Mt. Batulao
Rating: 5/5

ANG ITIM KO NA PUTANGINA!

This entry lags five days; been busy, mind. Been busy staring at blank walls waiting for an afflatus to hit me while writing rough drafts of unutterably uninspired short stories.

So. The mountain. Ahem. Lordgad said it was a hike near impossibility, not that he did say "near impossibility", but it had the same ring to it. We arrived at Batangas--where exactly in Batangas, I forget--on a paved road with chickens flocking the sidewalks and the goats and carabaos tethered on lampposts and disintegrating picket fences. Little greasy kids ages eight to twelve surrounded us offering to carry our twenty-kilogram towering mountaineering bags to and fro the peak for a hundred bucks each. But no, we carried our backpacks ourselves. Nevertheless, the local kids tagged along just in case some us would slobber our tongues out crying for a hand. And no, everyone survived; the climb up the pinnacle was comparable to a walk down a horseshit-filled grassland.

The weather was dry, hot, and windy. Our skin dried and cracked like the cracked earth of El Niño. Potable water was scarce, as half of us didn't bring any, including myself, so we guzzled Mountain Dew and buko juice along the way. Hiking up, we were greeted by carabaos and horses carrying agricultural stuff like, err, wheat and corn and suchlike--yes, the carabaos and horses greeted us, in impeccable English. (Boooo. Oo na, corny na.XD) There were a couple of fork roads along the trail, and the logic behind the Hansel and Gretel fairytale is to follow the track of fresh horseshit that leads to camp one.

Camp one. An association of Pathfinders from the Adventist University of the Philippines welcomed us with a warm embrace, all about clapping their hands, shaking their booties, and singing hallelujah Lord-God-Almighty-loves-you religious songs. There were about sixty of them, all freshmen, wearing what appears to be boy and girl scouts' uniform. They resumed squatting in a circle, surrounding the grammatically incorrect speaking instructor who was lecturing--with picture charts--about asexual ferns and anaerobic plants. Beside them was a white stone tablet that says, "Don't change the mountain; let the mountain change you." Cheezeh.XD

It was a mountainiquette up the bundoks to greet and engage the strangers in gossipry, viz., the organization they belong to, from what city, members volume, eminent mountaineers currently camping, groups to avoid, warnings, gossips, weather, et cetera. The eleven of us comprising of six boys and five girls settled on camp seven with, err, five tents.

To cut the crap documenting this hike, we got squiffy over shitloads of Ginebra San Miguel, including ExtraGin, a combination of Extra Joss and Gin (Kids, do not try; tastes like Calpol.), woke up frozen at four in the morning, sipped coffee, waited for the HOLY FUCKING AMAZING sunrise, and tramped up to camp ten at the mountain's summit. Blahdeeblahdeeblah.

Ninja Girl and I pretended to piss and crap behind a bunch of tall grass while we smoked pot. Minutes later we were dancing and gyrating like possessed witchdoctors, imagining we were at the Embassy buttkicking all the glamorous ladies out the dance floor. All the way down the hike (Down the hike?? Dude. That is like, an oxymoron.o_0) Ninja Girl and I were soaring in psychedelic laughtrip, gagging in laughter like dogs that were about to throw up. Then there was this eight-year-old mountainboy Erwin shoving his forefinger up his nose, pulling with it one whole side of his face. I stood a foot away from him, watching him up close as I roared in laughter and had a heart attack. The best scene I remember was when Angel was standing, wearing reflective orange sunglasses, all gloomy and scowling, her arms crossed. NG and I stood in front of her, watching our distorted reflection rapping gangsta like some amateur MTV music video. Dude. Asteeeegness. Crazyyy manic laughtrip I swear to god. But bleah, the mountain itself is two stars out of five.

Wala gaanong pics. Sob.

Me, Ninja Girl, and Angel.

Camp 10.

Word did you say?

« The Birth of Muymuy :: The Land of Cum »