haputale

Haputale is a small town in the southeastern part of Sri Lanka's Hill Country. It can be easily accessed by train, with the train station close to the center of town. It can be said that the place is a little overlook, with very few visitors while we were there. Our main reason in going to Haputale is to see the famed Lipton's Seat, but we get to see a bit more.

Lipton's Seat

Early morning scene.

The main reason why people go to Haputale is to visit Lipton's Seat. Said to be the favorite spot of Sir Thomas Lipton to view his tea plantation, the place is named after the man behind that tea you're drinking. Perched on top of a hill, the viewpoint offers a breathtaking view of the landscape. In the early morning, the gentle touch of the sun as the mist settles in makes the scenery more sublime.

There is tea anywhere you look.

To get there, it is convenient to hire a tuk-tuk. From the center of town, it is a 17-km hair-raising trip along a narrow road winding through tea plantations, occasionally going through very steep slopes on one side and a scary drop on the other. But the views along the way of seemingly endless verdant pattern covering the hills and slopes certainly makes the trip worth-taking.

Another option is to take the bus to Dambatenne Tea Factory and walk for about two to three hours. The earliest bus leaves the town at 7 AM. Since we wanted to be there in the early morning, we opted to hire a tuk-tuk. And besides, the fair is fixed at 1500 LKR roundtrip which is pretty reasonable considering that it also includes a stop at the tea factory.

Dambatenne Tea Factory

Founded more than a century ago, Dambatenne Tea Factory one of the most famous factories to accept visitors. The factory is established by Sir Thomas Lipton himself in 1890. Today, the factory is still standing, functioning and employing about 1500 tea pickers.

The tour which costs 250 LKR per person is quite informative, especially for someone like me who has no idea about how tea is made. All of the stages from cutting, drying, fermenting, several stages of refining, and heating were explained to us while workers were hard at work. This factory produces only black tea of varying quality. They also make white tea in small amount but undergoes a different process and is really expensive.

They don't allow taking photos inside the building so here's a photo of their nice garden.

Adisham Monastery

Standing like a rarity in Haputale with its European design, Adisham or St. Benedict's Monastery was built by an English planter in 1931. The monastery is open to visitors only on weekends, Poya Days and school holidays except on Christmas and Good Friday. (Thankfully, we were there on a Sunday.) However, only a small part of the building is shown to visitors. Instead a video shows its interior and talks more about its history and the person who built it. You would need to remove your shoes before entering the building.

Photography is prohibited inside the building. Our tuk-tuk driver is a good friend of one of the staff facilitating visitors so we were given permission to take photos of the interior. But being me, I didn't take advantage of it.

It is easy to enjoy the tranquility that this place offers. Aside from the views of the mountains, they have well-mainted garden of roses and other flowers whose varying colors are truly beautiful. The entrance fee of about a dollar goes mostly to the care of this pretty garden.

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St. Andrew's Chapel

We took a leisurely walk to this tiny chapel to check if there was a mass. But the place was deserted, and the doors were locked.

More interesting than the chapel building are the tombs surrounding it. Reading the inscriptions, we found only English-sounding names. The tombs were old - some were already crumbling - giving the
church an eerie feel.

a story of kindness from sri lanka

Let's just say that our introduction with Sri Lanka didn't turn out quite well. Taking the wrong exit at the airport, a shuttle we couldn't find, an excessively inflated fare for a short tuk-tuk ride, and an old mini-bus that is filled to the brim - all of these reduced our enthusiasm for the country.

At the Katunayake Bus Terminal, we were waiting for the bus to Kandy which was already half an hour late. When it finally came another half an hour later, it was already packed. And we weren't the only ones waiting for its arrival. People started boarding while we were still arguing if we should hop in or not. We're no strangers to riding crammed buses (or MRTs) but with our backpacks, it would be a difficult three- to four-hour ride. We agreed on hiring a car instead, which would cost at least 6000 LKR if we could convince the two Korean girls to join us. Just as we were about to approach them, the first girl entered the bus, squeezed herself among the crowd and the other quickly followed. Our only hope was lost, leaving us with no other choice.

At the airport. Taking the wrong exit.

Several minutes later, the bus was still parked, the driver nowhere in sight. We spent the idle time strategizing, trying to secure a comfortable space in the bus. But it was futile because once the driver came back, we had to make room (from nothing) for other passengers. The man sitting close to us must have realized our 'difficult' position and offered his seat. Another man from behind also gave up his seat for us, seeing that we couldn't decide who between us would take the first seat. We never expected that but we were so grateful because along the way, the bus picked more passengers up and we could only wonder how it was possible.

One thing that we noticed while we were in the bus was a custom which I haven't seen anywhere else before. When one woman entered the bus, she gave all the stuff she was carrying to a person who was sitting. Well, they must be traveling together. In another case, one guy took the bag held by the person sitting next to me and thanked him before leaving the bus. Well, they must be friends. Another guy entered the bus and gave his backpack to my seatmate. I thought they couldn't be friends because they didn't greet or smiled to each other. Later on, we concluded that what we observed was their tradition. If you get a seat in the bus, you ought to help those who would be standing because you are in a comfortable position. This not only amazed me, but it also gave me a feeling of relief because they are a bunch who are willing to help someone they don't know. And somehow, it changed my initial impression of Sri Lanka.

But that is not the only story I wanted to share. I have another one.

It hadn't been halfway in the trip when I felt sick inside me. I fought it and then came a point when I knew I couldn't stand it any longer. I asked the woman standing close to me if she could tell the driver to stop at the closest gasoline station. She walked to the front of the bus. But minutes later, she hadn't returned and the bus didn't stop. My friend, who was a few seats behind me noticed there was something wrong and realized soon enough what it was. Nope, she didn't go to the driver (because he probably didn't speak English) but it was the guy next to here who volunteered to do so. (It's the same guy who gave his seat to us.) When the bus finally stopped, I rush out of it, threw my backpack to the ground and ran. I was in such a hurry I didn't even get to thank him.

I rushed towards a small eatery where two elderly women were chatting. I interrupted them (a bit disrespectful but it was an emergency) and asked for what I needed, not even considering that they may not speak English or whatever unfavorable response. Luckily, one of them spoke English and a few minutes later I was feeling a little better. I looked at her and she had this little smile and at the same time a concerned look. She was worried that I was not yet fully okay so she invited us to their eatery. She was hesitant to give me medicines, saying that it might not act favorably. So she just gave me something hot to drink instead. When we were ready to leave, she and her sister offered to find a tuk-tuk we could hire to get to Kandy (just in case I wasn't fully okay). They made several calls but thought that the price they get quoted with are too much. In the end, the woman who spoke English just helped us flag down a bus. I may have forgotten her name, but I will never forget the kindness she, and all the others, extended to us.

climbing adam's peak off-season: dogs and the dark

When I learned about Adam's Peak, the 5000+ steps to get there and the mesmerizing sunrise, I knew I had to go. I needed to convince my friend Ail to join me first because it involved walking at 2am in the dark and since it was the low season, there wouldn't be plenty of tourists and the idea somehow terrified me. But I am never good at persuading people.

A few months later, I was alone in a train from Haputale to Hatton. I did convince Ail but her flight out of Sri Lanka got cancelled and she had to leave a day early. Her least desired destination had to be sacrificed. And as the train languidly made its way through villages and tea plantations, I was still wondering if I'd be able to gather some courage and start the climb in the wee hours of the morning and witness the sunrise.

For most backpackers, it is the magnificent sunrise that lure them to this mountain. But for most of Sri Lankans, Adam's Peak is a mountain sacred to them. Called locally as Sri Pada which means 'sacred foot,' it is said that a footprint could be found at its peak and Buddhists believes that it is Buddha's. For Hindus, the footprint is said to belong to Shiva and for the Christians and Muslims, it is Adam's.

View of tea plantations from a train going to Hatton.

As I stepped out of the train station, a tuk-tuk driver approached me and offered a ride to Dalhoussie, the village where the climb to the peak starts. Not having someone to share the cost of hiring a tuk-tuk, I told him I would be taking the bus. Unsurprisingly, he didn't insist (one 'no' is enough for most of them) and just pointed the way to the bus station. An old, tired-looking man who must have heard our short conversation walked beside me and asked me the usual questions a traveler gets. This man whose kindness was bordering creepy ended up paying for my bus fare.

During the low season, very few buses run directly to Dalhoussie so I had to take the bus to Maskeliya first. The bus conductors were quite helpful directing me to the right bus. From the map, it seemed like it is a short journey but it took me almost three hours because of all the stops and the very winding road.

It was already getting dark when we reached Dalhoussie, The bus stopped in front of a guesthouse, a guy hopped in and asked me if I would want to stay there. The place looked cozy. Thinking that the rooms would be expensive, I told him I prefer to stay close to the start of the climb. It was raining when we reached the bus stop. I was walking with a man who was supposed to take me to a guesthouse when suddenly an SUV stopped, its window opened and a woman who's probably younger than me offered a place to stay. Rather than getting drenched, I went with her. And besides, never have I ridden an SUV to get to a guesthouse. It was always and old sedan, which I had to pay for.

That's the perk of travelling in the low season; cheap rooms, and extra service. But in my case, the perks end there. The rain won't seem to stop. There were no other guests, so I had no chance of tagging along with others who plan to climb the peak. Achinika, the girl in the SUV, asked me if I wanted to have a guide. I didn't need a guide to show me the way beacause I was pretty sure there's no way of getting lost. I needed one to dismiss my irrational fear of those who might be lurking in the dark. But I didn't have enough money for that.

I went to sleep hopeful. Despite not seeing a single star in the sky, cicadas were singing and frogs were croaking. They said that if you hear those, it wouldn't rain anymore. I woke up in an envelope of silence a few hours later. At least it wasn't raining. When I went out of my room, it was dark. What else should I expect? I walked a bit slowly, hoping that someone is close behind and he'd catch up. When I passed by another guesthouse and heard a sound of a closing door, I stopped and waited. But no one came out. So I walked. And then I heard something again. But they were just dogs.

I continued walking until I saw the bridge which I had to cross. I turned right and kept walking until I reached the first of the more than 5000 steps to Adam's peak. In order to divert my thoughts away from bad scenarios, I decided to just count each step and maybe brag about knowing the exact number of those steps. But 20 or so steps later, I got lost. I didn't lose track of the count. I actually followed another path and ended up in a muddy construction site. A normal person wouldn't make this mistake. I was having a bad start.

Near the start, several houses stand along the steps and a few scattered lamps illuminate the path. But only after a couple of hundreds of meters, there was already none. A lot of stalls, which serve the thousands of pilgrims, line the path to the peak. The pilgrimage season is during the poya days which run from December to May. During the busiest time of the season, thousands of people climb the peak in the same day making the ascent a very slow one. The path is also well lit, having a lot of electric lamps running along the whole length of it. I was there in June when all stalls were closed, not a single soul, and none of the lamps weren't lit. I turned my headlamp off just to see how dark it was. I couldn't see a thing.

A stupa along the way to Adam's Peak.

As I kept walking, a huge shadow crossed the path about five meters ahead of me. I was stunned. And then two much smaller shadows of the same shape appeared, following the bigger one. They were walking on fours and seem to have little tails so I thought maybe they were pigs. But why were they roaming the neighborhood in the middle of the night? Aren't they supposed to be enclosed in pens? Maybe in Sri Lanka, they just let their pigs wandering around? I didn't know but my feet chose to move forward so I did.

Occasionally I would turn off my light and look up ahead to see if there were any other lights from people who were climbing. But there wasn't. When I finally saw one, I walked faster. The light got bigger and brighter and I discovered that it was from a shrine with a huge reclining Buddha. There was also a smaller shrine for a Hindu god but I couldn't identify him/her. I prayed to both of them, asked them to keep me safe and away from anything bad. Mostly I prayed to Buddha because I didn't know how to address the Hindu god. It was only 2:20 AM but I was already weary. It wasn't physical, though. I was tired from the battle that was taking place inside me.

I'm guessing that all people who choose to do this kind of thing are not the kind of people who are afraid of the dark and supernatural beings. And I am the exception. Because I still believed that there'd be at least one other person who would be there. But what if I was wrong? What if the things that I choose to not believe in but still I am afraid of are real? What if I don't get to go home anymore? I thought of going back. I still wasn't that far. But I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I choose to be a coward again and back out. And besides, how will I be able to tell Ail about the great sunrise that she missed?

Our companions.

I was reluctant to leave the solace that the shrine provided me but I had to step back into the dark. I didn't face my fear. I buried it and pretended to myself that that fear doesn't exist so I'd be able to push on. I hadn't gone far when I sensed there was something behind me. What else would I do but look back? And then I saw this pair of tiny glowing light that was fast approaching. But instead of getting scared to death, I was glad to see that it was the dog from the shrine that was following me. I tried to get the dog to go with me before leaving but I wasn't good at persuading not just people, but also dogs.. At least I wasn't alone anymore.

With the dog walking with me, I felt a bit better. Sometimes, he would walk a bit faster but after realizing that I was getting left behind, he'd stop and wait for me. When he got too busy sniffing, I'd wait for him until he was through with his business.

Near this house is where I finally met other people.

When we reached another illuminated shrine, the dog refused to follow. It started to rain and the shrine had no roof. I could see another light not far ahead and I wanted to see if it was better to stay there. He was whimpering, probably telling me that moving on wasn't a good idea. But I didn't want to get soaked and besides, the dog couldn't argue with me. I thanked the dog and left. A few steps later, he was already beside me.

The light was coming from a house. But it was closed and there was no one around. There was a shed in front of it and the dog and I sat there for a while. I wanted to look at the time but too scared that it may already be close to three in the morning. (If you've seen the film that gave me this fear, you know what I mean.) Strong winds suddenly blew. The dog sat closer to me. But that was because I took out some biscuits and not because he was sharing my fear.

Part of the 5000+ steps.

We were just done eating when I heard something again. I looked and saw some lights, and they were moving. Moments later, four other people came along with two dogs. I felt very much relieved. The fear has finally died, at least for that day. I found out later that they were staying at the guesthouse which was offered to me when I was in the bus. I should have gone with the guy!

We reached the peak at a quarter before six. It felt  like I was in heaven. Not because of some profound reason, but because we were shrouded with thick clouds. In the movies, I would have been rewarded with the perfect sunrise, with all the things that I went through. But I was in a real situation, and that's the reality off-season travel. I got drenched. I felt so afraid. And I didn't get what I wanted, the reason why I was there. But hey, I got another story to tell. And those steps are no joke.

sagada cave connection

Nestled in a limestone area shaped by millions of years of weathering and erosion, Sagada and its surrounds is characterized by a mesmerizing topography that is only exhibited by this type of lithology.  Imposing limestone walls are waiting to be scaled by climbing enthusiasts. Underground rivers aren't uncommon. And caves dotting the place offer thrilling adventure for everyone who seek.

The cave connection

Inside the Sumaguing Cave.

Anyone who comes to Sagada for some physical challenge wouldn't be disappointed. The so-called cave connection is an activity which not only tests the entire body but also the mind. The traverse from Lumiang to Sumaguing cave is about two kilometers with a total descent of 300 meters. For three to four hours, daring visitors would clamber up and (mostly) down the rugged passages between the two caves. The route at times get too narrow that only one person could be accommodated at a time, squeezing himself to get through. Ropes are strategically installed in trickier sections and without them, it would be really difficult to continue.

Taking a guide is mandatory for the cave connection. It's pretty easy to secure one. In our case, we just dropped by the Tourist Information Center early morning and we got one in just a few minutes. For safety reasons, a guide should ideally bring only a maximum of three persons but there are instances when some guides take more especially when there are large groups and there are shortage of guides.

Doing the cave connection without a guide would be impossible because they're the only ones who know how to navigate inside the cave. And even if there'd be signs telling you where to go, they are essential to tell you where to place your hands and feet and if you'll have to use your left or your right. I seriously wouldn't be able to come out unscathed without the guidance of our guide.

A glimpse of the Sagada culture

We felt lucky that the guide assigned to us was not only very patient as we inch our way in the cave but also gave us bits of information about the Sagada culture. The landscape does not only give Sagada an allure but it has also been incorporated in their traditions, as evidenced by its use in their unique burial custom. For hundreds of years, they have been burying some of their dead either in coffins hanging on limestone walls or piled in caves.

A gecko carved on a coffin to signify prosperity.

Since hiring a vehicle from the town center to the entrance of Lumiang Cave was out of our budget, we opted to take the supposedly 40-minute walk. Halfway, we stopped at a terrace to view the Sugong hanging coffins. Burying their dead this way is still practiced, with the last one done just in 2011. Across the road at the turnoff to the cave entrance, a pile of coffins could be seen below in a small cavern. According to our guide, Edward, these are the bodies of women who died at child birth, segregated because of the belief that it is some sort of curse.

More coffins could be seen by the entrance of the Lumiang Cave. While older coffins are relatively short because bodies are placed in fetal position, newer ones are now longer with the bodies lain flat. This attests to the blending of their animistic beliefs with the Christian practices. Many coffins used to hang on a wall in the cave but the 1991 earthquake caused it to collapse. This is the reason why some bones and skulls could be seen scattered near the cave entrance.

Braving Lumiang Cave

This is me holding on for dear life.

We descended from the entrance of the cave hurriedly, trying to overtake the large group that came ahead of us but very carefully to avoid any slip or fall. I asked if accidents have happened before and our guide reassuringly answered no. By the look of it and considering the number of people who do the cave connection, it's impossible that accidents haven't occurred yet. But I still chose to believe him and followed him to the depth of the cave.

Not very long after, Edward told  us to stay put and let him get to the bottom before we proceed. I looked at the small opening amidst huge boulders and saw a rope, Edward clinging to it as he make his way down. I was told to follow, squeezing myself as I bend my knees and extend my arms to grope on the rock face searching for a protrusion I could hold on to. I stretched my legs to the spot Edward pointed to so I could anchor myself and grab the rope beside me. Wrapping my hands tightly around the rope, I placed my feet exactly where I was told to as I make my way down. That was why one of the girls I saw brought a gloves.

There were at least four sections in the cave where we needed the use the rope.  At one point, we had to literally 'sit on the air' while both our hands are holding the rope and our legs propped on the wall. On the other, we climbed some four to five meter high wall. When the rock surface is too smooth to use as an anchor to our feet, our guide positioned himself so that we could step on his feet, knees or shoulders, whichever he offered. I was thankful that my arms and legs are quite long.

And while we have both our hands free to use to make our way in the cave, our guide was holding a gas lamp which was our main source of light in the cave. (We brought our own head lamp which was really helpful.) It is really amazing how he tackled everything with only one hand to hold the rope or grab on the rocks.

The deeper we get into the cave the more exhilarating it got. Still, I couldn't help but imagine some unpleasant scenarios. What if I slip or accidentally let go of the rope? A bruise or a scratch is easy to handle. But a sprain? Or a cracked bone perhaps? I doubt that I'd be carried all the way outside to safety. How am I going to climb those ropes? Maybe Edward hid the truth about the occurrence of accidents because he didn't want to put more fear into my troubled mind. A battle was happening inside me to overcome the anxiety. The whole thing would be enjoyable if only I were able to let go of my fear. I tried to bury those bad thoughts so that I could move forward, convincing myself that we'd get out safely. And besides, a child and an elderly has completed the cave connection. What's my excuse?


Testing the imagination in Sumaguing Cave

While the whole stretch of Lumiang Cave is dry, Sumaguing has parts submerged in water. I'd like to think we're lucky that we were there during the dry season when we were only required to go through knee-deep waters. During the rainy season, the water could reach chest height and I'm pretty sure that this would have just added up to my unease.

Wading in the waters of Sumaguing Cave.

And while Lumiang is more about the thrill brought by the difficult traverse, Sumaguing has a different offering. Here, several rock formations can be seen and this will test if you have a good imagination. Even before we entered the cave, I told Edward that he is really good caving guide if he could make me see what the rock is supposed to look like.

In a place I'd like to call the UN headquarters, Edward pointed out the different formations representing several countries. There's a maple leaf for Canada, the Grand Canyon for the US and some pottery ware for China. There's also a frog and a turtle along the way.

Continuing to the main chamber of Sumaguing, we could hear a lot of noise. While we didn't see another soul once we left the large group behind us, Sumaguing is a lot more popular and easier to tackle so a lot more people choose to visit just this cave and see its wonderful rock formations.

Taking a detour

We were standing on top of the alligator's tail gazing at the king's curtain when our guide asked us if we wanted to do something more and go somewhere which isn't frequently visited. He only warned us that the water is waist deep and the passages are a bit narrower. It had only been two hours and we were almost done with the cave connection so we said yes. And besides, my fear had been replaced with excitement so there was no reason to deny ourselves of more adventure.

Edward referred to that portion of Sumaguing as the tunnel. True enough, the route was a lot more cramped than what we had previously been through. We had to crawl and go down sitting with both legs stretched out on opposite directions, torso bent  to almost touching the ground and right foot searching for a grip. All the while a small waterfall cascading along a low wall sprinkling us with cold water.

As we progressed, the course got a little bigger. Twice, we had to use ropes. The first time was to walk along a very steep rock face and I couldn't see how deep the drop was. Edward went ahead, again using only one hand to hold on the ropes and put down the lamp so he could assist us. Because the rock didn't have enough footholds, we were told to just step on his foot instead.
The second, we had to go down another vertical wall. My feet couldn't find a grip and although they were already under water, I couldn't tell how far I am from the ground. My hands were getting tired from grasping on to the rope and bearing my weight so when Edward told me to just let go, I followed but with a little hesitation. Good thing I was just a couple of inches from the ground.

The passage grew wider and wider as we continued until we reach a small chamber and eventually back to the main chamber of Sumaguing. The number of people has dwindled, probably because it was already mid-day. It had been an adventure-filled three hours that made the trip to Sagada all worth-it and in my mind I was prepared to do it again but still it was a welcome to see the sunlight once again.

* The cave connection costs 400 Php per person but we had so much fun with our guide so we gave him more. There is another part of Sumaguing called Crystal Cave which is more extreme and can be explored for about six hours but this costs a lot more.

ngyaw's travels: mount pulag

Waiting for sunrise at the peak of Mt. Pulag. (November, 2012)

At 2922 masl, Mt. Pulag is the highest mountain in Luzon and the third in the whole Philippines. This was the first ever adventure I had with my human. It was also the first peak exceeding 2000 meters that she conquered. Taking the Ambangeg trail, this was a no-sweat trek for me. I cannot say the same for my human though.

With the majestic sunrise view it offers combined with the relative ease of making it to the summit, hundreds of people flock here, mostly in the weekend. This makes it the most popular 'high-altitude' mountain for climbing enthusiasts in Luzon, if not in the country. But concerns have been raised against the large volume of traffic in the mountain which may be doing harm to its delicate ecosystem. So if you decide to climb this mountain (or any mountain), climb responsibly and follow the leave-no-trace principle.

Ngyaw's purr-fect tip: Bring lots of layers because the cold in the mountain isn't a joke. And layers, not a bulky winter jacket because once you start the early morning ascent to the summit, you'll get warmer and would have to peel a few.

huayna potosi: my failed attempt to summit a 6000+m peak

Standing 6088m high, Huayna Potosi near the city of La Paz in Bolivia is considered as the easiest mountain above 6000m to climb. Each year, many backpackers who aren’t exactly mountaineers but simply outdoor enthusiasts attempt to reach the summit of this mountain. Armed with crampons and ice axe, the successful climber is rewarded with an astounding view of sunrise over the Andes upon reaching its peak. And maybe the bragging rights, if he desires.

Returning to the city from my journey around the stunning landscapes of Bolivia, I had this hunger of doing something really challenging. Huayna Potosi had been on my mind but I had doubts that I could make it. The only peak I had successfully scaled that time wasn’t even half of its height. Perhaps I had been talking to the wrong people when I decided to sign up for a 3-day climb of the mountain.

In a three-day climb, the summit attempt only commences at an ungodly hour of the third day. The first day is generally spent on ice climbing practice and the next on a 4-hour hike up to the high camp. I was climbing with a French couple who said that they also didn’t have much experience with mountains and that their only advantage over me was that snow and cold wasn’t new to them. We’ve had much of our conversations filled with charades. I really wish I had studied Spanish before going to South America.

We went to a nearby glacier to practice the use of our crampons and ice axe. Just like most of the glaciers around the world, that one was also receding. And it had been receding fast, according to our guide. Only a few years back, the glacier extends much further.

We were taught how to use the ice axe as support while walking up or down the slope. And how it could help us in case we accidentally slide down. The hardest part was climbing an almost vertical slope of ice. With crampons on, we had to thrust the tip of our boots on the ice and push ourselves with the help of the ice axe to a wall of ice that is almost five meters high. Upon completing the task, I was told by my guide that I did great and he was confident that I would make it to the summit. Apparently, he was wrong.

A French group was climbing a day ahead of us. I was supposed to go with them but I felt like I wasn’t ready to leave yet and hoped that I wouldn’t be sick anymore after a day. They all made it to the summit and were very positive that our group could also make it. They suggested that I get a porter. Maybe I should have gotten one but everyone was going back to the city that day. I didn’t have a choice then but to carry my own pack.

The supposed four-hour climb to high camp on our second day took me more than five hours. While I was carrying all of my stuff at the beginning, my guide offered to take some of my things when he noticed that I was lagging behind. I gave him my water bottle. And then my sleeping bag. By the time we reached the first high camp, I just wanted to lie down. But ours was still further ahead, 200m higher.

I looked up. It was a very steep climb. My guide started to walk and I hesitantly followed. Every move I made caused my heart to beat really fast and hard. For every minute of climbing, I needed three. My guide kept on telling me that we’re almost there. But I couldn’t see the camp anymore. He told me he’d carry my backpack. I wanted to say no but it was getting late and we needed to move faster. I gave it to him and he carried it on top of his own backpack which was probably a lot heavier.

Once we reached the refugio, I collapsed on the bed. We were so far behind that the other guide was already preparing our dinner. After having our meals, we went straight to bed.

It was a restless night for the three of us. I wasn’t even sure if I get to sleep. All I could remember was being really cold and then hearing the voices of our guides waking us up, telling us to prepare. I was still groggy as I put on my boots and gaiters. My guide strapped a harness around me. The two of us would be connected with a rope during the climb for safety. I checked the time and it was 1:30 in the morning. It was snowing when we stepped out of the refugio.

A lot of trekkers from the other refugio were already making their way up. I could feel their enthusiasm but mine was lacking. I wasn’t feeling well, though it must be purely psychological. I only had my water and camera in my backpack but it felt like I was carrying a lot more. Aided only with our head lamps, we followed the tracks made by the groups who went ahead of us. And though we were walking at a steady pace at the start, I had felt really tired after some time.

I kept on moving, but each step I took made my leg muscles shout for pain. My heart was pumping so hard it felt like it would beat out of my chest. I took really deep breaths but the thin oxygen in the air wasn’t enough to supply what my body needed. My stomach was tightening and I was about to throw up. I called my guide and lied about having altitude sickness. I didn’t want to do it anymore.

My guide was named Jesus. And I thought since I got Jesus by my side the whole time, I’ve got nothing to fear (pun intended). But Jesus was so merciful that when I told him that I couldn’t go any further and that I wanted to turn back, he immediately agreed. I wished he pushed me a little more. Maybe it had made a big difference.

Jesus untied the rope and ran to the other group to inform them that we’re turning back. I sat on the snow feeling miserable. I still wanted to reach the summit but the pain and discomfort was already too much to bear. I felt deceived. Why call it ‘easiest’ when it wasn’t even easy?

I wanted to blame others for my failure. My uncomfortable boots. The pain on my back because the backpack they lent me wasn’t good enough. The lack of sleep. My colds and clogged nose. Even hyperacidity. But more than a year later, I realized that it was simply I who must take the blame, if I really must blame someone. I wasn’t prepared physically. Neither was I prepared mentally. Just recently while trekking in Nepal, I learned that in order to achieve something, one must accept and surpass the pain that goes with it. I didn’t know it back then. And now that I’ve gained more wisdom, I’m ready to face that mountain again.

2017, come fast.

chasing the sunrise in gunung merapi

It all started with “Hey, how about Merapi?”

The idea didn't come from me, though. It was Kris who gave the suggestion while we were looking at possible things we could do while in Yogyakarta. She knew I love mountains and volcanoes. But Merapi wasn't really high in my list. In fact, it wasn't even in my radar and I had never given it a thought until she mentioned the name.

The web wasn't that helpful when it comes to planning a climb to Merapi. Information (costs, logistics, or budget tours) was very scant. We concluded that we’ll just figure everything out once we get to Indonesia.

If Merapi rings a bell to you, it is because of its recent activity. From October to November of 2010, a series of violent eruptions occurred, killing hundreds and displacing hundreds of thousands of people. The ash plume it produced also led to disruption to aviation.

Fast forward a few weeks later in Yogyakarta. It was a little unexpected that it would be that simple to organize a climb to Merapi, or rather to join an organized climb. We merely booked through our guesthouse and paid 300,000 IDR a day before the climb. Inclusive of transportation, guide fees and breakfast, the trip was an easy bargain.

The fairly new service vehicle arrived at our guesthouse a few minutes past 10pm, went around the city a little bit to fetch other climbers and then we were off to a supposed two-hour drive. I wanted some sleep before the climb but it was impossible with the driver driving a little too fast and maneuvering the vehicle a little too hard that I got tossed left and right on my seat a few times. In fact he was driving so fast that we got to New Selo, the base for climbing Merapi, in just a little over an hour.

We were scheduled to start the climb at 1am and passed time inside a house/guesthouse/machine shop in New Selo helping ourselves with coffee. With an elevation of around 1300m, it was a little chilly at around midnight. Lying at the foot of an active volcano, this town survived the 2010 eruption of Merapi. The destructive pyroclastic flow went down to the other side of the volcano, obliterating the villages along its path. But thick layers of ash still covered the town, keeping its people out for about a month.

We started as a group of nine climbers and three guides. The first part of the climb was spent walking up a steep asphalt road that crosses the village. Once we reached the end of the road, we had a few minutes to rest and waited for the others behind. Two people decided to go back to the village and not climb anymore so we had to let go of one guide.

Not that long into the climb and it was evident that two groups exist among us – the fast group and the slow group. Kris wasn't feeling well since the afternoon so she had to stay at the tail end of the group and continue with a slower pace. I could have joined the fast group and I knew she wouldn't take it badly if I do so but we only brought one backpack (ergo, our water was in one bag) so it wasn't really practical to separate.

The trail that we had to take was steep and slippery, the ground covered with ash. I chose to walk to my left where there were some grasses so I wouldn't slip but what I could make out with my head lamp seems like a deep ravine. Telling myself that I would just pay really close attention to where I was stepping and that I was more prone to slipping, I continued on the side where I was walking. Thankfully, the trail later on snaked away from the ravine.

At first I stayed really close with Kris, making sure that she wouldn't be that far behind and encouraging her to continue. But one of the guides was also staying near her and I realized that I was a superfluous. So I went ahead and just took more rests, waited for them and once I saw the light from her lamp, I would continue. I actually needed those rests because for at least the first two hours, the trail didn't even out. We were continuously going up following a steep path and it was at times challenging. The trail was clear but choosing where to position your foot as you climb to keep your balance was a little tricky. There were instances where I had to hold on to tree roots or shrubs to push myself up. Sometimes I would catch up with the fast group. Sometimes it would feel like I had lost them when I couldn't see their lights anymore.

Once we reached the ridge, my leg muscles were rejoicing from relief. But we were also exposed to the strong winds, which didn't stop as we walked. We lingered by a large rock outcrop protruding on the ridge and found a number of tents, positioned there to be sheltered from the cold wind. It was good to know that we weren't the only ones climbing Merapi, some people just spent the night there and was already on their way to the peak.

By then, the darkness was starting to give way to light. From where we were standing, we could see the silhouette of what was waiting for us. Our guide pointed where we were going and said that it would take about an hour to reach the peak.

We resumed walking, Kris and I still at the back of the group. Since the slope was just rolling, we were going at a faster pace, until we reached the base of Merapi's cone. We had to climb again. And although it wasn’t as steep as what we had gone through for the first couple of hours, the slope was made of loose volcanic materials. Because those materials couldn't stand our weight, climbing was a case of two steps forward and one step back. We kept on sliding.

At that moment, the horizon, interrupted only by the hump of a distant volcano was already telling us that the sun was on its way. From the darkness of what seems like a vast plain, a layer of red, orange and yellow was expanding upwards; the moon above which will soon be out-shined was giving us its last smile. We already had a good view. But I wanted to be at the peak as I watch the sun as it rises. So I hurried, overtaking the others.

Actually if you walk fast enough on those loose materials, you wouldn't slide back as much compared to when you do it slower. After we got passed through that part, we had to climb over huge boulders, which wasn't really a problem to me with my long legs. A little care should just be taken because the boulders’ surfaces were rough and sharp and could cut ones palms.  Although Kris was previously going slowly, by that time she was just behind me. We were covering a pretty decent distance, pressed by time.

The climb ended when we reached the crater rim. While in most climbs where you can celebrate, jump for joy or crash on the ground, the case in Merapi is different. Before its 2010 eruption, according to our guide, the peak of Merapi is simply more beautiful and more appealing. But today, its rim is dangerously too narrow. One wrong move and you might fall to the very steep rocky slopes or towards the crater. With gases continuously being spewed out, it was difficult to say how deep the crater is. We couldn't see a thing. We were just told that it is a fatal 200 to 300-meter drop.

With the strong wind raging continuously and my balance that I sometimes doubt, I inched my way to safety – a spot which was just wide enough to sit and with a stumpy wall of rock I could push my back against and keep me from falling. Kris sat beside me and we gazed at the rising sun in quiet. While everything that we had been doing for the past four hours was exhilarating and heart-pounding, the view offered to us only gave a feeling of serenity, bliss and a sense of pride. Being there to watch the magical sunrise was something that we worked hard for to accomplish. And I can’t help but be proud, especially of Kris who could have easily given up but never did.