Warrior Pilgrimage

MY SINULOG 2012 PILGRIMAGE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 10:53:00 +0000

I START LATE FOR my pilgrimage. It is 2:30 PM of a Saturday; January 14, 2012. This will be my fourth appearance for the “fiesta señor” solemn procession held in honor for Cebu's beloved patron – the Señor Santo Niño or the Holy Child Jesus.

Last year, I walked the procession with four other companions but they (and their faith) evaporated as soon as the first drops of rain begun to hit them. I finished the procession together with other persistent devotees despite the strong torrents of rain lashing Metro Cebu. I was fasting then and got poked everywhere by umbrellas but I survived. It was one of my defining points of my faith.

Today, I still fast and I will be alone this time. My starting point will be from my house and I negotiate the back alleys to CJ Cuizon Street and then to GL Lavilles Street. Infront of me is an empty MJ Cuenco Avenue. Streaming along on the shady part of the street like ants are pilgrims going on their way to the Basilica Minore del Sto. Niño.

The sun is shining after several weeks of insistent rains. I am prepared for the worst, rain or shine. I wear my South African leather veldt hat, my grey commemorative PIBC 2011¹ t-shirt, my St. John's Bay dark-blue walking shorts and my tan-colored Rivers hiking boots. I carry an empty wallet, a Sony DSC220 digital camera, a Nokia 2730 and empty plastic for waterproofing.

My familiarity with Cebu, being a descendant of original residents, work to my advantage so I could evade the crowd. I took a right turn to Zulueta Street then take a short cut to Colon Street via the seldom-known Dimasalang Street. I reach D. Jakosalem Street and follow east until the huge crowd converging at the corner of Osmeña Boulevard made it impossible for me to go on.

I join the slow moving mass of devotees but found the sea of umbrellas too tormenting for my comfort. I have to extricate myself from my constricting location and move sideways slowly and courteously for the south side of the line. I find the sidewalks much better for catching up the carroza that carried my dear Sr. Sto. Niño.

On the sidewalks, I found I could work better with my camera; snatching a shot here and a shot there. One of those I enjoyed most is taking a picture at a cameraman poised for a shot – shooting the shooter! There are many I snipe at and I lose count of them. Maybe, one of these cameramen might have returned the favor?

Anyway, the procession cross Colon and continue into the uptown area. I am able to catch up with the carroza as it stop below an overhead pedestrian bridge between Sanciangco and P. del Rosario Street. On the background everywhere as I pass is the song “Batobalani sa Gugma” and I watch with awe of the deep faith shown by the devotees as they raise and wave a hand in homage to the Holy Child Jesus whenever the chorus is sung.

I walk abreast with the carriage on the other unused lane of Osmeña Blvd. until I reach another overhead bridge near Fuente Osmeña. I climb the two flights of stairs and observe the scene from above. The view is quite dramatic and so soul-flexing. The throng of pilgrims are so thick coming from downtown and converge near Robinson's Place where it is joined by a steady stream of more crowds coming from Capitol and B. Rodriguez Street.

As the main body approach the overhead pass, people waved and prayed their petitions before the Holy Child Jesus. Cameras clicked everywhere trying to get the best shot. I go down on the other side to transact money through an ATM as my craving for water became acute. I climb back the bridge and returned to the south side of the line unable to find a drink yet.

I need to evade the heavy crowd at Robinson's. I go the other way of Fuente Osmeña in a half-circle and, fortunately, water were given freely there and I ask for one and thank you very much. I take a short cut to the main route of General Maxilom Avenue passing by an underpass between Elegant Circle Inn and Rajah Park Hotel, Llorente Street and Juana Osmeña Street.

Strangely, the crowd is not that thick here. I assume the main body have not gotten past the bottleneck at Fuente Osmeña. I decide I have to tarry a while infront of St. Therese College and wait for the carroza to arrive. Slowly the crowds began to filter in and I could now hear the AFP Central Command brass band doing its rendition of the “Batobalani sa Gugma”.

Now they come. The green line of criminology interns appear shielding out the rest of the crowd from approaching the carriage with double ropes while a company of volunteers and blue security guards walk ahead of them to make way for the Sr. Sto. Niño's coming. Despite the confusion, there is order. Credit that to the gentle spirit of Catholic Cebuanos.

By now, the pilgrims populate every space along Gen. Maxilom Ave. as the route goes on into the direction of MJ Cuenco Ave. I hold on to the ropes to keep pace with the carroza until I arrive at the bottleneck at the terminus of both lanes wherein I decide to walk ahead instead and stop for a while to chat with friends near the Museo Sugbu.

I walk on and take a quick sip of water as I reach my house. My wife Vilma and grandson Gabriel, join me at the sidewalk, together with most of my relatives and neighbors to greet and wave a hand of the dear Sr. Sto. Niño's passing. Firecrackers are released into the air and everyone shouted at every burst.

I would have finished my quest when I am now in the comforts of my home but I am accustomed of walking the extra mile. There is one more thing to do and that is to escort my dear Sr. Sto. Niño home to the basilica. That means I have to leave all behind, come what may, hunger or not, thirsty or what.

I hold on to the ropes again, trotting when the pace goes quick; bumping and colliding with fellow pilgrims. At this juncture, the route gets ten times more crowd that are a hundred times more devout. I shudder and my hair stood on its end as shouts of “Viva Señor Santo Niño!” are now more intense and the waving of hands more personal. Camera lights flash and blind me momentarily.

The procession make a right turn to Legaspi St. and I am now in a difficult predicament as the flow of the main body of devotees begin to consume even the line of volunteers at the side streets keeping order on the onlookers. I let go of the rope when I saw a slight break in the thick column of crowds near the office of the Department of Tourism.

I move quick among inert standing people; large pots of boiling cooking oil; sidewalk merchandise; tightly-parked vehicles; and mounds of garbage. I reach Lapulapu Street and turn right to the direction of the Basilica Minore del Sto. Niño until I could do no more forward approach. I found myself shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the pilgrims in a stiflingly-hot enclosed sidewalk.

It is the best that I could do. Right infront of me is the carroza and my dear Sr. Sto. Niño exiting D. Jakosalem St., taking a right turn to Osmeña Blvd. before entering the arched gate of the basilica. I wave and sing and supplicate before his divine presence. I am sweating as it is hot and I have not had a regular intake of fluid because I am fasting and I reconsider that journey back home.

I maneuver slowly out and join the long queue of pilgrims streaming out of that narrow location and I welcome the open spaces and fresh air. Even as I and the other devotees help reduce the number of people in and around the basilica, still there are many who take our places and it is still part of the procession. I find myself relegated to the curbs and gutters traveling on the opposite direction.

Finally, I reach home and I want that dinner please. Before me on the dining table are sauteed prawn in spicy-hot tomato sauce, fried chicken and raw anchovies in spiced vinegar. Tomorrow will be the mother of all Philippine feasts – the Sinulog Grand Festival and Mardi Gras. Pit Senyor everyone!

VIVA SEÑOR SANTO NIÑO!

Document done in Libre Office 3

1I organized the first Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp which was held last June 11-12, 2011 in the Babag Mountain Range.

BUSHCRAFT BUHISAN IX: Traditional Land Navigation

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 11:40:00 +0000

I LOOKED FORWARD TO the day when that “high-ground trail” that I discovered and half-explored last April 2011 would finally be settled for completion. I will share that ecstasy with seven others today, October 30, 2011, and it will be another trophy that Camp Red will relish and be worth hanging on at their “adventure wall”.

I am the guide and principal brain behind this activity. This will not only be an exploration of terra incognita but a venue, as well, to teach people about traditional land navigation and good trail sense, under my Grassroots Bushcraft teaching series which is promoted at the Warrior Pilgrimage blog.

The uncompleted Lensa Trail will be the “live” laboratory for this study and we will start from the south gate of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Parish, climbing over the bare back of the dreaded “heartbreak ridge” by way of Bebut's Trail and then settle for a coffee break at a small community in Baksan before resuming to find “Camp Damazo” in dense jungle.

From there, I will bring them to “Creek Bravo” to prepare, cook and eat our lunch; before climbing up another range and reach “Tango Xray”; where there is a cross-roads of four trails leading north, east, west and south. In April, I found this place from the south direction and decide to take the eastern branch to cut distance between there and Guadalupe as it had been already late in the day.

I aim to take the north route today which, I know, will connect with the Pamutan-Baksan Road – the one I designated as “Tango Yankee”. The western branch would come later at my own pace and time and, perhaps, answer some of my thirst for more exploration.

Trailing behind me are Camp Red regulars Glenn Pestaño, Raymund Panganiban, Silver Cue, Jhurds Neo and Randell Savior (who will take care of the rear) plus two new participants who are out to satisfy their curiosity about bushcraft and survival: Faith Tannen and Justin Ianne. Glenn, Raymund and Randell are no strangers to “Camp Damazo” for they were here during the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp in June 11-12.

We leave Guadalupe at 7:30 AM and, true to its promise, the sun is uncompromising at “heartbreak ridge” and choked our muscles tight. Blood that supply oxygen among our body system and gives color to skin seemed to have abandoned almost on everyone's faces giving it a pale variant. Raymund, Faith, Ianne, Jhurds and Glenn have it.

I decide to allow the group to recover their bearings near a cairn and give them two reference points: the sun and Mount Babag. Traditional navigation rely mostly on the celestial bodies like the sun and the stars; shadow analysis; and the natural land formations like rivers, saddles and ridges, from where most routes are found. Mt. Babag, when seen through the compass at our location, always point north and cannot be missed.

A shadow kept following behind me and is uncompromising as well and it belonged to Silver. The same Silver, who learned the ropes of wilderness safety together with Raymund and Glenn at Mount Manunggal in August 23-25 under the aegis of Wil Davies. I throttle up the pace and down goes Glenn far far away behind, who raise both hands in utter surrender.

To counter this difficulty, I instructed him to go down to the primary evacuation area and motor to meet us instead at the second evacuation area in Baksan. The rest followed me and we reach our first resting place at exactly 9:00 PM. At this stretch, a hawk appeared circling the sky and that is a good omen. As promised, I give them the final briefing over coffee before proceeding again and be reunited with Glenn, who seems to be okay now after a long rest.

Lensa Trail start somewhere on the ridge where Freedom Trail pass. It is a hot day but we are in a man-made forest of teak trees. Sooner, we will go down the ridge and follow the route to a low hill that goes down into a low saddle and climb another hill and another much higher hill. From there, the trail goes down into a level ridge and ends in a cul-de-sac. A dead end.

Down that ridge is “Camp Damazo”. I explain to them how I was able to locate the campsite over a trail-less terrain that are steep all around. I showed them a gentle slope that goes down like a tongue into “Creek Alpha” and it is the only sane way to go down there. It is already more than four months since I passed by here and the route now is covered by thick vegetation and what tracks I and my party made then are now obliterated.

After several slips over loose soil, we take a short rest at “Camp Damazo”. The small camp is flat and even and the water hole have vanished. I remind everyone to watch where they piss for we are now inside the Buhisan Watershed Area. Across the campsite crossing the creek is a trail that goes over rolling terrain and where different varieties of tree grow.

This stretch of trail is excellent although many trees are cut indiscriminately by firewood gatherers. I recommend everyone to utilize any wood staff found as aid in hiking. We reach “Creek Bravo” after 30 minutes and, immediately, I announce to everyone that we will rest here and do our cooking. It is a reprieve then for everyone and a good excuse to enjoy a long rest.

I assign the cooking of milled corn to Randell and Raymund, while I do the cooking of pork adobao and mixed-vegetable stew. I dig first a water hole beside the creek for washing purposes before I commence with the food preparation. To enhance my cooking, I bought several green peppers from the roadside market in Guadalupe for this purpose and, likewise, plucked a lot of basil leaves along the trail.

Sadly, I don't use monosodium glutamate in my cooking nor have I the inclination to use those instant “fry mix” into my food ingredients for I know it is just MSG in another package. I would rely instead on balance of taste by natural means with salt and vinegar; and aroma which both pepper and basil could provide.

Silver produce a can of red kidney beans and, just the same, I mix these over both viands, enhancing further my cooking. When the milled corn is about to be completely cooked, I place green gumbos above it and let it be “steamed” by heat coming from the milled corn.

After the meal, we did not tarry long to enjoy our allotted siesta time. I decide that we proceed to our next destination which is “Tango Xray”. Time is precious and I do not know how far “Tango Yankee” is from “Tango Xray”, but I do know that the former intersects the road. I found my trail sign that point to the correct direction to “Tango Xray”. I follow down the trail into a saddle and, this time, we begin ascending steadily.

My pace is very slow so Raymund, Jhurds, Glenn, Faith and Justine would not be inconvenienced. I trust the stamina of both Silver and Randell and both could help me out in pacing with the rest. This is real forest and it is so silent except for the whistle of breeze among leaves and the sentry croaks of a single gecko.

Along the way, I explain to them the circumstances surrounding every abandoned camp used by forest people and why some things are left and for what purpose. I remind them to ration their drinking water as there is no water source from here to “Tango Xray”, much more so on that unknown stretch of territory towards “Tango Yankee”.

I reach “Tango Xray”, at last, and tell them the story of how I was able to discover this place by analyzing the terrain and vegetation and how I was able to reach safety by aid of a compass. I was able to ascertain my location by finding the general direction and extricate my companions from a difficult situation. Anyway, I show to the present group the trails that goes east, west, north, south and the unexplored path that I will share with them today.

The route goes down into a small creek which, I presume, is the same tributary that lead to “Creek Bravo”. There is a jumble of vegetation, now frayed, on the ground beside a huge tree before I reach the creek and I could see a tell-tale sign of somebody 3-4 days ago lying in wait for something edible. Obviously, a hunter would use such camouflage to hide himself from his prey which would manifest itself among the foliage of that tall tree. Perhaps, the prey is a wild rooster.

After crossing the mountain stream, the route goes up abruptly a steep terrain. It had been like that for about 250-300 meters until I notice a series of small water runoffs cross the trail. Up ahead, I see a good-sized spring with a split-bamboo guide used by locals to channel water above the ground. It is a blessing then for our water-depleted party to replenish their drinking water supply. This discovery of a water source would very much help in bringing people here.

The route settled down into an even terrain and I could detect that we are now walking along a saddle where another hiding place by a hunter is found beside a tree. We pass through a “green hole” and cross a lively creek that would, ostensibly, link to “Creek Alpha”. A very huge trunk of a burnt-out dead tree block part of the way after crossing the waterway.

By now, the vegetation seems to be a lot tamer and less dense and I believe we are now approaching “Tango Yankee” which is now very incontrovertible when I hear the distant roar of passing motorcycles. At exactly 2:30 PM, the last of my party reach the road and I am at a loss of how to utilize the rest of our free time for either exercise and enjoyment.

Right across us is a wide path that I always notice for several times when I come down from Pamutan and, maybe, it could answer the question that I am asking myself now: how to make use of our free time? Okay, I will try that route and everyone agreed to try it also. This trail goes down and down until it reach the Lanipao Rainforest Resort. So, I hit two birds with one stone today and I couldn't believe this stroke of fortune.

We end our activity at 4:00 PM and we decide to relish and release our adrenaline at Summer Kyla in V. Rama Street. Everyone are so buoyed up by what they achieved today and resort to old Cebu trivia games amidst rounds of cold Red Horse beer and slices of pizza. The chemistry of this new Camp Red people are beginning to jell well and I am simply elated by this prospect because...

...Camp Red is very capable now in how to effectively range and explore the oft-ignored local mountains that still hide unknown territories and nooks without having to visit well-known places and amassing expensive budgets. Camp Red delights to promote the Babag Mountain Range as the better mountain range for true-blue Cebuanos and local tourists.

Document done in Libre Office 3

Some pictures of last collage courtesy of Raymund Panganiban

PINOYAPACHE GOES TO UBAY

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 03:20:00 +0000

I HAVE NEVER BEEN to Ubay, Bohol but, today, I'm gonna change all that. Yes, the today I mean is the night of October 14, 2011. Tonight, I'm going to board a boat from the Port of Cebu for Talibon, Bohol – my first time. We leave at 10:00 PM but I already slept an hour ahead on a cot too small for my frame.

Yeah, it really is small and I remedy that by changing position: with my head at the bulwark side and my feet hanging at the end. Simple. Improvise and adapt. BTW, I am an “outlaw bushman” and I mean what I write or say.

The boat arrive at Talibon the following day – October 15 – at 2:00 AM. Since it is too early and too dark to find my way through unfamiliar territory, I decide to sleep for another two hours. I wake up to a beautiful red dawn instead after I rubbed sleep from my eyes. Oh yes, give me that camera please!

I walk in the early morning from boat to terminal and sat on an aging public jitney that would take me in the fastest time available on a land known for a creeping sense of time. I don't mind. I am ahead of schedule anyway. My official itinerary says that I would be at Ubay by 7:00 AM and I have already a surplus of one hour!

The jitney did leave at 5:30 AM and it rumble its way along the highway passing by Trinidad and reach Ubay at exactly 7:00 AM. Immediately, I need something to eat and look about Ubay's own distinct taste but found none and gets consoled instead with the biggest “ukoy¹” that I have seen and eaten.

After the meal, I look for the fabled sea produce of Ubay at its wet market. I carry with me a rectangular Tupperware® inside of my Baikal 35-liter backpack for this purpose but I was disappointed. I meet instead a meth-head who signalled to me that he sells amphetamines! Shucks! I could only shake my head of why and how this vice reach this far.

From afar, I see boats secured along the single wharf of Ubay and I understand that this town is the gateway to Bato, Southern Leyte. I'm tempted to go over the waterfront area but I need to go to the National Dairy Authority fast as I am not here for leisure. I hire a motorcycle and am brought to Calanggaman in less than 30 minutes by the driver.

I introduce myself to the farm administrator and commence my work taking pictures of the government-owned dairy farm. The ranch is pure pastureland set on rolling terrain and small catch basins. It hosts a small dairy plant and a milk-storage facility is undergoing construction.

After that, I transfer to Lomangog and visit the Philippine Carabao Center where I am able to drink fresh carabao² milk sold in plastic bottles. I order four more and finally get to use the empty and bulky Tupperware® that I have been carrying all along. Finished with my purpose, I directed the driver back to Ubay to do sightseeing and souvenir hunting.

After taking refreshment at a local bakery, I snuggle myself inside a van-for-hire that is bound for Tagbilaran City at 10:00 AM. The route would pass through the eastern and southern part of Bohol that would host places whose names sounded so sweetly and very familiar from what tales I heard of long ago from my grandparents and their acquaintances. Places that I have not been to and have not seen since.

It is such a treat then to be given an opportunity to cruise by this sun-splayed land of wide open spaces, chocolate hills-like mounds and robust streams that are populated by smiling inhabitants who loved to pronounce the letter “y” as a “j” and the “k” as an “h”.

It's just a shame that I could not use a camera due to the enclosed design of vans that keeps cool air from escaping but does not really cool the passengers at all because all are packed like sardines and air could not circulate freely. Sweat comes down from somebody else's forehead as the cramped space and lack of movement take its toll on the body.

I really hate riding in one. It would have been better if the windows are kept open but women don't like the idea of having windswept hair and caked makeup so it is kept shut. Never mind if the engine is overheating and some foul air from someone's behind is released.

Fortunately, by my location nearest the door, I am able to inhale natural air every time a passenger disembark or going in to ride. Sure, it is taxing to a person of lesser ability in body and mind but I welcome the disturbance. The breeze cools me as well as giving my body the needed blood circulation.

The van arrive at Tagbilaran at 12:30 noon. Since it is too early, I decide to visit again the PhilHealth office in Mansasa which I last went to two years ago then pass by the ThreeSixty Pharmacy in J. Clarin Street to leave a package before ending my time in Bohol reading a book at the fastcraft terminal.

As I was reading, the Apostleship of the Seas in Tagbilaran celebrated a mass inside the terminal and I ditch the book. Assisting the dear priest is another priest from the Archdiocese of Seattle, USA who was with a group of Catholic Americans doing pilgrimage. After that, it's time to leave Bohol again and the vessel leave Tagbilaran for Cebu at 4:10 PM and the in-house movie entertained me so much that I chuck the book again.

By the way, I came to realize at mid-sea that I have completed my circumferential journey of Bohol two years late. In October 2009, I arrive at Tagbilaran and travelled overland to Talibon. This present trip closed this chapter when I arrive at Talibon, thence onwards to Ubay and, from there, Tagbilaran; churning out a distance of more or less, 560 kilometers.

You know what, my complete tour of Bohol Island took two years in the making compared to the twenty-eight years³ I did for the island of Cebu – my home province. Maybe, in the years to come, I would replicate this feat in other island provinces and not just step on one place and brag that I had been there and done that in Lakbayan.

Anyways, this blog ensures its readers and followers that Warrior Pilgrimage is also about adventure travel and it may also try the not-so-travelled circuit routes in the future as in the case of the islands of Palawan, Basilan, Sulu, Tawi-tawi or Sibutu as part of its itinerary. Let's just cross our fingers that PinoyApache will accomplish these and bring goodwill among the inhabitants.

Document done Libre Office 3

1Shrimps or anchovies baked in thin flour and eggs and fried in oil. A local delicacy in the Visayas.

2Swamp buffalo.

3June 28-29, 2009: going south and north and back to Cebu City. One stretch of road is left untravelled though and that is the coastal highway from Bogo to Tabogon to Borbon which I passed on January 4, 2011.

ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE SIERRA MADRE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 04:25:00 +0000

I STOOD NAKED with 499 other “captives” on a cold and windy early morning of January 1989. My time in Tanay, Rizal is winding out in about two weeks. Infront of us are our sets of fatigue uniforms and combat boots piled high like a mountain on a road junction at the foothills of the Sierra Madre Mountain Range.

I am assigned as pathfinder and I am issued a compass to lead 100 people back to Camp Capinpin during the escape and evasion phase. At a given signal, we are going to break free from our “holding area” in a deep valley and recover our clothes up here. I don't think I could do that in utter confusion. But I marked where my uniforms lay and I don't have to go far. I have to think fast.

Up ahead is a clump of grass surviving in the middle of the road going down to that valley. It is almost shoulder high and I believe no one could imagine that it could hide a big guy in there. But first, I would retrieve what my grandfather taught me many years ago: to sit still like a rock and harness my mind to confuse the “enemy” before I could reunite with my uniform and boots.

Then a rifle shot cracked in the air and everyone stampeded down the road. I ran with the other “captives” and crouched low when I ran past the grass. Stealthily, I eased back into its protection. More shots were heard and more footsteps came hurrying down until there were no more. Then silence.

I bent my head between my knees, closed my eyes and willed my mind to go blank. I heard nothing except the wind and crunch of heavy boots and one of the “enemy” came close. Then the grass danced before a strong breeze and it is reassuring.

I could feel an “enemy” standing just a meter beside me unmindful of my presence. Warm exhaled air lightly touched my skin pores as it is carried by the breeze but I am a rock today and I am invisible. Discovery meant hard butt strokes from an Armalite or from an M14 and indescribable disgrace.

The “enemy” took three steps forward and I heard a loud metallic action as a round is loaded into the firing chamber. Then a burst of gunfire is fired into the air. Warm empty brass shells landed on my head and my back. Another burst is fired again. The “enemy” gave last-minute instructions and I could understand it clearly well.

Once the transport trucks leave, I opened my eyes. I looked around the surroundings and cautiously approach the mound of uniforms in a wide circle and found my boots and my army fatigues. By the time I was tying up the shoe lace for my last shoe, the first “captive” arrived, followed by another until all 499 milled around the mound. Everyone were grabbing for himself clothes and shoes, fitting this and that.

I just could not believe two guys fighting over the same shirt and a sleeve almost got separated. Elbows flew. Raised agitated voices rang in the cold morning. Wrong pairs of shoes scattered everywhere. Pants seesawed back and forth. Discipline learned the hard way evaporated. It took almost an hour before the crowd settled down and donned their uniforms in the best way they can.

I regrouped my 100 and I stifled a laugh at their appearance. Each group is on its own and we are five in all. Then the whole 500 traveled as if it is one group and that is insane. I decide to break away for I know the “enemy” will be waiting and laughing. From here to the camp are “enemy” checkpoints and discovery meant physical humiliation.

Half of my group questioned my logic and it is torn apart. I am left with fellow “captives” from the Visayas and Mindanao regions, to include my Moslem brothers. My ragtag group evaded several checkpoints over a land that I am not familiar with. I led them by studying the terrain and chose where my route would take with a characteristic cunning taught by grandpa.

My group arrived first at half past noon inside Camp Capinpin undetected and I reported to my training officer. Half of my command is found missing during headcount and I bore the brunt of the punishment but that is nothing compared to the ignominy of being “recaptured” at the checkpoints which the rest were, several times.

Really, it is nothing for I found solace in the fact that I have outwitted the veteran Scout Rangers at their own game and turf.

Document done in Libre Office 3

Sketch in ballpoint pen by PinoyApache

POEM #6: Going to Mount Babag

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 02:07:00 +0000

Napo is where I start for the true

path to Mount Babag.

Some say it should be from Busay.

I doubt at the latter and I shrink

at the thought.

I don't like walking on paved roads.

Anyone who walks at a trail

finds meaning and

good exercise.

Listen to the watery laughter

of Sapangdaku river.

Birds flutter by, here and there;

Smile as a ripe mango sways by

as you reach for the sky.

An old spring refreshes you

in Lower Kahugan.

Walk another level and bathe

at the hidden falls

of Busay Lut-od.

Green coconuts tastes sweet

lying idle on a bamboo bench

beneath a Java plum tree.

Freedom pervades in the air.

Take your pick to Babag Ridge:

the difficult East Ridge Pass?

or the easy Babag Ridge Road?

Once you are on the ridgeline

gawk at the sprawling city

and the scattered islands.

Meanwhile, pitch your tent and

spend a night at Manwel's Peak.

THE TIGER WEAKENS BUT THE EAGLE SOARETH

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 09:25:00 +0000

2011 WAS ANOTHER BANNER YEAR for Tactical Security and Detective Agency, Inc. It had maintained its momentum despite some minor setbacks borne out of financial difficulties experienced by some of its clients. It is the year of the rabbit and it favored the eagle. The eagle is our logo and it is two-headed like the mythical Roman deity Janus.

The year 2011 saw Tactical Security more than double its guard strength when the new owners acquired it in January 2008 as it snared juicy contracts from all comers: through connections, by word of mouth or through the Internet. Tactical Security do not maintain a paid subscription though but has a free Multiply account and a Facebook page that is under construction.

So, it boils down to performance, branding and credibility of its existence that people and businesses take notice of. Do you want to know the secret? You know what? Tactical Security takes care of its people – ITS FRONTLINERS – the security guards. We do not do a Houdini upon our payroll nor do we exact unethical and systematic deceptions upon our guards. It is the stronghold of inept and third-rate security agencies.

Tactical Security believes in karma and it owed its existence to the Creator and Beginner of Life. It had ridden the back of a tiger for a long time but it had seen a crossroads wherein the tiger will be weakened and it is a time for Tactical Security to soar higher. It had soared high beyond its wildest dreams and it is intoxicating but we maintain a level head, our history rooted to the ground.

We could not deny that our individual security guards and many detachments are our showcase to the market and we deem it proper that we bestow recognition upon them. It is a tradition that Tactical Security have practiced for three years running: the awarding of Best Detachments; the Best Head Guards and Shifts-in-Charge; and Special Awards for deserving security guards who, in their tour of duty, perform exemplary service.

The day is December 8, 2011 and Tactical Security is up all ears to commend the following detachments and individuals:

CATEGORY A (28+ Guards)

Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center

CATEGORY B (20-27 Guards)

Cebu International Convention Center

CATEGORY C (13-19 Guards)

Province of Cebu comprising of:

Museo Sugbu

DA Compound

Provincial Engineering Office

Fuente Osmeña Property

CATEGORY D (8-12 Guards)

Province of Cebu - Balili Beach Property

BEST HEAD GUARD

HG Rogelio Rojas, Balili Beach Property

HG Joseph Varga, Sugbu-Gawad Kalinga Village

HG Servillano Angcay Jr, Cebu Provincial Capitol

HG Paulino Lacandula, Sacred Heart School-Ateneo de Cebu

HG Noel Villacarlos, Museo Sugbu

BEST SHIFT-IN-CHARGE

SIC Luke Carniga III, Cebu International Convention Center

SIC Ruel Manlosa, Cebu South Bus Terminal

SIC Rene Anduyan, Sacred Heart School-Ateneo de Cebu

SIC Eugene Cinto, Cebu International Convention Center

SIC Ranilo Renedo, Banilad Town Center

SPECIAL AWARDS

SG Samuel Carreon Jr, Cebu Country Club

SG Luke Carniga III, Cebu International Convention Center

SG Marlon Villaganas, ThreeSixty Pharmacy-Legaspi/Colon Branch

SG Lloyd Bernard Ricaplaza, Cebu South Bus Terminal

SG Ruel Manlosa, Cebu South Bus Terminal

SG Julius Abapo, Tactical Security Headquarters

SG James Barazon, Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center

SG Rogelio Lanoy, Gateway Motors (Cebu), Inc.-KIA Talisay

Each element of every detachment and each individual awardee receive prizes for their achievements. Aside that, every guard not mentioned above and detailed in each post spread out in every breadth and reach of Tactical Security receive a small token. Not only that, Tactical Security remembered their fallen comrades and we go out of our way to personally carry gifts to their surviving families north and south of Cebu.

I wonder if other security agencies would do the Tactical way? I know of just a few and Tactical Security appreciate their efforts to treat their frontliners in the same way we do and even more. For our undertakings (and those agencies that care of their security guards), we reap. I hope the rest of the security industry do the same.

As of this writing, the Province of Cebu have reduced 111 guards as part of their austerity measures. Likewise, one of our oldest clients, Total Bulk Corp., decide to end our services due to economic constraints. Our consolation comes from winning the public bidding for the 79-guard strength of the The Philippine Amusement Gaming Corp. (PAGCOR) and retention of the Pag-IBIG Fund after a heated contest and gained for us ten more seats.

In the different fields, PRI Solutions, Inc., have taken trust with our brand of service despite minor setbacks and offers of sub-sea level prices from competitors, as we continue to supply security for each branch opened. Amidst those, other big detachments from the private sectors have cemented and renewed contracts with Tactical Security, as well as yanking out new contracts in our way.

To enhance our service, Tactical Security have contracted independent contractors to teach our people how to properly operate radios which the National Telecommunications Commission handled (complete with license and permits); how to detect and apprehend criminals which the Theft and Robbery Section of the Cebu City Police Office taught; and how to become a responsible gun user which Warrior Pilgrimage have shown in the different firing ranges.

At the end of the day, all the above factors conspire to draw out the good results that you would have desired in your endeavour. We pursued excellence and worked hard for it and it is there pouring. It is a given in every management objective and strategy but we have not realized it coming ten-fold.

You know? Without faith in God, it goes out for naught. Be sensible and make the best of your guards by giving them more than what they deserve. Do not make milking cows of them at their expense and exact undue abuse at them in return of their subservience. Treat your frontliners as your own family. It is the best way and the ONLY way.

Document done in Libre Office 3

ONE HAPPY DAY IN DECEMBER

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 06:41:00 +0000

WHEN DECEMBER COMES, a festive feeling hangs in the air. For us Christians, it ushers in the remembrance of the birth of the child Jesus which we celebrate every December 25th of each year. When December comes here in Cebu City, we love to remember also the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary on the eighth and partake of the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the twelfth.

When December do come in my place where there is a little chapel by the banks of the Lahug Creek, I and the rest of my small neighborhood prepare something for the coming of the feast of our patron – Saint Lucia. It falls every December 13 and my neighborhood had been observing her day since 1979. So you may know, St. Lucia is patron saint for the blind. Let me tell you a short story:

It is such a special day for me and my family for St. Lucia had been one of the blessed ones that had been petitioned by the mother of my late grandfather – for healing - when he was stricken with German measles as a child that caused him blindness. That was in 1901 when the Americans came to colonize the Philippine archipelago and the native population have no means to protect themselves from the introduced exotic diseases.

Now, back to the present. As is the custom of every Filipino borne out of gratitude and remembrance for the Creator, I decide to prepare food for my guests and of my youngest son's guests. As you see, my son – Cherokee – will celebrate his birthday on December 14 and I resolved to have his birthday celebration be held in advance instead to coincide with the feast of St. Lucia.

My wife, Vilma, did all the cooking of calderetta (tomato-based goat soup), paklay (goat innards), humba (braised pork), fried chicken drumsticks, macaroni salad, spaghetti and rice with some help from daughter, Lovella. My neighbors, Berting and Agnie, meanwhile, did the slaughtering of a live goat right on my backyard in the morning as my grandchild, Gabriel, earnestly watched nearby from a swinging hammock.

My neighbors were preparing some parlor games at the chapel as I was leaving for work at 8:00 AM. When I got back at 6:30 PM, a holy mass done at the chapel is about to end and the priest was now announcing for the baptismal rites of new Christians and is asking for the parents and godparents to come forward. My heart leaped with joy when I heard this and stayed a while to watch the ritual.

When I got home, daughter Laila is already there with husband Chokie and son Kurt and niece Roann. Grandson Jarod is playing a game on my laptop with Gabe beside him. Cherokee arrived shortly with two classmates and they just came from a retreat seminar at the Holy Family Retreat House in Nivel Hills. My sister, Aileen, came alone from work and waited for daughters Denise Gael and Via.

My eldest son, Charlemagne, got home together with girlfriend Christy and presented Cherokee with a cake. My mother Marietta arrived together with Denise Gael and Via; sister Genevieve with daughter Alyanna; sister-in-law Beth with sons Kevin and King Ivan; and all came from Lahug.

After dinner, the talks flowed among the ladies as they watched Amaya on prime time TV while the young 'uns tinker with their gadgets. For me and Chokie, aside from busy shooting pictures, we shared a bottle of local brandy mixed with soda energy drink and ice.

The procession passed by my house and my mother is quite elated to see her former neighbors again. Then the fireworks lit the night sky as me, King Ivan and Gabe stood on a small bridge to watch the spectacle. When the guests leave, I spend the rest of the day with Vilma and Gringo in a lively talk. Lovella, Gabe and Jarod are all upstairs while Cherokee decide to join his neighbors in a disco near the chapel.

Document done in Libre Office 3

MAN-SIZED HIKE SERIES: Lutopan to Guadalupe III

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 12:56:00 +0000

THIS IS THE THIRD TIME that I will be leading men from Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu City. This is a cross-country activity over the widest part of Cebu and it will be 36-40 kilometers long and following mainly the Mananga River of over, probably, twelve hours of hiking.

This is the route that I have discovered on February 20, 2011 and which I repeated with six others on April 23. This day in August 25 is different from the first and second episode. First, because it comes at a time when there is a tropical cyclone – Typhoon Ramon – entering the Philippine area of responsibility.

And secondly, this is the initial event for the newly-refurbished Camp Red¹ and the young bloods will be attempting for the first time this man-sized hike with me. Four of the guys have not been on to this kind of activity before and that is a situation that I will give consideration to.

Aside me, guest Jerry Pescadero of ALPS-M have certain experience to approximate mine while the rest are still newbies when you are talking about a long-range day hike. Glenn Pestaño, Raymund Panganiban and Jhurds Neo carry extra weight while Jon Ducay is slight of build but he carries a heavy camera.

I am looking out for the well-being of my party at a time when weather and clime are its worst. My experience and aptitude will be tested once again and, just like before with my other activities, I will tow the party to safety and exhilaration. I have seen this thing before but this is different. I will be the ones who will be excited at this prospect at the end of the trail.

Yes, did I mention a trail? Hopefully, I will name this route soon. What name? That will be the privilege of the discoverer. But, first things first.

I arrive at the assembly area at 4:00 AM. I am a proponent of the “new” Filipino time and I need to be at the place an hour ahead. One by one, the participants arrive until we decide to board a bus for Lutopan at 6:30 AM.

What bad luck! This is the same bus that I have ridden twice before on this trip! The kung fu movie on the small screen and the 20 KPH drag are its trademark. Besides that, it keeps on picking up passengers along the way until people are found on the roofs for lack of standing space inside. Fortunately for me, I chose the front seat and I was not inconvenienced.

We arrive at the Lutopan Public Market at 8:00 AM and we immediately find something to eat for breakfast. After that, we pool money to buy food provisions for lunch. It is a long way and we are already behind schedule so we decide to hire motorcycles-for-hire to close the gap.

We arrive at Camp 7, a mountain village of Minglanilla, and walk our way to Sinsin, a mountain village of Cebu City, via this tree-lined stretch of the Manipis Road. It is very peaceful and the boys are quite excited about the prospect of cutting across the wide breadth of Cebu island.

When we arrive at Sinsin, I brief them about the route and the weather situation. I did not raise their hopes but give them a realistic alternative in case the Mananga River becomes a life-threatening beast. I designated the different escape routes and evacuation areas and everybody agreed to follow my decisions, come what may.

Our next destination would be Buot-Taup, another out-of-the-way village of Cebu City that is found by the banks of the Bonbon and the Mananga. We follow the unpaved road and several runners on training pass by us as we take a right turn on another (but very rough) road that goes down and down.

The road surface is blistered by the recent rains. Deep furrows were dug by water and several stones were unearthed and caused ordinary walking a very exciting activity instead. I don't mind these but I thought about those runners. What if they run here? I'm tempted to run but the better of me objected. I don't want the guys behind me to feel “abandoned”.

Even so, Jerry followed me like a shadow and I have to slow down a couple of times to give the other guys time to catch up. Up ahead is a small stream that pass under the road. There is a switchback trail there that goes all the way to the Mananga River. Jerry and I waited for the others here and it is 10:15 AM.

Walking now in single file, we reach the river and it is not swollen nor it is in brown color. Fine, but I wouldn't trust appearances. Rivers are very deceptive. At any instant, water will surge at you from out of nowhere even on a hot day! I have seen it happen many times.

We walk downstream, crossing several fords. My senses, however, are attuned to the slightest change of sound or current or water level of the river and I keep looking back trying to assure myself that it is alright. The weather is very cloudy but without no trace of rain and quite breezy. A perfect weather!

Then I sense something wrong about the riverscape. Wide craters are found everywhere hiding those sinister shovels and big sand strainers within. Quarrying of sand, gravel and stones are very blatant here and nobody is enforcing environmental laws. A group of three men even have the gall to prop up a 20-foot mountain of sand in the middle of the riverbed!

But the biggest harm to the environment comes from the riverbank-clearing operations of these cockroaches. They are not contented anymore quarrying on the riverbed and have concentrated their illegal work on the banks and hillsides, dislocating and uprooting a number of fully-grown trees and coconuts. Not only that, the river becomes hazardous to human travel because of potential landslides.

This is a problem that needs to be solved fast by the government. The increase in population have taken its toll on the river. Aside from quarrying, human waste and household sewage threatened the life-giving attribute of the Mananga. Then there is the local candle-nut industry whose residues are thrown on the river and it stinks.

We reach a place where there is a water source at 11:15 AM and opt to rest there and do cooking. I'm glad that my companions are all mangeurs de lard and that simplify my menu: pork adobo. It is alright as long as I don't use MSG and those “ginisa mix” on my food. For flavoring, I would rely more on soy sauce and cane vinegar and enhance the taste with green pepper. Aside that, I also cook milled corn on an almost-empty butane tank.

After a very brief siesta, we move once again for our destination. It is 1:00 PM and we have not reached yet the halfway point. Up ahead is Camp 4, a village which is part of Talisay City. I need to reach there before three so I hasten our pace disregarding the scenery for speed. I arrive at 2:20 PM.

At a jumble of large stones underneath an acacia tree, I prepared myself for a change of terrain and scenery by wringing my new Rivers hike boots and my pair of wet socks of water. This place is the halfway point and it stands on the southern edge of the Babag Mountain Range. From hereon, we will be treading on home ground – Cebu City.

But we need to negotiate Cabatbatan Trail so that's why I am ridding myself of excess weight like water on my shoes and socks. It's also the best time to examine each and everyone's feet condition, especially Glenn. He is not wearing a proper pair of shoes for heavy-duty walking and I know our feet have suffered much getting wet walking on the Mananga and inviting lots of sand and tiny pebbles inside.

Exhausted yet excited, the guys seem to get well with and among themselves. Despite having an average weight of 85 kilos, they paced faster than the previous two groups that I have had the honor to lead here. Cabatbatan Trail will change all that as the route start from river level and just climb and climb steeply for about five hundred meters until you reach a ridge.

I lead the climb while Jerry, Jon, Raymund, Jhurds and Glenn follow me in that order. Your rhythm will change complexion here and so will your skin tone. Breathing is very important here and it should be done in consonance with your footsteps so you will maintain your bearing and focus.

This trail is very unkind to burly guys as well as to those that have evaded exercise for so long. By purpose, I make a slow stride to accommodate even contestants for The Biggest Loser² and constantly keep my eye on those that are lagging far behind. I am kind today and I make several stops so everyone could recover their breath.

I need not worry about Raymund, Jhurds and Glenn and the rest of the team for, at the end of this trail, there is a store that sell the only cold drinks between Sinsin and a small community in Bocawe five kilometers ahead. Just the mere mention of it will raise everyone's hope and they will hasten their pace. You will see!

After crossing the last of the Bocawe Creek, I lead them to the store but it is closed. Everyone were dismayed. I just need to raise their hopes a little bit further to offset their thirst and their fatigue especially now that the path we will be following keeps on ascending and ascending although it is a road. Half of it are unpaved and half are concreted but this is home ground and somewhere over every rise lay a little assurance.

When everyone douse their thirst in Bocawe, it is already 4:30 PM. We need to tackle the last rise before taking another rest at Pamutan where there is a lone police outpost. We arrive at the road junction and, this time, we will walk the rest of the distance downhill. It starts to get dark and everyone retrieve their head lamps.

I also retrieve my small old-school flashlight which I lash to a head band made of cord but I prefer my natural night vision for my navigation. When we arrive at Baksan, we abandon the road and use the trail to cut distance between here and Guadalupe. I find no difficulty finding my way around among trails and I look back at the rest of the pack and they're quite excited with their lights bobbing in the dark.

Along the trail, a black object cross my path. Locals use black PVC pipes to divert water from natural springs into their homes but I doubt that the black straight thing is a water pipe. It's just too thick. I switch on my light and I discover a good-sized python travelling in slow-motion unmindful of my close presence. I call Glenn to share with what I just found and leave them all behind.

From my forward position, I could hear agitated voices from behind me and some hurried footsteps. Hahaha. Encountering wildlife at close range is ordinary with bushcraft and survival. It's either the creature escape or it becomes part of your diet. At this time, I am not interested and the snake is free to go.

After a half-hour among the forest trail, the ridge becomes clear and my eyes feasted on the sparkle and glimmer of the metropolitan lights at a different angle. This is my first time to see this spectacle at this point of view and it is beautiful. I needn't need of my flashlight anymore as the city lights reflect on the thick clouds overhead illuminating the path in an eery red tinge.

We finally arrive at Guadalupe at 6:30 PM. The boys were spent out with the long hike and, one by one, they disappear until only Jhurds and me were left to talk about the just-concluded event. These are good guys and some of them will be the new nucleus of Camp Red. I have finally found the right people and the possibilities hereon are endless.

Document done in Libre Office 3

1An Cebu-based outdoor group which specializes in bushcraft & survival.

2A reality-TV show about a weight-reducing contest.

KERYGMA CONFERENCE 2011: Glory 2 Glory

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 13:00:00 +0000

AFTER WAITING FOR a year, the Kerygma Conference (or KCON 2011) had finally arrived again in Cebu. Coming back is Bro. Bo Sanchez and the rest of the Kerygma Preachers. They, and all the rest of the technical staffs from Shepherd's Voice, shall converge in one house that is the Waterfront International Hotel on November 26, 2011.

This year's theme is GLORY TO GLORY. The Light of Jesus Servant Community of Cebu had been moving heaven and earth for this and mobilized all their members to accommodate this special event which happens just once a year besides propping up and serving the Kerygma Feast which is held every month at the Sacred Heart Center.

Celebrating the Holy Mass again is Fr. John Iaccono. During his homily he touched on the preservation of life and spoke out against the proponents of the Reproductive Health Bill as anti-life. I agree with Fr. John.

For the third straight year, I am invited again to attend and serve in KCON as a volunteer. For the years 2009 and 2010, I have been tasked to secure KCON. But, this time, my task is more complex as it is broad. Eight people are under my bidding and supervision. Four at the venue and four following the itinerary of Bro. Bo.

Coming back also to serve and part of my team are Marco Albeza of Camp Red and Eugene Abarquez of Pundok Habagat. Joining them are Camp Red's Laertes Ocampo and Glenn Pestaño. I get my team of volunteers from the outdoors people. However, there are other concerns which need to be addressed and I contracted four guards from Tactical Security & Detective Agency, Inc.

Together with Bro. Boy Dy, I and my four subalterns fetched Bro. Bo from the Mactan-Cebu International Airport at 3:30 PM of November 25 and tailed behind him going to Park Mall for a meet-up with the KCON Marketing Team. After that, we proceed to SM City and then to Ayala Mall where a dinner was served at Cafe Laguna. The day ended at the Waterfront.

KCON formally started at 9:30 AM and ended at 6:00 PM. Bro. Bo took two sessions for the book signing before leaving Cebu for Manila. I did not have a camera this time unlike last year where I am able to document the whole KCON, but, fortunately, my sister-in-law Beth took many shots of me behind Bro. Bo during a book-signing session. I believe it is a blessing to serve in KCON and to shake hands with Bro. Bo.

See you again on the next KCON.

Document done in Libre Office 3

Photos courtesy of Beth de Egurrola

WILDERNESS HEALTH, HYGIENE & SAFETY IN THE FIELD

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 07:30:00 +0000

GO WILD ADVENTURES, through William Rhys-Davies, recently made their presence felt here in Cebu by introducing the Wilderness Health, Hygiene and Safety in the Field to local participants on August 23, 24 and 25, 2011 at Mount Manunggal, Balamban, Cebu. This writer assisted Mr. Rhys-Davies with the preparation, organization and other administrative tasks to make this event successful.

This outdoors course is offered here for the first time and concentrates mainly about personal and campsite safety and hygiene and exposed the participants to the realities of the “big-picture awareness”. The participants were ferried from JY Square, Cebu City to Mt. Manunggal via the Transcentral Highway and the Cambagocboc-Sunog Road courtesy of Mr. Barry Downes.

Fine weather greeted the party on the first day. Mr. Rhys-Davies taught campsite selection and safety; knife safety; and cooking fire management. He further discussed about the option of choosing the right kind of gears and materials for the right season and climate. Tents were set up by each of the participants on the helipad area except Mr. Rhys-Davies and I, who both preferred to sleep outdoors shielded by tarpaulins overhead.

Dinner served were an assortment of canned goods, milled corn and mung bean soup but without monosodium glutamate which is forbidden by Mr. Rhys-Davies and this writer as an ingredient. Mr. Rhys-Davies slept on a bamboo bench while I favored the ground near the Pres. Ramon Magsaysay monument and covered it with dry palm leaves as a cushion so I could elevate a few inches if, in case, it rains and the ground becomes a puddle.

On the second day, the participants were taught how to analyze terrain for travel and how to place “Fred in the red shade” of a compass after breakfast and there was a friendly competition amongst the participants on who gets the perfect spot during the drills. It rained after that and the instructions transferred to the house of Mr. Leopoldo Bonghanoy, which is just located nearby.

Mr. Rhys-Davies continued the lecture which now touched about personal and food hygiene. I complemented the lecture by teaching everyone how to cook canned goods without using cooking oil. After lunch break, Mr. Bonghanoy's daughter showed to all how to process raw abaca fibers into cordage and twirl it into a rope with the use of a simple machine. Everyone tried their best to twirl the fibers and attain some discernible success!

After the rains have stopped in the late afternoon, I gathered a bamboo pole from a small stream and demonstrated to everyone of how to cook milled corn inside of a bamboo. It would have been a success were it not for strong gusts of wind that blew away my cooking fire every now and then and turning my milled corn half-cooked so I decide to cook another batch of milled corn inside of a Vietnam-era mess kit on conventional camp stove for dinner plus different menus.

Everyone retired early as the cold crept into everyone's layer of clothing and the fogs made it more miserable bringing slight drizzle. I worm into my sleeping bag partly exposed from the elements. By early dawn, heavy drops of water sprinkled my face and I'm forced to move into the innermost recesses of my shelter. For more than an hour, I sat and waited out the dawn shower to stop before reclaiming sleep for the rest of the night.

The third day brought forth sunshine and heat dissipating last night's dew and moisture. Mr. Rhys-Davies started the activity very early in the morning and begun giving instructions on first-aid responder duty and lightning-strike drills. More drills were set-up along the stream and along a road even as I prepared a meal of milled corn and cabbage soup on all the three bamboo segments.

The activity ended after lunch with a ceremonial toss of brandy by Mr. Rhys-Davies, this writer, Glenn Pestaño, Silver Cue, Lawrence Lozada and Raymund Panganiban. As scheduled, Mr. Downes arrived with his Suzuki Scrum to transport us back to JY Square.

Document done in Libre Office 3

PINOYAPACHE GOES AGAIN TO THE TWIN CITIES OF ZAMBO NORTE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 02:49:00 +0000

I AM A PASSENGER OF M/V Georich tonight, May 30, 2011, travelling to the cities of Dipolog and Dapitan in Zamboanga del Norte. The boat is quite small by today's standards and, I think, it's my first time to ride this relic. I have an errand to make and I have to retrieve a package inside Dakak Beach Resort and then bring it back to Cebu.

Oh, the boat cabin is full and I have to make do with a cot on a higher level leaving me no space to place my bag. Besides that, the alleys are blocked with bags and personal cargoes; my feet protrude beyond the cot I'm sleeping on; and the fluorescent light is just a few feet away from my face.

Well, what do you know, M/V Georich is such a small passenger boat. I have to reposition myself and move away from the light. The bag I have to hang on the boat's ceiling with a carabiner. However, the cabin is cool for it is airconditioned. I sleep before the boat depart and wake up at 4:00 AM, the following day. The cabin crowd is silent and, probably, we're still far away. I continue sleeping.

At 7:00 AM, I step on the Port of Pulauan, Dapitan City; after retrieving my deposited blades from the ship's first mate. I need to go to Sicayab, Dipolog City, to secure transport papers for my package. It is a police camp located on a beach and I'm rather too early to transact business so I have to make a little exploration outside and look for something to fill my empty tummy somewhere along the highway.

I found one tended by one elderly woman and feasted on chicken curry, a dish of local pasta and two servings of rice. I just paid all these for 25 pesos. Cheap! Now, back to the seaside camp, I make my intentions clear and I am instructed by a policeman to pay the fees to a government bank in Dipolog City and then come back to the camp in the afternoon and present the receipt as proof of payment.

I have been here in Dipolog a couple of times: the first one in September 2005 and the last time in June 2009. I retrace the location of the restaurant where I eat breakfast with cousin Patrick and aunt Lourdes during my first trip and found it. It is located right across the public market and the food are cooked well. Besides that, a respectful sentry stand guard at the entrance giving you a bit of security.

After taking my lunch, I walk across the market and look for certain food ingredients which I plan to bring to Cebu. I need not look far for it is very common here. I am talking about the “tabon-tabon” (sp. Atuna racemosa) and the “biasong” (sp. Hystrix macroptera). These two when mixed with raw fish makes the latter taste heavenly. Trust my wife. She knows. I buy five pairs.

Just one more thing. I have to look for a cheap place to stay! Not far from the city center and not too close. I found one along Bonifacio Street and it's only 500 pesos; with toilet and bath, cable TV and with an airconditioner. It is of walking distance to the public market yet quite invisible from there. Perfect. I rest for an hour before I make ready to go back to Sicayab to continue my processing.

I am given the run around and told to come back in the morning. Oh, well, that's how bureaucracy works here in far-out places. I go back to Dipolog instead and take a tour of its urban landmarks like the city hall, the monuments and its Catholic church – the Holy Rosary Cathedral. I bring the camera and fired at will.

I return to my room when it becomes already too hot and decide to watch cable TV instead. The travel have strung me out and I sleep, only to find that it is already 7:00 PM when I wake up. Need to look for another out-of-the-way restaurant that might offer local delicacies. Sadly, almost all the shops and stores are already closed and I have to make do with a corner eatery but, still, it is cheap!

In the morning of June 2, I return to Sicayab full of optimism but I got out with opposite feelings. It had not been processed yet. Why not go to Dakak Beach Resort instead? The most difficult process might be the easiest, who knows? I rely so much on getting my way around the camp but found it a bastion of age-old habits that refused to change despite computerization. I have to improvise and race myself to Dapitan City.

I have bad memories of that pebbled road to Dakak. The motorcycle I rode on took a spill there in 2009 that left me with bloody arms and the driver in much worse condition. However, today, it is fully concreted but it is never cheap to travel there on a hired motorcycle. I don't care. As long as my package is with me and damn that transport papers.

After waiting almost an hour, I have now the package in my possession. I need to go back to my room in Dipolog fast and gather my things for departure. For the third time, I miss the chance to take a good tour of this city and take pictures of its most famous landmark – the Jose Rizal National Park. Someday, I will with wife and kids for a whole week. Book me!

I leave Dipolog City and pass by Sicayab just for the heck of it. Expecting the worst, it turn out better this time and I get hold of the transport papers. It is 2:00 PM and my expected departure for Cebu would be 7:00 PM. I decide to go early to Pulauan Port and wait for the departure time.

Good thing that I went early there for I discovered that the 7:00 PM schedule had been cancelled and another boat from a competitor would, instead, leave at 4:00 PM for Dumaguete before steaming on for Cebu. What good timing! I take the beeline to buy my ticket for, I discovered, the returning boat is a bigger one. Ah, good. That means it has much wider alleys and wider cots.

I am at a section near the stern and I found it so damn hot! The windows are wide and open but I can't feel no air or breeze coming in even when it is moving. I willed my eyes to sleep only to be awakened by a crew asking for my boat ticket. Damn! It is really hot and most of the passengers decide to loiter at the port and starboard sides gasping for cool air.

The nearest airconditioned place is the galley but it is full of shrieking people trying to outdo each other on a videoke machine. I while my time at the portside gunwale but I found it disturbing that candy wrappers thrown by passengers from the higher level of the boat find its way and dropping near me. I don't want to get caught by something wet and sticky and I immediately leave the open area. Maybe my cot is a little cooler now?

The hot iron tub arrive at the Port of Dumaguete at 11:00 PM and disgorged itself some of its passengers and cargoes. That left many cots vacant and I chose the middlemost for it is cooler. I slept for an hour, maybe, enjoying a slight change in temperature when another crew shook me awake and asked for my boat ticket. Not again? This boat is insanely designed and full of insane crews. Worse, I am made to vacate this commandeered bed space!

I waited for dawn, half-awake and sweating on the hot leatherette cot, listening to the built-in MP3 of my cellphone. I may have slept, after all, for I discovered the horizon harboring now a paler shade of darkness. A tell-tale sign of light, bluish and dark crimson, streaked out from a flat dark blob. I look at the starboard side and see a dark mass of land five leagues away. It is Cebu, alright, but, still quite far to the harbor.

Meantime, the heat have not dissipated despite dawn's caress. I wished this hot iron tub could travel faster so I could free myself from its dank stranglehold. I spend the rest of dawn outside of the sleeping cabin facing a slight headwind, which is consolation enough. Yonder is the familiar skyline of Dalaguete; the bright power plants of Naga; the seaward point pf land of Talisay City; the racing lights at the SRP; before the slow boat enter the Mactan Channel ready to flush me and the rest into the asphalt jungles of this queen city of the south.

Document done in Libre Office 3

PHILIPPINE INDEPENDENCE BUSHCRAFT CAMP

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 02:37:00 +0000

THIS IS THE FIRST time that had been done in the Philippine Islands. Camp Red, your only Philippine bushcraft and survival guild south of Subic Bay; and Warrior Pilgrimage, a personal blog dedicated for bushcraft and survival; recently introduced the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp or PIBC MMXI to fourteen newcomers.

The activity was held at an undisclosed site designated as “Camp Damazo”; found deep in the bosom of the Babag Mountain Range in Cebu City on June 11 and 12, 2011. The party were led by this writer starting from Guadalupe by way of Bebut's Trail on the early morning of the first day after a short prayer of protection and good journey.

After claiming the campsite at midday, the participants chose their spot where to set up their tents and then the preparation for the noontime meal started. Camp Red prefer their meals eaten fresh from the cooking fires and it had been their trademark ever since. A water hole was dug for this purpose from a sandy bank of a free-flowing stream to supply the event's water requirements like washing, cooking and drinking.

In the afternoon, this writer introduced the participants to bushcraft and survival; what is its relation to the environment; and how it affects the individual's psychology. Field manuals and similar handouts were distributed by this writer to everyone to satisfy the demands of their curiosity. In addition, this writer stressed the vital importance of knives or bladed weapons as a part of every bushman's equipment.

Following up is a lecture about the basics of outdoor cooking by a Camp Red member-participant wherein the activity dragged on to preparing the next meal – dinner. During the cooking, this writer demonstrated the participants how to forage food along the stream after dark. All in all, five good-sized fresh-water crabs were added for supper.

A small campfire beside the stream was started and a joyous camaraderie ensued among the participants. “Camp Damazo” have never witnessed such an unusual gathering at this time and date before. There never were lights or sounds of laughter introduced before in this hidden nook and that makes this activity a source of adrenaline.

The following day, June 12, the national flag was raised on a staff secured by cords made from inner bark of trees. Newcomer Nikki Ledesma led the group to the singing of the Philippine National Anthem. Later, another newcomer, Glenn Pestaño – the one who demoed yesterday of how an everyday carry or EDC should look like – led the Oath of Allegiance to the republic.

After that, this writer discussed about the basics of survival-tool making and how to use such skill to ensure your survival. The ability to create something like cordage, digging sticks and cooking utensils from nothing is greatly emphasized by this writer to the participants and highlighted by cooking milled corn inside of a bamboo pole.

The activity ended after lunch and this writer again guided the party to a long river trek that pass over many hidden waterfalls, thick jungle, difficult terrain and back to Guadalupe. The following are the sets of collage that describe this very novel activity:

OBSERVATIONS:

PIBC MMXI taught the participants that bushcraft and survival can complement well with backpacking and mountain climbing.
Bushcraft and survival is an interest or hobby worth trying. Foreigners love to learn survival techniques in the tropics. We live in the tropics yet we rather spend expensive gears and equipment geared for an outdoor activity that is done in high altitude.
A peripheral outdoor activity was held during this date and PIBC MMXI demonstrated that this will be the best alternative in the future.
We are used to following an event tailored for Westerners and we disregard the crafts that our ancestors taught us. All of us have the potential to practice traditional crafts but, somehow, we are ignorant that it exists even if it runs in our veins. It is stored in our subconscious and all we have to do is remember.
Camp Red and Warrior Pilgrimage have espoused the practice of these skills and it is our obligation to transfer these skills to those who would want to learn these.

Document done in Libre Office 3

WARRIOR REVIEW: PinoyApache's Tomahawk

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 07:59:00 +0000

MY LITTLE AXE, which I fondly called as my tomahawk, have been with me since the year 1999. It is one of the items that I have collected or acquired during my “warrior pilgrimage” years. It is very light and it is forged of highly-carbonized steel.

I presumed, it may have been made from a leaf-spring of a European or American-made automobile suspension system of long ago and the “eye” have been arched gracefully whereby the blunt edge kissed the main head at the middle section and securely welded giving it the shape of a teardrop which is good enough to fit a well-sized wooden shaft - about 1.2” x 0.75” thick.

The cutting edge is sharp and very narrow. “Lantip” as we Visayans called it, I have seen it cut through the diameter of an old-school six-inch nail, accidentally dismembering the top from the rest in a cataclysm of one bright spark as fine steel clashed against fine steel! Such power held in my hands is something worth respecting and possessing.

I remember the axe when it was yet in the hands of the original owner. It was just treated as an ordinary tool and used mainly in chopping wood for the earthen hearth then laid on the ground or thrown aside when not used. I noticed the teardrop-shaped “eye” and I immediately concluded that this simple axe is different from the axes that I have seen or held before.

On the spot, I offered to buy the axe for two hundred pesos plus another axe as replacement to save the man the trouble of looking for one. For the woodcutter, it is just like a great bargain which gave him advantage and saved him from wangling a better price. For me, it is like I just found a rare pearl.

Immediately, I set to work on the first wooden shaft. The wood is an exotic kind which I find hard to identify, but I carved it with my own hands. The shaft I designed is not straight, but is gracefully curved imitating the style of early Filipino weapons art. What made it more different is that the axehead is secured in an American Indian fashion.

The shaft is seventeen inches long. The axehead could not hurtle itself out from the top of the shaft and could not slid down the handle for a chord is tightly wound around the foreshaft reinforcing the latter from breakage. Two hawk feathers are tied at one end of the chord to aid its flight when thrown.

The shaft protruded three-fourths of an inch above the axehead and is much thicker than the rest and that already ensured my axehead that it will not dismember itself from the shaft like most axes do when under the pressure of hard use and so is safe to use. I don't either need small iron spikes that are inserted above the shaft so wood and steel would clasp in an unstable Western-style fusion.

The good thing with this axe is that its “eye” is wide as it is long. Meaning, the wooden shaft that held the steel head is thick enough and could withstand the pressures of the strength that drove it or the weight of both hand and steel head that strike wood. Even so, the first shaft broke during a day of cutting felled trees and debris after a typhoon later of that year. It was not a good wood.

I then began to experiment on different types of wood after that and I made carvings on the shaft for aesthetic feel and for secure gripping. Woods used were guava, star apple (sp. Chrysophillium cainito), golden mahogany (sp. Shorea laevis or yakal) and rosewood (narra). All did not stood the hard work I used during the chopping and splitting of wood and during the time when the tomahawk is set free to whirl its way into space and find true target.

The pleasure of steering my tomahawk and make a blood-curdling thud on a wooden target is very exhilarating. It had become my past time then and it came to a point where I experimented on different shaft designs and on different distances. I found a design that enabled the axehead to embed deeply on its target when thrown and another design that could withstand the rigors of hard work.

The shafts are both made from a yellow mahogany wood (sp. Vitex parviflora or tugas). The first design came from a wooden relic. A survivor of a great conflagration in 1989. A wood that had been acquired by my late grandfather forty years earlier of that disaster. It is carved with Zuni patterns and tapered off at the end. The word “Cherokee” is etched on the wood and is named after a great and noble people of the “trail of tears” with which my second son is proudly named after.

The second design is very familiar. I bring it all the time during my bushcrafting sorties on the mountains. It is short – about 11 inches – and curves in one stroke giving me optimum leverage to cut into whatever I chop. The part of the shaft that held the head is angled abruptly from the rest to project an “upright” position and optimize its cutting power. It is also carved with Zuni patterns with an American Indian and headdress to graphically symbolize my woodworking trademark under the name “Cherokee”.

The American Indian image from my tomahawk shafts and on anything that touched wood would become a symbol of remembrance for one noble race that have been obliterated almost into extinction by the perverted values of a different culture that turn a lustful eye upon its land and its resources. I am part of that kind and I harbor solidarity with my brothers across the watery divide.

From that image was born the first bushcraft and survival guild in the Philippine Islands south of Subic Bay – Camp Red! Traditional crafts have been taught by this writer to his brother Filipinos and many have embraced this skill which, after all, are really embedded in the subconscious of every indigenous people, mixed blood or not, and all it does need is just a little “fire” to inflame it.

So, back to my tomahawk, I kept and cared for it like a baby. I sharpen it all the time and apply a thin coat of oil or marrow to keep out rust. I refused to have my tomahawk lay and touch ground. When I finish my work, I embed and kept it erect on wood. When not used, I separate steel and shaft and kept the former in a special case.

Sadly, during the height of my enthusiasm for the throwing 'hawk, there were no ideas yet of what is a YouTube. All my activities with my tomahawk (and those flying blades-mosquito coil stands-machetes-crowbars-heavy axes-Gillette blades-pseudo police badges-and every pointed/sharp objects) were unrecorded.

Not until one day in 2010 did I muster the time to record myself, with the help of Manwel Roble, at the foothills of the Babag Mountain Range in Cebu City throwing my dearly beloved tomahawk and showed to everyone in the Internet that what I write here is really true. I don't know yet of anyone here doing this thing in a “live” video but I welcome their camaraderie if ever one shows up. I waited for this long.

Sad to say, this skill is not for everyone. You have to find your “vision quest” and, once done, you will have the “book of life” at your disposal. It is a path less travelled and very narrow and without the comforts and pleasures that sedentary living could provide.

I have journeyed far, high and wide across the archipelago and I found my true path. My tomahawk is one of the things that I have come to understand as something akin to being a companion. As one esteemed bushman have commented to me in Facebook: it is a bond that is hard to break.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer

MAN-SIZED HIKES: Lutopan-Guadalupe II

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 14:42:00 +0000

I FOUND THE LONG route perfect for exercise and it presented itself with a good landscape too. I am again leading six people on a cross-country hike from Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu City on April 23, 2011. Aside me, Marco Albeza and Ernie will be repeating this hike that we did last February 20. Both are Camp Red regulars.

Coming with us are two guests from the Cebu Mountaineering Society: Boy Olmedo and Glen Domingo; and Camp Red wannabes Jerome Tan and James Cabajar. We all meet at the Cebu South Bus Terminal at 5:00 AM and leave for Lutopan at 6:30 AM on the same slow bus that I rode on the last time that travel 20 kilometers per hour on the highway.

We arrive at Lutopan at 8:30 AM and proceed to buy food provisions which we will cook somewhere by the banks of the Mananga River. Camp Red prefer to eat their noontime meals hot and just fresh from the cooking fire. We decide to marshal motorcycles-for-hire for Camp 7, Minglanilla to compensate for time lost due to that slow-moving bus.

Upon arrival, we follow the tree-lined road to Sinsin, a mountain village belonging to Cebu City, and found a small store selling taro leaves cooked in coconut milk, which is a local delicacy. I decide to eat breakfast here and everyone followed, unable to restrain their gastronomic yearnings, and settled to eat their second breakfast of the day.

Minutes passed by, a whole army of cyclists arrived and stopped to rest, only to imitate what I have started. Refreshed after a rest and a good meal, I follow an unpaved road which goes down and down into Buot-Taup, another mountain village of Cebu City. I trotted down the road together with Marco and arrive at a small stream crossing underneath the road and waited for the others.

When everyone found their wits, I lead them into a shortcut that bypass the village center and arrive at the Mananga River. The river level is lower than the last time I was here. Blame that to summer. Up ahead are the sinister-looking craters hiding sand strainers and shovels within. Illegal quarrying of sand and gravel have reached this far now and they were not here the last time around.

We passed by a trio of naked little boys cooling in the mud under a very hot sun and my companions were quite entertained eliciting them instant camera shots. After crossing repeatedly the river, we came upon a cool place where there is a water source. We stop and we prepare the ingredients for our meal.

Marco and I took care of the cooking of milled corn while Ernie concentrated on the mixed-vegetable stew and marinated dried fish which Glen D provided. Meanwhile, James and Boy O produce banana leaves which we lay on the ground so we could place all our food there and eat in “boodle-fight” fashion.

After a brief siesta, we proceed on for Camp 4, a village belonging to Talisay City where the trail to the southern end of the Babag Mountain Range is found. Along the way, I see grown-up men fishing catfish with crude spears; boys splashing in the water; women washing clothes; and more of these hideous craters and their quarry.

Up ahead is an acacia trail that marked Cabatbatan Trail. I arrive first and remove my Coleman boots and socks and wring it off of water then the others came. After a 10-minute rest, it's time to move again. We will start the second half of this cross-country trek and it is 2:30 PM.

Cabatbatan Trail is a difficult route and it zigzags its way to a slope three hundred meters up and then the land feature changes into a rolling terrain that lead to Bocawe Creek. After crossing the stream, the trail follow the contour of the small river and cross two rock faces before stopping above the headrock of a small waterfall which end at a small hamlet of Cabatbatan, which really is a part of Pamutan, another mountain village of Cebu City.

The good thing about this route is you get to enjoy from a small store that sells the only cold drinks between Sinsin and in Bocawe, located far ahead, this, after an hour of tackling Cabatbatan Trail! I treat myself to three glasses of cold San Miguel Pale Pilsen to replenish spent electrolytes and shared the rest of the big bottle to Boy O and Ernie. The rest take this opportunity to catch their second wind and enjoy cold soda drinks as well.

After this interlude, we will go down an unpaved road and cross a concrete foot bridge above a small lake and then climb up a concreted road to the small community of Bocawe. I hate this stretch and the only consolation is that it is already 4:00 PM. Jerome and James developed cramps and are unable to go on. The rest of us facilitated to provide them transportation for Guadalupe.

Now that both are safe, we proceed on and arrive at Bocawe at around 5:15 PM and replenish our throats with cold refreshment. Then we proceed again walking the same uphill road that lead to the road junction in Pamutan. There is now a wide bamboo bench constructed and it is a very welcome sight to a tired traveller like me. Again, I waited for the others and the last vestige of light are almost erased from the horizon.

The road after this will go downhill that will pass between the man-mafe forest of Baksan and Lanipao. The road is unpaved and there are no lamp posts to illuminate your way not until you reach the first house located at least two kilometers from here. Everyone donned their head lamps but I prefer to use my night vision.

Marco decide to take this opportunity to run as part of his training for the 60 kilometer run from Cebu to Toledo. I follow and I half-run and half-walk over loose stones and shallow furrows in the dark but I'm accustomed to this. It is agonizing to my feet soles but I have to kill the pain nagging my old knees. When I could not take anymore the pain, I limp to Sapangdaku spillway at 6:30 PM.

We all follow the asphalt road to Guadalupe and arrive there at around 7:30 PM. We then transfer to Summer Kyla, Camp Red's official watering hole and Marco is already there by the time we arrive. We rest our aching bodies and douse our thirst with rounds of very cold beer until the beer case is filled up and the eyes feel the beckonings of Lady Starlight.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer

WARRIOR PILGRIMAGE IN CRISIS

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 09:31:00 +0000

SUCH AN UNTIMELY LOSS! Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!

The personal computer that I am using in my workstation got corrupted on September 12, 2011 as I was scanning and cleaning a workmate's USB drive. I had a trial anti-virus that had already expired but, just the same, it didn't detect the legions of worms, Trojan horses, virus and other malware coming from that removable device.

Although the capacity to open my documents and other applications were completely hindered, its ability to view pictures were not. I had volumes of picture albums and collages that are left untouched. The good thing is that it is all saved in Drive D.

Then the computer technician came on September 30 and reformatted the computer. You know what? All my personal files got deleted! Photos, documents, PDF files, videos, etc. The technician recommended a document-recovery application – Photorec – and it got the job done in normal mode. Almost!

What it recovered where archived files and the latest files – the unpublished ones which are the most important – were found missing. I kept opening recovered folder after recovered folder but they are not there anymore. Reconstructing articles by memory is a hard thing to do and it is nothing if you could not emphasize it with images like my specialized collages.

It pains me to see all my original work going down the drain including my just-newly reconstructed bushcraft and survival manual. I could have rallied around with the newer pictures and start building my story around it but it's gone also. It is pointless to go on.

However, I got five articles left which I saved on my USB drive and some important personal documents. I am able to publish the first on October 1 in my personal blog with images to boot and I was also able to upload an album regarding my recent trip to Malabuyoc last July. The rest of the files would have seen me through to November 6.

Then, by quirk of the baddest luck I have ever experienced, the drive got itself unremoved from a PC in a public internet cafe. That was on October 4. I only remembered it only today (October 5). Shucks. I couldn't believe it is happening to me. Then another of my USB drive got misplaced in my home and I am left with a defective one that does not copy images consistently.

But, life is a challenge. The good thing about it is how you cope with such losses and how you are able to recover and drive back your pursuits into square one. It is really a shame and a waste of hard effort on my part. Who wouldn't?

But, but, but...I love challenges. I could have sulked and allow my legendary temper to go out of control but I learned to harness it and use it to my advantage instead as I age and age.

We bloggers are known for our backlogged articles. I got twenty of those. I post articles five to six months late here at Bloggert and I got eight photo albums waiting to be uploaded in Facebook and they're three months stale. I am having problems with these backlogs and you should see my schedule run to July of next year before I could post the first article for 2012! It keeps you outdated.

When the computer got corrupted, it ultimately removed all these backlogs. That should have made me happy. Need to recover some files and work around it and save me some story. The point is, could I finish an article based on those already uploaded at Facebook on time? Warrior Pilgrimage does four articles a month at an interval of seven to nine days average but, right now, two of the articles for October are done ten days of each other already. I am in a crisis!

Wheww! Tried my best to protect the computer. Sometimes you are successful. Sometimes you lose and when you lose, it's like it is the end of the world. Gotta fight back and blog again. It happen sometimes and you have no control over it except owning a Mac. But that is expensive. Perhaps a Linux OS will do and Ubuntu is perfect.

I will finally decide to migrate to Linux for good to get rid of these problems. So goodbye fragile Windows XP2. It has been a stormy weather with you. I could not remember how many times you let me down.

Document done in Libre Office 3.0

NAPO TO BABAG TALES XLIV: Palm Sunday Bushcraft

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 10:15:00 +0000

TODAY IS PALM SUNDAY, April 17, 2011. After fasting for a week, I think I need to do a light bush hike into the foothills of the Babag Mountain Range, Sapangdaku, Cebu City, where the Roble homestead is located. Not only that, I will polish off my bushcraft and survival skills and today is a perfect opportunity.

I will not need my cooking gears and my camp stove and I leave it intentionally behind. I will not be with my usual company. I need to be alone. I need to commune with nature and to be with the mountain folks whom I can connect with very easily. Bushcraft is most perfect when you are alone.

I arrive at the Our Lady of Guadalupe de Cebu Parish at 7:00 PM and I witness the blessing of the palms by the priest. There is an ongoing religious program. I passed by a procession of parishioners in old Jewish garbs coming from San Nicolas and they are now converging at the church grounds.

After that, I decide to eat a light breakfast to see me through to my destination. It is a long way there: almost three kilometers of uphill road and maybe about four kilometers of ever-increasing elevation to that knoll where there is an ancient tamarind tree. I buy my usual fifty-peso worth of bread for Manwel, Juliet and Josel.

It is hot, of course, for this is the middle of summer in the tropics. I walk my usual pace. My old Coleman boots are still around and it may disintegrate soon, but not today. It may still be liveable with my feet. My 35-liter Baikal pack is heavy with five used books but I don't mind. This cargo will make some children smile.

I arrive at Napo in about 45 minutes and greet the locals politely. I did not tarry long and I cross the Sapangdaku River. The stream is still running with water unlike last year where it was dry. Oh, this is good. Blame that to the constant rains in March.

I meet some local folks along the trail carrying vegetables for the market and I give the path to them. Trail courtesy is very essential in your outdoor pursuits and people remember that. It's a good passport for unimpeded access into your playground.

I arrive at Lower Kahugan Springs and she is still gushing drinkable water without let-up. This time, I drink water and filled my bottle. I give all the books to a 10-year old girl and her two small brothers, as well as half of the bread. I stay here for about 10 minutes before proceeding again.

I did not follow the usual route where it will pass by a flower farm. At 8:00 AM it will be hot there and it is almost nine. I take the Kahugan Trail instead which is a much easier route and shaded although rather long. I hear from below the splash of water from the Busay Lut-od Waterfalls but I will not go down there.

I take a switchback to the Roble homestead and arrive there at 9:30 AM. I sit on the cool bamboo benches underneath a Java plum tree to recover my breathe. Little Josel badger me with my hidden stash of bread and I ultimately surrender it to him after a little chit-chat. Manwel is sweating and just came from their little corn farm uphill.

I need to have a bamboo pole and Manwel showed me where to get one. I choose two segments and cut it from the rest with my local Bowie knife. Remove the branches and knobs with my sharp tomahawk. Lay the pole on the bench and start to work opening both segments with either Bowie and 'hawk.

When it was done, I decide to gather dry firewood from dead branches. Manwel found a dry stump of a Mexican lilac tree and I help him carry it up. Wood at the bottom of a tree where the roots meet stump make good fire and so heat efficient although this will take a lot of hard work. I need not worry. I have my sharp hatchet to do that task and a pair of good working hands.

Sweats on my brow, I finish this manly work in about thirty minutes and go on conducting my preparations for my noontime meal. With the firewood, I am able to start a fire with a single matchstick. Dry tinder and a hot day make this possible.

When the fire got going, I balance the bamboo pole above it and place water on the one where it is heated by the flame. The moment I see wisps of steam coming out between lid and pot, I gently pour milled corn into the chamber and stir it with my wooden spoon.

Meanwhile, Manwel offered me three star apple fruits (sp. Chrysophillium cainito) which I eat with relish. While waiting for my cooking, I decide to kill time by working the unfinished wooden spoon which I started last March 13 on this same spot. I bring pieces of broken glass for this occasion so I could scrape off the unwanted thickness.

I pour a little water on the now almost-cooked milled corn for moisture and remove this from the fire, changing positions with an empty chamber which I need to cook with instant noodles. The heat coming from this chamber will transfer to the one where milled corn is found and it will cook on its own heat. I revive the fire and pour water on the empty pot and waited for steam to come out.

Again, I resume my work on the almost-finished spoon. I decide to video myself cooking instant noodles in a bamboo. Open the lid and drop chunks of dry noodles into the steaming water and stir it with my spoon. I leave the noodles to simmer for a few minutes and resume my work. Manwel and Juliet decide to roast cobs of corn beside the embers and I'm eating it as well.

Once again, I return to the cooking and add flavoring ingredients and stir it before after which I scatter the fire away. When I think that the whole cooking is ready, I remove the contents and transfer it to plastic plates which Manwel's mother provided me with. Not only that, she also give me a delicious-looking purple taro soup.

Just when I am about to take my lunch, six guys arrive and they were sweating very hard. They belong to an outdoor group called ZETS or the Zubu Eco-Touring Society. They started at ten from Napo and it's not the best time to do climbing unless you are on training. Anyway, the cool benches made by Fele are very welcome to tired travellers.

They have with them sandwiches, burgers and salad for meals. Not a good idea eating packed meals while doing rigorous exercise like hiking and climbing under the relentless rays of the sun. Even I with crude implements, deserves a good steaming lunch. The outdoors do not deny me that chance to enjoy my meals in a special way. Eating food fresh from the fire is a luxury, you know.

I request Fele and Manwel to provide six young coconuts for the newcomers. They may need more electrolytes to to see them through to Mount Babag. Father and son came back a few minutes later and bring with them six green coconuts which they opened at the tops so the visitors could drink its natural juice.

At 1:00 PM, the ZETS guys leave for the ridge road by way of the Babag East Ridge Pass. I stayed for a couple of hours more and had a good siesta. After that blissful nap underneath the Java plum tree and bamboo, I decide to pack up and go downhill.

Fele's wife, Tonia, give me a plastic bag full of root crops, vegetables and jackfruit. I accepted these and I know my wife will be happy when I arrive home. I rearrange all so it could fit inside my backpack. What cannot be stowed inside, I carry with either hand.

Once I reach Napo, I continue on my walking for Guadalupe. The cargo I'm carrying is very heavy but, I need not worry for it is all downhill. When I got home, I see my wife smiling.

Document done in Libre Office 3 Writer

HOW TO CATCH CAVE BATS FOR FOOD THE PRIMITIVE WAY

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Sat, 01 Oct 2011 14:09:00 +0000

CAVE BATS ARE A close relative of fruit bats. While fruit bats grow in size, their cave-dwelling cousins are smaller compared to them. Despite its habitat, cave bats do eat fruits aside from small insects. In short, both species share the same diet.

These bats are of such common sight and are numerous. This is not a threatened species though unlike those of fruit bats and you could hunt these provided that it is not for commercial purposes. However, environmental laws and ordinances could change in every place, city or barrio and it is best to respect these so as not to antagonize the local administrators.

Cave bats, just like any other bats, for that matter, are edible and can be eaten when properly cooked. Catching this by hand is out of the question. Remember this, BATS DO HAVE RABIES! They bite and they claw and scratch when cornered just like any wild animal. Never touch a bat unless you are quite sure that it is already dead.

Most people catch bats using guns. If you think this is the easiest, think again. These nocturnal creatures are agile fliers and could cover distances in fleeting seconds. I have tested the agility of bats by shooting it with a toy gun that shoot small plastic pellets and it maneuvered itself around my tiny bullets easily. I have not tried though with a gun that fire high-velocity rounds like a rifle but I have seen bats being shot through the wings and, worse, through the body, leaving a little meat to cook and eat.

Wiser hunters catch cave bats using nets strung across its path. The nets are placed in between tree branches or amid two fruit trees. Here in the Philippines, rural folks use bamboo thorns called kagingking and these are very effective if you know where to look for the bats' flight pattern.

The best place to catch cave bats is at the cave itself. The bats are located on the ceiling of the cave chamber during daytime. When disturbed these will fly pell-mell all over the chamber and no two bats will collide each other despite the sheer number of them and are agile enough to evade anything you throw or hit with. With a net placed along the passages, they will just simply get entangled and caught.

By that method, you will be catching a lot of bats that is way above your consumption and so a lot will be wasted and that is doing disservice to the environment and morally wrong. Be sensible. Catch only what you need. However, there is a better way.

Try standing strategically outside a cave entrance and arm yourself with a three-foot long stick. Have another companion spook the bats inside with a flashlight or by just hollering and wait for the bats swarming out of the cave. Any creature coming from the dark and into the light would be momentarily blinded and this will be your chance to catch your bats.

With your stick, whack anything that fly by. You can even count your hits and stop when you think you have enough. Five to ten bats for a group of four persons is enough provided you know how to skin a bat. First, be sure that it is not alive. Second, provide yourself a sharp knife or any sharp bladed weapon. Third, prepare some salt and garlic.

Severe the head and make a cut from the neck down to the abdomen and pull skin slowly by cutting the inners of the skin from the meat. The wings will go with the skin as you pull it out. Remove the guts and any unwanted parts. Severe the claws and the tail.

With the same knife, cut away the sinews. It is the white thread-like part running along the back, the breast, the forearms and hind legs. Leaving this on the meat during your cooking will leave an unsavory smell and so it is recommended that you remove this part to make your bat meal real tasty. Dispose all the unwanted animal parts in a secure location far from your camping place and bury these.

Cut the meat into bite-sized pieces and dab this with salt. Never wash the meat with water. Blood found in the meat react to water and so will also leave an unappealing odor during cooking. Crush some garlic and smear this on the meat as well. Salt and garlic are the best antiseptic and would secure your meat from decay and to discourage insects like ants. Then you cook. Cooking will kill unseen microbes that stay inside its host.

Actually, there are many ways how to cook bat meat. The easiest would be by cooking over ember or glowing charcoal as in barbecue style. Skewered or laid on fairly-large fresh leaves is okay. You could steam this as well by hanging and individually wrapped inside leaves or aluminum foil or make a soup out of this. But the best way to cook this is by frying in oil. Bat adobo is good.

They say bats taste like chicken. I beg to disagree. Bats taste better than chicken. Even better than game fowls and the smaller native variety.

Happy hunting and enjoy your bushcraft weekend. Bon apetit.

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer

TRAINING THE PULAG-BOUND

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 09:46:00 +0000

IT WILL BE A SUPER hot day today. This is a Friday, April 9, 2011, the anniversary of the Fall of Bataan. I will not be commemorating our heroes today but I will facilitate a training program for a supercharged group of mountain climbers preparing for a Lenten climb to Mount Pulag in Benguet.

The route will be one-half of the Freedom Trail, the full stretch of Kilat Trail, a small part of Lensa Trail and the remaining arc of Bebut's Trail. These trails will conspire today to give optimum adrenaline rush for thirteen members from Tribu Dumagsa led by the couple Randell and Marjorie Savior.

Last Sunday, April 3, two Camp Red volunteers led the Tribu Dumagsa climbers to a gruelling endurance training to Mount Babag via the difficult Ernie's Trail and back to Guadalupe by way of the No-Santol-Tree Trail. This time, I will lead the whole group, including the two volunteers and another two neophytes from Camp Red.

I designed the route and I will lay emphasis today on speed and some bushcraft sense like basic navigation. Two of these trails are incomplete and need some more exploration. It will be as it may – unexplored – to give accent to the activity and to perk up the participants' interest. Along the way, I will explain to the backpackers the origin of such place names and some useful plants.

It is 7:30 AM when we leave the Tisa Public Market for the trailhead at Tisa Hills and some thirty minutes behind schedule on the itinerary which will adjourn at Guadalupe come 6:30 PM. Leading the pack, I study the lay of the terrain in trying to connect Freedom Trail with Kilat Trail. The ground is dry and the traction is good.

Up ahead is a huge mango tree. A rare occurrence among very bald hills. I notice the participants, including my own Camp Red, drinking too much fluid without regard to their water reserve. Although it is hot, but it is still a long way. I reminded them to ration their water intake and teach them how to conserve water by taking a small sip, gurgle just a bit to cool the gums and tongue and then swallow without wasting one drop. Simple.

The trail I followed began to lose itself among thick shrubs and I'm in a quandary of where to find alternate routes to Kilat Spring. After regrouping along the hot spine of Banawa Hills, I move on to the leftmost branch of Freedom Trail and it led to a copse of star apple trees where residents were busy picking the fruits. Up ahead is another lone mango tree, which is my reference of the way to Kilat Spring and so damn near!

I went down to the trail, which is now under forest cover and, finally, reach the natural spring and the participants douse their thirst away and filled up empty water containers. Meanwhile, one Camp Red volunteer and five others failed to see my trail sign and were denied of this opportunity to rehydrate and the generous refills. Aside that, they suffered by walking the whole stretch of the ridge which is exposed to the sun! Lesson: Do not tarry along the trail and take extra-long rests!

By 10:00 AM, we leave Kilat for the Portal, a place that is a hub of seven trails. Already there is the almost-lost group and they were boiling water for coffee. It's good to know that they are alright. After the coffee break, it's time to move again. Our next destination would be Starbucks Hill and I decide we cook lunch there as we are behind schedule already and we have adequate water. I follow, once again, Freedom Trail.

It should be hot in here but the rays of the sun were denied by the forest along the fringes of the Buhisan Watershed Area. We stopped and take a rest on another wide clearing marked by a trio of big boulders stacked on one another. This is another spot where five trails meet. In a little while, we will be moving again.

The route is steep this time until we approach a ridge and, infront of me, is the fabled Starbucks Hill. It used to be just an unnamed hill on the topo map with a number and I named it after we brewed coffee on its peak on a January 24, 2010 exploration. We climb the hill and we have to half-crawl below shrubs whose branches intertwined and form an arch above the route.

Once we reach the peak, debris are found everywhere. We walked down to a ridge where there is a huge tamarind tree offering shade amidst cool breeze. A welcome interlude after a very humid walk along the forest. We set down and retrieved camp stoves, cook sets, meat, milled corn, vegetables, spices and anything worthy for stomach and conversation.

Everyone jostled for prime space but the shade is wide enough to accommodate eighteen souls even with a wide berth given to the “kitchen”. Four pots were dedicated to the cooking of milled corn topped with gumbo; a pot for stir-fried mixed-vegetable soup; another pot for pork adobao; and skillets for chorizo, anchovy paste with tomatoes, dried anchovies fried in oil and sliced raw cucumber.

We eat lunch at 1:00 PM and take a very brief siesta before I proceed again to the rest of the ridge where Freedom Trail pass. Standing on another clearing where four trails meet, I point to the group of a formidable peak two kilometers away and everyone were unsure if they could climb the mountain and finish the activity before dark.

Unknown to them, the target hill is well camouflaged by an optical illusion and have blended well with the background which is the high peak. We cross the man-made forest of teak trees of Baksan and climbed unto the low hill then cross a saddle before stopping at another much-higher hill. The party came to a standstill as the trail ended abruptly. A hundred-fifty meters below us is a creek singing its song and I need to go down there.

Using my bushcraft sense, I reconnoiter down the hill following the only gentle slope that protrude like a tongue into a small valley. A safe landing for me on the creek bed and for others too, twenty minutes later. By now, we are on an unnamed creek and I am now looking for a trailsign on a big tree which I last saw on May 27. Failing there, I reminded the participants to walk carefully along the creek to prevent injury and to observe environmental ethics as we are now on a vital watershed.

Buhisan is where part of Metropolitan Cebu Water District's supply of drinkable water is sourced at. I led the way weaving among boulders and stepping on stones on the creekbed and exiting a waterfall that led into another big branch of the creek. Another waterfall up ahead and we bypass it through a route in between two creeks that joined in a Y shape to become a bigger creek. Going down to the catchment basin, we pass by a mixed-gender group of teenagers taking a bath at a small pool.

Along the way, I picked up and carried broken pieces of glass and some whole bottles and plastic bags into my backpack. What I cannot carry, I place these in deep cracks on inaccessible rocks. As a youth, I once stepped on a glass jar hidden in grass lacerating three large arteries inside my ankle and almost claimed my life through loss of blood. Broken-glass retrieval and removal anywhere is an advocacy of mine.

Up ahead some boys were splitting dry logs with just wood adzes and stone. Very primitive and very bushcrafty. The ladies in our group gifted them with biscuits and some left-over food.

Somewhere far, seven pieces of tree trunks where hastily abandoned by two adults upon seeing our coming. Illegal logging is rampant here despite its being tagged as a protected watershed area and the MCWD, the Department of Environment and Natural Resources, the Cebu City government and the Philippine National Police could do nothing. Nothing have happened ever since I began to blog and upload pictures of cut trees in Buhisan.

I skirted the catchment basin and reminded everyone to be on visible distance with each other as the day already catch long shadows in the forest and I don't want to be encumbered by long delays brought on by missing people. We followed Kilat Creek upstream and almost missed my natural landmark of a huge stone split in half. Actually, I missed the stone and was in the middle of hacking a route among impenetrable bamboo groves until a quick glimpse from behind made me backtrack from that tiresome activity.

From the stone, I follow the now dimly-lit trail, striking straight to higher ground in lesser time as possible as it is now 5:00 PM. Exhausted, I waited for one volunteer and tasked him to take care of the rest of the group while I continued on my way in looking for a path that would take us to Freedom Trail. After 15 minutes, I found it and I followed this route to the Portal and consumed my last drop of water and waited for the others.

After thirty minutes, they came. From hereon, we will be walking to Guadalupe via Bebut's Trail. I pass by low hanging branches of star apple trees with some ripe fruits. I helped myself with three and it filled my now-empty stomach giving me electrolytes and nutrients to finish the journey in full steam. I pass by the tunnel vent and showed some Tribu Dumagsa people why there is a hole on the ground.

Heartbreak Ridge at a late hour is peopled by youths of all ages and gender. Some are playing basketball or volleyball; five boys climb a steel electric pylon; two sets of boys were trying hard to raise their kites above ground while the girls were sitting on the ground eating snack food and chatting. The grass have withered to brown color and most of it got engulfed by brush fire of yesterday.

A few more steps and I would be on hard ground again. I reach the south gate of the Our Lady of Guadalupe of Cebu Parish at exactly 6:20 PM and doused my thirst with one cold bottle of softdrink from a bakery and others did likewise. One CR volunteer come last at 6:38 and that closes the training session. A moment later, we transfer to our favorite place near Villa Fatima and eat dinner, drink cold beer and talk of our recent activity.

The training sessions would, hopefully, help Tribu Dumagsa attain their objective at Mt. Pulag. Two straight weekends of training on pure mountain trails have elevated their endurance and their resistance to heat and fatigue. Their leg ligaments and sense of balance and outdoors awareness have also been strengthened and boosted. Most of all, they are wiser now about water conservation and that would be tested on the bald ridges of Mt. Pulag

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A DAY AT THE RANGE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 10:55:00 +0000

I AM A GUNLESS SOCIETY advocate but, at the same time, I teach people how to use guns. I may sound like an oxymoron and that I am. If you have another word for it, you may call me such. I don't care.

I have gun skills that have lain inert for some time and that skill is going to be used in the furtherance of my advocacy. The time has come for it to be imparted to other people provided that the principles of a gunless society are also discussed before the actual basic firing is even started so the participants could recognize the destructive power of guns.

An opportunity knocked on April 3, 2011. Security officers and office staff of a well-known local security agency availed of my services to conduct a Basic Gun Safety and Firearms Proficiency Training in a remote firing range south of Cebu City. I introduced the participants to the most fundamental points of gun safety; identification of basic gun parts and its main accessory – the cartridge round; general gun terms; the laws that regulate its proliferation; and the main government agencies tasked to enforce gun laws and its regulation, licensing and permits.

Then my lecture moved on to the “dominant hand and the dominant eye” principle; the different shooting stance; proper sight adjustment; breathing techniques; and how or when to squeeze the trigger. At the firing range, I assumed the role of range warden and refreshed the firers the basic gun-safety rules before the first participant came forward to grip a gun.

The course I designed is so simple and very basic and applies to both male and female. Five rounds for a firing stance at 10 meters distance with weak hand supporting dominant hand shooting a caliber .38 revolver; another five rounds for a firing stance at 5 meters distance with only the dominant hand firing a revolver. Same styles are repeated, this time with a 9-millimeter pistol at five rounds each.

Revolvers used were an Armscor 220, a Rexio Jaguar and a WORLD-MPC Lapulapu; 9-mm pistols were an Armscor GI 1911 and a FEG Kassnar. Ammo fired were reloads from a firearms trading store located in Salinas Drive, Cebu City. All five female and nine male fired twenty rounds each for both types of gun or ammunition. The activity ended at 4:30 PM after all nine male firers fired two buckshot rounds each from an Armscor Buddy 20 pump-action shotgun from 7 meters distance.

I also have my day testing all the firearms on use to include a palm-sized single-action RG caliber .22 revolver, a BUL Cherokee 9-mm pistol and a Colt Mark IV caliber .45 pistol. For a scale of one to five, I rate the following according to its easy operation and feel, mechanism design, recoil and target consistency:

Armscor 220, Caliber .38, Revolver, Philippines 3.5

Rexio Jaguar, Caliber .38, Revolver, Argentina 2.0

WORLD-MPC Lapulapu, Caliber .38, Revolver, Phils. 0.5

RG, Caliber .22, Revolver, Germany 0.5

Armscor GI 1911, 9-mm, Pistol, Philippines 3.8

FEG Kassnar, 9-mm, Pistol, Hungary 4.5

BUL Cherokee, 9-mm, Pistol, Israel 5.0

Colt Mark IV, Caliber .45, Pistol, USA 5.0

Armscor Buddy 20, 12-gauge, Shotgun, Philippines 4.5

However, the rounds used during testing (except for the shotgun) were reloads and old ammo stock and that make operation of the above firearms very complicated and subjecting these to extreme mechanical vulnerabilities beyond what most are designed for.

It feels good to fire a gun again and I noticed that the holes I make on the cardboard targets are tight as was the time I last leave them many years ago. Some habits die hard so they say. I must admit it has stayed except the guns. I don't own one.

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BUSHCRAFT BUHISAN VI: A High-Ground Trail

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 08:39:00 +0000

MY BUHISAN EXPLORATION is a work in progress. City people like me depended too much navigating by foot on rivers and dry ravines for want of more knowledge of its hidden trails among thick jungle. You must remember that Buhisan is a watershed area and a considerable part of Metro Cebu's drinking water supply is sourced from there. So, the chance of pissing around and leaving human waste within that place is a big possibility.

It is for that reason that I refuse to bring a big party of outdoors people even if they are well-acquainted with the principles of the Leave No Trace. You cannot stop body necessity especially when you are on the throes of stomach trouble. Get what I mean? (I have to accept these facts even if I am not a staunch advocate of LNT. But that is common sense, isn't so?)

But there is an exception: Take the high ground!

On March 27, 2011, I commenced another exploratory hike among its secretive trails. I am with two old tenderfoots. We start from Guadalupe by way of Bebut's Trail. We passed by “Heartbreak Ridge” and I see an improvement of its appearance. The ugly garbage dumpsite have been removed by the Solid Waste Disposal Unit of the Department of Public Services after Mayor Mike Rama acted on my January 9, 2011 hike photos uploaded in Facebook. However, some garbage are re-appearing.

Along the way, we met three Danes out on an early morning hike near the war-time tunnel vent. We exchanged pleasantries and they knew of the Danes that we brought on an eco-tour hike to the hidden waterfalls of Kahugan and on an island tour somewhere on the northern tip of Cebu. They went on their way to Guadalupe while we have a long way to go and it will take a whole day to finish our purpose.

We stopped by the Portal¹ to slurp coffee under a morning shower and went down afterwards a seldom-used route among thick jungle growth to Kilat Creek. We passed by the huge rock that split in two many years ago. I lead the way and the two followed. As trail master, it is my task to clear the route of blocking debris and vegetation so the next man behind me will not be inconvenienced; identify loose and slippery rocks; and to watch out for everyone's safety and that means looking out for lurking snakes.

Finally, after weeks of rain, Kilat Creek is running with clear water again. It is a fragile ecosystem and minute traces of life are appearing in and along the water route. As much as I like the now-living appearance of dry creek beds, I disdain to walk about it. For one, I hate being caught on low ground by people with rifles above me and, two, I don't want to spoil the ground with my passing. Even if you caution others to leave a small impact with their feet, city people are always careless and don't know the ways of the forest.

My eyes searched everything all around as I walk almost never missing a detail. Poisonous snakes and stingy plants are my priority and then there are gun-toting people to watch out to. You'll never know you might accidentally step into the crosshairs of their rifle sight the moment when they are on the verge of shooting a bird on the ground. It is very important then to look for traces of men like a footprint or a cigarette butt to awaken you that someone's been here before you.

Kilat Creek is now joined by a muddy creek that effuse brownish particles on the former and then another clear one up ahead where we used to spend lunch and siesta. The sound of water pervaded in my consciousness until a time when the creek took its destined path and vanished from my sight when I followed a trail into the catchment basin. For a half hour, I have missed that sound even when I arrive at a wide wash. I walk upriver enjoying the open spaces after being constricted by jungle growth.

By the shade of an old banyan tree, I saw water from up ahead stopping in its tracks on the sandy bed. I follow the water upstream and it is full. There were many deep pools and the river is gregarious. But I could not believe how this surging river kneel down at the mercy of a mere banyan tree!

We stop at a large pool among a jumble of granite rocks and prepared our lunch. We boil water for our seaweeds, cook milled corn, stir-fry a mixed-vegetable soup and sautee dried fish on a single camp stove in the process leaving us with just a pint of water each for drinking water and we don't know yet of how far we will travel.

A moment later, kids from Buhisan arrive to take a bath at the pool. They were bringing along green bananas, firewood and a large cauldron. One of the boys start a fire from a stone hearth and boil the banana while the rest cavort on the pool. Lying on the ground are, I counted, fifty-six pieces of empty shells of edible tree snail which have been feasted on by people a day or two ago. A hunter with a scoped rifle passed by looking for his nephews. Passing by from the other direction were two men and five little boys carrying firewood balanced atop their heads.

We shared our meal to the bathing kids and we all eat lunch together vigorously. All the food were wiped out clean from the pots. Siesta time came and I recline on a huge rock as another party of much-older boys arrived. They were the hunter's nephews and they were already here since yesterday. So that answers the empty shells.

They spend weekends hunting fruit bats, wild roosters, tree snails, river crabs, pythons, monitor lizards and palm civets. They don't bring gears except old flashlights and a rifle. They source drinking water from a burrowed river bed steeping the water until it is clear and cook food with firewood and banana leaf. They are a different breed of bushcrafters and they are damn good and they are kindred.

Leaving the pool to the newcomers, we walk further upstream until we reach a confluence of two rivers. Which way to go? I gamble instead on the trail found in the middle aided by my compass which point north. I observed the route superb; forested with huge trees although we get ourselves entangled by pesky rattan palms. The path led to a high waterfall and we enjoy this rare moment in Buhisan standing on the granite headrock under which the water cascade down into ripples that contain a deep pool. From there, we follow the river until it found another branch and I choose to travel on the tamer of the two. Ten meters up ahead, a rooster flew from river bed to tree bursting in a flurry of wing beats and floating feathers.

More upstream walk made one guy tired and thirsty although water could be had by the mere picking. All the while I climb the steep riverbanks from time to time to observe of any traces of people activity. If there is or was, there surely would be a trail. For a good two kilometers there were none! Reaching another waterfall, I took time to take a picture but my Sony DSC-W220 camera slipped from my hand and fell into the river. Instantly, I jumped into water and retrieved my camera and removed right away the battery so it won't get shorted. For a long time, I have kept my shoes dry but, this time, I have to sacrifice comfort to save an electronic equipment.

Having enough of river trekking, I espied a rare grove of bamboo. Bamboo meant people. Bamboo provide housing materials or livelihood for people living nearby. True to my instinct, a trail is found, at last. (Good judgment!) It lead to higher ground and into a junction of clear paths that go west, north and east. I chose the east trail so I could cut distance between us and Guadalupe. From afar I could hear several wild roosters crowing.

The route goes down and up and joined another trail until it went down into a river and cross it and up again into a ridge then down again into another creek. The water here is so clear and so serene. From one end up to my farthest vision, water cascade down into a zigzag pattern on the rock and on another it dropped into a sheer precipice.

All the while I was looking for the remainder of the trail but it ended abruptly on the creek and that left me puzzled. Somehow I get to find a slight trace of a path above the waterfall only to find it gone fifty meters ahead and I'm not going back and take a chance to pass by that narrow path above the waterfall. It is SO scary!

Now I am left in a quandary of how to bring a partially invalid man up a safe refuge of a sparse copse of teak trees located a hundred meters above us. He is a stroke survivor and his movement is hampered by his left hand which could hold but difficult to unlock and a left foot that cause him clumsy spills. Above is loose loamy soil and below us is the precipice. We have a rope but, in between that copse and us, there is nothing to anchor at.

I change places with the lethargic guy instead and push his butt up, at the same time I have to keep myself from sliding down. The old guy broke a lot of small tree saplings caused by his vise grip-like left hand which could have been enough to give balance to me and the other guy.

Once, we reach the first sturdy tree, I waited for the healthier of the two to accompany the weaker one before I proceed on my own to tackle another tree and another, using each tree as a spring board to cut the gap from the other. I reach the top of the hill and take a rest sitting on a felled tree. I shared the last ounce of my water to the weak guy before proceeding to follow the ridgeline where I find a trail that brought me to the top of a much higher hill. At the peak I get to see the man-made forest of Baksan, of Mount Lanipao and of Starbucks Hill.

After a kilometer of following the teak-lined trail I found myself again on the ridgeline where Freedom Trail is found. I waited for both guys before deciding to go down one more time, this time, into a rough road. Followed the road down I found a small hut that sell cold soda drinks. I opted for a 750-ml bottle and drank half of it leaving the other half to my companions. Proceeding on, we reached the spillway of Sapangdaku River and walked the paved road back to Guadalupe. From Guadalupe we proceed to “Camp Red” and concluded our exploration with a post-activity discussion and rehydrate with one-liter bottles of strong beer where Jerome Tan joined later.

CONCLUSION:

THE DISCOVERY OF TRAILS on a high ground in the Buhisan Watershed Area is the best alternative to the usual walk of taking the streams as a primary route for weekend outdoors activity. This discovery of this hidden trail also opens up the possibility of bringing in of a larger party of people to the fabled forest, that is known by its older name as Lensa. On this premise, the trails that I have documented and those that I will soon establish here shall be now known as Lensa Trail.

Tribu Dumagsa have tasked me to lead them on a training climb before they embark on a difficult route to Mount Pulag come April 20, 2011. Lensa Trail would complement well with Freedom Trail and it is by these routes that I will bring Tribu Dumagsa climbers to develop their endurance and teach them traditional land navigation through thick jungle and river. Freedom Trail will start from Tisa and will pass by Kilat Spring then on to the fringes of Buhisan and Baksan. From there, a little part of Lensa Trail will be the final route where the participants will go.

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1A crossroads of seven trails. Locals call this as “ang puertahan”, which meant as the portal, the gate or the door in English.

POEM #5: Monkey Trails of Talinis

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 11:44:00 +0000

Scrambling over, crawling under.

This is how I described of

the winding trail that leads,

to the sheer wilderness,

that abound Mount Talinis¹.

Slippery trails, heavy backpacks.

Straining through jungle haze,

heavy rains kept me in a daze,

trying hard to keep the pace,

cold numbing all my senses.

WARNING! QUICKSAND! DETOUR!

A signboard on a tree declares,

lapping on the edge of a trail,

mixed now with mud and mire,

unclear to the naked eye.

Blackened tree stumps, decay.

Sulfur lake in Ka-ipuhan² lay naked,

on whose place death waited,

where a river invites peril,

to an unsuspecting wayfarer.

Shivering hands, chattering teeth.

Fog now starts to envelop my tent,

swept down by the south wind,

painting a bleak image,

on my campsite by Na-ilig³ lake.

1The highest peak of the Cuernos de Negros mountain range located in the province of Negros Oriental in Central Philippines and rises to a height of about 6,425 feet above sea level.

2A sulfur lake having an area of about half a hectare. It has a running river passing through it but somehow made undrinkable due to a high sulfur content. Blackened three stumps and rotting carcasses of animals and birds adorn its, otherwise, bare surroundings.

3One of two big lakes (the other Lake Yagumyum) nestling on the shoulders of Mount Talinis.

NAPO TO BABAG TALES XLIII: The "Seeds for Earth Day" Tree Planting

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 10:53:00 +0000

IT IS A SPECIAL DAY on March 13, 2011. For the first time, my tree nursery maintained by the Roble family in Kahugan, Sapangdaku, Cebu City shall be planted. There will be some twenty-five healthy infant fruit trees inside their little black plastic cribs ready for transfer into the big wide field. To remember, some of these seedlings are part of the different fruits I brought here on April 25, 2010 during the Seeds for Earth Day.

I am going there on March 12 as an advance party to prepare for this activity. Ernie Salomon is with me. We start at 2:30 PM and reach the knoll at 5:00 PM. We prepared and cooked dinner and drink something hard afterward for it is cold. Ernie pitched a tent but I rather sleep outdoors. It didn't rain that night although it rained in the morning of that day and the days before that.

Rousing up on the early morning of March 13^th, I boiled water for coffee. After that, I began to examine the seedlings, the bamboo stakes and the route to be planted with these young trees. With my heavy Bowie knife, I began to clear the ground from where these plants are to be planted. Fele Roble helped me with it while Ernie is busy cooking breakfast.

After the field clearing I get hold of an iron spike secured to a meter-long bamboo pole and begin making holes. I make fifteen holes when Ernie hailed me that breakfast is ready. I go down from the highest slope from where I made my last hole and ease myself into a vacant seat. Fried bitter gourds mixed with eggs and a stew of free-rein chicken were the viands. It is a solid breakfast.

People will be coming here today to be part of this activity. To give accent to this, I decide to do bushcraft cooking. Not by bamboo this time but by banana leaves. Fele provided me six leaves where I use all and roll it up into a tight bunch after placing milled corn in the middle. With a cord, I suspend the “leaf pot” under a low branch of a mango tree. I pour water at the top opening and make fire underneath it.

At about 10:30 in the morning, Rowel Seno of Pundok Lapukon came with one companion, James Cabajar. Fifteen minutes later, Randell Savior of Tribu Dumagsa arrive with fellow club member Tonton Bathan, Myke Padriga of the Circle of Friends and Green*Point, Boy Toledo of Camp Red and newbie Jerome Tan. A little later, from another route, Myand Abao and Rans Cabigas came towing one girl and three other guys from the EWIT Mountaineers.

Everyone helped himself with the young coconuts gathered by Fele and son Manwel and douse their thirst away and, in a wink of an eye, everybody switched to social mode exchanging banter and high fives raising this rare gathering of serious outdoor enthusiasts into a jocund fellowship of well-meaning individuals that give their precious time for Mother Earth.

Moments like these make lasting impression and I take this opportunity to drive home the purpose of my own brand of tree planting. Where before, organizers would just hand you five to twenty young trees and leave it to your instant industry without you or them ever knowing whatever happened to your trees afterward. Mine would be the opposite.

The Chiricahua Apaches or any Native American peoples, for that matter, during times of emergency like war and migration, would protect every infant brave and nurse it to good health regardless if they are relation or not. It is not uncommon then that one Chiricahua mother would provide her own milk to a baby belonging to her sister, a distant cousin or a woman from another clan. By this principle, this tree planting activity would be pursued.

Our single tree shall then be planted with the help of two to five pairs of hand. They will treat each young plant as their baby brother or sister and they can give it a name for all they care. After carefully transplanting it, five bamboo stakes are then driven around it and screened with bamboo thorns called kaguingking for protection. The Native Americans also call each living thing or non-living thing as father, mother, uncle, brother and so forth.

A rare looking-glass tree¹, commonly known as dongon, is one of the plants to be planted. Fele chose a special site where he personally planted this tree and put stakes and bamboo thorns around it. Randell, Tonton and Myke help one another in planting three trees; Rowel and James did likewise to another three young plants; while the EWIT people planted a single canistel² seedling with an uncanny solemn feeling.

I chose to plant myself two canistel trees and two rambutan trees up on the farthest holes and sing a lullabye as if I'm stoking a baby to sleep. I do things from what I speak! Boy T and Jerome help each other plant a rambutan and a coconut while Ernie gets help from Fele in planting a cacao tree. All the plants are grown here and doesn't have to be carried over a far distance. Besides, all are well-acclimatized with the local weather.

After that, all Camp Red guys with help from Tribu Dumagsa prepare for lunch. Randell, Tonton and Boy T retrieved their cooksets, stoves, milled corn, raw, meat, vegetables and other ingredients and helped Ernie do the chopping and the slicing. Food to cook is a mixed-vegetable soup, pork adobao and raw cucumber dipped in vinegar.

Lunch is served at one in the afternoon. Meanwhile, my milled corn inside my “banana-leaf pot” came short of my expectations and looked like as if it is a cottage cheese made from goat's milk eliciting laughter from everyone! Oh, well, I remove the leaves except one and tied its ends and hang it in an earthen hearth inside the Roble home.

Myke, upon instruction from his father – Lester – turned over cash as donation for this event courtesy of the Circle of Friends. The Circle of Friends is a non-government organization dedicated to promote peace, human rights and the environment. I receive the money and pass it to Fele Roble as our whole-heart gratitude for his efforts.

After the meal, Rans and Myand and the rest of EWIT; as well as Rowel, Myke and James; decide to leave early leaving the hard cores to finish the two sets of mixed local rum and energy drink. In the middle of these pleasant conversations, I decide to pick up a dry and well-grained Mexican lilac root and carve it to a blueprint of a wood spoon in my mind. Boy T immediately lay claim to its ownership even before an outline has been started.

Manwel and his mother bring home four pieces of edible tree snail and offered these to us. It is cooked with edible oil and presented the meat to Boy T and Jerome, to include the milled corn cooked inside the banana leaf which I hung over a fire and it looked like rice cake. I now know how to cook milled corn in this technique and the snail meat tastes good. After the bottle run out its course, we ordered another two sets and Manwel oblige our request.

By five, we bade farewell to the Roble family and walk downhill to Sapangdaku River. From there, we walk over rolling terrain to Napo and ride motorcycles in tandem for Guadalupe. It is 7:00 PM and we are now at our favorite watering hole near Villa Fatima by the side of V. Rama Avenue. Tonton announced to the crowd that March 13 is his birthday and, boy, beer flowed like water that night until the wee hours.

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Collage done in MS Powerpoint 2007 converted to JPEG

1Heritiera litoralis Dryand. Tree species native of Negros Oriental. Also called the boat-fruited mangrove.

2Locall known as “tisa”, it is also called as a butter fruit tree.

CATMON RAIN

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 11:22:00 +0000

MY WIFE WOKE UP early and begins to prepare for our trip up north in Catmon. A good neighbor will be laid to his final resting place on this day, February 13, 2011, and we have to be there to pay our last respects. My other (living) neighbors have already gone there the night before and the bulk would be coming also today.

It is already 7:45 AM by the time we were on the street to hie a public utility jitney that would take us to Mandaue City first before transferring to another jitney for Danao City and then a bus to Catmon. Sounds complicated? I think not as we are still moving and make the most of our free time bonding as husband and wife.

Mrs. PinoyApache

Vilma and I arrive at Catmon and walk up a hill where the San Guillermo Parish is located. The final send-off rite for our dear departed neighbor would be held there before carrying him to the cemetery. The church is full and there are many people outside. I take photographs of the old church and an equally ancient banyan tree before settling on a vacant seat as the prayer service started.

San Guillermo Church

Old banyan tree

I have visited Catmon only once during my “warrior pilgrimage” days sometime in year 2000. I spend a night in a house in Macaas as a guest of one of Catmon's very infamous sons. That is water under the bridge now but, I do drop by once in a while to buy bibingka¹ or a gallon of tuba² on some roadside stall and those were just very fleeting moments.

From the church, the coffin was hoisted upon eight stout shoulders and walked three hundred meters from the altar to the grave. The sky is gray and somber. Grayer still when droplets of light rain showered over everyone thankfully hiding away tears. So many familiar faces are all around me as if I have not left my neighborhood at all.

People from the city were ferried by the service vehicles of Barangay Kalubihan and Barangay Busay and nowhere have I found a vehicle belonging to Barangay Tinago, where my late neighbor is a registered voter and resident. My thanks then to the people and the officials of Kalubihan and Busay for lending their mini buses, this, all in behalf of the bereaved family and the folks of sitio Santa Lucia.

Catmon³ tree

After an hour, the crowd dispersed and proceed to partake of the customary free meal offered by the deceased wife's family. Vilma and I walk another route following a small crowd and I get to pass by a healthy tree from whence Catmon is named after and took a few pictures. I also get to know the direction of a hot spring resort of this place passing the same street and jot the phone numbers.

After the meal, me and wife hop inside a bus and drop by the seaside residence of her sister in Looc, Danao City. The slight rain have not abated. We spend the afternoon watching a noon-time show, eating, talking, viewing the sea and, for me, hoping to finish a half-gallon of fermented coconut drink.

Fish berry, indigenous fish poison

All along, I get to observe from nearby of a different commerce. It is about the trade of fish berry⁴, an indigenous and environment-friendly fish poison. Of course, it affects the fish but, at least, fishermen here don't use deadly chemicals to catch their prey. It doesn't really kill the fish though and makes it only dazed for an easy catch.

The berry is taken from a rare vine and then dried. People crush the dried berries with mortar and pestle and mixed to a pail of water with bait⁵ and fed to the fish. I tasted the berry and it is awfully bitter! Ten times bitter than the bitterest of bitter gourds.

Quality bonding time

I finished the native wine and washed it with a liter of beer. I am tipsy and crimson but my wife ain't. We said our goodbyes to our host and took a ride home. It is six in the evening when we arrive. The light rain have stopped and, yes, the boys are home.

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer

1Rice cake.

2Fermented coconut drink.

3Delliccacaea Philippinensis.

4Almirata cocculus. Locally known as “lagtang”.

5Tiny shrimps.

A MAN-SIZED DAYHIKE

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 09:41:00 +0000

I ALWAYS PASS BY the Manipis Road in my sojourn into western Cebu and back and I could not hold my admiration and awe at the rugged yet beautiful piece of country that hosts the wide Mananga River below. From whence the road is standing is a mountain range that I have yet to know of a given name; from across the road is the southern end of the Babag Mountain Range; and to the west is the Sinsin Ridge that extend all the way to the Bonbon River valley and, perhaps, to the Transcentral Highway in Cantipla.

This is country that I would love to explore. It had become an obsession almost. It hosts a complex system of rivers and creeks. It has unknown trails, some new places and scenes or, perhaps, some people to bond friendship with. I could start from Lutopan, Toledo City and finish it in Guadalupe, Cebu City anytime. Probably, this mighty place might hold a role to a part of a pilgrimage route that I am planning to survey from the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño to a town 97 kilometers south.

Or, maybe, I am just dreaming...

But I am not. It is already 7:45 AM when the slow bus drop me and the rest of Camp Red at Lutopan, Toledo City on February 20, 2011. Boy Toledo, Ernie Salomon, Marco Albeza, Tonton Bathan, guest Archie Mayol are with this pathfinder. Eat a quick breakfast there. Later, we pool money to buy food provisions which we will cook along the route somewhere by the banks of the Mananga. Too much time delayed and we hop on motorcycles bypassing Cantabaco for Camp 8.

Start our walk at 8:30 AM for Camp 7 of Minglanilla municipality where there is a man-made forest of mahogany trees. Trees good for lumber but relatively unhealthy to indigenous vegetation underneath except the sturdy rattan palm. Why do tree-planting activities prefer exotic trees? I don't know why. Do you?

We arrive at the junction where the Manipis, the Sinsin-Sudlon Road and the Campensa-Tapul Road meet. I leave the guys behind to do recon up ahead at the better part of Manipis where I could study the lay of the land. Unfamiliarity on this side of the area is an obstacle and I have to use the dirt road that goes to Odlom then going down to Buot-Taup, which are all part of Cebu City, to get through to Mananga. Not today Trailhawk. You can't have those trails yet.

The road is unpaved which is good for my soles and my knees and for my last pair of hiking boots especially at the downward turns into Buot-Taup where descent is somewhat steep. I run when I could not stand the pain in my knees braking to hold off gravity while walking during those descents as my eyes search for something inherent in the place. Arrive at a road junction where a woman sat and weaving palm leaves for roofing. She uses the upland marsh palm, locally known as sacsac, and helpful enough to show us to a switchback to the big river.

After crossing a rickety bamboo bridge over a small creek we set foot on the wide sandy beaches of the Mananga and started fording the first of the many to reach our next destination at Camp 4 in Talisay City. By twelve noon, we were in a shaded nook of the riverbank preparing our lunch four kilometers short of our target. Everyone hustle up for this important energy-replenishment activity. In forty-five minutes the pork adobao, the grilled dried fish, the milled corn and the mixed-vegetable soup are ready for serving.

We were under the shade of a candle-nut¹ tree from whence its nut a couple process it for jewelry accessory. I am amazed at the improvised water nozzle which they installed to clean the nut that spew a jet of liquid strong enough to rival a hose powered by an air compressor! They even crafted a home-made mechanical grinder that cleaned the insides of the nut with the turn of the hand.

We do not have the luxury of time and we forego our alloted siesta to walk and slosh again and again on the river at 1:45 PM. I lead a fast pace. This is the Upper Mananga where I have not laid my eyes on. There were deep pools of green clear water amid the great rocky hillsides that tumble huge rocks on the river channel where it became landmarks of sort for local travellers. These had not escaped my attention and I oblige the welcome scenes with my camera.

I follow the twin tracks made by truck wheels along the riverbed. In every deep pool, children are bathing and swimming with wild abandon unmindful of our passing. On some places, a couple of kids hunted catfish with little bushcraft spearguns. Later, abandoned craters pocked the river as quarrying of sand and gravel became more evident, the only proof are the hastily-abandoned wire strainers framed and propped with wood and those sinister shovels. As we get nearer Camp 4, I could see people inside the craters itself throwing sand like crabs burrowing a home.

I reach Camp 4 to see people catching fish with electricity, the current passing from under the noses of village officials. It is 2:30 PM and Boy T, Ernie and Tonton are missing from the horizon. Unnecessary radio talk went back and forth without the other knowing what the other meant and vice versa. Meanwhile, I wait for a half-hour for the stragglers to get into view. I have too few hours of sunlight left and we have not left the halfway point yet! It is still a long way. At exactly three we climb the Cabatbatan Trail for the other half of our journey.

The trail is good but Archie injured a hamstring here as he was following me. He can still manage his movement and, after a long hike, we take a 15-minute rest beside the Bocawe River where two unnamed small creeks meet. Afterwards, when everyone have his drink, we follow the trail that follow the river up and pass by a few hillside farms and two granite faces where water cascade down deep into the Bocawe. Just a few meters more and we will be on a road again on home territory but another 15-minute rest is taken on a store and douse our thirst with cold soda drinks.

From Cabatbatan to the road junction in Pamutan is a long way passing by Bocawe. I know that for I pass by here twice and Archie knows that too. The early part is easy until we reach the spillway and enjoyed the scene of local teenagers splashing into a small lake below a foot bridge. The second part of the road is uphill walk. I would have dread this stretch were it not that the sun have already cast long shadows and giving us shade. Breathing is important here; it should be in harmony with your footsteps.

Archie could not take it anymore and we wait for him in Bocawe until we could secure a motorcycle-for-hire for him. It is already 6:30 PM when I reach the Pamutan junction and have to wait for the others to arrive. Everyone donned their headlights except Marco and me. I prefer to walk down to the Sapangdaku spillway without lights to aid me and even run several long stretches with Marco following behind me in the dark. It is a long snaky road passing by the Baksan Forest Reserve and Mount Lanipao and eventually I reach the spillway at 7:45 PM.

At 8:10 PM, we reach the Our Lady of Guadalupe de Cebu Parish. My original plan of going down to Guadalupe via Bebut's Trail have been defeated by darkness which could have cut travelling time by half. Anyways, we have just succeeded in crossing a wide chunk of difficult terrain cutting over several mountain ranges and many rivers and creeks and passing over territory of three cities and one town.

Camp Red have added this route to its expanding collection of untested paths that have not been done yet by other outdoor groups. Tonton celebrated his birthday today and that night beer flowed like water.

Document done in OpenOffice 2.1 Writer

1Otaheite nut or lumbang

WARRIOR PILGRIMAGE, THE BLOG

noreply@blogger.com (PinoyApache) — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 10:41:00 +0000

CHANGE IS CONSTANT. It could happen to anyone and on any thing up to its minutest details and it could alter every thing under the sun even to those things considered good. Nothing is exempt even myself. My life is changing and so is this blog and it is not immune to change.

This blog – MERELY MY OPINION – have seen changes on its appearance twice including its niche. Formerly, upon its inception in August 2007, it is supposed to be a “rant station”. The blog name alone suggests its purpose and it is borrowed from my late grandfather's opinion column in a local daily of the '50s and '60s.

Along the way, my outdoors experience and my unconventional journey of life compel me to add another niche and it became an outdoors blog. After a long long contemplation, I decide to change a new name for this website starting this article. It shall be known henceforth as WARRIOR PILGRIMAGE.

The appearance will still be almost the same and the tags shall remain although there will be a slight change on its features. The name itself will steer its intent and purpose on the World Wide Web. Warrior Pilgrimage is nothing but a warrior on pilgrimage. To where? I don't know; but keep on reading.

A pilgrimage is a journey undertaken by anyone who is either seeking a path of renewal of self, of spirituality, of higher consciousness, of enlightenment; or all of the above. Miyamoto Musashi is the best example of a warrior on a pilgrimage. In his journey of life, he mastered the crafts of swordsmanship, strategy, survival, philosophy, brush painting and carpentry. He even managed to write a book titled The Lord of Five Rings.

Meanwhile, I have not yet mastered any craft except that I am a fervent student of anything not hinging on monkey business. In my own capacity, I have written thirty-four chapters of a fiction novel but lost it later to harmful software corrupting my hard disk together with a bushcraft field manual which would have been used as a syllabus. Painful losses but life is a journey. The best part is how to start all over again¹.

Changing a new name is a hard process. I have to search Internet-wide where I have left a link of the old name in long-ago visited websites and, doing so, would mean retrieving from the abyss of memory certain usernames and passwords to open such idle accounts. That includes threads in countless fora.

I may need a little help from my blogging friends though. I understand, in the course of exchanging blog links, they have typed Merely My Opinion into their sites. Some sites automatically correct itself. For most, it is done manually.

There is a little site though attached to my personal account in istorya.net called Warrior Pilgrimage. It is just a mirror of my main personal site and a vehicle to promote Merely My Opinion. This time it will promote itself and its niche.

WARRIOR PILGRIMAGE is about tropical bushcraft and survival and adventure travel. It will be a support hub for the outdoor activities of Camp Red² and the main bulletin for my own adventures. It is my conduit to promote bushcraft and survival in Cebu and the rest of the Philippine islands and will be the umbrella name that I will use when I conduct seminars and outdoor events.

The name “Warrior Pilgrimage” and the “WP Logo” will appear on headers for various certificates and field manuals where I will be an instructor and on t-shirts where Warrior Pilgrimage is an active supporter or organizer of outdoor events. Cited examples are the Gun Safety and Firing Proficiency Training (February, April and July 2011) and the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp (June 2011).

Activities programmed for the coming months will be my “grassroots bushcrafting” series that will tackle specific subjects like survival tool-making, knife sharpening, outdoor cooking, land navigation, fire preparation, plant identification, ropecraft, nocturnal hunting, trailcraft, traps and snares, shelters, etc.

Other activities like route explorations, multi-day cross-country hikes, bush day treks, eco-tours, bushcraft camps, etc. will be carried out by Warrior Pilgrimage in tandem with Camp Red, BushcaftAsia.com, and Go Wild Adventures. Should you be interested to learn from the above instructions or willing to join my adventures, please, feel free to email me at pinoyapache@yahoo.com or contact me at mobile phone number +63923-716-2705.

Warrior Pilgrimage is currently setting its sight on the creation or linking up of different trails that will traverse the whole length of Cebu Island, south to north (or vice versa), at its middlemost spine. It is a big project and I believe it could be done, the Lord Almighty willing. This trail will promote Cebu's tourism industry for it will naturally attract foreign and local backpackers alike and, when finished, demand 10-15 days of trekking.

I have already kick-started this ambitious event last February 20, 2011 with the opening up of the Lutopan, Toledo City to Guadalupe, Cebu City (36 Kms.) route. Other much longer routes (one in the south and another in the north) is now on schedule This demand huge logistics though and Warrior Pilgrimage is in need of corporate sponsors and kind-hearted individuals for monetary and material support. Please send your queries to my above email and contact number so you would know the logistics that I and my two companions need. Thank you.

Lastly, Warrior Pilgrimage carry this phrase everywhere that describe its image:

“OUTDOOR OUTCOMES and OTHER ADVENTURES”

Document done in OpenOffice 3.3 Writer

1I have re-started another bushcraft & survival field manual and have been used during the Philippine Independence Bushcraft Camp on June 11-12, 2011. Another manual is currently being composed to tailor-fit a Boy Scout unit of a Catholic school.

2A bushcraft and survival guild established by me in January 2010. This is the first of its kind in Cebu and, perhaps, the rest of the Philippines, south of Subic Bay.