9/26/08
The wind makes an eerie howl, making our parked bus tremble. Streams of cold air sneak inside the windows, making its way to its already shivering passengers. Without warning, the bus lights go off and we are plunged into a frigid darkness.
Outside, everything is a hazy world of white and grey. Even the powerful beam emanating from our headlamps cannot pierce through, rendering almost zero visibility. To navigate, we point our lights to the ground nearest our feet and then choose a direction to walk to, hoping that our choice takes us to the nearby sari-sari store or at least, back to our freezing bus.
We never thought that a simple decision of delaying our departure by a couple of hours would lead us into a very, very cold mishap. We just thought that a few extra hours in Sagada would give us more time to linger and waste away. We were not rushing. We wanted a pleasant breakfast before scurrying back to our boring urban lives. But we never wanted to get stranded.
That day we woke up to a moody Sagada. She was drenched with rain and the clouds seemed to have migrated from the mountaintops to the streets. Still, she was beautiful. A bit down, damp but still effortlessly beautiful.
Sagada has never failed me. This was my fourth time to visit Sagada and still upon planting my feet on its rich, red earth, I still feel her welcome. Perched high in the Cordilleras, Sagada offers its visitors a reprieve from the usual tourist haunts. It exudes a quiet and simple charm that other destinations just cannot offer. It’s one of those places that gives a steady feeling by just being there. Sagada is my personal sanctuary.
By around 11AM, we bid farewell to Sagada and hopped on a jeepney bound for Bontoc, the capital of Mountain Province. If we were to arrive in Baguio by nighttime, this was the way to go.
There’s this unexplainable feeling I get whenever I begin to travel back home. I think it’s a combination of triumph and acceptance. Triumph because once again, you’ve deviated from your norm and again experienced the cathartic power of travel and acceptance because once again, you’ll join the ranks of routine and repetition back in the city. What I didn’t realize was that my trip wasn’t finished. Not just yet.
Rain was torrential in Bontoc too. I was beginning to have the impression that a real storm was rocking the region. Motivated by our responsibilities waiting for us in Manila, we took the next D’ Rising Sun bus to Baguio City.
The Halsema Highway, which slices through the rugged mountains of Mountain Province and Benguet, is the highest major road in the Philippines. Even on a bad day, Halsema presents stunning views and vistas of one of the most pristine places in the country. By virtue of terrain and geography, this highway is also notorious for landslides.
The bus comes to a halt and we are jolted to consciousness. Checking my watch, I learn that we’ve been traveling for almost 2 hours already. Our driver was nowhere in sight and most of the other passengers were indifferently sleeping as if the delay was an ordinary occurrence. In front of our bus were more unmoving vehicles, a sign of a motor-related incident.
Rex, Leia and I decided to explore the situation to provide answers to our unending questions. Stepping outside of our bus, we were attacked by the spine-chilling wind and rain from all directions. We were armed with jackets and umbrellas, so we didn’t care. On the road, a steady brown stream was bleeding through. A few meters from the first halted car, we found the source. A huge chunk of earth slid onto the road, blocking the passage of vehicles entirely. Helpless and with nothing to do, we surrendered and had our pictures taken beside the landslide.
Back at the bus, the locals didn’t seem to care about the situation while we city boys and girls were cranking our paranoia to the next level. What if help doesn’t arrive? What will we eat? When will we get back to Manila? What about work?
At that moment, I wanted to be like the rest of them locals. Nonchalant, casual, laidback and accepting. But I couldn’t. I guess that’s what Manila does to you. Brought up competitively to challenge fate and circumstance, on the far corners of our worrying minds, we even thought of clearing the landslide with our own hands.
Between eight people, lunch was 1 bag of Mr. Chips, 1 pack of Oreos, 1 Goldilocks slice of bread and a pack of Dewberry cookies. Really filling, good stuff.
After almost 3 hours, a bulldozer appeared from behind like a godly apparition. I’ve seen bulldozers a lot of times before but this was my first time to feel comfort and assurance at the sight of a yellow construction vehicle. Soon enough, we were moving along Halsema once again.
At this point, a minor stop would send us standing and looking around to check for landslides. Talk about being paranoid. At one point, we tried to drive over a minor landslide and our bus slipped slightly to the right where a cliff was conveniently positioned. We all squirmed in our seats, holding tightly. Occupying the right-hand window seat, I had an unrestricted view of where our bus was to plunge, should we fall. I closed my eyes in utter fear. Think of happy thoughts Cedric.
By around 5PM, another line of stopped cars loomed to view. We were in Sinto, on the border of Mountain Province and Benguet. After about 30 minutes, vehicles began reversing and started going back. Soon, our own bus started making its way back to Sinto town proper. Our driver parked the bus somewhere convenient and with that he stepped out. Without warning. Without saying anything.
I suspected that we were going to spend the night in Sinto. After inquiring outside, my suspicions were confirmed. Night was fastly approaching and the cold was only getting worse. I knew that a lodge was somewhere nearby but the only way we were going to get there was if we walked. The fog was so thick, the rain was relentless and the cold was simply intolerable. We were down to our last sets of clothing. We wouldn’t survive the walk.
We were left no choice but to spend the night in the bus. Rex, Tee and I set out to find food for our group. Pickings were slim, but we didn’t care anymore. We bought ten packs of Lucky Me Pancit Canton, 3 small cans of Gusto Vienna Sausage, bread and Royal Tru-Orange. By this time, we felt like family and it was a feast. Never mind if we didn’t have plates. Never mind if our shared cup was made from an empty soda bottle. Never mind if all we ate was full of preservatives. Never mind if we were shivering in the cold. We were just happy to eat.
Just before sleeping, we set out to the sari-sari store to return the plastic forks that we borrowed. I swear it was one of the coldest nights I have experienced here in the Philippines. Inside the store, we were offered some shots of Ginebra and we didn’t decline. Here’s to the kindness of strangers.
Inside the bus, we were like meat being refrigerated. Or for a better metaphor, like beer being chilled. All of us struggled for warmth and employed different tactics. I tried looking for additional clothing but all my clothes were either damp or wet. The quiet was unnerving, only to be disturbed by the distant barking of a dog or the occasional whistling of the wind.
I brought out my iPod and decided on listening to Explosions In The Sky, a post-rock band that I often listen to when I need to think and be alone. Explosions’ songs do not have lyrics, just a streaming progression of music. Yet, their songs speak to me. I guess it evokes and amplifies whatever state you’re in. Happiness is the last thing Explosions is all about. Hope maybe, but happiness no.
When I finally ran out of things to think about, I finally allowed myself to sleep.
I woke up shivering, my uncovered feet already numb. Outside, the world was still sleeping in the clouds. When there was enough light, we were finally brought to Mt. Data Hotel where we were able to have a respectable breakfast any mother would be proud of.
Our travel continued, but this time only with minor delays. The rain clouds have decided to move on and the sun finally showed itself. Looking past the recent 24 hours, I couldn’t help but to feel proud. I will never regret this experience. I’m even thankful for it. Because even for just a day, we were living in the clouds.
On the way home, I felt the inexplicable feeling again. Of triumph and acceptance. Although this time, it was apt and I was truly bound for home.
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Many thanks to the Survivor 8: Leia, Rex, Tee, Charlie, Jan, Ruth and Dean
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