days ago. And I would like to write about the epic adventure I had with my friends. But I couldn't. Something else has to be said.

A few years ago, I told my ex that we should climb Mt. Apo. He snorted. He asked why I would like to climb a mountain that's mostly turned into a banana plantation. And so we didn't. We broke up eventually but my desire to conquer the mountain remained and totally forgot about what he said.

We used the Sta. Cruz Trail for our climb. It's not the easiest. But it's what our organizer assigned to us and it is the shortest. On our way to the jump-off point, we stopped at a place called Kapatagan to buy breakfast and packed lunch. At first I thought the place was a small town. There was a market, a public transportation terminal and a small hospital. There was even a Petron gas station! But apparently, it is just a barangay.

Later on I learned from our guide that just a few years ago, Kapatagan was different. There weren't much people before. The market was a rice field. And what brought those changes are the private businesses; those banana plantations! Yep, bananas dominate the place.

Roy, our guide, thinks it is much better to have those big businesses rather than the kaingin method employed by local farmers in the area. And although I aggree with him, I still don't understand why the government would allow this. (Or maybe I do, because our government simply sucks.) Why declare a place a national park and then use it for farming? It's supposed to be protected and not taken advantage of. For sure, the Philippine eagle wouldn't thrive in bananas. They aren't even trees!

As much as I want to bash the government for this current sorry state of Mt. Apo, we the climbers and the local residents are also to be blamed.

Along the farm trail (which is so called because it was farms everywhere) we passed by to sitios. I have been to many far-flung settlements and it was always the same. There were garbage everywhere. I kind of expected it to be a little cleaner because it is inside the park. And, you know, it is part of the trail. They get visitors regularly and so it is supposed to be presentable. But it isn't. I guess where there's people, there will always be trash nearby.

And since there are people going in and out of the forest, I should have expected how the trail would look like. I thought climbers/trekkers/hikers (whatever) were a different bunch. But we are not. What has happened to the leave-no-trace principle?

At first it was just bits and pieces of plastic wrappers which we could pretend to be accidentally dropped by someone focusing on tackling the very steep trail. But when we reached the base camp, it was evident that people voluntarily leave their trash in the area. I wonder if the kapre that was said to be living near the camp was showing himself to scare disrespectful people off the mountain. I remember Pulag and how strict it is therr because it.is a sacred place for locals who believe that their gods live in that mountain. But do we have to be told about those gods to do things (or not do things) which we are supposed to know even at a young age?

I brought up the issue of cleanliness to our guides. Roy said I should see the mountain during the holy week climb. And I should be a little thankful that we didn't camp near the peak. Because it is much, much worse. He added that clean-up climbs are done yearly. But do we really need those? I mean, you don't (literally) clean up after other people's mess. People don't learn that way. You tell them. How hard is it to carry one's trash down? Roy assured me that their (our) group brings down everything they brought up the mountain.

While at the peak, I picked up a candy wrapper only because it was distracting me from savoring the joy of finally reaching the summit. I would have also done the same to the bottle of Emperador but it was impossible to put it in my pocket. (I seriously wish that whoever left it there bites his/her/their tongue(s) whenever someone gets to read this.) I did enjoy the climb but I was somehow feeling bad that I was contributing to the demise of Mt. Apo.

I'm not saying that we should stop climbing the mountain. I still definitely want to come back to Mt. Apo and witness the sunset and sunrise from the peak. And I don't want to deny this beautiful experience from others. All I'm saying is that let's do it responsibly and respectfully.